Cardboard Stories: How randomness drives narrative in wargaming
Wargaming is a strange hobby. For most people, it seems bizarre, maybe downright crazy. Big rulebooks, funny looking cardboard counters, detailed maps and a savagely devoted set of fans, called ‘grognards’ (usually grumpy middle aged men) can be a huge turnoff for the casual viewer. Who are these people and what could possibly be the draw in memorizing esoteric rules and sliding bits of paper around on a map?
To an extent, I empathize with the uninitiated. I was once one of you, a normie, peering in through the window at the strange unwashed creatures hunched in anticipation over hexes and counters. What was going on here? The guy at the end of the table usually had an odd hue of sweat on his face as he frantically flipped through some massive tome to find an obscure rule. Early on, none of this made any sense to me either. I had dabbled a bit in wargaming, but my focus was still squarely in the roleplaying / fantasy camp. Wargames were something I had heard about, but still looked very odd from the outside, and they certainly didn’t try very hard to be accessible. The Avalon Hill ones from the early 70’s and 80s particularly were straight up ugly and highly complex. They were designed with function over form in mind, and their programmatic instructions in size 6 font didn’t encourage me to take things further. For the longest time, I put the idea of getting into wargames onto the backburner.
Avalon Hill's Third Reich (1974): A fantastic game but ugly as sin. Function over form.
I think what eventually ended up pushing me into this obscure world was a love of history. I have always found historical stories to be fascinating. What led one thing to occur instead of another? What if things had gone differently? Could Napoleon have deployed the Old Guard sooner and seized victory at Waterloo? What if the US had conducted a land invasion of mainland Japan? Wargaming allows you to explore historical questions within the construct of simulated models. The model, the game system, is the set of rules that structure how a particular set of circumstances can play out. The models define the artificial reality within the game, and some can be very sophisticated. But the rules can tell a very compelling story once the mechanics have been learned. Rulesets become increasingly complex as the set of circumstances being simulated becomes more complex. A medieval wargame can be a simple hack-and-slash affair with French knights getting torn to shreds by English longbows (Men of Iron), while modern warfare introduces a host of rules (GMT’s Main Battle Tank (MBT)) to simulate close air support, unmanned aerial aircraft, long range bombing, etc. To learn these games takes a great deal of dedication, but for history lovers it’s a true moment of bliss when you’re able to understand the why behind a particular historical moment - even if it’s just for a fleeting second through a set of rules.
Chainmail - the Beginning
How does the concept of storytelling and wargaming intertwine? Many reading this probably know that even the concept of tabletop roleplaying has its roots in miniatures wargaming. Gary Gygax, the inventor of Dungeons and Dragons, was an avid wargamer back in the early 1960s. In fact, the very first version of what would later become the core of the Dungeons and Dragons game was a set of skirmish wargame rules for miniatures called Chainmail.
Gygax's Chainmail Rules started driving more narrative in wargaming
Chainmail was unique because instead of focusing on huge formations battling it out in epic scale, it was zoomed in on only a handful of individuals. This was a novel concept for the time. Could individuals actually make a difference in a large battle? And if they could, would playing as those characters be any fun? The focus on individual characters would serve as the core of heroic roleplaying. Gygax would continue onwards to launch the most successful tabletop game ever, but that’s a tale already told. What’s important here is that the seeds of storytelling have always been ingrained in wargaming, but certain rulesets really shine at telling those tales.
Advanced Squad Leader and the Art of Randomness
Now, some wargamers, even very experienced ones, are going to roll their eyes as they read of my love for Advanced Squad Leader (ASL). ASL is easily the world’s most complex wargame, designed in an era when highly complex games were more popular than computer games, which were still in their infancy. Nowadays, when someone looks over the ASL rulebook, gazes at the tiny print and even tinier pictures explaining the rules, the hundreds of charts and tables, most naturally slip into a coma never to return. Yet this complexity drives a fascinating magic that I hope I can explain here. Those charts spilling over ad nauseum actually serve a wonderful purpose and when the game rules are fully understood, drive narrative in a curiously accurate way.
Advanced Squad Leader (1985) The granddaddy of tactical wargames
ASL is a tactical level World War II game for two players with cardboard counters representing individual leaders, squads, weapon systems and vehicles. Released in 1985, it’s basically the granddaddy of all tactical wargames that have come after it and its sheer scope is mind boggling. The ASL rules can be used to simulate virtually any small unit action in WWII with a vast array of counters representing every nation involved. The original rulebook is a massive 3-ring binder instead of a traditional bound book, the idea being players could insert new rules as they collected additional modules for different campaigns of the war.
Geez - you might be saying - how could this monstrosity possibly be interesting and actually tell a compelling story? Well, let me tell you, it can! While it seems intimidating at first glance, those rules possess beautiful randomness that captures the chaotic nature of war unlike most games, even modern ones produced today. Built into the ASL system are rules that depict uncertainties that can arise to change the outcome of any battle. Even the best laid plans are subject to chaos and uncertainty, just as in real life, and commanders must be prepared for things to go awry. Snipers, booby traps, mines, extreme cowardice and courage, unbelievable freak occurrences and heroic actions are all included in ASL - and it’s truly remarkable to watch it unfold on the board.
