Emulation as Inspiration Strategy

 “Originality is nothing but judicious imitation. The most original writers borrowed one from another.”

— Voltaire

We find inspiration in many forms, whether for our game endeavors or other aspects in our lives. Emulating things we admire is one step along the path we take creating something new. We often look to similar sources for inspiration on our immediate projects. How does one game handle this kind of mechanic? How does another simulate a particular situation or dynamic? I’ve encountered emulation as inspiration strategy throughout my creative life, even as a teenager newly immersed in roleplaying games...and inspired to create my own fanzine based on the industry publication, Dragon magazine, I admired. This strategy works for our developing games in both form and function. We look to other games to see what graphic and component elements we might adapt to our own designs. We also draw on our exposure to mechanics when developing our own games, whether roleplaying games, board games, or wargames. Having a familiarity with numerous game systems can help us in designing our own, offering inspiration from a wide field of experience to create a more accurate game simulation experience.

Tower of the Faceless Clock

Or Challenges Extracting Rules Text from Solo Adventures

My discussion of the difficulties extracting system from setting in roleplaying game supplements reminded me of an abandoned project. It was an experiment to design a programmed solitaire adventure (with numbered paragraphs, like the Choose Your Own Adventure books) to present a specific setting without reference to a specific rules system. Having written plenty of solitaire tutorial adventures intended to teach game mechanics along the way, designing one without considerations for typical rules – how to run combat, procedures for skill checks, how to make saving throws, etc. – proved challenging.

Extracting System & Setting

 “If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun.”

– Katharine Hepburn

For most roleplaying games the mechanics and setting remain bound together. Extracting one from the other often proves challenging from a game design standpoint and dubious from a marketing perspective. Few game systems exist entirely apart from any given setting, though they claim (with different levels of efficacy) to operate with any genre. Over the years various games have released as standalone rules sets – Steve Jackson Games’ GURPS, Chaosium’s Basic Roleplaying (BRP), Hero Games’ Hero System, S. John Ross’ RISUS: The Anything RPG, even West End Games’ popular D6 System – with varying degrees of success. Some emerged from existing games, like D6 from the Star Wars Roleplaying Game and BRP from favorites like Call of Cthulhu. These find some success among pockets of gamers willing to do the legwork to adapt them to their original settings (though some, like RISUS, make this quite easy). Yet few products have made their mark as settings extracted from or produced without rules systems. Such oddities require a delicate touch, a very generic approach to anything smacking of rules, and finesse in inspiring gamers to undertake the work adapting them to a favorite game system.

The Long & Short of RPG Stats

Since the dawn of roleplaying games many have relied on two forms of game stats for adversaries and other elements requiring definition in relation to game mechanics. Long-form stats usually reside within the rulebook pages with similar reference material; the typical bestiary chapter for fantasy roleplaying games. Sometimes supplements use them, too. Adventures often rely more on short-form stats distilled from their more detailed cousins. These serve as quick, in-game reference without having to drag out the rulebook. New monsters appearing in adventures often get short stats in game text with long-form stats and more elaborate description in an appendix. Although I admit both long and short stats have their place in roleplaying game rulebooks, I’m starting to tend toward short stats or – horror of horrors – no stats at all in my own setting and adventure materials.

Player-Tinkerers: Customizing Game Rules

“tinker (verb): to work in the manner of a tinker, especially: to repair, adjust, or work with something in an unskilled or experimental manner.”

– Merriam-Webster Online

I recently ordered a pretty pricy battle game and – after the initial euphoria of opening the box, reading the rules, and sorting all the tiles, counters, and bits – soon found disappointment in the actual gameplay. The game worked, of course, and I admired some of the mechanics; but in play I encountered several instances that didn’t seem to make sense and even crippled the abilities of units in certain frequently encountered situations. I ambled about in despair for a brief moment...I’d just spent money on something that didn’t work to my satisfaction. But then I reminded myself I could tinker with the mechanics to transform it into something closer to the satisfying play experience I expected. That’s part of our nature as gamers: if a game isn’t working for us, we seek solutions to make it work. And sometimes that’s part of the fun.

Streamlined Combat for OpenD6 Solo Gamebooks

I’m developing a solitaire D6 Space gamebook, a programmed adventure in the spirit of the numerous solo “tutorial” scenarios I’ve written over the years and have enjoyed in other games. I’m having fun with it, incorporating science fiction tropes I admire, going off to explore entertaining tangents, offering a few seemingly outrageous options, and (hopefully) providing an engaging adventure with plenty of meaningful player choices. Along the way, however, I’ve discovered a particular drawback to using OpenD6 in this programmed solo gamebook format: the combat system isn’t really conducive to providing players with an adversary’s stats and letting them resolve the fight on their own...a staple of many gamebooks and solitaire adventures. It’s not as much a factor in the scenario I’m writing now – it’s not particularly combat-heavy, though it contains a few fights at pivotal moments – but it’s given me cause to think about and develop a better system for more combat-oriented solo gamebooks using OpenD6.

