-1 unarmed, no formal combat training
+0 unarmed, formal combat training
+0 small weapon
+1 medium weapon
+2 large weapon
+1 sharpness
+1 two-handed

So, if a character enters combat, you ask yourself these questions:

If the character is unarmed, is he formally or informally trained in unarmed combat? (Apply 0 if the former or -1 if the latter.)

If the character is armed, is the weapon small, medium, or large? (Apply 0, +1, or +2 respectively.) If it is sharp, add +1. If it is wielded with two hands, add +1.

Example: A rock is a small blunt weapon (ODF +0). A shillelagh is a medium blunt weapon (+1 medium = ODF +1). A knife is a small sharp weapon (+1 sharpness = ODF +1). A gladius is a medium sharp weapon (+1 medium +1 sharpness = ODF +2). A longsword is a large sharp weapon (+2 large +1 sharpness = ODF +3). A claymore is a large, sharp, two-handed weapon (+2 large +1 sharpness +1 two-handed = ODF +4).

This can easily be used to extrapolate the damage factors of everyday items such as a bowling ball (medium blunt object; ODF +1), a brick (small blunt object; ODF +0), a spade (large, blunt, two-handed tool; ODF +3), or a sickle (medium sharp tool; ODF +2).

This presents a quandary. Why would anyone choose to learn a specific weapon skill if Brawling can give one the ability to use just about anything as effectively? We know that household objects are not as effective as actual weapons, but how can this fact be reflected without complicating the simple formula of which we are so fond? Since the ordinary object is inferior to the weapon possessing similar qualities by virtue of its different design purposes, I think the best way to reflect this is to impose an initiative penalty to the wielder of the ordinary object whenever the two are matched. This would only work if alternating combat turns are being used. If simultaneous combat rounds are being used, one could rule that the wielder of the actual weapon gains a +1 mêlée modifier when engaged against a brawler attacking with a chair or a walking stick or any other object.

I was thinking about this as I was adding the description to the Brawling skill in Optimum Skills for Fudge. The unarmed combat skills are the only skills for which I have not yet written descriptions, and Brawling, being the most basic of all fighting techniques, is the first I have undertaken. On the table above, Brawling qualifies as unarmed, no formal combat training, and thus provides a -1 offensive damage factor. Any other form of unarmed combat requires some amount of formal training (having a default level of Nonexistent) and provides a 0 offensive damage factor. Special attack techniques will bestow a +1 offensive damage factor. To keep things simple, I think the difference between most of the martial arts will be style rather than effect, leaving the description of specific techniques to players if they so desire (and providing some examples in the skill descriptions). Certain skills may have exceptions, such as Aikido, Judo, Jujutsu, and Wrestling, which are more focused on disabling opponents than injuring or killing them (depending on the style and the individual practitioner, of course).

Once upon a time, game designers were content to use one term, for the most part, to describe the harnessing of supernatural forces. It was called “magic.” There seemed to be an infinite number of ways to explain the source of magic or how it works (if one felt the necessity) ranging from innate psychic gifts to channeling the energy of the Positive Material Plane to tapping the ambient magical field of one’s immediate surroundings. Any of these are enough to spark the imagination and possibly inspire one to conjecture about the “physics” of magic in a particular setting, even possibly leading to ideas for new adventures and background stories.

Then someone decided to take a word, a very specific word with a very specific religious meaning belonging to a very specific culture, and reduce it to a generic rules term. That word is mana. Looking at a variety of online sources, I note that the term in general has been diluted over the years, so I am forced to admit that game designers and rules hackers are probably not solely responsible for the word’s overuse:

1 : the power of the elemental forces of nature embodied in an object or person
2 : moral authority : PRESTIGE
(Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary)

or:

(in Polynesian, Melanesian, and Maori belief) pervasive supernatural or magical power.

— ORIGIN Maori.
(AskOxford)

or:

a generalized, supernatural force or power, which may be concentrated in objects or persons.
[Origin: 1835–45; < Polynesian]
(Dictionary.com)

At one time, mana meant the supernatural power present in a being or object that could be released from its containment and utilized by another by destroying said being or object. It was tied to a belief system held particularly by the Maori, and it was especially important to concepts of divine and tribal authority.

