Well, fellow MWANers, last issue I promised a guest columnist and here he is. George Arnold is a member of the Solo Wargamers Association and he runs the Shenandoah Play by Mail game for the SWA. Each issue, Lone Warrior runs a list of active PBM games and points of contact and George is listed there. Without further ado, let's hear from George. --Rich Barbuto How do you get started in a play-by-mail campaign? The question was posed to me as a starting point for an article about PBM and, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that, while few gamers might be interested in running a PBM game themselves, more might be interested in the game mechanics involved and perhaps some of them would be intrigued enough by the possibilities to join a game as a player. There's always room for more, they say. The ranks of PBMers appear rather full elsewhere. Judging by the lists of games and the reports on them that appear from our brethren across the Atlantic, where all this playing with toy soldiers got its start, PBM is a healthy offshoot of the hobby in Europe, especially in Great Britain. Over here, we've taken longer to get involved in PBM and its growth has been slow, at least in the eyes of some of us who stay in touch through the Lone Warrior. I had an earlier incarnation as a board gamer and I remember old listings in Avalon Hill's "The General" that offered PBM opponents for some of the AH games. For some reason, I never got around to trying that. Eventually, I shelved the board games anyway and turned all my attention to figures and ways of moving them around on actual tables. Living in a fairly isolated area, I've been a solo wargamer almost entirely, whether it's been with board games (inherently unsatisfactory) or gaming with figures. The emergence of the Lone Warrior's North American edition brought me in touch with others in similar straits and, urged on by Editor Rich Barbuto and a singularly happy mail campaign with another gamer in a neighboring state, I began thinking of ways to expand my budding interest in PBM into something that might also intrigue some other gamers in similar situations. There's been lots of discussion about what makes a solo wargamer. In my case, it's location, job demands that put time available for gaming on a catch-as-catch-can basis, and the many other requirements on such free time as exists. The hobby works for me as something I can put down and take up at odd moments, rather than being tied to a structure I can't maintain. I'd be a disaster, for example, in a club that met every week, or every other week, on a certain day. I suspect there are lots of others like me. In addition, there are lots of you who solo for reasons of your own, whether by preference or not. Even the most sociable of wargamers play out scenarios by themselves, as practice or to see what might have happened in a certain game situation. So, in that sense, we're all solo gamers. Beyond that, I like to think that PBM is the ultimate expression of what I call "solo-ism." Double Blind The basic idea behind PBM is the old concept of the "double-blind" system, in which the players can only "see" a limited view of the game. There is no "helicopter" oversight for generals in PBM, so this is no system for those who must have perfect intelligence about the enemy. In fact, depending on how limited the intelligence is in any particular game, each commander may also have only limited knowledge about his own forces. What makes this possible is a non-playing umpire, also known as a referee or game-master. My first venture into PBM was simply a one-on-one with the fellow gamer I mentioned above. It worked reasonably well as a game, but the "fog of war" wasn't nearly as complete as I wished and the system depended to a great extent on the players' trust in and honesty with each other. While that is fine for a couple of players who know each other, a different method seems called for in other situations. Players who only meet each other across the miles in a PBM game need some assurance that they are getting a fair shake. That's where the umpire comes in. That's the role I've chosen for myself and I've found that it fits me nicely. In addition to recruiting new players for my PBM set-ups, I've developed the basic rules each player receives and the Orders of Battle with which they go to war. In my PBM games, the players are commanders who have been appointed to take over a certain army for a certain campaign. Their field army is waiting for them when they arrive to take the reins. First Effort My first PBM game was an American Civil War effort. I've long been interested in that conflict and I had come across the Shenandoah Campaign System a few years ago. Various attempts to turn that system, with its fabulous map, into something that could be parlayed into a good solo campaign had gone astray. But using the system as the basis for PBM with me as umpire and gamers playing the roles of the Union and Confederate commanders offered real possibilities. I would love to say I concocted all these ideas on my own, but that would be stretching things a bit. As I reached the point of plunging into PBM umpiring, I felt the need of some basic instruction and reached out (by mail, of course) to others with