The Sad, Terrible Fate of Bill the Pony
Why you should never bring a horse to a dungeon fight.
Last time, we discussed the trope of drivers in fiction, including their roles and added complications. Now let’s look at using drivers in D&D/TTRPGs.
I never was a car guy, myself.
But since we’re been using G.I. Joe’s Clutch as our starting point, let’s continue the discussion around drivers and vehicles (which for D&D, I’m including mounts).
Sadly, I’ve never played Steve Jackson’s Car Wars. Planet Smasher Games’ Gaslands sounds pretty awesome (customizing old Hot Wheels and Matchbox Cars for use as game pieces). But about the most cars I’ve played with in games though Mille Bornes.
So when it comes to drivers, I’m mainly thinking in terms of fantasy TTRPGs. But with those, there tends to be certain issues with the character of a “driver”—usually this means they have skills with their own mount, which can have limited utility in the game, or they can transport the entire party while sidelining everyone else during the journey.
The Individual Mount
When it comes to D&D “drivers” that first thing that comes to my mind are the characters with a dedicated mount, such as paladins and their warhorse.
The concept of their warhorse is certainly a fitting dynamic, with the connection to medieval knights, as well as a desirable reward for reaching higher levels—but practically speaking, just how useful is a warhorse to manage?
One of the more grounded images from The Lord of the Rings (to me at least) is Bill the Pony. Helpful as he’s been, the fellowship can’t exactly bring a pony any farther into the Mines of Moria.
“But in any case we cannot take the poor beast into the Mines,” said Gandalf. “The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can.” —The Fellowship of the Ring
If memory serves, Bill is assumed to be eaten either immediately by the Watcher in the Water, or later on by the surrounding wolves.1
That’s the paladin’s warhorse, to me.
The 1se D&D cavalier was even more of a specialized class. Their class features play even more directly into the knight trope, with skills in jousting (or at least use of the lance), mounted combat, and horsemanship. So unless you’re playing an Arthurian campaign where most of the players are actual knights, once the cavalier dismounts at the dungeon entrance, they lose their (literal) one trick pony.2
That is, unless both cavalier and horse magically shrink and are able to trot ahead in reduced size—an adventure concept I’d definitely endorse.
In many campaigns, overland travel is required to get from home base to adventuring site with the occasional wilderness encounter along the way (much like Indiana Jones travel montages). And as adventuring parties, characters tend to take the roads less traveled through the world, including across mountains, jungles, deserts, oceans, and icy tundra—not exactly environs where you could or would even want to take a horse.
So what’s the solve? Let me sidestep this one for now, and talk through my second issue with drivers.
The Individual Driver
Another challenge of a driver in TTRPGs can be somewhat akin to the “smooth talker”. That is, if all Charisma-based activities are naturally left to the character with the highest Charisma (often the bard, for example), this can sideline the rest of the party during such challenges.
On one hand, this only makes sense. After all, you wouldn’t have the barbarian making magical research checks (unless it was testing potions by drinking them at random to see what happens)3. Of course let characters shine when it comes to showcasing the specialties of their character and that character’s class!
On the other hand, even though every class has their own niche, the game tends to flow better around the table when everyone is able to participate for as much of it as possible. The fighter may land the heaviest strikes, but everyone takes part in combat. The bard may be the lead negotiator, but the players table-talk amongst themselves about what exactly to say.4
When it comes to the concept of a driver, it’s another skill that might logically sit with only one character. All the same, the more that all characters are able to participate and play an active role, the better.
The Collective Vehicle
One way to provide greater participation is to introduce larger, more complex vehicles (such as normally handled with naval ships in fantasy or spaceships in sci-fi). After all, there are more roles that can be assigned in larger vessels—captain, navigator, gunner, communications, etc. Just think of how everyone on the bridge of the USS Enterprise has their own important role to play in moments of conflict and tension.
Such a vehicle might be a grand, complex wagon that needs to be driven. For fans of steampunk (or with some level of science in your fantasy) this could be a larger version of an apparatus of Kwalish, or even a giant iron golem (such as from the old Earthshaker! adventure). In the Mortal Engines series, these might even be entire walking cities!
Such larger vehicles open themselves up as their own adventure locations. For example, watch U-571 or similar submarine warfare movies. There may be boarders trying to get on that need to be repelled (Mad Max-style, or like any castle siege), saboteurs on board as well as their damage that needs to be found and repaired (e.g., Among Us), even sections of the hull closing down due to fire, flood, or lack of air that either need to be escaped or to rescue those already trapped inside (e.g., Titanic, The Poseidon Adventure).
Why would such a weird vehicle ever be required? Well, it may be the safest way to traverse a broad, open area that’s plagued by hostiles (such as a massive gnoll army). Or it may be the only way to travel across certain environments at all, such as various planes (including the Nine Hell), the vacuums of space (such as across a moonscape), or crawling along the bottom of the ocean to meet with a storm giant, kua-toa princess, or the secret lair of mermen-obsessed scientists (e.g., Cabin in the Woods).
I hasten to add that another vehicle that gives each character a needed position is to go Voltron-style5. Essentially, separate vehicles come together to form one giant iron golem/robot, with each driver needed to operate their individual component of the whole.
Even if it’s not a mechanical vehicle that not all characters have the skills to operate, you might introduce some large beast that needs to be crewed by multiple handlers—a single roc instead of multiple griffons, or a war-mastadon with an elaborate platfotm harness. Just the same as with a vehicle, these crewmen may need to serve as pilot, lookout, gunner, repair, etc. Failing a check or two may result in the creature veering off course, slowing down, or speeding up dangerously. Fail too many checks, and the creature may go berserk—even attacking its own crew!