Why someone thought mana would be an excellent word to be applied generically to magic in a fantasy setting of predominantly Western European influence is baffling. Medieval Western Europeans did, in fact, have a concept of magic as a force that could be locked within beings or objects, and they had words for it, too: “quintessence” and “prima materia.”

Perhaps it was once considered a nifty idea to use the word “mana” instead of “magic.” Perhaps it was thought to be exotic. Perhaps, even, it was thought that it would be more believable to have in-character conversations about mana than magic in a medieval European fantasy world. Read that sentence again. Yes, as absurd as it sounds, I think it may have been part of the rationale.

To most people, the presence of mana in a text about mostly Western magic is probably not as jarring and unaesthetic as it is to me. For my serious games, I like to immerse myself in another world, much as I like to do when I am reading a good novel. To me, a wizened alchemist muttering something about mana is about as convincing as the Sheriff of Nottingham using the phrase “crime scene investigation” or Robin Hood discussing the merits of “wealth redistribution.” If it were a comical interpretation, sure, anything goes. For that matter, the party can greet strangers with “aloha” and have luaus every night of their journey to Mordor. For serious games, however, I think mana is best limited to traditional Polynesian or modern cosmopolitan settings.

Incidentally, I do think that a traditional Polynesian setting would make a rich environment for gaming. The possibilities are… fascinating.

Although I have seen advice against it, I think the best solution to the Scale controversy is to accept the fact that Mass is a separate trait from Mass Scale. If we accept that Mass Scale is the relative size of the average member of a given species, and that the Mass Scale of objects made for use by that species is 0 relative to that species, then it holds that objects, at least, and probably beings, possess a Mass trait, too.

This Mass trait would be rated numerically on the Mass Scale chart, but its actual real world value would be the Mass trait and Mass Scale combined, just as a Strength attribute and Strength Scale are combined when an offensive damage factor is calculated.

Take, for example, a human being and his bowling ball. The average human being (according to the chart we are using) is Mass Scale 0 and therefore 68 kilograms. His favorite bowling ball is Mass Scale 0 (because it is scaled for use by a Scale 0 human being), but since it weighs only 6 kilograms, its Relative Mass must be -6. Mass Scale 0 + Relative Mass -6 = Mass -6. To find out the Mass or Relative Mass of any normal man-made object, you simply need to know its mass in real world terms.

But suppose the human bowler is challenged to a game by a huge troll? The troll is Mass Scale +4 and therefore about 333 kilograms. The bowling ball, created by a troll craftsman to be used by trolls, is the same size relative to a troll as a man-made bowling ball is to a human being. Since the man-made bowling ball is Relative Mass -6, then you just need to add the troll’s Mass Scale to arrive at the troll-made bowling ball’s Mass. Mass Scale +4 + Relative Mass -6 = -2. A troll-made bowling ball has a Mass of -2, or about 30 kilograms.

Suppose the human bowler next plays against a gnome. The gnome is Mass Scale -13, or about 350 grams. His bowling ball was made by himself of the appropriate dimensions, so it is 6 levels lighter than himself. Mass Scale -13 - Relative Mass -6 = -19. A gnome-made bowling ball has a Mass of -19, or about 30 grams.

To summarize, to find the Mass of an object made for beings of non-human Scale, add the Mass Scale of the being for whom it was made, to the Relative Mass (the Mass of the equivalent object made for human beings). It’s that easy. It requires, however, that the correct terms are in use.

Mass Scale

The mass of the average member of a species.

Relative Mass

The mass of an object relative to the mass of the being for whom it was made.

Mass

The actual mass of a being or object, calculated by adding Mass Scale to Relative Mass. (If a man-made object is 2 levels heavier than a human being, i.e. Relative Mass +2, then the same object made for a different species would be 2 levels heavier than the typical member of that species, too.)

One can always just fudge everything, but it’s handy to know what the designers intended if one wants to translate the scenario faithfully (and if one doesn’t even know the rules of the game for which the scenario was written).

