Critical Success / Fumble Tables

[MrAgdesh]

Do any of you use anything like this for a Natural 3 or 18?

 

I know that we have the Critical Hit mechanic but I'm talking about specifically the buzz of a rolled 3. Namely, there has never been one in HERO games that I've played - not like rolling a Nat 20 in a certain other well-known system.

 

Let's face it, a 3 is just so much more impressive than a 20, too, by a factor of 10 or so! 

 

Typically, a 3 has tended to be something like "I'll give you a couple of extra DCs damage" and a catastrophic 18 has only been "make a DEX roll or fall prone/ drop your weapon". I think that for Heroic level games, especially the next one that I run, I want to have something like this in place, so I've run up some tables of my own (still a work in progress).

 

I like the idea of a 3 standing a chance to turn the tide of battle, regardless of whether it's a Crit Hit or not.

[Christopher R Taylor]

I used to, but my players and I got tired of the idea and stopped using it.  What we did was this (it was for fantasy hero):

 

A natural 3, or hitting the target by half the needed roll (say you needed a 10 to hit and you rolled a 5) was critical: you could choose to either do maximum damage for your attack, or select the exact hit location desired.

 

A natural 18 was just an automatic miss.

 

Personally I don't like critical hits, they feel too "meta", something that doesn't happen in real combat but is used in games.

[Ninja-Bear]

We do all the time. We don’t have a specific chart but usually have a general idea of what is appropriate. 

[Chris Goodwin]

I've long considered using an option: check Luck dice on a critical hit or Unluck dice on an 18.  The levels of Luck or Unluck suggest the result.  Some weapons might have dice of Luck or Unluck just for this purpose.  

[Duke Bushido]

We did, some years ago.  Brought it back for the youth group as what Killer Shrike calls Epiphany Points-  that is, every natural 3 earned the Player 1 EP or 1/x EP (depending on the nature of the campaign) that could only be used for the improvement of something he was doing when he rolled the 3- the power he was using, or a skill level with that power, or an advantage dor that power-  that kind of thing.  It is as though the character, in that moment, gained a new insight into how the power works, etc: this was the bit of practice that paid off: they got just a tiny bit better at it. 

 

 

But as I said: we used to use "3 equals crit," and let me tell you why we don't anymore:

 

Because a 3 is always a success.  That's it!  A 3 always succeeds.   What that means is that even the absolute most "Hail Mary" moments, when absolutely nothing else will work, and there is only half of one percent chance (and often, realistically just no chance, period), a 3 will always succeed.

 

If a 3 is also the gateway to critical hits, then in any desperate situation, my only two  options are totally whiffing it, or blowing it out of the water; there is no in-between.  To select some humorous imagery, let's say that I am in low earth orbit, and on top of the Chrysler building there is a tupperware salad mixing bowl.  Inside of that, there is a red plastic Solo cup, and a smaller paper Dixie cup inside that.  I have a bag full of golf balls.  I am challenged to drop as many golf balls as possible into the Dixie cup as I can.

 

I either miss the target completely, or I ring the Dixie cup.  A GM might say "well, we can say that you hit the roof, or the red solo cup, or the salad bowl--  but suppose the idea is to damage the roof of the Chrysler building?  I have to ring the cup to activate the machine that that beats a hole in the roof.

 

If I miss, but we rule that I hit just next to the target, I have suceeded: I have damaged the roof.  Not as much as I wanted, but I have a _lot_ of golf balls left, so..  In the words of the popular meme, "task failed successfully."

 

Should I roll an 18 and still manage to get a limited amount of success?  If the answer is "no," then I can only fail miserably or do it perfectly; "almost" is not available to me.

 

Yes; that is an intentionally ridiculous example, so let's go with this one,  at one time (and we may still) we had a couple of members here who fenced-- you know; with the springy bendy pointy foil and the "en guarde" and the flour sifter face masks.

 

I _do not_ fence.  I have never so much as _touched_ a foil ("Epee?"  Is that right?  There is an accent mark there that I cannot reproduce on this touch screen; just read it in, please).