Advancement Influences Tone

Most roleplaying games include some kind of advancement system to encourage players to join game sessions and improve their characters. It’s been an essential element of roleplaying games since their beginnings, this ability to continue playing to gain more experience and build a more powerful character over time. Yet the particular mechanics of how in-game action translates to character experience influences the tone of the game. Players naturally want to improve their heroes; characters’ in-game actions tend to focus on those that best reward them in the context of the specific game scenario. Games that reward experience for slain monsters and looted treasure have a different tone than those giving points for solving problems, gaming in-character, managing encounters, and achieving goals.

Shields in OSR Games

Frequent readers know of my recent explorations in Old School Renaissance gaming (OSR) through my solitaire B/X Dungeons & Dragons exploits (my preferred old-school system). These activities help me examine what I like about various elements and how to improve those that don’t work for me. So I come to the shield conundrum: they seem underpowered. In looking at alternative shield mechanics I found myself questioning the very core rationale behind armor and shields in D&D combat.

(Throughout this post I refer to various bonuses to armor class as +1, etc., as I’m using ascending armor class; for the traditional descending armor class read that as -1. Either way, “bonus” means a benefit to armor class in the context of whatever system you’re using.)

I prefer a more heroic style of play rather than the deadly “grinder” style (as I’ve discussed before), so I look to provide my characters with every possible advantage within the bounds of the rules...and then house-rule some mechanics to offer some minor benefits. Of the three characters I’m running through various solitaire scenarios, two have shields and one has eschewed a shield in favor of two-handed weapons (the underpowered battle axe...a topic Jonathan Becker has discussed before at his B/X Blackrazor blog). While one of the shield-bearers has no ranged weapon, the other must set aside her shield if she chooses to use her long bow, temporarily shedding its armor class bonus. I’m examining the shield rules with an eye to making my low-level characters less monster-fodder and slightly more heroic.

Grinder Characters & Heroes

In exploring some solitaire B/X Dungeons & Dragons gaming recently I’ve realized yet another distinction in my preferred play style. Some “old school” games like D&D or other retro-clones in the Old School Renaissance movement (OSR) exemplify a “grinder” mentality, where new characters, rolled up in large crowds, are funneled through deadly dungeons and meet horrible deaths, with only the most worthy surviving to rise through the levels (a kind of “survival of the fittest” mentality devised by some roleplaying game Darwin). Yet I’ve spent much of my life enjoying games that treat characters as heroes in a greater saga, ones with mechanics to reinforce that concept while still imbuing the setting with a degree of risk and suspense. While I’m currently enjoying my exploration of my B/X D&D roots with a resurgence of excellent OSR supplements, I can’t help but question the grinder mentality and seek ways to ensure my characters survive more as heroes than ground meat.

Two elements stand out for me in the balance between grinder and heroic play: the literary origins of fantasy roleplaying, which emphasize a central hero who grows and faces risks but ultimately triumphs; and the mechanics of early class-and-level games which emphasize chance and, in doing so, deal mercilessly with beginning characters. While the literature (and to some degree other media) influencing the development and early popularity of D&D offers rich setting inspiration, the form requires a linear plot and protagonists readers care about who survive through much of the story. Literary influences play such a large role in D&D that both the Dungeon Masters Guide and versions of the basic rules include references, the infamous “Appendix N” in the DMG and the Moldvay Basic D&D rulebook’s “Inspirational Source Material” page. As a kid I was invested heavily in similar influences, particularly in tales of myths and legends, Tolkein’s Middle-earth, epic Ray Harryhausen films, and Star Wars. The literary tradition focuses on the central hero overcoming obstacles; this isn’t always conducive to the kind of experience games offer. Roleplaying games merge elements of heroic literature and other media with the uncertainties generated by game mechanics. Randomness plays a major role in many game elements, from creating a character to determining who succeeds in combat and other critical tasks. As I’ve written before, the random nature of conflict resolution in games, despite one’s best effort to hedge their bets with modifiers and bonuses, can lead to some intense frustration at dice that keep rolling poorly.

The Obsolete Skill List

At bedtime recently the Little Guy requested I read him a rulebook for a roleplaying game based on one of the media properties he’s quickly come to adore. I’ll omit names to protect the identity of the game and its designers. It was published in 1991, around the time several roleplaying games in a similar style reached prominence, including Vampire: The Masquerade, Shadowrun, 2nd edition Dungeons & Dragons, and my beloved Star Wars Roleplaying Game from West End Games (to name only a few). Reading the game book aloud proved how tedious the language was; but the real test was reading the comprehensive skill section aloud. Although it eventually put the Little Guy asleep, it ran the risk of actually putting the reader to sleep.