This is wonderful for freeform games where there is no set skill list or where the skills are broadly defined. The Fudge rule of thumb is that all skills default to Poor. There is no need to worry about the relative complexity of a skill given the culture and technology of one’s world or whatnot. If you purchase a skill, you have it at the purchased level; if you didn’t purchase a skill, you can always attempt it as if you possessed it at the skill level of Poor.

I enjoy playing freeform Fudge, but on some occasions I like to play detail-oriented Fudge. For this reason, and also because some players prefer to choose their skills from lists rather than allow them to spring Athena-like from their own heads, I have compiled the Optimum Skills for Fudge list, a universal list of skills including default skill levels, skill difficulty, and skill descriptions. This information (sans the descriptions) can also be found at the Big Chart of Optimum Skills for Fudge.

Freeform games without skill lists are fun because they encourage players and GMs to create skills that would never be found on any list. Games with broad skills are fun because character generation is a faster process and many capabilities can be encapsulated by a single concept. Games with professions as skills are perfect examples of this. My own skill list, because it is intended to serve a different purpose (the desire for greater detail), necessarily concentrates on somewhat narrower skills. Technically, I would classify them as medium skills. Most, if not all, of the skills can be defined more narrowly by applying Areas of Specialization or Areas of Further Specialization. These are entirely optional, and GMs are free to specify that certain skills must be taken with an Area of Specialization, other skills must be taken with an Area of Further Specialization, and still others may be taken as is whether they have Areas of Specialization or not. Furthermore, GMs (and players) may invent their own Areas of Specialization or Further Specialization, or they may, of course, invent entirely new skills (something of which I highly approve).

The thorniest problem in creating a skill list is determining the default level and difficulty of each skill. How does one measure the difficulty of Chemistry compared to Skiing, Painting, or Fluency in Navajo? “Apples and oranges” is an understatement. There is simply no truly objective way of doing it. I have two solutions for detail-oriented Fudge. The first solution is that any skill created on the fly has a default level of Poor and a difficulty of Average unless it is a highly unusual and/or unnaturally powerful skill, in which case it has a default level of Nonexistent (unless the GM really wants the player characters to have a chance to try them).

The second solution is my skill design rule of thumb:

• Basic survival and labor skills have a default level of Mediocre and a difficulty of Easy.
• Physical and trade skills have a default level of Poor and a difficulty of Average.
• Academic skills have a default level of Terrible and a difficulty of Hard.
• Highly unusual and/or powerful skills have a default level of Nonexistent and a difficulty of Very Hard.
• Skills that no one without special training or previous study could possibly perform have a default level of Nonexistent, but their difficulty may vary.
• Most unarmed combat skills (except Brawling and Wrestling) have a default level of Nonexistent, but their difficulty may vary.

Obviously, there are some inconsistencies (I wouldn’t consider Bicycling to be a basic survival skill nor a typical labor skill, but I think it could be considered Easy by most people who have grown up with them). I know there are people who would consider any physical skill to be Hard or Very Hard, and there are others who would consider almost any academic skill to be Average, but as an admittedly sweeping generalization about the world’s population, it works for me, and I hope it might work for you, too (if you need it).

In the end, you can always fudge it.

If you are translating the traits of another game into Fudge terms and the other game has fewer trait levels, e.g. PDQ, the other game will have one or more trait levels duplicated. In this instance, the PDQ rank Average can equal either of two Fudge traits: Fair or Mediocre. How does one choose? The GM is free to make an arbitrary decision, of course, but it’s nice to have a consistent rule of thumb, so here are several options:

• Always pick the highest trait level.
• Always pick the lowest trait level.
• Always pick the median trait level (if there is one).
• Flip a coin or roll 1d6.
  • These ratings are followed by numbers in brackets: [1-3] or [4-6]. Roll 1d6 and obey the brackets. A roll of 1-3 commands you to choose the lower trait level. A roll of 4-6 volunteers you to choose the higher trait level.

