On Conflict & Violence

— John Dickson Batten, late 19th century

I have long been dissatisfied with D&D combat. Certain systems, such as Into the Odd and its derivatives, appeal more than others, but ultimately my discontent runs deeper than mechanics. Whereas most D&D-adjacent games only offer active support for violent combat, I’d prefer a game that explicitly supports the full spectrum of conflict.

I don’t care much for hit points, moment-by-moment action, tactical positioning, or mechanical granularity among weapons and armors. What I do care about is:

• The root cause of a conflict
• The stakes of a conflict
• How a conflict escalates
• The consequences of escalating a conflict
• What belligerents are willing to risk or sacrifice
• Who wins a conflict
• The consequences of losing a conflict
• The consequences of winning a conflict

A dedicated and talented referee can involve these facets of conflict into any game, regardless of system. Nonetheless, I want rules that make these facets of conflict a central focus of play.

“Combat As War” Is Insufficient

Reaction rolls, morale, and high lethality go a long way towards encouraging non-violent—or at least non-deadly—conflict, as Joseph Manola observes in “On Romantic Fantasy and OSR D&D.” However, the only consequences of violence baked into the rules of most D&D-adjacent games are hit point loss and death. That there’s little consensus on what hit points represent in diegetic terms hints at what gets lost in the abstraction. A single fireball spell might reduce one character to zero hit points and another to one hit point. How does one reconcile in the fiction that one character has been incinerated while the other can carry on as if nothing has happened?

A game unconcerned with the physical consequences of violence—let alone the emotional and social consequences—does not actively support the referee in presenting complicated, compelling conflicts. If the most common consequence of violent conflict in D&D-adjacent games is resource expenditure, then it’s no wonder characters so often default to violence.

The Fantasy of Violence

A common thread runs through much of mainstream Western fantasy. I think of it as The Fantasy of Violence—a series of suppositions that supports many fantasy plots. It goes something like this:

• Much of the cruelty, injustice, and suffering in the world stems from a concrete malevolent source.
• Eliminating that source through a targeted act of destruction and/or violence will greatly reduce those ills.

Once you know what to look for, you begin to see The Fantasy of Violence everywhere, from The Lord of the Rings to Star Wars to Game of Thrones to many superhero films. D&D inherited this perspective, and, by extension, so did many other games. Indeed, Joseph Manola describes what I think of as The Fantasy of Violence in the same post I referenced earlier:

One day, the Forces of Darkness found a big stick. They used the stick to beat everyone up! It was terrible! So the Forces of Light had to go on an Epic Quest to find an even bigger stick, which they used to beat the Forces of Darkness back down again. Then everyone lived happily ever after, except the Forces of Darkness, who had all been beaten to death. The end.

Of course, The Fantasy of Violence isn’t confined to the fantasy genre, though one might argue that any work of fiction operating under its premise becomes a kind of fantasy. This is not to say that particular individuals throughout history haven’t caused massively disproportionate amounts of suffering. Such individuals, however, tend to rely upon systems of power and privilege. Indeed, I’d speculate that The Fantasy of Violence has become so ubiquitous precisely because of its emphasis on individual culpability and direct conflict—and its obfuscation of the influence of systems.

The Fantasy of Violence says, “Never mind the ininquities inherent in feudalism—the king is the problem. Kill the bad king so that we may have a good king. Then everything will be right again. And certainly do not examine your own role in the perpetuation of feudalism, goodly knight.”

All this to say that violence as a primary form of conflict resolution in fantasy media is not only banal but pernicious, too.

A Role For Violence

My aim is not to develop a mostly non-violent game. (Though I recommend Patrick Stewart’s “A World Without Violence,” part of a series that considers that very design problem). I’m interested in a game that better supports non-violent conflict and, when violence does occur, emphasizes the root of the violence, its stakes, and its consequences, rather than knock-down drag-out fantasy action.

While one conflict may escalate to the point at which a character draws their sword and attacks, another may end when a character produces a broach and declares, “We are under the protection of Lady Greenwood. How would you expect to cure your ailment without her support?” In most cases, I’d find the latter more compelling.

All Swords Have Two Edges

In such a game, escalating a conflict through any means would introduce potential consequences. Every stage of a conflict would involve risk-versus-reward considerations because any act of escalation would both increase the party’s chance of winning the conflict and increase risk.

Dogs In the Dungeon

Vincent Baker’s Dogs In the Vineyard strikes me as an excellent foundation from which to build such a conflict resolution system, although its overall approach to conflict resolution appeals to me more than the particularities of its dice system. There’s a card-based system percolating in my brain, but it’s not yet refined enough to write about.

Narrative Versus NSR

It may seem as if I’ve fully strayed away from the NSR and into the realm of narrative games. However, I believe it would be possible to retain old-school tenets and sensibilities while taking a dramatic departure from a D&D-adjacent system of conflict resolution. I may be wrong, but it’s a compelling enough project and design challenge that I’m inclined to pursue it. Stay tuned!