Nearly every skill followed the same initial formula: “[Skill name] is the ability to [insert skill description].” The text ranged from a simple definition one could easily glean from the skill name itself to a comprehensive discussion of just what one could do with the skill through specific game mechanics. The game – like many of its time – relied on a core mechanic for most skill resolutions and combat, yet various factors complicated this in the manner of modifications; hence some skill definitions with tedious rules discussions buried within.

Comprehensive skill listings seemed standard practice for roleplaying games of that time; even today many games still rely on exhaustive and sometimes dry descriptions of skills perhaps more succinctly defined by their names. Sure, some skills require a little more elaboration than simply a name depending on both the game mechanics and the setting; but this could fit better into other rules-heavy procedural sections on resolving movement, combat, and other game issues.

Skills in B/X D&D

I’m slowly returning to Basic/Expert Dungeons & Dragons (B/X D&D) as I explore the Old School Renaissance (OSR) and return to creating material for medieval fantasy roleplaying games. Frequent readers know it’s my preferred version of D&D for various reasons, many informed by my casual survey of OSR games that caught my eye. But as I consider the practicalities of running a game, I realize I can’t leave my past behind. As a longtime player of West End Games’ Star Wars Roleplaying Game and other fare using the D6 System, my primeval gamer brain enjoys the class-and-level system of D&D but also yearns for more skill-based mechanics to encourage action beyond combat, all part of a roleplaying game’s freeform appeal that “anything can be attempted.” So I find myself considering modifications – ultimately part of my B/X D&D “house rules” – allowing characters to employ non-combat skills.

Class-and-level games focus primarily on combat, with some additional rules or systems for the non-combat exploration aspects of dungeon delving. This makes sense given original D&D’s evolution from wargames, particularly Chainmail, in which combat played the central role, with magic and other elements contributing to the outcome of the overall battle. Looking at D&D’s central mechanics, they primarily focus on resolving combat between the party and various adversaries. Other systems emerged with “special rules” for exceptional actions: magic-user and cleric spell systems, thief abilities, clerics turning undead, various races opening doors or spotting secret doors, even saving throws. Unlike, say, the D6 System, where a central “core mechanic” covers combat, skills, and other challenges, D&D relies on quite different rules to resolve different non-combat actions. Third edition D&D tried resolving this with the introduction of an entire skill system based on d20 rolls, but many other elements relied on the tried-and-true methods of yore.

Notable Features in Barbarians of Lemuria

I recently acquired a print copy of Simon Washbourne’s Barbarians of Lemuria (Legendary Edition) and was pleasantly satisfied by many elements within that appealed to my particular roleplaying game tastes...and might interest readers of Hobby Games Recce with similar inclinations. The game mechanics and presentation offer an original swords and sorcery setting with a basic task resolution system and plenty of room for rich character development.

I’m a casual fan of the Conan material from Robert. E. Howard, having enjoyed the original literature, the comic book series (during a brief foray into that medium in my misspent youth), and the 1982 John Milius Conan the Barbarian film interpretation (and other similar sword and sorcery movie fare). I prefer my fantasy roleplaying with minimal magic, such as simple cantrips for characters and more powerful, sinister magic beyond their capability as part of the arch-enemy’s arsenal. The Barbarians of Lemuria setting incorporates many of these elements in a well-presented setting without binding them within the vast Conan continuity (and hence opening itself up to copyright infringement issues).

Barbarians of Lemuria contains a host of elements that appeal to me:

Page Count: The game packs everything needed to play into 104 pages, packed with plenty of illustrations evocative of the setting, game mechanics, examples, original monsters, inspirational character creation material, a gazetteer of the world, and a few short adventures. It’s not as comprehensive as some gamers might like, but it’s filled with enough functional mechanics and setting information to stimulate one’s imagination in creating and running exciting swords and sorcery adventures.

Accessible Setting: The epic background for Barbarians of Lemuria fits on two pages and outlines an epic struggle against the corrupt Sorceror-Kings and their magical technology. A series of disasters and returns imbue the land with plenty of ruins, magical mutations, and the promise of fantastic treasures, all while the Sorceror-Kings sulk on their island fortress planning their revenge. This epic provides some solid setting elements for Lemuria: a lost golden age of technology leaving behind ancient relics and ruins the heroes might explore (a theme within one of fantasy roleplaying gaming’s first settings, Empire of the Petal Throne), and distant yet powerful shadow adversaries to lurk in the background or scheme behind the scenes. Elements of character creation also tie heroes to locations in the setting or typical professions in the genre.

Innovative Character Creation: Building a character focuses on three sets of “stats” (though one isn’t really a stat at all). In each category players distribute four points among four different categories, with a value of zero representing average ability. First players distribute four points among their attributes: strength, agility, mind, and appeal (fairly standard characterization concepts). Then they distribute four points among four combat abilities: brawl, melee, ranged, and defense. Finally players choose four “heroic careers” from among 20 genre-inspired professions to define their characters’ pasts and round out their generalized skill sets.

