I want to continue comparing and contrasting this game with D&D, as it informed a lot of the design. I'm here to make the case that you can change relatively minor parts of a game and result in a dramatically different experience in play. To that end, I want to highlight three mechanics found in modern D&D that don't exist in Rivers & Lakes, but which are replaced with three equivalent mechanics that I like more.
Specifically, all three examples are mechanics that are meant to add tactical depth to the fighting parts of D&D. It's long aspired to be at least partially a crunchy combat simulator. 3rd and 5th Edition achieve this by including a handful of little tactical wrinkles for players to contend with. None of these mechanics are mind-blowing individually, but in aggregate they manage to twist most fights into a complicated problem to unravel. That said, I think we can do better.
Example 1: Opportunity Attacks
This is a mechanic I've talked about multiple times before. I think it was pretty bad in its earliest forms, but through iterative design was made into something pretty solid. Let's skip straight to the best version and talk about it. As a review, here's how the Opportunity Attack works in 5E D&D:
You can make an opportunity attack when a hostile creature that you can see moves out of your reach. To make the opportunity attack, you use your reaction to make one melee attack against the provoking creature. The attack occurs right before the creature leaves your reach.
The basic logic is, "when you try to leave someone who you're in a swordfight with, you're gunna leave yourself wide open for a moment. They get a freebie."
What's good about this rule?
Firstly, it breaks up the individual turn order, allowing you a chance to still be active even when you aren't the phasing player.
Secondly, it also makes attacking someone into a bigger commitment. Because there's a penalty to running away, it's not an easy solution you can fall back on for every problem. The choice to go up and attack someone means that you're choosing to lock yourself into something with that person. You aren't merely attacking them: you're now fighting one another.
Lastly, it's a nice buff to melee attacks, which have an intrinsic disadvantage compared to ranged attacks. A melee weapon usually only has a reach of 1 space, so all it takes to become unhittable is to move just one step away. Meanwhile, a ranged weapon can usually reach basically anywhere on the battlefield. Thus, you're probably getting attacked by that archer every single round, whereas you're only getting attacked by the sword guy every round that you stay next to him. By adding the Opportunity Attack, that becomes "every round that you stay next to him +1" because he gets an extra swing at the moment you try to flee.
But what's not so good about this rule?
The most common criticism is that it serves to lock down every combatant, making the fight feel static. Because movement is discouraged, you don't get to play around with positioning as much. Personally, I think this problem is massively overstated, but it is there.
Another weakness is that, while it does give you a chance to be active when it isn't your turn... it's rare enough that it doesn't really succeed in keeping everyone engaged at all times. Oftentimes, it actually kind of catches you off guard. "Oh shit, I get an attack now?"
On the other hand, we could say that it's your responsibility to call for the Opportunity Attack. If you weren't paying attention when it got triggered, then you don't get to take advantage of it. Sounds fair, right? But that also kinda sucks. It requires you to be vigilantly watching the phasing player's actions, keeping an eye out for that trigger like a vulture. And when it happens, you have to interrupt them on their turn, while they're speaking, and steal the mic away for a moment. That's sloppy and messy and makes people feel bad.
And of course, there's not actually much meaningful choice involved. The phasing player has to choose "do I stay or do I go now?' which can sometimes be interesting, but not very. And for the attacker, it's usually just an automatic, "yeah sure, of course I'll take the free attack" and that's it. Sometimes the attacker chooses not to use their Opportunity Attack because they'd rather spend their Reaction on something else, like casting counterspell or shield or feather fall. You only get one Reaction per round, after all. But this isn't a great choice, either. Firstly, it's a dilemma that most characters will never face anyway. The Fighter was never going to cast one of those spells and the Wizard was never going to make an Opportunity Attack. Secondly, you're choosing between either something definitely happening right now or something better maybe happening at some point in the future.
What does Rivers & Lakes have instead?
Counters
I already explained the counter rule when laying out the game's [three key features,] so I'm going to assume you've read that. Of course, I think of it as the single most important rule in the whole game, and not merely a replacement for one of combat's many minor wrinkle. But I do see it as a logical equivalent to the Opportunity Attack.