Real life player reaction to seeing the ASL rules for the first time
The core of ASL is the tables and charts which decide mathematical outcomes to certain events. Infantry fire, artillery hit resolution, etc are events which have certain probabilities resolved by the roll of two six sided dice. As in a real battle, commanders can predict with some accuracy the result of their decisions. Ordering your squads to storm a machine gun nest has a predictable outcome in many cases, but things don't always go according to plan. Let's take my example of Sergeant Esser - squad leader in a Kradschutze Battalion at the outskirts of Stalingrad, October 1942.
Esser was surrounded. His beleaguered company had been shot to pieces. The company commander had fallen in a heap across the street, cut to ribbons by a Soviet machine gun. His platoon commander was also dead. There didn’t seem to be much hope to make their objective that day in the war-torn city of Stalingrad. The Russian numbers had swelled, their positions reinforced by conscripting rear-area personnel to hold the line south of the Barrikady. More machine gun fire raked Esser’s positions, but luckily it could have been worse - the result is only a morale check.
Esser’s squad rolls for their morale check. In ASL, the leader must make his check first, because if a failure occurs, it can trigger other negative effects on the squad (i.e if the leader tuck tails and runs, everyone else might think about doing that, too). Esser, an 8-1 leader, provides a -1 bonus to the morale rolls of his squad. Picking up the dice, we see what his fate will be. Snakes! A roll of two ones on the dice means something outside the norm has occurred - called Heat of Battle. Consulting the table, we find out that Esser has gone Berserk!
“Oh shit,” my opponent, Steve says. “He’s going to get himself killed.” Steve was right. The Russians were entrenched in good positions across the street with interlocking fields of fire from multiple machine guns. Esser was going to catch one in the running lights almost instantly if he stepped out from behind the rubble cover he and his squad were currently squatting in. Okay, time for the squads to take their morale checks. Now since Esser went Berserk, there was a chance he could inspire his men to do the same through another morale task check. The dice are rolled - the two squads leap to their feet - “Vorwarts!” they scream. Esser grabs his MP-40 and leaps into the rubble strewn streets of Stalingrad. Well, I think. This game is over. There’s nothing you can do once your men go berserk. They must charge to meet the enemy - the situation is getting bad and in ASL once you’ve lost control of your men in a tight situation like this, it’s usually game over.
Brutality at Bread Factory #2: Stalingrad, October 1942
Esser’s squad now has the benefit of extra movement points since they’ve gone berserk. Finding and killing some Russians is about the only thing on their minds. But now comes the Soviet defensive fire. The entrenched machine gunners lick their lips and watch as easy targets come spilling out from across the street. The Germans run screaming out in the open - they’re dead meat.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve says, his eyes wide on the dice in front of him. Steve rolled an 11. In ASL terms, that means the first Russian machine gun has jammed or failed. Bottom line, it’s now useless. Esser and his men rush onwards, howling with bloodlust. The second Russian machine gun now opens up.
“No result!” Steve yells. Steve rolled another 10. The Germans don’t have the benefit of cover, but the die roll is bad enough to hit nothing but air, despite the massive amount of firepower. Bullets ricochet around the blown out factory and all around Esser’s squad. Miraculously, there are no casualties. Esser’s men are now two hexes away from their objective in the Soviet Bread Factory, and Steve is starting to get nervous. Onwards Esser’s charge continues.
“Kill them!” Steve yells, now down to his final defensive fire. The Germans have entered the hex adjacent to a full Russian guards squad, elites of the Soviet army. Surely, now, Esser’s men are done for.
“Ahhhh!” Steve rolls box cars. 12. Worse than no effect, another Russian machine gun goes down and there’s nothing he can do about it. Esser’s men now unleash hell on the Russians, throwing satchel charges and submachine gun fire. The Russians, faced with devastating firepower, lose an entire squad and break. Esser’s men advance in the next phase, foaming at the mouth as they gain a small foothold in the Bread Factory.
“We’re not done yet!” It’s now Steve’s turn and he wants revenge. He surrounds the Germans with a wall of Russian squads and declares a human wave attack. The Russians bravely rush into the factory and are summarily executed. They get blown over like bowling ball pins. Three squads are left dead in the ruins, but there’s more Russians for the grinder and they enter close combat. This time it’s hand to hand - knife, bayonet, rocks, helmets. The brutality of Stalingrad unfolds on the gameboard. More die rolls are made to resolve the close combat.
One of Esser’s squads are reduced, but they hang on, locked in brutal melee. Germans and Russians stab and shoot one another as the bodies are stacked up in the Bread Factory. Another miracle occurs - Esser’s squad, now only reduced to one half squad, are still standing. Esser himself is wounded in the melee, but he lives to fight another day. And thus ends another few minutes on the ASL battlefield - a tale told through only a few die rolls and chart consultations.
In summary, this kind of dramatic narrative is something that has drawn me to ASL for years now. While it can sometimes be frustrating to see your well laid plans slip like sand through your fingers, it can be unbelievably entertaining as well. While Steve had moments of unfiltered cursing during the unfolding firefight, he too enjoyed watching those crazy German squads rush the Bread Factory as much as I did. Wargames that include a lot of fact based outcomes, like ASL, also benefit greatly from including a dose of randomness in their models that simulate the chaos of combat and tell dramatic stories.