The Fighter Who Was Promised

(Inspired by a conversation earlier today)

Fighters aren’t boring.

As expected from a game about simulating challenges in a fictional world, old D&D is informed by the logic of genre emulation (and a very idiosyncratic potpourri in its case), even when we aren’t using a game philosophy that tries copying the structure and dramatic beats from narrative media. Even in an adventure game, we understand things by what movie or comic or book made us excited to play that setting. I want to use the perceived Fighter’s blandness as a toll to understand the assumptions we can use for old D&D, and also how a campaign is set.

The fighter, at first glance, is the basic unit of D&D without specific flavor. They don’t seem to have specific worldbuilding implications like the magic-user or cleric (they do). They are free from the dissonance that haunts the Cleric (Peter Cushing) regarding most settings, but share an identity crisis with the thief: aren’t all adventurers fighters and thieves? The fighter is usually safe from discussions about removing them, though, because it’s easier to redistribute the thief’s flavor and functions than work around the fighter’s importance to the gameplay loop. Sure, we say, there’s a person that hits harder. Everyone can fight, but only one is a Fighter. But who’s the fighter, actually?

The fighter is not a generic class but seems so, because the fighter is legion. It is many, and I think you need to see it as all of them at once to get why perceived blandness is an adventure design problem usually, not something that needs to be fixed through extra rules.

The fighter is Beowulf and other figures of mythological prowess. They reflect that in their stats and saves, as a monster-slaying hero. By level one, the fighter is already a Veteran, not a random person who picked up arms to face horrors. The greatest comparison regarding this fragment of the fighter’s identity besides mythology is not even Conan, but John Carter of Mars and his eternal pride of swordsmanship. The absurd warrior who lives for war.

The fighter is King Arthur and other figures who seized a throne and domain. They are destined for the game of thrones, represented by their (often overlooked) mechanical ability of starting a stronghold at any point while other classes must wait. The fighter goes into the dungeon because the treasure will be channeled into their base of operations from day one, even if it’s an old inn, to manage the many hirelings and mercenaries. While my point is that the fighter doesn’t need any mechanical changes, if you need a suggestion (beyond backporting special abilities at Hero and Superhero levels from OD&D to B/X if needed), it would be good to better reflect this by giving the fighter bonus for morale or more followers than other classes.

Why should the hirelings listen to the cleric’s Sunday service while they rest, or trust the thief, or keep close to the MU who performs weird research? The fighter is their trusted reference because D&D is a storybook world. Why does the fairy tale protagonist become ruler over a task that bypasses all political considerations? Because that’s their prerogative while they exist in the story. Why does the fighter establish a stronghold even at level one with enough resources? Because they are the ruler that was promised and the campaign is their song of ice and fire.

The fighter is Elric. Elric’s tragedy is the fighter’s class feature: the magic sword. If I could, I would rewrite every rulebook so there’s a small note saying, “at level one, Fighters can receive messages in dreams as to where the closest magic sword is.” This, of course, also leads them back at being King Arthur, but Elric seems the most adequate representative of this aspect (despite his empire crumbling before him while the fighter ascends) because Stormbringer is the clearest model for how magic swords are presented in old D&D. The fighter is a magic-using class like the MU, the cleric, and the scroll-reading thief, they just have their sword cast spells for them instead. Not only the referee may give any spell as a sword power but may create new spells only swords can do. Elric’s pacts can be reproduced by agents of Law/Chaos serving and following the party lead by the sword-bearer. The sword may indeed be put near places where PCs come from, as a plan by the cosmic forces to grab an agent from that place where warriors seem strangely fated to rule… if alignments are wargame football teams, the swords are scouts looking for talent.

The point being, adventure design for fighters may expect them consistently in position to represent the party politically, be a person of interest to cosmic and planar struggles by retrieving swords (and magical armor to take advantage of that plate thing, and why not a weird mount), and be the figure to whom hirelings (including monsters from dungeons) respond to most of all.

But you know all that and wonders when that happens. Although it is your campaign, would you take a suggestion?

Holmes to the Rescue

Time and again there’s discussions about a third level cap like Holmes Basic and if it would be ideal for an OSR campaign since it feels so obsessed with low levels. Can work, sure. It’s interesting to consider a Holmes rulebook that is still capped at level 3 but has all the material for later play that is unlocked gradually over the two level-ups. After all, this suggestion implies that everything that should be necessary for a long-running campaign of fantasy should be made available by third level.

I think we can apply the Holmes idea, even without a level limit, as to how to structure a campaign, with some help from level titles.

By second level, the fighter should already have a magic sword and maybe magical armor. The fighter’s level title by third level is Swordmaster in B/X (which I prefer over Swordsman). The course of the second to third level seems enough to master, or at least become famous by carrying, a specific sword. The fighter should then try to obtain it by first level and have it by second level, ideally. Remember, D&D PCs are not level zero, but level one. It’s perfectly feasible to believe the nearby magical sword in a level one dungeon wasn’t claimed until a bunch of PCs arrived, because higher level NPCs already have theirs and level one adventurers are capable enough to reclaim it in a way most of the population isn’t. Put your plane-aligned murder big knife close to your players.

By third level, it’s bizarre if the fighter isn’t already running a stronghold and isn’t doing service to a patron who heard of the party’s reputation – and naturally approached the warrior with the supernatural blade as representative. If by fourth level they are Heroes, they should already have performed outstanding feats that include some service to big patrons in the region, especially related to alignment issues the patrons themselves have.

You can extend similar logic by looking at other class titles (fuck thieves, though). The MU is a Medium at level one, so they should be getting ready to interact with spirit and planar entities. They likely get such messages by Seer (level 2). By third level (Conjurer), they probably already had the change to do a service to planar entities by helping some achieve materiality in the world. That’s a lot in three levels by implication, leading up to being employed by cosmic forces by fourth (Theurgist). The Cleric by level three, Priest(ess), should be just as active as the face of a god in an area. This is not about mechanics or that leveling up should trigger such hooks (although they can) nor that XP should be replaced by these milestones (ditto), but that the GM can look at this to structure the campaign world and what adventures look like. Turning the possible storybook aspects of D&D’s mechanics and implied setting gameable.

Can levels, instead of being opposed or co-existing with foreground growth/“diegetic” advancement, be used as a reference to what such growth should look like?

Author: Weird Writer

He/him. Brazilian, so excuse my French, I mean, my English.

Leave a comment

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started