Like the Opportunity Attack, it's a rule that allows you to act even when it's not your turn, potentially making an impact multiple times throughout the round. It also makes attacking something that you and your target are doing to one another, rather than a one-sided exchange. But its first advantage over the Opportunity Attack is that it does these things even more. Every single attack gets a counter, so every player is getting to participate every few minutes all the time. There's no need for players to be given a Reaction because all the counters they'll be doing is more than enough to keep them busy. In fact, if you're outnumbered or have a defensive build, you might actually make more progress towards victory through your counters than through the attacks that you make.
But unlike the Opportunity Attack, counters don't punish movement at all. Because they're attached to attacking rather than moving, they're going to happen no matter what, because you'll have to make some attacks if you want to win the fight.
Also unlike the Opportunity Attack, the procedure itself is cleaner and easier to execute. The burden rests on the phasing player to pass the mic over to you at the appropriate time, which is easy to judge because the framing event is attacking, which is already a collaborative process to resolve. There's a natural step in the sequence where the phasing player can toss the ball over to their target without anyone needing to be interrupted. In fact, the attacker actually can't resolve their action until they've gotten a counter from their target, because they have to follow priority. It's a smoother process.
And of course, I think that the choice offered during a counter is far better than the choices present in the Opportunity Attack. You don't have to opt for something only maybe happening. Something will definitely happen. Instead, you always have a juicy decision to make. "How do you counter?" is way more interesting than "will you counter?" There are, like, 15 basic attacks in the core rules alone.
Example 2: Flanking
Flanking was a pretty big part of combat in 3rd Edition and 4th Edition. It's only kind of in 5th Edition (which we'll get to in a moment), but I think most folks agree that it's a mechanic strongly associated with the modern D&D lineage.
The basic idea is that you can gain a bonus to your attacks if you have an ally threatening your foe from the opposite side. This usually requires a diagram to illustrate what kinds of positioning do and don't count as Flanking.
From 3rd Edition D&D
From 4th Edition D&D
What's good about this rule?
For starters, it just kind of makes real-life sense, since it's difficult to defend yourself from two opposing directions simultaneously. It's simulating a common real-world tactic, validating the player who approaches the situation with common sense thinking.
It also gets players thinking about their movement and positioning. Maybe this mitigates the alleged "anti-positioning" influence of the Opportunity Attack? But hopefully it pushes players to go a few more steps than necessary in the name of securing that extra little bonus for themselves. A party that's coordinating a pincer maneuver is a party that's not clumping up in a big blob.
And of course, it provides another benefit for melee attackers, since they are, as mentioned, at an intrinsic disadvantage compared to ranged attackers.
But what's not so good about this rule?
This is just my personal opinion, but I don't think all this hassle is worth it. I want a mechanic that pushes the players to make creative decisions. Is Flanking the opponent a creative decision? I don't know, not any more than most of the other ways you could position yourself in a fight. Attacking while standing next to your buddy, side-by-side, is also a tried-and-true tactic in combat, yet that doesn't get any kind of attack bonus.
I also feel like the +2 bonus is just a liiiittle bit too low for me to feel properly incentivized towards it. A 10% increase in accuracy isn't negligible, but it's exactly the kind of fiddly thing that 5E made a point of streamlining out of the game.
And I mean, the fact that it requires those diagrams to explain is a bad sign. You mean to tell me that one guy standing next to that troll isn't considered to be Flanking? Seriously? I mean, reading the rules, I understand why he technically isn't. But come on.
Meanwhile, 5th Edition did something a little different.
Flanking is no longer a default mechanic. However, it can still be found in two places.
The first place is within the Rogue's "sneak attack" class feature. Let's review how that works (emphasis mine):
Once per turn, you can deal an extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll.
So as you can see, the Rogue's signature feature, their big damage spike attack, can only be used if they've satisfied a condition first. But that condition is flexible. Either you have an advantage (which you can get in all sorts of ways, but most likely will come from stealth) or you have a buddy helping you out. That's kind of Flank-y, right? But I think it's better than Flanking because 1) the buddy only has to be adjacent to the foe, not in a specific "opposite side positioning" that requires a diagram to explain, 2) it's a rule now confined entirely to the Rogue class, instead of being something that every player has to care about all the time, and 3) it's not the only way to activate a sneak attack, meaning the rogue isn't forced into this one tactic every single fight.