If you are translating Fudge traits to those of another game and Fudge has fewer trait levels (a common situation), you will need to choose one number within a range. If you wish to convert a Fudge character to a game that uses a range generated by 3d6 for example, and one of his traits is Fair, you will have to choose a rating within the range of 9-12. Your options are:

• Always pick the highest rating.
• Always pick the lowest rating.
• Always pick the median rating (if there is one).
• Roll the appropriate die.
  • In the case of a four number spread such as 9-12, you could roll a 1d4 where 1=9, 2=10, 3=11, and 4=12; or you could roll a 1d6 where 1=9, 2 and 3=10, 4 and 5=11, and 6=12. In a three number spread such as 13-15, you might roll 1dF where -=13, 0=14, and +=15.

The other option, for translation to or from Fudge, is to alternate between one or more of the methods at regular intervals. For example, if a Fudge character has multiple traits that translate into ranges of numbers, you might decide that for the first such trait, you will always pick the highest rating, for the second you will always pick the lowest rating, for the third you will always pick the median rating, etc., or whichever order you like. This could be particularly desirable for translating Fudge characters into games where the ratings are based on the 1-100 range.

Scale rules are also beneficial in games where all of the characters are of a nonhuman Scale, as many Bunnies & Burrows and Watership Down fans are aware. In my own Mass Scale Chart, a typical rabbit is Scale -9. Since most of the characters in this genre are of the same Scale, there is no modification if they fight one another. Relative to one another, they are all effectively Scale 0 (and people are Scale 9). If a Scale -9 rabbit is attacked by a Scale -8 cat, the cat gains a +1 to its ODF and DDF. If the same rabbit is attacked by a Scale -4 dog, the dog adds +5 to its ODF and DDF. From the rabbit’s Scale 0 point of view, the cat is Scale 1 and the dog is Scale 5.

In many Scale charts, especially those dealing with Mass, examples are included to illustrate things that belong to each Scale level. Human beings, for instance, are almost always situated at Scale 0. Animals are often listed at other Scale levels to help one visualize the typical Scale levels that various real and imaginary creatures might occupy. All of this is well and good until man-made objects are included.

It might seem reasonable to know the Mass of a paper clip, a bowling ball, and an ore freighter, but placing those, or any, inanimate objects on the same Scale chart as living beings defeats the purpose of the chart and fundamentally misinterprets the concept of Scale in Fudge, for you see a paper clip, a bowling ball, and an ore freighter are all Scale 0.

A normal Scale 0 bowling ball used by normal Scale 0 human beings (who have an average weight of 68 kilograms) weighs about 7.25 kilograms; likewise a Scale -13 bowling ball made for Scale -13 gnomes would weigh much less than a 350 gram gnome, and a Scale 11 bowling ball made for Scale 11 giants would weigh less than its 6 ton owner. Scale rules exist to show you that things of a certain Scale are made for beings of that Scale and they don’t necessarily have the same Mass as the beings for whom they are made.

House rules are notorious perpetrators of this misunderstanding of Scale. Consider the typical combat rules that stipulate a Scale 16 main battle tank or a Scale 9 P-51 Mustang. I know they were just inserted into the Scale slot because they happened to fit the weight of that Scale. That is the problem. According to the rules, a Scale 16 tank would be operated by giants the size of tyrannosaurs, i.e. by a Scale 16 tank crew. Real main battle tanks are operated by Scale 0 human tank crews. That doesn’t mean a tank is weak or fragile. It just means it was made for normal human beings, so it doesn’t gain a Scale bonus relative to human beings. If it causes tremendous damage, the damage is figured by giving it a higher offensive factor. If its armor is effective against all rifle rounds, its protective capacity is figured by giving it a higher defensive factor. Then if the adventurers travel to another dimension where giant Scale 9 creatures sail giant ships, you can add +9 for Scale to the ODF and DDF of a normal ship in that world (and if the adventurers drink a serum that causes them to grow to the size of the giant creatures, the +9 for scale disappears).

When I first compiled my own Mass Scale Chart, I made the mistake of including man-made objects, not because I thought they were of a different Scale, but because I was mixing up Mass Scale, Strength Scale, and the Mass of objects themselves. For my next project, I shall remove them from the Mass Scale Chart, but I will add them to a separate Strength Scale Chart that lists them as objects that can be lifted by beings of a particular Strength Scale. [Edit: This has been accomplished, although providing examples will be an ongoing process.]