more experience. My letter to Chris Morris in Ulster brought a quick and thorough response. As a long-time PBM umpire, Chris has accumulated a wealth of experience, which he graciously shared with me. What he wrote has formed the backbone of my own approach. Here's a quick summary of the things he thought especially important: Be sure the gamers are interested enough in the game to stick with it. A crucial point, as many PBM games evidently are ruined, or at least undermined, by players with insufficient interest. Playing a PBM game requires a commitment, not only by the umpire, but by the gamers as well. There's nothing as disappointing as gamers who disappear just as things are coming to a critical juncture. It puts off the opponent, just as it maddens the umpire. And, of course, the umpire is a player too, even if he is not leading one of the armies. Chris suggested some method of screening those who ask about joining the game. That's not as complicated as it sounds. The simple method of sending a flyer to anyone who asks about the game has been quite effective for me. The flyer describes the game in general terms. The potential gamer is then free to respond if he wants to get on board. Some do; some don't. In addition, I ask potential players to ante up a small fee of $10-$15 on the front end. That goes to offset my postage costs. There is no additional charge, but this initial one seems to solidify the players' commitment. They then want their money's worth. Don't tell the gamers everything about the rules. Give them enough information to get them going, but don't give them so much that they can "crack the code" and use that knowledge to win the game. As Chris said, "In the real world, no one knows for sure what will happen if you do X, or even the precise probability of success. In a game, with fewer parameters to analyze, that's not true. A good analyst will crack the optimum strategies and gain a head start to victory, spoiling it for the others" since the game is supposed to be about, in this instance, being the best general in the Civil War, not the best analyst in 20th century USA. Scaling down the information available to match the scaled-down time and distance on a map isn't really possible, but the idea indicates the case to be made for some brevity in communications with the players. In two hours of real time, a person could read as many as 40,000 words, Chris says, while a soldier could march, say, 10 miles. But if the map being used has a scale of 240,000 to 4, for example, and if you apply that same proportion to the written communications you send to a player, you would only have two-thirds of a word available for each two hours of game time that had passed. Such tightly interlocked proportions aren't really worth aspiring to, but "this is a good argument for silencing players who demand more and more data." This really ties in to the previous point. The players must be able to participate in this game without complete or absolute information. That leaves the umpire to sort out the unfolding uncertainties and provides a genuine "fog" the players must operate within. It's that fog that I find most compelling about the PBM games I am running, the uncertainty that is involved because an entire Bible of rules is unavailable. This type of PBM is almost free-form. In my case, not even I am sure what is going to happen next. All of us in the game are at the mercy of events -- just as in real life. To Start Armed with Chris Morris's observations and my own ideas about creating a realistic "fog of war," I passed the word through Lone Warrior and by word of mouth that I was looking for participants in a Civil War campaign in the Shenandoah Valley. I wasn't exactly overwhelmed by gamers wanting to join up, but that turned out to be a good thing too. My games are two-player, based on 30 days of campaigning in the Valley in June of 1863. The first three turns (or days) are used in setting up and moving toward contact. After that, the turns are handled individually and one such turn can take up to a month of real time or more. Included in that time are the gamers' movement orders, the umpire's compiling of each sides' moves, noting of any contacts, gaming out any resulting battles or skirmishes and then providing the players with a synopsis of the turn. All this can get enormously complicated. Players can issue standing orders, indicating, for example, that such-and-such a cavalry unit will probe a particular location, attacking an inferior enemy force and falling back before superior numbers. But what happens if yet another enemy force has moved into the square to be fallen back to? Or what happens if the subordinate commanders don't do as the player ordered? How can that happen, you ask. Because even in the movement phase, the element of uncertainty comes into play. These subordinates aren't little automatons, instantly obeying the dictates of that faraway gamer. My games rank subordinate commanders by skill level (average, above and below). Depending on that ranking, the subordinates may implement their orders in ways not necessarily anticipated by the gamer. What that means is that once their orders are received, the subordinates' actions are rolled for on a chart. Depending on the