Genre Careers: Career choices reflect the sword and sorcery genre. Each of the 20 careers includes a parenthetical alternative, an optional profession label to cover a similar spin on a career; for instance, it offers “Barbarian (or Savage),” “Serving Wench (or Courtesan),” and “Thief (or Rogue).” Brief descriptions offer ideas on relevant skills and important attributes.

Core Resolution System: Resolving actions boils down to a player rolling 2D6 to get 9 or higher for success. Depending on the situation they may add to their roll the value of relevant attributes, combat abilities, or careers; factors such as a task difficulty, range, or target’s defense value may subtract from their die roll. These aren’t huge bonuses, but can increase through experience. Boons and flaws (see below) enable players to roll an additional 1D6 in certain circumstances, adding the two highest results for boons and the two lowest results for flaws.

Boons & Flaws: Sure, lots of roleplaying games include some kind of advantage/disadvantage system in their character creation rules, but Barbarians of Lemuria presents sets of each for every location that can serve as a hero’s birthplace, giving them not only some game-specific bonus or penalty but some material on which to draw in further defining their character within the setting. Characters get one free boon and can gain additional boons by taking a flaw or permanently reducing their Hero Point total.

Hero Points: Here’s another element used in many other roleplaying games, points characters can spend during the game to alter situations in their favor. In this game characters begin with five Hero Points they can use in a variety of ways within the framework of the core resolution system: to reroll for a particular task; to alter a basic success into a more powerful “Mighty Success” or transform that into the ultimate “Legendary Success”; to shake off wounds or stabilize a dying character; or to define situational elements in one’s favor (such as finding a loose stone in a prison cell wall, discovering some useful equipment nearby, or using a coincidence to their advantage). Characters begin the game with five Hero Points and gain back those they spent at the end of an adventure.

Barbarians of Lemuria also provides the basic framework of many other roleplaying games; Lifeblood points for tracking health, weapons and armor, a freeform spell system that reflects the rare nature of magic in the genre, non-traditional monsters tied to setting locations, and one-sentence descriptions of various gods of Lemuria. It’s a complete game, but relies on experienced gamemasters and players to work together to use the rules to create a play environment that works for them.

Almost Overlooked

I must admit I passed over this game in its earlier incarnations despite the author’s excellent reputation for interesting games. Washbourne’s produced a host of small, independent, and often innovative roleplaying games. His 1940 – England Invaded! caught my eye when it first emerged as part of the 24-Hour RPG challenge and when he released a free PDF version with more substance; it satisfies my interest in WWII themes, in this case with a fantastic alternate-history twist.

I downloaded one of the earlier, free versions of Barbarians of Lemuria in PDF format when it first appeared, hoping for something a bit more satisfying than the d20 officially licensed Conan material available at the time. My ambivalence toward earlier editions probably stemmed from an uninspiring layout and mediocre artwork, though the author deserves credit for creating his own illustrations in those versions. These factors – PDF and uninspired artwork – led me to overlook it after an initial perusal; hence it languished unread in some archived folder on my laptop, as do many worthy and unworthy gaming PDFs, since I prefer to read the old-fashioned way from printed books than transient words on a screen.

In fairness the Legendary Edition of the rules has overcome these two drawbacks. The new illustrations, while remaining relatively basic line art, evokes characters and scenes characteristic of the sword and sorcery genre. Having the option of obtaining a print version means I can sit down and read it without the often mind-numbing hypnosis of passive words on my computer screen, easily flipping back and forth around pages to cross-reference game and setting concepts. I noticed a few refinements in the game mechanics and organization from previous editions; while the current edition is far from perfect in terms of organization and layout, it’s clear years of active play and development have made their positive impression.

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Hedging Bets against the Fog of War

The Fog of War – the random elements in games, whether simulating the variable performance of troops in wargaming battles, pieces on the board, or adversaries in roleplaying games – can foil the best strategies, constructed decks, assembled forces, or crafted character. The degree to which such uncertainties reign over the gaming table can seriously affect one’s play experience. It’s one thing to lose to a formidable opponent, but another to lose to the capricious nature of the dice.

Brave British troops doomed in the face
of hordes of Zulus and poor die rolls.

If kind readers would pardon some (hopefully) neutral political analogy, regrettably on my mind thanks to the recent mid-term elections... Take political candidates; they hedge their bets against the uncertainties of the minority of the electorate that actually gets out to vote. Some run in the right gerrymandered district (or carpet-bag their way there) and garner enough shadow-corporate sponsorship to flood the airwaves and ether with ads claiming their opponents are inspired by the devil and eat babies for breakfast (not really quite that bad, but they might as well say that to play on voters’ fears and emotions). Unlike gamers, politicians can draw upon the unlimited resources of contributions from near-anonymous special-interest donors instead of a limited pool of game elements intentionally balanced for some semblance of fair gameplay. (And no, I’m not suggesting politics should be reformed on a gameplay model.)