The second place is within the pages of the Dungeon Master's Guide, as an optional rule that's been preserved basically unchanged from its form in 3E and 4E. If the Rogue's pseudo-Flanking rule isn't enough for you, it's a simple matter to just bring it back into the game like it was before, only now it provides advantage rather than a +2. I don't care for this as much of course, especially because it's an extremely easy way to attain advantage, so you never have to bother using more interesting tactics to gain it (e.g. sneaking, shoving someone prone, casting a spell, blinding your foe, etc.).
So, what does Rivers & Lakes have instead?
Height
Allow me to share the exact description from the rulebook:
Height is where one character is vertically in relation to another. You may be above, below, or even with another character. Prone characters are considered below standing characters. Height has no intrinsic effects in the core rules, but it can matter for some philosophies and arts.
What's that all about? Well, as alluded, when you make your character and you design your fighting style, you might pick a philosophy that, say, gives you a damage bonus on anyone below you, or maybe a defense bonus against attacks made from above you, or an attack bonus against a foe who's even with you.
Like Flanking, it's a rule that forces the players to think more about their positioning, giving them something to inform where they choose to move and why. I can't claim that it makes real-life sense, but because this is a wuxia game, I'm perfectly fine tossing aside real-life sense in a lot of spots and replacing it with something bizarre instead.
Unlike Flanking, you don't have to worry about exact positioning. It doesn't matter how many steps above or below you are from your foe, just whether or not you're above or below at all. In my experience, every player immediately gets excited at the notion of verticality being a variable in combat. But there are practical limitations to consider. We don't want to rigorously model the battlefield in 3D, right?
Like the Rogue's "sneak attack" in 5E, we also made sure that Height wouldn't be a universal mechanic, but rather something that a player opts-into by way of a specific choice made during character creation. "If you want to burden yourself with trying to secure an extra variable, then you'll be rewarded for it."
But what I like most about Height is how contextual it is.
For one, it's contextual to each individual character. There is no objectively correct Height. Only a Height that you may prefer or your foe may prefer. So it always depends on the matchup of two characters fighting. If we both get a bonus for being above or below our foe, then we'll both be constantly trying to take the high ground or low ground. If one of us wants to be above while the other wants to be below, or if we both want to be even, then we actually have aligned interests in a sense. But we're going to be walloping each other like that. Even a character without any Height preference will still have a reason to be moving up or down just to deny their opponent a bonus.
For another thing, it's contextual to the battlefield. The GM must ensure that (nearly) every fight includes at least a few vertical features, and the participants' ability to capitalize on those features is an important test of skill. Cliffs, stairs, ladders, trees, vehicles, you name it.
Something I adore is watching two combatants constantly competing for a preferred Height. Unlike Flanking, in which the players have one correct position to assume at the beginning of the fight and then they can forget about it, Height tends to keep the players moving round after round after round. We both want to be above each other? First you jump one space upwards in the air to do your attack. Then I step up atop the escarpment to do my attack. So you climb the trunk of the tree on the escarpment to do your next attack. So I climb to the top branches of the tree for my next attack. So you climb to the top branches and then jump up into the air again for your next attack. And then I simply throw you down to the ground.
Example 3: Difficult Terrain
Difficult Terrain is also a combat ingredient that's meant to get players thinking more carefully about their movement and position. Instead of being tied to characters, it's tied to the environment itself. Here's the description:
Combat rarely takes place in bare rooms or on featureless plains. Boulder-strewn caverns, briar-choked forests, treacherous staircases—the setting of a typical fight contains difficult terrain.
Every foot of movement in difficult terrain costs 1 extra foot. This rule is true even if multiple things in a space count as difficult terrain.
Low furniture, rubble, undergrowth, steep stairs, snow, and shallow bogs are examples of difficult terrain. The space of another creature, whether hostile or not, also counts as difficult terrain.
Essentially, it halves your speed.
What's good about this rule?
Difficult Terrain is the simplest way to add variety to a battlefield. And like Opportunity Attacks and Flanking, it grounds the game in a bit of realism.
If the DM is intentional in where they place it, they can use Difficult Terrain to funnel characters into particular spots, forming chokepoints and borders. It also acts as a "soft barrier." It doesn't provide cover, yet you can still "hide" behind it. Enemy archers firing at you from across a field of Difficult Terrain can easily flee the moment you start approaching them. While you're struggle to close the gap, getting caught in the quagmire, those archers are running away without obstacle.