dice, the subordinates may indeed follow orders to the letter, or they may only partially follow them, or they may fail to follow them altogether. In one of my games, a key cavalry brigade commander (an average guy, nothing special one way or the other) repeatedly failed to follow his movement instructions, which were to screen ahead of the main army. As the dice went against this cavalryman over and over, the player grew more and more frustrated, finally demanding that he be allowed to personally ride to the adjacent square and determine exactly what was wrong. This opened up a whole new wrinkle in the campaign and gave me a chance to do a little sideline character development. Although that had little to do with the actual campaign itself, it did add some color. As I reported back to the gamer, the cavalry brigadier had broken under the pressure of command. He was discovered drunk in his tent, was arrested and replaced. Funny thing -- his replacement, also an average commander, immediately began having better luck at the dice and has been a far more effective subordinate than the fellow he replaced, even though they both were rolling on the same chart. That's one example of how things can go awry even when clear orders are received. But not all orders reach their destinations either. Some units can be isolated or cut off by enemy forces. In such cases, another dice-chart is used to see if orders or reports get through. In some cases, the player issues clear orders but they may be carried out differently by a far-flung subordinate, whose report is then unable to get back through to the player. So the player has no way of knowing how his orders have been carried out in such a situation. It can be -- it is meant to be -- befuddling to the players. Not long ago, a player in one of my games said he enjoyed the "tension" involved in these games and doubted that other players he knew would be able to cope with the gaps in knowledge. I took that as a high compliment. These games aim to portray a certain realism, meaning the players are forced to act on incomplete information. Their performance in the game is not just a matter of their own skill but also has to do with what the opponent is up to, as well as the influence of luck or fate or whatever you choose to call those nasty surprises turned up by the dice. Now, I'm not completely heartless. At the conclusion of each game turn, I do provide each player with an Intelligence Report to keep him as well informed as possible. These reports are written up, in character, by the adjutant of each army. In those reports, I try to analyze for the gamer what is going on "behind the curtain." Of course, the adjutant is limited in his knowledge too, but, writing through him, I can offer some occasional hints to keep the game moving and the players' interest up. Battle The moment comes in each campaign when large opposing forces run into each other. Resolving these conflicts also puts demands on the umpire. In my games, I have determined that in any cases in which a player is not personally located with a force involved in a battle or skirmish, I simply set up the battle and game it out solo, then report the results back to the players. This is especially true of the innumerable cavalry skirmishes, as the mounted forces try to locate the enemy. I've gone through several variations of resolving such skirmishes, each of them tied in to the tactical rules that I use for battles. For small-scale actions, a roll of the dice on another table is sufficient to set casualties, establish winners and losers and after-battle retreats or advances. Sometimes, the skirmishes are so small-scale that no casualties are reflected on the units' rosters. Other times, such losses may be small, although in proportion to the number of troops engaged, they may be significant. The important thing here is to keep the game moving while these small actions are fought out. If I tried to involve the players in all of this skirmishing, we'd never finish a single turn. As it is, I think this PBM setup offers an opportunity for cavalry to be used in its historically valid role. Cavalry units are usually detached from the lumbering infantry commands and are out there on the front edge of the advance, looking for the enemy, trying to push aside his horsemen and get a glimpse at the main opposing forces, before the enemy can do the same to them. It becomes very much a cat-and-mouse game in the preliminary stages and effective use of cavalry can give a player a big advantage in deciding when and where to commit the bulk of his forces. Not all players take full advantage of their cavalry in this way, but that is the difference between them as commanders. It's an advantage that is there to be exploited if they choose and if they are able. Such cavalry reconnoitering would be useless and unnecessary in a game in which both players could see the whole map, with the opposing forces plainly laid out before them. To my mind, that would also make cavalry forces irrelevant. PBM with "fog of war" restores cavalry to its proper strategic role. Even a small mounted force can play a major role in such campaigning. Keeping up with the cavalry and other small unit movements and contacts probably occupies half my