Even seemingly well-balanced games can subject players to the random whims of chance, no matter how much players try hedging their bets against failure. I’ve tried crafting various squadrons for the X-wing Miniatures Game, assembling combinations of elements like pilot abilities, starship stats, and different upgrades to fit within the 100-point tournament guideline in what I think might prove a winning combination. On paper they might prove quite powerful; but when I’m rolling poorly and the opponent consistently rolls well, I have little chance of success. Last year in a The Sword and the Flame convention game I lost most of four companies of British soldiers against one “horn” of a Zulu force because I kept rolling poorly: I scored minimal ranged hits, got massacred in close combat, and failed several key morale checks (nothing encourages dice to roll poorly than having the referee say, “Roll anything but a six!” Guess what that six sider is rolling...). No wonder there’s been a movement of “dice shaming” in gaming culture to highlight dice that consistently roll poorly or fail at crucial moments (all feeding the adventure gaming hobby’s dice fetishism). Even games with carefully crafted forces like Magic: The Gathering – with no random dice elements – subject players to the uncertainty of when they draw certain cards or combinations to deploy against opponents. Players understandably become frustrated when their best preparations fall victim to the capricious nature of the dice or the luck of the draw.

Games by their very nature represent a contest between players; so naturally one expects to encounter some feelings of frustration while trying to win against adversaries. When games offer players a means to hedge their bets against the whims of chance they offer a sometimes false sense of control over their gaming fate. A good game combines the uncertain elements of chance, a player’s ability to plan broad strategies, and the opportunity to react as tactical opportunities develop through gameplay. Certainly gamers like a bit of tension in their games – it’s no fun when you’re certain you’ll always win or when you know you’ve already lost but the game’s still not over – but there’s a fine line between tension and futile frustration. It proves a good test of players’ sportsmanship. I’ve played in games where, through poor luck of the dice, I knew I was beaten and was just playing out turns until the game ended. I’ve felt unworthy winning games by sheer luck of the dice, especially when my opponent fielded formidable forces or played exceptionally well (and was, himself, foiled by poor dice rolls).

I’ve been rebuked before for framing issues in terms of a “spectrum,” but this aspect of the Fog of War element actually falls along a spectrum. At one end stand games dominated by random elements such as War (if one could call that a “game,” a subject I’ve discussed before), Yatzee, Monopoly, even such Euro-game fare as Carcassonne; these often rely on providing a random situation or set of elements players must try to use to their advantage. At the other end stand games with no randomized elements like chess, Diplomacy, and Stratego where the Fog of War concept exists as uncertainty wholly generated by the players in terms of deployment and strategy, with clear-cut conflict resolution. (I’m sure such generalizations will spawn some contentious if civilized debate; I don’t pretend to approach issues presented in this blog in a comprehensively scholarly manner nor with particularly exacting attention to semantics in the diverse and often subjective English language.) Many games fall somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, offering the illusion that players can somehow exert control over their success by crafting a good deck, squadron, force, character, or strategy that’s still subject to random elements like dice or the luck of the draw.

Is on end of the spectrum better than the other? Of course not. Each extreme challenges players in different ways. At one end players receive randomized elements they must use to their best advantage in the situation. In the other they carefully arrange their resources and maneuver them knowing their strong points. Those in between can offer a false sense of control by juxtaposing random elements against prepared strategies. But good games maintain the tension until the very end, balancing uncertainty over success or failure.

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Sergeants Card-Driven Miniatures Rules

Sergeants Card-Driven Miniatures Rules

I recently had the opportunity to play in several beginner-friendly games of the Sergeants Miniatures Game from Lost Battalion Games and – despite a steep learning curve for what looks like a huge board game with cards and minis – really enjoyed the World War II squad-level action driven by some innovative card mechanics.

Sergeants incorporates elements of a board game, particularly a modular board of squares that recombine to form various map boards depicting typical Normandy terrain. It uses pre-painted 20mm miniatures of German and Allied soldiers much like a historical miniatures game, although each has a base with an individually named and numbered dog-tag. Each soldier comes with a single stat card depicting its abilities (movement, ability to rally pinned comrades, range for spotting and shooting enemy soldiers, victory points) plus seven cards keyed to that soldier for resolving randomized elements within the game. These cards form the core of the Sergeants game.

Card-driven mechanics aren’t new to board or wargames – take a look at Richard Borg’s incredible Memoir ’44 or Collins Epic Wargames’ Spearpoint 1943 – but using cards with different sectors of game information for several mechanics within the game remains the central concept behind Sergeants.