And of course, it allows characters who've invested in better mobility the chance to shine more brightly. While everyone else is struggling in the mud, the guy who gets to ignore the effects of Difficult Terrain feels like a superhero.
But what's not so good about this rule?
Honestly, I think most of us can agree it's just plain frustrating and mostly serves only to slow things down, which is the last thing D&D combat needs.
It also rarely leads to interesting choices. It limits possibilities, but doesn't inspire innovative solutions. And in all my time playing D&D, I cannot recall any time where it was worth it to say fuckit and just charge into the Difficult Terrain. It is very much a last resort, and you feel like a useless chump when you're stuck in the middle of it.
It also tends to punish melee attackers, since they're the ones who need to move around the most. So, as a longtime Fighter player, you could say that I... have a bone to pick with Difficult Terrain.
What does Rivers & Lakes have instead?
Mobility Types
This time, I'm just going to paste an image of the full page describing movement rules:
Walking and Jumping are both going to be available in nearly all situations, whereas Climbing, Riding, and Swimming are more situational. I would recommend not dumping both Earth and Air. Then again, I've seen it work out okay.
Just like before, we don't really need to concern ourselves with grounded realism. This is wuxia, everyone is gliding around on wires anyway. So we had fun with something that D&D normally doesn't get to have fun with. Movement is wild in this game.
Like Difficult Terrain, this mechanic breaks up the battlefield into different kinds of area, which make movement faster or slower, thus giving you something to inform your movement decisions. But unlike Difficult Terrain, we aren't just adding annoying "slow zones." When you add a pond or a tower or whatever to the battlefield, some players will avoid it, but others will move towards it. Like with Height, the decisions of mobility are contextual, both to individual characters and to the battlefield itself. Everyone at the table is looking at the same battlefield, but they all see something completely different from one another.
Another advantage it has over Difficult Terrain is just psychological. Instead of seeing barriers, you see opportunities. "If I can just get over to that river, I'll have the upper hand." Positive thinking, y'know? Instead of an obstacle I'm throwing in their path, players think of their mobilities as tools at their disposal, which they have a chance to deploy.
And of course, it's just hilarious to watch a player come upon a bridge and choose to run along its side instead of running across it, simply because they're better at "Climbing" than they are at "Walking."
There's a point
I won't claim that the tactical wrinkles of Rivers & Lakes are mind-blowing, but they are each a little more clever and exciting than their equivalents in D&D. And these kinds of upgrades here and there do add up.
More than that, though, I believe that there's a lot of value in punching up the simple stuff. I sometimes compare R&L to the board game Cosmic Encounter. It's one of my favorites, and I recommend it to lots of folks. It's a game where you play as an alien empire trying to conquer and settle foreign planets in outer space, competing against other aliens doing the same thing. It's most famous for its wide variety of alien races that you play as. Each one has a unique and completely batshit power that seems like it should break the game. They'll be things like, "you win fights by losing, so whenever you lose, that's actually a win," or "you have unlimited ship movement, just do whatever you want," or "every ship that's died? Throughout the whole game? From any player? Yeah, add their value to all your attacks, forever." Every alien is overpowered, which means that every player is somehow on even footing.
In much the same way, the Kung Fu fighting styles of Rivers & Lakes are always totally bananas. Every player has the power to do something that everyone else at the table probably thought was impossible, constantly pushing the game to extremes. This is one of the easiest selling points of the game: you will get to do unbelievable martial arts shit.
But it's important to note here that one of the reasons Cosmic Encounter is such a good game is because it's still fun without the alien powers. There's still a simple-yet-deep territory control game at the core, and I think it's rock solid. And while the alien powers may seem coconuts, they're all built on top of the ingredients and dynamics found in that core. There are lots of aliens with unique and outlandish victory conditions, and it's always awesome when a game ends from one of those. Yet the default victory condition is still the most common way for the game to end. That's because the fundamentals are never rendered completely irrelevant.
That's what we've aimed for with Rivers & Lakes. Yes, yes, the really cool stuff is what happens when you break out the Kung Fu. But it's still vital to make sure that the fundamentals of combat are interesting enough to carry the experience on their own.
-Dwiz
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