Mass combat: broken units

I had a brief mass combat idea that solved most of the issues I had with PCs fighting a few dozen goblins at once.

This assumes there are only a few (say, one to ten) fighters in one side, and several (say, ten to a hundred) in the other.

We already have the usual combat rules for smaller combats, when there is fewer than a dozen foes on either side.

In addition, if you have 60 knights against 150 orcs, you can just treat it almost like a fight of 6 knights against 15 orcs, adapting as needed.

But when you mix everything together, you might have a small issue - still easily fixable.

Say you have four individual PCs, plus 60 knights against 150 orcs. Ten orcs can attack ten knights with a single roll (treat this as one or against one knight); the knights either die or don't.

Ten orcs can attack a single PC instead, with a +10 bonus.

The problem is if the PCs attack a group of ten orcs. Usually, they can only kill one or two (which might break morale and thus the whole unit, but that is another matter). Let's say they are reduced to nine orcs.

Now they can attack the PCs with a +9 instead of +10 bonus—all very intuitive.

But what if nine orcs decide to attack ten knights?

Simply give them a -1 bonus due to the difference between nine and ten, and give the knights a +1 bonus when attacking them.

But let's say we get into a more difficult situation: there are just four orcs, fighting to the death, against ten knights in plate.

They'd attack with -6, making a hit impossible. Instead, they could choose to make an attack against a single knight, now with +4. Now it is more likely that they'd kill at least one before being wiped out by the remaining knights.

Another option, maybe even easier, is saying that the 4 orcs can attack 4 knights - no bonuses or penalties. Treat this as one orc attacking one knight. Either the ten knights are reduced to six, or remain unharmed [this works somewhat similarly to the game Risk].

Conversely, if 7 knights attack 3 orcs, treat this as a single knight, attacking a single orc, with a +4 bonus. If that single orc is slain, it means all three orcs were defeated.

This system looks a bit complicated until I organize it, but it is very intuitive to me, and the results are not terribly far from the what you'd get but making each single attack separately - or at least close enough for my taste.

My goal, here, is never having to keep track of "minor NPC" HP, and never needing another set of rules - just roll 1d20, consider THAC0 and AC, use damage as written, etc. No need to convert to d6s, roll handfuls of d20s, and so on.

[BTW, if you own handfuls of d20 and d10s, you can easily use them as pawns, altering the digits as the units dwindle - for example, a d20 on 7 means 7 knights, and a d10 on 3 means 3 orcs. But you can also use any chips or counters, including the ones from Risk].

Now I want to playtest this. Looks promising.

The progenitors (Prismatic Planet)

The progenitors are a nearly extinct species, and little is known about them. Humanity’s knowledge comes mostly from the observation of ruins and half-forgotten legends - fragments often twisted by time and error, that few humans know.

Whatever remains of the progenitors that can be found lie deep within damp, shadowed caves. They seemed to shun the scorching sun and suffered greatly from the scarcity of water. They might have been amphibious, or at least partially so, as their lairs contain vast networks of pipes, basins, wet chambers, and pools.

Their minds were far more advanced than those of any amphibian, reaching extremes that not even human intellect can fathom without risking madness. Their tools have often been salvaged for human use, suggesting the presence of hands and feet, though some of these artifacts may have been crafted for their human thralls instead.

The way their bodies are depicted in art and myth reflects this dual humanoid and aquatic nature. A common motif is a powerful human-like body crowned with the head of a water-dwelling creature such as a crab, octopus, or lizard. Others portray them as disembodied heads or brains suspended in liquid, connected to robotic shells or grafted onto decapitated human hosts. Wilder storytellers speak of tentacles, bat-like wings, bioelectronic appendices, claws, or amorphous blobs twisting into unnamable shapes that defy all classification and analogy.

Progenitors were mostly solitary and arrogant beings. They viewed other creatures as mere tools for their purposes and their own kind as little better. Though they seemed to share a common language, they rarely shared common homes. Their lairs were cloaked in secrecy and often protected by cruel locks and traps, their experiments jealously guarded from even their peers.

They possessed powerful, but limited, means of communication across vast distances, aided by strange machines and immense psionic abilities.

They appeared obsessed with experimental science and technology, using humans as guinea and creating incredibly intelligent machines, on the verge of artificial intelligence, to serve their whims. The planet itself, like all other life, was exploited with little regard for the future. The regions surrounding their dwellings remain especially grim and lifeless even by the standards of this already hostile world.

The Progenitors and Humanity

Humans were very likely the progenitors’ favored thralls. Their versatility and aptitude for tool use made them ideal servants. Any inclination toward rebellion or resistance seems to have been suppressed through psionic or technological means, though bloody uprisings and wars certainly occurred.

Humans were likely bred, cloned, and altered to better serve their masters. They were also subjected to endless experimentation, their capabilities tested and catalogued. The abhorrent treatment that lingers in humanity’s collective subconscious would appear as wanton cruelty and sadism, but in the eyes of the progenitors, it may have been explained as scientific curiosity akin to what a human would nurture for an unusually clever group of mice.