In preparing for a game each player builds a squad based on soldiers’ victory points and extra points for special equipment and ordnance. The average point build used in our demo game gave each player a squad of six to eight soldiers. Once players select soldiers they set aside the stat cards for future reference and shuffle all the soldiers’ other cards together into a huge “action” deck.

Cards from the action deck serve numerous functions in resolving operations during the game:

* Stats on players’ NCO cards determine how many action cards they draw each turn, which offer a variety of “orders” – look, hide, move, shoot – given to a variable number of soldiers as listed on the card. Each turn players also draw three “story” cards from a common deck with pairs of matching actions (“move then look” or “shoot then hide,” for instance) that determine permissible actions during each of a turn’s three phases. The more action cards in a player’s hand, the greater the range of options they have. (And if a player loses an NCO in combat, he also loses the cards he allows them to draw each turn....)

* A dog-tag graphic on each card not only denotes from which soldier’s card-set it comes, but allows that soldier to take the associated action again or in addition to the number of soldiers listed who receive that order.

* Some cards include a blue or white “narrator box” with additional instructions, such as ordering the named soldier to move a certain way (toward or away from an enemy, toward a structure), make an attack, or even become visible to enemy units! White boxes remain optional (and are usually beneficial) while blue boxes are mandatory. These not only add some personal idiosyncrasies for the individual soldiers but force players to choose between the actions and numbers of soldiers activated on these cards or other, non-narrator cards.

* A red box lists and determines “hit checks” for various attacks at long, short, close, and blast range, such as “Long: Miss” or “Close: Hit.” Each time a soldier attacks he draws the top card from his action deck and checks the appropriate ranged attack: a “hit” result causes the target to draw from his own action deck....

* The lower right corner contains one of four damage results a target may receive if an attacker scores a hit: zip (near miss, no penalties), pin (pinned down, all soldier stats are halved), wound (soldier stat cards flipped to show reduced wounded stats), or killed. Wounded soldiers taking another wound are killed. These results are used differently in grenade attacks and are also used in a slightly different way in close combat.

(I will freely admit I’m no fan of the actual artwork on the cards; I found it distracting at best. While I understand the urge to tie cards into individual soldiers within the game, the overall functionality of the cards might have been better served with a more neutral image and larger game-relevant information. I also admit that artwork remains an extremely subjective issue and that the designers have no obligation to satisfy my particular artistic tastes.)

This is an extremely simplified overview of the multiple uses of cards in the Sergeants game; the interaction of cards, soldier figures, and the board makes for some engaging, squad-level gameplay, although I’ll admit the learning curve remains steep.

Squad-Level Play

Some folks might like the grand strategic action of the Axis & Allies boardgame or the battlefield simulation of Memoir ’44; others might prefer more tactical action like that offered by Spearpoint 1943 (I’ve featured a number of these games before). Sergeants offers a very focused play experience of squad-level infantry operations in World War II, with each player commanding a handful of individually named soldiers with variable abilities, including foibles exhibited through mandatory blue narrator boxes.

This requires a solid investment in leaning the rules (aside from a financial investment in the game itself), but rewards players with a very focused experience. Aside from managing only a handful of soldiers in a squad, choosing orders and action cards to maximize their impact on the battlefield, players identify more with individual, named soldiers than simple, anonymous “game pieces.” It helps that each soldier has specific stats different from others of the same rank; giving named soldiers an extra action when playing one of their cards makes players pay attention where they deploy different soldiers.

At first my own inability to view soldiers as individuals put me at a disadvantage, a clear demonstration of the steep learning curve I experienced with the rules. In my effort to move a core group forward and a flanking group off to one side, I gradually realized my senior NCO was a terrible shot (very limited range) and I’d inadvertently left my most powerful piece of firepower – the guy carrying the MG-42 machine gun – way in the rear of the group and conveniently at a worse range to attack enemy soldiers. In the second game I played I made sure the guy with the MG-42 was well placed in cover next to a soldier with a high enough range he might as well have been a sniper; the guys with good throwing ranges went off down the flank to close with enemy troops and later delivered crippling grenade attacks; my senior NCO stayed in the back in good cover so he didn’t have to expose himself to enemy fire when shooting at poor ranges.

I particularly enjoyed my view of enemy soldiers. Each painted miniature on the opposing side was also an individual – some NCOs, others armed with certain weapons – and I had no visual idea which ones were the better targets. It wasn’t even easy to recall which ones had particularly effective weapons or ranges unless I paid attention to the other players measuring ranges and consulting their own soldier cards. This provided a very realistic sense of a skirmish beyond what other miniature wargames and board games offer.

Other Banes & Boons

The Sergeants game demonstrated several key gameplay elements that stood out beyond the card mechanics; it also presented a few drawbacks one might overlook.