umpiring time, but it is well worth it to me and, I think, to the players. On the other hand, when forces accompanied by the player himself collide with a significant enemy force, I involve the gamers in the resulting encounters. That, by the way, is why it is important to keep track at all times of the location of the gamer-commander. When that general left his headquarters one night to track down his drunken cavalry commander, he was temporarily out of touch with his army. Had he failed to return by the next day and had his army then encountered the enemy, the army would have fought without the commander's guidance. But when the gamer is on the scene and a battle develops, I stop the turn and send out a map of the immediate area, asking the gamer to position his forces and give me an overall plan of attack or defense. Sometimes they know something of the enemy's dispositions and sometimes they know little. But, with such plans from both players in hand, I then game out the battle, following their instructions as best as can be done. The results are sent back to the players, along with a description of the battle (generally by an accompanying news correspondent), the usual Intelligence Report and the request for the next turn's orders. Such a packet can be weighty! But it gives the players something to ponder before meeting the next deadline to respond to me. Deadlines Ah, deadlines. Yes, the players are told they must have their responses back to me by a certain date. I generally allow them several weeks to digest their material from the previous turn and take sufficient time to think through their next moves. This also seems to me to be one of the more pleasant aspects of PBM. You have the luxury of analyzing what is going on and trying to spot ways to capitalize on what you think you know. I believe the players who enjoy PBM the most probably are the ones who like to take some time in this way and experience the ebb and flow of an ongoing campaign. There are deadlines, but it's not like having your opponent slap down the starter on a chess clock and forcing you to make crucial decisions instantly. Meeting the deadlines also is connected to the commitment by the players that I mentioned earlier. PBMers need to stick to the deadlines as a matter of courtesy to each other and as a way to keep the game forging ahead. I've never had to do it yet, but I warn the players early on that if they miss their deadlines I may be forced to move their troops for them -- and the gamers may not like how I do that. In fact, if it ever happens, the dice will once again determine how the units move and those bones are much less predictable than any umpire. Since getting started in umpiring PBM games, I now have two full-blown campaigns under way, one of them approaching a climax (I think) and the other having all the preliminaries out of the way and with major battles looming. But there has been an unexpected development in my umpiring as well. One of the players in my second game also belongs to a group in his home town that focuses on Civil War gaming. Guess what? They like to use the Shenandoah system, but have been put off by the lack of "fog of war" and the need to keep up with all the paperwork involved. We worked out an arrangement in which I do most of the umpiring, just as in my other PBM games, while they fight out all the battles above brigade level. This is experimental for them, as it is for me, but it is working out quite nicely. They have introduced an element of surprise and novelty into their games, even though they meet with each other on a regular basis. I am able to keep up with the details they want to avoid and to provide them with imperfect and partial intelligence about the enemy. Everyone seems to be enjoying the result, although we are all learning ways to make the campaign more interesting as we go along. So far, we've refined the fortification rules to match the group's preferred tactical rules set, Johnny Reb III, and have decided at what level the battles get passed back to the group for resolution. (As in my other games, I resolve most of the skirmishes myself.) This campaign involves more telephone contact than the others, but we're keeping the confusion about mechanics to a minimum, while I think we are maximizing the "experience." What's Ahead? What's ahead for my PBM? I'm not sure. That depends on future players and their wishes. There is a companion campaign to the Shenandoah system and it is based on the Peninsular campaign of 1862. It involves some sealift capability, with the opportunity for surprise flanking moves. I'd like to try that one later on. I also have in mind setting up my own Western Theater map for the Civil War, perhaps focusing on the conquest-defense of Missouri or Arkansas. Then, I'd also like to do some PBM campaigns in other eras, perhaps something in my specialty period, the time of El Cid in early medieval Spain. Time will tell if any of these ideas can grow into real PBM campaigns. If the player interest is there, I think I know a potential umpire who'd like to get involved. Back to MWAN #92 Table of Contents Back to MWAN List of Issues Back to MagWeb Magazine List © Copyright 1998 Hal Thinglum This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com