 

So let's say that Ninja_Bear (selected for his long history of being a good sport about this sort of thing) has been fencing- or at least practicing at it- for fifteen years or more.  He has won a few regional trophies; had his picture in a couple of sword-arts type magazines-- maybe even once in WoodWorkers Quarterly by mistake.

 

Ninja_Bear and I are fighting atop the Chrysler Building while some lunatic in space pummel us super-sonic golf balls.  Ninja_Bear, a skilled and well-prepared practitioner of his arts, raises his flour sifter and glowers disdainfully at me.  "I will not kill an unarmed man." He sneers.

 

"Good!" I retort enthusiastically, and very relieved.  I exhale in a huge burst of relief.

 

He stares at me in disbelief, then throws me his foil.  He instantly draws a second foil from some hidden pocket dimension up the back of his light torso armor while I watch the first one arc through the air handle-first, and then it clatters at my feet.  I stare at it a few moments.  It looks like a very nice one of those, but at the same time I understand that I wouldn't be able to tell a nice one from car radio antenna.  I stare at it some more, so that my opponent might not notice my ignorance.

 

"Pick...it....up" Ninja_Bear orders, his speech clipped with well-controlled anger, and a smattering of uncontolled annoyance.

 

"Oh, no!  We had a _deal_!"

 

"A _deal_?  With _you_...?"

 

" You won't kill an unarmed man; remember?  I'm gonna venture that picking that up qualifies me as armed."

 

NB throws his head back as sardonic laughter peals from him.  I stare, not sure what kind of laughter that was, and upon noticing, he bursts forth with an even heartier round.  "That was _sardonic_ laughter," he explains affably.  "That is not the good kind of laughter."

 

"Any laughter is pretty good, I think."

 

"Not this kind!" He snaps angrily.  "This is the kind of laughter that is torn forcibly from you in spite of your better judgement; the laughter at things that decent people do not ever find funny!"

 

"Like Adam Sandler movies," I nod sagely.  "Or when Paulie Shore says 'Buh_uuuuuuuddyy.'"

 

"No, you idiot!" Flames dance in his pupils.  "Well, _yes_, but no, not this instance!  Sardonic laughter is the kind of laughter That is torn from you in your disbelief at just how stupid your opponent is; when their level of incompetence is so far beneath what you previously thought was even humanly possible.  I am mocking you!"

 

"I won't die from it."

 

"Pick up your weapon."

 

"I didn't bring one."

 

"Pick up the weapon I gave you!"

 

"Nope.  I'm a man of my word, Ninja_Bear.  I took your deal and that's that.  I think I'm going to just sit here and keep being an unarmed man; thank you very much."

 

He pauses a moment, and then a wide, thin grin spreads crookedly across his features as he steps forward toward me.  "Is that sardonic, too?"

 

"Yes," he hisses slowly.

 

"I was kinda hoping it was a growth spurt in your Grinch heart," I reply disappointedly.  "Hey, wait a minute!  You already found out I don't know what I'm doing!"

 

He stopped short, not even trying to hide his exasperation any longer. "That is sardonic _laughter_, you clod!  A sardonic grin is when you come up with an idea that will easily dupe your opponent and you can't quite hide your malicious joy-"

 

"I don't think so."

 

"You don't think so?!" He roars, outraged at the indignity.  "What makes you qualified to _think at l-"

 

"Pretty sure that's a malicious grin, NB."

 

"A malicious grin is when you arent trying to hide it at all...."

 

"So I am smart enough to not trust me with your face?"

 

"This banter is _over_!" He snaps and marches straight toward me, gesturing to the foil on the ground with the one in his hand.  "Now," he begins, once again with all the patience in the world, "Pick....it....up."

 

"I would rather remain an unarmed and unkilled man."

 

"Very well, then!  Let me," he gestures grandly, voice filled with joyous showman ship. I wonder briefly where he got the cape, "show you what I do to _unarmed_ men!" And with a flourish he cuts a cruel and ragged line across the bridge of my nose; blood instantly stings at both of my eyes.  Another whistle of his foil and my pants drop toward my ankles.  Before they have settled, he has driven his foil two inches into my right thigh and the pain is excruciating.  I have a hand pressed to my face in a hopeless attempt to stop the bleeding.  "Pick up the foil!" He bellows.