Besides the option to point-build individual squads (and that’s before considering any of the add-ons for soldiers, squads, and terrain noted below...), the ability to rearrange the “puzzle-piece” board for different scenarios gives Sergeants fantastic replay value. Each five-inch by five-inch square terrain piece (double that for “landmark” pieces) has puzzle-like tabs and indentations to fit with all the other pieces. Since the pieces are double-sided, this enables the game to present a host of terrain options and arrangements.

Each tile displays action modifier information right on the tile, making calculating ranges for moving, looking, hiding, and shooting easier. Although movement relies on measuring inches, other actions measure range by terrain tiles (with larger landmark tiles counting as two). When line of sight between soldiers for spotting and shooting cuts across several square tiles diagonally, those tiles and their modifiers count as well. This sometimes led to some debate at the game table about whether or not a line nicked a tile corner, a small issue considering the utility of having terrain modifiers listed on the terrain itself.

At least to my particularly frugal finances, the Sergeants game has a high price to buy into a base set – $89.95 for either Day of Days featuring American paratroopers or Red Devils with British paratroopers – not to mention pricey yet great-looking add-ons, from punch-out, three-dimensional terrain and new terrain tile sets to extra soldiers, complete with pre-painted minis and card sets. That’s not to say the basic game set isn’t packed with amazing components – one can’t argue with re arrangeable map tiles, a host of cards, markers for spotted and pinned soldiers, and pre-painted miniatures – but it represents a high buy-in for a hybrid board/miniatures game with cards. It’s certainly what some might call a “boutique” game that delivers a rather unique play experience particularly satisfying for gamers interested in World War II.

Perhaps the best way to try Sergeants and see if the investment’s worthwhile is to find a regional convention, game store, or gaming group where a Sergeants fan offers a demonstration. I lucked out in finding several games at a regional wargaming convention. I had the pleasure of participating in two games run by Jason Williams, who ran the Sergeants demo and the more involved game I played at Williamsburg Muster 2014. Despite what for me was a steep learning curve with the rules, he did a fantastic job of explaining the essentials and patiently shepherding us through various gameplay issues as they evolved on the board.

Overall I’d have to admit I was really pleased with the game experience Sergeants offered. If it weren’t for the high price tag for even just the base set (which could occupy me with different terrain and objective scenarios for a while) I’d dive right into it to satisfy my interest in World War II game action.

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Simultaneous Versus Alternating Turn Rules

I’ve been playing around with Battefront’s Flames of War on the under-used basement wargames table lately to gain a better grasp of the rules; it’s helping me realize I like simultaneous movement and combat resolution in miniature wargames more than strict alternating turn systems.

I’ll admit my experience with Flames of War remains limited. I’m still painting up (and slowly collecting) elements for two companies to fight skirmishes in North Africa, a Panzer company and a British armored company (though light or heavy I haven’t decided -- I have a platoon of Lees and one of Crusader IIs, only one of which being painted and ready for action). Most of my forays into the game consist of pitting my disparate bits of painted units against each other on desert terrain trying to wrap my head around the comprehensive but often-times complex rules. Maybe I shouldn’t pit superior German tanks against British Cruisers and Crusaders, which, despite relatively equal point values, seem to simply fold up in the face of Rommel’s panzers, especially when they sit idly in their final movement position from last turn to let the panzers pound them into oblivion. Nothing says “You Lose” like an entire platoon of Crusaders wiped out under withering panzer fire in one turn. (Obviously this is a deficiency in my collection of painted 15mm figures; I must paint up some British Grant tanks and some anti-tank guns…or maybe I just need to collect an entire German panzer company and field it against some folks at the Friendly Local Gaming Store to really get my butt kicked.)

I recall a Flames of War demo run by Jon Baber of What Would Patton Do at a Richmond-area game day a few years ago. It was an all-tank battle (without infantry or artillery, which was fine since I prefer all-tank engagements anyway). He walked me through the basics of the rules and taught additional rules as I rolled a panzer company through some French village surrounded by fields. Aside from my natural discomfort learning a new rules system, I also experienced a great deal of frustration from the alternating turn progression. Granted, both players follow the same rules and both take turns acting while the other helplessly watches; but turns can take so long, especially for a novice, that the feeling of helplessness drags on beyond the hope of possible victory and ultimately the enjoyment of the game. One might argue since both players use the same rules each benefits equally from alternating turns rather than simultaneous resolution. At least for me the play experience seems far more frustrating. For one entire turn I can do nothing while my opponent maneuvers across the board and shoots at my pieces, possibly destroying them before I have a chance to respond.

Simultaneous Bias

Most wargames I’ve played rely on a simultaneous system where each player resolves movement and then combat at the same time, giving each a chance to act and have what feels like a fair chance to react to the opponent’s tactics without sitting idly and often helplessly waiting for the next turn. Whether or not it’s technically evenhanded, it gives the impression of being fair.