Driving Challenges
As we discussed last time when it came to writing about drivers, it’s one thing to simply operate a vehicle. As a DM, you don’t your players to grow bored without sufficient challenge for the characters they’re playing, any more than you want your readers to grow bored without sufficient challenge for the characters they’re following.
So, to that end—think about what attackers does the vehicle encounter? Pursuit? Pitfalls, obstacles, and mechanical breakdowns?
Besides applied use of skills (animal handling, etc.) and the straight roll of the dice, what other strategies might the players employ? Do they have any gear, magic items, or spells that can help? Does the beast perform better depending on what kind of treat that it’s given?
Sample Added Challenge
One challenge a driver might face are “gremlins,” whether actual or conceptual.
Back in WWII, when planes were damaged and repaired so many times that spontaneous mechanical failures were inevitable, these were often blamed on gremlins. So how might gremlins work in TTRPGs to interrupt travel? By sabotaging equipment at night, booby-trapping saddles or mounts, etc. As in the movie Speed (or Crank), if the horse drops below a certain speed/heart rate, a hidden bomb might go off.
Like stirges, these gremlins hide during the day (hidden beneath a caravan wagon, for example), to emerge at night and quietly feed on the blood of the horses, resulting in their growing sluggish and weakened.
So What About Bill the Pony
Getting back to the paladin’s warhorse, and options for handling their use:
Handwave Their “Storage”: If you don’t want to effectively negate the benefit of a paladin’s warhorse, you might simply allow for its autonomous hitching outside of dungeons or other areas where it cannot travel. In 5e, this is easily handled by the implementation of the find steed spell—you summon and dismiss your warhorse as needed, which also plays into its mystical fey nature.
But what if you’re playing earlier editions, Old School Essentials, Shadowdark, etc.? In this case, you might treat the warhorse in a similar fashion, as a more spiritual creature that’s summoned when needed. Even as a more tangible fey, it might still roam free and capably fend for itself in the wild until called. (I picture the Lone Ranger whistling for Silver, who appears moments later cresting the nearest hilltop however improbably convenient.)
Assign a Handler: You can also treat the warhorse as a more earthly, tangible creature. In which case, the paladin may need to hire a henchman/hireling in the role of squire or groom, in order to stay with the horse and care for it. While this requires added logistics for the players to manage, it does also open up possibilities for new NPC interactions, added risks to navigate, story hooks, etc. 6
In other words, some campaigns enjoy managing the logistics, and so the reward of a paladin’s warhorse also comes with the complexities of its actual use.
Ultimately, that’s the ongoing challenge for you as DM: To ensure that each character feels like they have a unique role in the party, and how that’s expressed through their various class features and level upgrades. And, ensuring that those features can best fit into your campaign without too much logistical “paperwork” that makes them not worth having at all.
At the same time, while each characters should feel like that they have their own niche, still allowing the rest of the party to participate as much as possible in their own ways. It’s a challenging balance that comes up again and again, especially when we start looking at thieves, rogues, and assassins.
Edited: As pointed out by
, Bill the Pony actually survives and is later returned. Bill… or a fiendish doppelganger pony!The niche of the cavalier was something we explored for the D&D website. At the time, I was working with Jason Thompson (of Mock Man Press) on a series of D&D-themed comics, with the cavalier still available online (at least for the time being).
I love the concept of potion miscibility, governing what happens if two or more potions are consumed at once. These rules could be found in the 1e Dungeon Master’s Guide, but disappeared in 3rd Edition—a situation addressed in a 2006 April Fool’s Day article I commissioned for the D&D website. And it’s great to see them returned to the game in 5e as well!
Unless it’s simply a dice-rolling skill challenge, such as seen in 4e. But that’s a topic for another day.
I never did watch the actual Voltron cartoon. For me, this premise was best displayed by the Decepticon’s Devastator. Man, I wish the Transformers were all built to 1/18th vehicle scale, but for that I would have to wait.
I can see a side quest, or even the start of a new campaign entirely, focusing on these low-level characters left outside the dungeon. What threatens them out there? Who tries to steal the party’s mounts? What happens if there’s a suspicious call for help from inside the dungeon that may or may not be their patrons?
Bart my friend, I love your work, but I am here to regretfully correct the record and, by extension, your article’s title and premise. We pick up in Return of the King, chapter 7, “Homeward Bound.” Frodo and the others have reached Bree and the In of the Prancing Pony. Barliman is talking:
‘I’ve something that belongs to you. If you recollect Bill Ferny and the horsethieving: his pony as you bought, well, it’s here. Come back all of itself, it did. But where it had been to you know better than me. It was as shaggy as an old dog and as lean as a clothes-rail, but it was alive. Nob’s looked after it.’
‘What! My Bill?’ cried Sam. ‘Well, I was born lucky, whatever my gaffer may say. There’s another wish come true! Where is he?’ Sam would not go to bed until he had visited Bill in his stable.
In Hobbit, Tolkien actually makes a point of telling the reader, when the ponies seem in danger, that they all live and are safe. But he later regretted such comments, as it felt like talking down to children readers, and that’s something all children hate. Here, he doesn’t tell us as a narrator, and he lets us assume the worst until the logical place in the story for the truth to come out. But, because he’s basically a softy, he still didn’t have the heart to kill Bill.