 

"I'd rather have one of those flour sifters..." Another flourish cuts me off and six inches of my left bicep peel open, blood running down my arm.  The pain is beyond belief.  I bend over, shaking, and pick up the foil.  I wobble it a bit.

 

"The _other end_!"  He snarls.

 

"Come again?"

 

You are holding it by the wrong end, you jackass!"

 

I make a few adjustments. "No; not your thumb!  Your hand goes-- here, here; here! Look!  Look at me!" He holds his foil outward in front of him.  "See?  See there, how my knuckles are guarded and my grip is elongated and relaxed?"

 

"Does it look like blood?

 

"What-?  No; of course it doesn't look like blood, you- oh, yeah, right; of course.  Sorry about that."  I feel him jerk my arm roughly towards himself, then he grabs my hand and for just a moment, my grandmother is jamming a hand-knit wool mitten onto me. "Okay, there; you got it?  You feel that?"  I nod.  "Good!  Okay, en- No; that won't do.  Here!" Something jabs into my face and runs roughshod all over it for a moment, but when it's over, I can see again.  Well, sort of.  I see him eye his now blood-soaked ascot with disdain.  He puts a smile back on his face holds it out to me while gesturing with his foil toward my left bicep. "Would you like me to wrap that first?  It isn't as deep as it feels; you shouldn't need a torniquet...."

 

I shake my head no.    I get blown to my knees as a golfball _drills_ and _burns_ it's way into my right shoulder.  Ninja_Bear helps me to my feet while tisking and clucking about how I should be more careful, what with the circumstances here.  I nod agreement and he offers me the ascot once more, and I just shake my  head. 

 

Truth is I can't see bleeding to death being faster than trying to fight this guy.  "Very well," he says, only a small bit of disappointment showing as he gracefully drops the cloth onto the tip of his blade and flicks it away.  "Perhaps I can just even it up for you.  En guarde!"

 

Now the skill difference between us is _laughable_.  He is using his native Grace, his natural CV, several skill levels, and fifteen years of training allow him access to all sorts of additional maneuver bonuses.

 

I am using my native Dex 7, and I am seriously hampered in both vision and maneuverbilty.  The puncture in my left thigh is right through the muscles, and if I  move too much or too quickly I have to make an EGO roll against the pain to move without a Dex roll.

 

He absolutely _must_ roll an 18 to miss me; i absolutely _must_ roll a 3 to hit him.  He is positioned such that I need a 1 or less to hit; only a 3 will do.

 

It makes no sense that every time I _do_ manage to hit, I always stab him in the liver.  No slaps; not weak slashes; no raking his forearm- straight to the giblets with every (rare) hit I manage to land.

 

 

 

Now all that being said, I _do_ have a critical system of sorts, and it is based on the idea of needing an 11 (standard target number between equally-matched opponents) and rolling a 3.  I just do it "if you make your roll by 8 or more, that's a critical.  If it is not possible for you to make your roll by 8 or more (as in the case of my feeble attempt to save the city from Ninja_Bear), then it is not possible for you to score a crit.   On the _rare_ complaint about this (I say "rare" because my system turns up crits more frequently than 'a 3 is a crit" turns them up), I have sometimes adopted "do it again for instant subdual /killing / are you the HERO or the villain?"  That is, if you roll a 3, and it is not an 8-under success, roll 3d6 again.  If you roll another 3, you get exactly your "perfect result," be that instant subdual, Insta-kill, bullseye with the golfball thing takes down the entire Chrysler building- whatever.

 

 

[Chris Goodwin]

That's one of the reasons why I came up with the Luck/Unluck bit.  It's like, a 3 can be a lucky hit, but it won't necessarily be.  And if you're relying on luck to hit (i.e. you only hit on a 1 or less on 3d6, meaning the 3 is the auto-hit) then you need to have Luck with you.

[Duke Bushido]

I like it!