I particularly like the simultaneous mechanics of Wizards of the Coast’s Axis & Allies Miniatures games. While I’ve not played -- and have little interest in buying into -- the latest air combat game, I’ve enjoyed the land-based minis game and War at Sea, the naval version. In both games players each take a turn moving all their units, then fire at targets in turn (and in several different phases in War at Sea to simulate different kinds of ordnance); but damage inflicted by successful attacks doesn’t take effect until the end of the combat turn or phase, giving each player’s forces an opportunity to attack the other from their present positions.

I enjoy Wings of War/Wings of Glory especially for its simultaneous movement and combat system, particularly when numerous airplanes cover the board maneuvering, shooting, and steering clear of other planes. At the beginning of each turn every player reveals and executes his maneuver, then determines if any enemy aircraft are within the fire arc and range. The truly simultaneous movement and combat can lead to some really unexpected and entertaining moments, including two opposing planes shooting each other down in the same turn.

I’m a fan of The Sword and the Flame, the Victorian miniatures rules covering many colonial wars I enjoy fighting (primarily Egypt and the Sudan). Those rules offer an interesting modification of the simultaneous move and combat systems, allowing players to move forces based on the random draw of cards; the British player moves one unit if red cards are drawn, the “native” player when black cards are drawn, until the one with units left over moves remaining forces at the end of the movement phase. The ranged combat system works the same way, though casualties take effect immediately. (Close combat is handled differently and, of course, quite savagely, though still simultaneously no matter who closed to engage.)

When I run roleplaying games, regardless of the system, I tend to favor resolving actions in a round -- particularly combat -- simultaneously, with considerations for extraordinary circumstances or exceptional character initiative (i.e., “Mack tries shooting the Japanese officer’s hand before he pushes the plunger detonator....”). Keeping track of who’s doing what, whether they succeed, and what the opposition does can prove quite the mental and imaginative challenge, but it moves the action a little more from an alternating turn-by-turn game simulation toward a slightly more dramatic, simultaneously resolved scene.

Alternating Defense

I believe alternating turn movement and combat resolution has its place in more traditional, war-themed board games. Obviously when one plays Risk, Stratego, or other such games there remains some element of frustration naturally inherent in the competition between players, but one isn’t left feeling quite so helpless while the opponent determines movement, hits, saves, damage, etc., often while consulting or explaining numerous rules and special exceptions. These turn-based games move far more quickly than often ponderous miniature wargames with comprehensive rules systems.

I enjoy “battle games” like Days of Wonder’s Memoir ’44 or the old TSR Sirocco; like most board games, these rely on alternating turns between players. For some reason -- possibly because of the smaller, board-game feel -- I don’t think my Memoir ’44 play experience is diminished by alternating turns. This might come from the games' limitation on player actions based on the command cards he holds, which can restrict his options to using troops in the left, right, and center (or some combination of those) or to particular troop types. Perhaps the feelings of helplessness in these games doesn’t coalesce as quickly given the quick turn progression and relative ease of the rules.

I was impressed by the Severed Union rules Gordon & Hague recently released for fighting American Civil War battles with 10mm miniatures. On the surface Severed Union seems to rely on an alternating turn system whereby one side moves, fires, and charges into close combat before the other player repeats those phases; except after movement and before long-range fire from infantry, any artillery on the defender’s side has a chance to fire at enemy targets. In fact artillery only fires on the opposing player’s turn, allowing for some degree of defense in the face of unrelenting combat phases.

In my own dabbling with miniature wargame design I’ve leaned toward simultaneous movement and combat resolution, streamlining rules for greater speed and ease of play with relatively few tethers to realistic simulation. Any designer -- for wargames, board games, card games, and roleplaying games -- struggles with a balance between complexity and playability. Historical wargames balance complex rules simulating realities of a period battlefield with ease of play. Some offer very realistic game engines simulating all aspects of warfare within a particular period, but they aren’t as accessible to general players due to their complexity. While some hard-core wargamers might downplay the importance of “battle games” like Memoir’44 and Wings of War/Wings of Glory, they serve as both entry games enticing newcomers into the gaming and wargaming hobby and worthy gaming pursuits in and of themselves offering in-depth play opportunities and solid replay value.

I’m no expert on wargames rules, and I’m certainly not familiar with even most of the popular systems so these remain broad generalizations reflecting my particular gaming tastes.

I’m drawn to the Flames of War “hobby” -- a term the company Battlefront Miniatures uses as a nod to the Games Workshop Warhammer “hobby” on which its modeled its sales and promotion structure -- primarily because it’s so ubiquitous these days among Friendly Local Gaming Stores that stock miniatures (much like its Warhammer forerunner). It remains perhaps the most popular World War II miniatures game today, with a vast, worldwide network of players, tournaments, and host game stores. I’ll continue learning the rules and painting my minis with an eye toward the day when I can field a full tank company at the Friendly Local Gaming Store’s regular Friday night Flames of War gathering, where I’ll fully expect to have my tanks burning on the field before the night’s out….