---
Back to the table of contents.

As always, all feedback is appreciated!

The shelters (Prismatic Planet)

The Fallout setting has the best rationale for wacky dungeons being scattered all around. Each "vault" was designed with a unique, often disturbing social experiment. This means every underground facility can have wildly different themes: psychological horror, body horror, mutated monsters, utopian simulations, illusions, traps, advanced technology, and so on.

Here are a few examples compiled by A.I.:

Vault 11: Residents had to sacrifice one person annually or face annihilation.
Vault 108: Filled with clones of a man named Gary. All they say is “Gary.”
Vault 12: Deliberately left unsealed to expose residents to radiation—birthplace of ghouls.
Vault 22: Botany experiment gone wrong—plants infected and consumed the inhabitants.
Vault 75: Children were taken for genetic enhancement; adults were exterminated.
Vault 81: Secret medical experiments conducted behind a facade of normalcy.
Vault 95: Rehab center for addicts—later flooded with drugs to test relapse.
Vault-Tec University: Training ground for Vault Overseers, filled with simulation chambers.

Here are other examples.

I find this much more satisfying than "crazy wizard did it because he is crazy" of some D&D modules.

My Prismatic Planet setting has something similar, with a few twists of my own.

---

Most Prismatic Planet "dungeons" were created by the progenitors. These are inhuman creatures that view humans as little better than common beasts. Before being driven to the brink of extinction, they not only enslaved humans but also ran various twisted experiments on them to test their physical, mental, and moral limits.

[Other dungeons are created primarily by gigantic prismatic worms and later repurposed by humans or other beasts]

The progenitors knew they were a dying breed even before the scorching of the planet, so they used the much more numerous and expendable humans for various tasks.

This means that their "shelters" often contained actual labyrinths, tricks, and traps to test or even mutate humans in various ways, treating them like lab rats. Some of them might have included small prizes to encourage people to complete random tasks, while others were deathtraps designed to cull the herd and leave only the most apt humans for breeding purposes.

Each trap can contain information of various bygone ages, humans (different, crazy, or unharmed) and even surviving progenitors. Some are found intact, while other have been invaded, robbed, or overtaken by monsters or bandits.

They can also work as a great campaign starter, similarly to a Fallout game: the shelter is all the PCs ever know, until the systems stop functioning for unknown reasons, forcing them to venture out into the wider world.

It would probably be a good idea to list a few examples in the book. Here are a few of my own. I think I can also use some from Dark Fantasy Places.

1d6.

1. Controlled by an AI with an [helpful, hostile, erratic, suffocating, jealous, mischievous, dishonest, bargaining] personality.

2. Clone factory, has several humans with little to no memories or understanding and [helpless, aggressive, childish, curious, submissive, rebel] personality, or preserved in cryogenic chambers.

3. Mutation lab, including mutated humans, beasts or plants of various kinds.

4. Arena, created for entertainment and selection purposes, with various systems prepared to pit humans against [each other, robots, clones, beasts]. 

5. Mazes, sometimes resembling escape rooms, created to test the subject's [intelligence, morality, courage, resistance].

6. Experimental science labs, dedicated to the research and improvement of [weaponry, armor, transportation, communication, medicine, psychotropics, psychic powers, robots].

---
Back to the table of contents.

As always, all feedback is appreciated!

More minimalist weapons, armor and some numbers

Another random idea for B/X D&D weapons.

I've tried this before, but I like this version better.

Since maces/axes deal 1d6 damage and swords deal 1d8, we could use:

--

Maces get +2 against armor.

Axes get +1 against armor, and +1 damage against unarmored.

Swords don't need it but can get +1 to-hit against unarmored. Still best weapon unless foe is heavily armored.

[Hard/brittle foes made of rock or bone count as armored, soft foes such as oozes and maybe snakes, tentacles etc. count as unarmored].

Of course, maces and axes are always more useful to break down a door.

---

That is it, that is all we need. Or not - maybe the sword is just better because it is heavier and more expensive.

But while we're here let's crunch some numbers.

In B/X, the best nonmagical armor you could get would be plate + shield, which a first level character (any class) hits on a 17 or more - i.e., 20% of the time.

This is a DPR of 0.9 (20%*1d8) for swords. Maces hit more often, for a DPR of 1.05 (30%*1d6). A nice small improvement.

[Notice that our change adds 50% to the mace's DPR under these circumstances].

If you put the target in chain, no shield, the sword is identical to mace on average (1.575); against lighter armor, sword is better again.

The axe is never quite optimal but it works well enough against armored and unarmored foes, and it is just slightly worse than the sword against unarmored opponents.

The thing is, once you get ability score bonuses and magic weapons, the whole distinction becomes almost meaningless. 

For example, under the usual rules, if your fighter deals 1d6+5 damage with a mace, getting a 1d8+5 sword is only an 11% improvement in DPR, instead of almost 30%. 

