The things we do not talk about!

[whswhs]

Originally Posted by Nicosomething

Reminds me of how Pendragon has rules for one adventure a year, in between duties as a vassal and manor lord.

Yes. I had that in mind when I made my proposal.

[Varyon]

Originally Posted by Fred Brackin

<shrug> Blame Attacks of Opportunity.

Or maybe realism. In historic battles it is often the case that the most casualties occur when one side tries to run away and gets slaughtered when they do. It's also noted that a fighting retreat is one of war's most difficult maneuvers.

That's largely due to the retreating soldiers panicking (and it being difficult to have them retreat without doing so). Of course, even an orderly retreat isn't going to be effective if OpFor opts to follow you,; as Anthony notes, a retreat typically only works if OpFor lets you go or is somehow prevented from following you (a popular option in fiction and legend - and occasionally in history - is to sacrifice a small force at a chokepoint to hold the enemy back).

Humorously, Attacks of Opportunity wouldn't be an issue here with the version of DnD that I played - the Withdraw action took up a full turn, but let you move twice your speed (the same as using both your Move and Standard actions for movement) and meant your first square of movement didn't provoke AoO (at least not against visible foes). Checking the 5e SRD, there's a Disengage Action that looks similar, although I think it only lets you move your full speed (but you don't provoke AoO at all while moving), so you could still have a foe chase after you and hit you each round if they have the same speed as you (or are faster).

Originally Posted by The Colonel

I agree with needing to maintain player agency (even if that means suspending disbelief with a dockyard crane) ... although some stringent penalty effects would only seem fair.

Yeah, in general for influencing PC actions, penalties to do things other than what the effect dictates and maybe even bonuses for going along with it (which typically won't be realistic, but can be dramatically appropriate) seem the most appropriate route. Player agency is still in play, but the character's emotional state is also playing a role. And of course the GM can opt to have NPC's do the same - taunting isn't mind control, so that enemy fighter can still attack the mage you're trying to draw him away from, he'll just be distracted by your taunts and have a harder time connecting.

[The Colonel]

Originally Posted by Varyon

Yeah, in general for influencing PC actions, penalties to do things other than what the effect dictates and maybe even bonuses for going along with it (which typically won't be realistic, but can be dramatically appropriate) seem the most appropriate route. Player agency is still in play, but the character's emotional state is also playing a role. And of course the GM can opt to have NPC's do the same - taunting isn't mind control, so that enemy fighter can still attack the mage you're trying to draw him away from, he'll just be distracted by your taunts and have a harder time connecting.

Metacurrency may also help - the player can either choose to roll with events, or can burn metacurrency to bend things to their will. Depends on how you want the game system to work, but I'm more concerned about NPC morale - even creatures described as being of a windy persuasion, by RAW, will fight to the death without turning a hair, just like a mindless zombie would.
Of course, there can be great flavour in a game where NPCs generally take one good hit and then drop or run ... and then the PCs run into a cyberpsycho/zombie or suchlike and have to dismantle it.

[Rupert]

Originally Posted by The Colonel

Metacurrency may also help - the player can either choose to roll with events, or can burn metacurrency to bend things to their will. Depends on how you want the game system to work, but I'm more concerned about NPC morale - even creatures described as being of a windy persuasion, by RAW, will fight to the death without turning a hair, just like a mindless zombie would.
Of course, there can be great flavour in a game where NPCs generally take one good hit and then drop or run ... and then the PCs run into a cyberpsycho/zombie or suchlike and have to dismantle it.

I've recently been running Worlds Without Number, and using random encounter rolls and morale checks and reaction rolls for NPCs a lot. For some reason I almost never win initiative, random encounters very seldom appear on rolls, and monsters seldom fail their morale checks. Thus the version of the world my campaign is in must feel somewhat different from the one that's statistically likely under the rules.

[Anaraxes]

Originally Posted by Rupert

the version of the world my campaign is in must feel somewhat different from the one that's statistically likely under the rules.

But you have to remember to integrate across all the other games you're running in the Rupertverse. Then balance and harmony are restored, with all versions of the world existing in proper proportion.

[Icelander]

Originally Posted by Fred Brackin

What I've said for (does quick math) more than 40 years is that Player Characters are free to exhibit bravery verging on absolute human limits if their Player wants them to. They can also panic if they just feel like it.

in either case it might represent bad roleplaying but the GM _can not prevent that_. Running everything in the universe except the PCs is work enough.

I don't see the distinction between the player saying, "My character jumps over the chasm," and then using the game mechanics to resolve whether that physical feat, verging on absolute human limits, succeeds, and doing the same for an act of courage. After all, '[Player] proposes, [dice] disposes.'

Both are attempts to have the character perform tasks which, if successful, rate near the limit of the human capability. Both have Attributes that govern the task and both have skills that could help by floating them to the Attribute (Acrobatics or Jumping, whichever is higher for the chasm; Will-based Soldier for facing nearly certain death in battle, Will-based Philosophy (Stoicism) for facing the wrath of an angry Aunt Agatha).

If it is that sort of campaign, players who don't want to roll anything can use an Impulse Buy to buy a success, whether the feat is physical or mental. Or characters might be allowed to purchase Super Jump, Flight or Walk on Air, just as they might be able to take Unfazeable, if a defining trait about the character is how such near-impossible feats are mundane for them.

[Icelander]

Like others in the thread, I've made dances, masquerades, balls and other social events focal points of sessions, even narrative threads.

PCs have used Carousing-, Diplomacy-, Savoir-Faire- or even Sex Appeal-based Parry to avert an attempt by another guest to disclose an unwanted secret, to make an ill-advised pass or to dress down an old fool of a noble who happened to dispose of a regiment of elite guardsmen the PCs needed rather badly, while they also desired to avoid a split command, and to situate said old fool is a grand-sounding sinecure where he posed a minimal risk of catastrophic error. Carousing-based Parries are great fun, as they usually involve something like a drunken bearhug to take someone to the dance-floor, get them to do shots or a keg-stand. There's a penalty to the Carousing skill check if the PC does not commit fully to their diversionary drunken breakdance, shots contest or keg-stands.

I've also seen the noble art of the Dance-Off make something of a come-back with the redemption arc of the former dark and vengeful PC bard, who sold ('leased', he would correct) his soul to the Nine Hells in exchange for the power to avenge his murdered wife and children. After hunting down the soldiers, the commanders, the priests and the nobles who gave the orders that led to the death of his family, and after serving his century and a day as a General for the Lords of Hell, he had not yet drunk deep enough of the bitter chalice of his hateful wroth. He wanted to tear down the Empire in whose name soldiers murdered his family, raze their cities to the ground, burn their souks and seraglios where he found them and let the shifting purple sands of the Raurin bury all evidence of its existence.

So, he defeated the Sheikh of the Grinning Skull Oasis, a charismatic villain whose principles and spear were burhished bright, and his speech was as beautiful, as wickedly bent and as dangerous as his sword. It amused our bardic PC that this exiled sheikh, lord of outcasts and border reavers, should seek to terrify his foes, even now, a century and some weeks later, with titles that once were bestowed on him. The Smiling Desert Wind, the Sword of Murghom, Lord of the Grinning Skull, and now, descended down to all Nine Hells and ascended again, the Dark Nightingale, the Doom of Mulhorand.

As the Dark Nightingale accepted the surrender of bandits and border reavers, swearing them into his service, as their sheikh, their judge and their provider, he found himself remembering his former life with greater clarity. No longer did he feel like a General of the Legions of the Nine Hells who once dreamt he was a man, a husband, a father... and a lord. Loyalty and fealty were not chains which bound only the men who swore. Having accepted their service, he owed them, and their kith and kin, homes and prosperity, protection and honour. It took a long time and much soul-searching, which for a bard meant a great many poems and songs.

Now men did not merely sing the dirge of his vengeance around the low embers of dying flames, as they remembered when soldiers of the Mulhorandi Empire feared the Raurin, the Smiling Desert Wind, and the Sword of Murghom, they also sang of a fiery rebirth of the flame of free Murghom, through trials and tribulations, but as free tribes, bound only by their oaths and honour, freely given, and thus beyond price.

The Dark Nightingale rode into encampments and he raised men. He said he would mount every fully-armed warrior with a magnificent Raurin charger and give them riding horses and pack horses too. When men asked where any lord could have so many horses, he sang of the forced tribute, where proud Mulhorand demanded the cream of the Raurin herds, the best of the newly trained war chargers from every lord in Murghom. Was he not the Smiling Desert Wind? How could he not accept such a clear challenge? A prize beyond wealth, the pride and glory of Murghom, and a challenge to his courage, his horsemanship and a challenge which would make his loyal men household warriors of the greatest sheikh of the Raurin?

Some he won over with sweet reason, the magnificence of his retinue and the rich bounty he offered. No doubt, some were for a free Murghom, and down with the Empire. But one sheikh, the lord of the town where soldiers of the client king Tharmakkas would pass through with the herd before handing it over to Imperial cavalry, rode to meet him in equal splendour. Old enough for his beard to have streaks of grey, secure enough not to dye it, rich enough to wear fine silks, strong enough to ride masterfully in full mail under it. A lord in bearing, his eyes darkened with kohl, his visage masterful, but a twinkle of joyful amusement alighting from his unusual greyish eyes.

The Dark Nightingale gasped as he beheld twenty grey mares trained to trot in a dancing caracole, as their riders twirled javelins and a military band played. Unable to restrain himself, he jumped from his stallion in full mail and joined in the dance, his turban a-twirling and his swords, knives and throwing javelins juggled as he danced like a dervish.

The Great Sheikh and the Dark Nightingale danced until neither horse nor man could match them. They sang the songs of old Murghom and the raiding songs of the tribes, embroidered with their own feats of valour, free of false modesty, and as they sang, they felt a kindred spirit in their rival. They felt the great, consuming passion of a great rivalry, which can end only in two ways. The music ended and they sat by the fire and ate figs. Now, the haggling would begin. They had a choice of two endings. To dig two graves or to make one clan. There would be a wedding, a joining of their peoples.

The haggling lasted long into the night and none disturbed the fragile negotiations. The Great Sheikh proposed an absent daughter, lovelier than all his girls in the town, but even better, absent as she rode for the honour of the clan to be the best rider of Murghom. An absent daughter was accepted, though she was a headstrong girl, who would one day bear rulers who would bestride the plains, and she must be wooed and not presented with an ultimatum. The Dark Nightingale asked if he was not a man who could awaken desire, even in the old and tired? The answer is not recorded, in verse or otherwise, but there was indeed a joining of their peoples.