And if you're hitting on a roll of 6 or more (75% of the time), for example, getting a +1 bonus is only a 7% increase in DPR. And you're unlikely to face a foe with negative armor unless it is a dragon or something.

So, while the distinctions will lose importance to powerful heroes, they are relevant enough for low-level PCs and armies in general.

Note that, in AD&D, these small rules could partially replace the complicated weapon versus armor table; they'd be a bit more significant against plate+shield, which requires 18 or more to hit for a 1st level PC. 

Also since you need a 20 to hit AC 0 in AD&D, and monster AC is usually the same as B/X,  the differences are more notable and relevant for a bit longer.

---

Addendum (10 Nov 2025): Another issue I had are specialized weapons, such as flails and picks. In this case, I'd give them -1 against unarmored, and otherwise treat them as maces, with and additional +1 against shields (for flails) and +1 against plate (for picks). 

For polearms with multiple heads, I'd be inclined to give them just bonuses, since the fighter will be able to use the best method available.

On alignment, part III: the Dungeon Master and his emissary

One thing I found difficult in Part II was understanding why we even need “Law” in the first place. Why not just aim for the Good, if that’s the obvious goal?

I think the reason is that we cannot grasp the Good directly, so we need law to guide us. Until, like we discussed before, the law stops serving the Good and starts serving itself.

I’ve been reading about The Master and His Emissary by Iain McGilchrist (I haven’t read the book), and one of the main ideas seems to be the two ways the brain—divided into left and right hemispheres—sees the world. Basically (and please forgive me if I’m mangling this), the right side sees a diffuse “whole picture”, while the left has laser-like focus on one thing at a time.

[Or, as McGilchrist says in a Jordan Peterson interview, in many animals the right side is looking for predators while the left one is looking for prey].

One example (not sure if it’s from the book) is how we can be in a room full of people talking, and we’re completely unable to follow each conversation, but somehow we can hear our name get mentioned. This is the "right brain", perceiving nothing and everything at the same time.

So there’s an analogy here between Law and Good. Law gives us guidance: for example, “if someone commits adultery, stone them to death,” or “you cannot eat meat, shellfish,” etc. It’s simple, easy to understand, clear-cut—a job for the "left brain". But the Good transcends this: “he who hath no sin, cast the first stone,” “the Sabbath was made for man.” And this is not a binary “break the law” moment either—it transcends the mere yes/no. “I do not condemn you; go and sin no more.”

Another example—one I’ll mention just because of sheer coincidence*—comes from a TV show I was watching after pausing to write this very post. It was about a university student who missed his midterm exam by just a few minutes, and his teacher, principal, etc., insisted on enforcing the rule to show its importance. In the end, the student humbly asks the teacher to reconsider, showing that he’s learned his lesson but now needs just one person to say “F— it.” And the teacher does, giving the student another shot. I’m not saying this is right or wrong, but in that moment, the rules would have prevented the main goal—graduating an exceptional student—for no apparent gain.

[*BTW, these kinds of "coincidences" are the right brain's domain. I started reading about The Master and His Emissary because "coincidentally" two different courses I was watching pointed me to it somehow].

One final analogy came to mind while thinking about D&D. When going into dungeons, you can carry a torch—or, in later editions, even a "bullseye lantern". Now think of a modern small lantern: it’s much better than a torch, but it only points one way, while the torch lights all around you.

But, when walking in the dark (and we are all walking in the dark—from Plato to Scripture to Maya, etc.), you need a source of light to make all your surroundings clearer—lest you be jumped by monsters or fall down a hole you didn't see because you were looking straight ahead. Still, the lantern allows you to see farther ahead, and in greater detail.

One thing that bothers me about D&D torches is that, in real life, they’d be horrible to use in dungeons. Carrying fire near your eyes ruins your vision. You’d have to hold it behind you, or maybe mount a candle over your helmet. Looking directly into the light would blind you, not to mention the smoke.

That’s why we cannot look at the Good directly.

I like this metaphor because light is a symbol for the Good—but it can also be blinding. “For Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.” So while Law, when twisted into Lawful Evil, can be defied by pure Good (which might resemble Chaotic Good), it can also be defied by Chaotic Evil—pure evil disguised as Chaotic Good.

I’m not sure how much of this applies in D&D, since deities like Bahamut are Lawful Good, period. I’m not sure how D&D handles the Euthyphro dilemma, or whether Bahamut could ever do evil. I think these things are more or less set in stone—although maybe there’s a module or novel somewhere about Lawful Evil cultists of a Lawful Good deity. 

If there is, I’d bet the adventure would play out in a way similar to what I’ve been describing: the Good  (or Chaotic Good) heroes having to break the letter of the law to uphold its spirit, while the true Chaotic Evil characters remain unseen, lingering at the edges of the zealots’ vision, because the zealots are using lanterns to search for motes in front of them and ignoring the Light above them, and the full picture all around them.

UPDATE: just found out there is a great video with the same name as this post, so here you go: