All posts by Chelsea Schmitt

Q&A: Prove it to Yourself, Not to Them

How do you suggest handling people (men who are friends of family, in my experience) who insist women can’t fight even if they have passed the classes they needed (I recently started a job that requires it and these men have been acting ‘concerned’ as if me taking this job is naive). I wanted to include something like this in a story I’m writing, but it would come across as me always thinking women have something to prove, as opposed to something from my own life I’m frustrated about. 🙁

Honestly? They can go fuck themselves.

You’re a grown ass woman. You know what you want. You know what you need to do. You can go get it. Trust that the training you get will help keep you safe, and you’re facing the same threats as the men who also have this job. Remember, real men who value you as a human being are supportive. They don’t equivocate, make differences between the girls and the boys. At most, they’ll talk about the additional threats women face and some approaches for dealing with them but those aren’t news. You already know about those, just like I did. I was fortunate to have a whole slew of these sorts of men as instructors in my martial arts program as a kid, and in a bunch of different martial arts classes I took as a young teen and young adult.

The truth is that men like that often have egos which are very fragile. They crave power and control by controlling the lives of others. They dress their “concerns” up as concerns (and if you’re taking a job that is dangerous, they should have a reason to be concerned) because, well, it’s dangerous for a woman isn’t it? Why don’t you just leave it to the boys? The idea of a woman doing this job makes them uncomfortable. It damages their self-image, because they’d be frightened to do it, because they think women shouldn’t. You need to remember, their comments (while they’re directed at you) are actually about them. These are the men who build their manhood around this culturally enshrined vision that doesn’t really exist. The one where (white) men are faster, stronger, smarter, better, more suited to the hard, violent, dirty jobs. You know the type. These men are weak, entitled, and need others to fail. They need women to consign themselves to the roles that they have assigned them so they can feel strong.

They may dress the damsel up with pretty words about being kind, pretty, sweet, and good often those often relate to their vision of who a woman should be. Nothing dirty, nothing dark, you’re always somewhere safe where you’re quiet, and biddable, and in your place. You’ve gotta be safely up on that pedestal. After all… “That’s just not how I see you, sweetheart.”

While these men are likely not going anywhere, and nothing we say will give them an epiphany or change their minds, you should remember that you don’t need their approval. You don’t need them.

These are men who society has taught they get to spout off like they’re an authority whenever they feel like it, not because they’ve anything of substance to add or done anything to deserve sharing their opinion but because they’re (white) men. There’s nothing that terrifies this type of man more than irrelevance. And, the second you realize that the power they think they have over you because of a family connection or your gender is only there if you give that power to them, that you can take that power away, that their opinion doesn’t control you, is the moment you’re free.

Now, that’s going to be difficult because society teaches women (in a variety of different ways) that we should let other people’s (usually older men’s) opinions decide who we are and what we can be. We can’t always change someone’s opinion, but we can decide whether we let their opinion affect us. We don’t need to be liked, we don’t need their approval, we don’t need them to decide our course for us. Their opinion is theirs, but we can decide otherwise. This is your life, not theirs. Learning to trust yourself when you’ve been taught your whole life that you can’t, that you need outside guidance, that outside opinions define the reality by which you live, is hard. You can do it, though. You went into your job with eyes wide open, you knew the risks, and you decided to take them because you’re an adult.

Putting these experiences into your writing can be a great way to work through your frustrations with people in your life. However, the power fantasy that usually rings hollow is the one where a chauvinist or misogynist turns around and realizes that yes, you really can do it once they see or experience it first hand. This is the fantasy your fear that you’d be writing “women have something to prove” is coming from. The reason why this fantasy sucks is because it puts the importance on the man’s acceptance of the woman’s truth, and sends the message his acceptance legitimizes her.

You’d make her proving herself about the men in her life rather than about her journey.

True power comes from realizing you don’t need to prove anything. You were always powerful all on your own. You gained confidence through your own sweat, blood, and tears. You conquered your frustrations, pushed past the doubters, shook off the detractors, and walked into the sunlight on your own power. The greatest empowerment comes from self-acceptance and self-love. In self-actualization, you realize loving yourself is the greatest gift you can give. You’re confident in yourself and comfortable in your own skin. You’ll realize you never needed those men and their approval anyway, and if they come around, well, that’s great… for them. Their decision won’t really affect you or your emotional health and well-being. You’ll just be rolling your eyes less at family dinners.

In your writing, you can practice not caring. You can have your characters try, and try. They may fail, they may succeed. It may take multiple drafts until you find the right note. Finding the strength to be your own person without the safety or approval provided by authority figures in your life is a real life issue both men and women struggle with. You just need to make sure you’re focusing on the character’s personal development and self-realization (“Yes, I can!”) rather than their actions being a source of proof that their detractors are wrong.

The people who doubt you don’t get to decide who you are.

You do.

– Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: Combat Training for Girls

If we have a 22 year-old woman taught to use a sword by her father (in a historical fantasy kingdom setting) what would have a been a reasonable age her to start learning (using wooden swords)? In this setting, there is no social norm against woman learning to fight in any capacity. And if my setting is more Western, what would be a minimum reasonable age when she could carry her own real sword?

At the same age as the boys.

This is the problem when you want to do these setups. You have to forget that your character is female. There is literally no difference between a girl’s combat training and a boy’s. It is exactly the same, the expectations are the same, and the part where she’s female is tertiary as best. If you over focus on the fact she’s female (any hint of her being treated differently) in a setting where social norms about women in combat don’t exist will result in you shooting yourself in your own foot.

The minimum age is going to depend on her father, and will depend on her social station, which also depends on the kind of training she receives. This also depends on the sword type in question, whether we’re in the Middle Ages or the Renaissance, and if she’s expected to do anything else along with the sword fighting. For example, if she’s a knight versus a duelist. If her father is a mercenary who needs all hands on deck quickly, or can take his time about deciding when he lets her loose. If she apprentices outside of him, as knights did when they were sent out to serve as pages, then squires before they became full-fledged knights at twenty-one.

The problem here is that this girl’s training will go through several stages with weapons that are, technically, real. All training weapons are real. The wooden sword is a real weapon. The steel training sword which is blunted is also a real weapon. They are just not as immediately dangerous as a live blade, and she will never ever train with a live blade even after she receives one as her graduation present. The graduation present will probably coincide with whatever this setting considers her age of adulthood, which could be anywhere from fourteen to twenty-one depending on her social status. This one is going to depend on her father, and her setting. Her father might give her a real sword to take care of in her early teens which she gets to train with but not use on practice dummies or spar with, to teach her the importance of caring for her weapon. She might be allowed to carry it when traveling as her father’s second, but not use it outside a means of self-defense

There are a lot of different options here because Western training for combat was a highly personal experience dependent on the student’s master and, for the Middle Ages, tied heavily into ascension into adulthood rather than the regimented militarized structure or the comprehensive training systems we see coming out of, say, China.

So, the answer is when her father decides its appropriate for her to have one. Which is usually the point where he decides she can be responsible with it, and not kill herself or someone else. She still won’t be allowed to use it, but she can carry it. If she comes from a wealthy family then she’ll go through a few different swords because she’s constantly growing. If she doesn’t, she’ll probably just get the one she receives when her apprenticeship ends. Or whenever she has the means to buy her own sword from the local blacksmith, one that’s built to her specifications.

Carry and use are two different terms. Having and using are also separate terms. Your character can receive a weapon for the purposes of their training that they’re allowed to carry but not use.

You’ll need to study up on Western combat, specifically the era you choose to base the “historical” part of your historical fantasy on. With the resurgence of HEMA, there are plenty of fantastic resources online you can turn to for advice on sword combat. Matt Easton’s scholagladitoria channel is a great jumping off point. This can be great for defining the culture your character comes from and the type of combat she could expect to engage in. This, in turn, will hone the type of training she received from her father.

Writing a character’s training can be very difficult if you don’t understand the specific type of combat your character is going to engage in, and “sword combat” is not specific. There are lot of different types of swords with hundreds of variants in how to use them, and many that had their own specific purpose. Outside the Renaissance nobility, most sword combatants weren’t duelists. Duels, historically, were used as a means of settling legal disputes. While there were duels, the Middle Ages was more about various warlords fighting over territory. Their knights trained to engage as heavy infantry or heavy cavalry or both. They were usually trained on multiple different weapons, riding, hunting, and developed many other skills to aid them in warfare.

For purposes of writing your female character as a combatant, you need to forget she’s a girl. My answer about when the weapon gets carried would’ve been the same if you never mentioned the character’s gender. There are plenty of women who were, historically, trained in sword combat by their parents or were warriors due to circumstances. Too many for them all to be one offs or exceptions. The big thing to understand though is that the training doesn’t change regardless of whether your character is male or female. Her father would give her the same training he would’ve given a son.

If you haven’t considered filling your story up with female fighters in a universe that’s supposed to be gender neutral in terms of combat, then I encourage you to reconsider. To go any other way is to engage in a disingenuous girl power fantasy that does more to emphasize the female character’s special nature than it pushes the narrative that “women can do it too.” Normal requires there be more than one, and there be variety. This can be done specifically through minor characters peppered throughout your narrative, not just warriors or leaders but blacksmiths, farmers, merchants, etc. There also can be no, “but you’re a girl!”

She’s the rule, not the exception and therefore no one will give a shit.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: People Wear Armor Because They Want to Win

nipplepersecution said to howtofightwrite: I don’t know if you’ve already answered this at some point (I would be super greatful for a link if you have) but how would an unarmed and unarmored person trained in hand-to-hand combat take out a fully armored knight with a sword? Would it even be possible? Unarmed person is a strong built 5’5″, armored knight is 5’10”

So, you know that scene in any Jackie Chan movie where he hits overwhelming odds and goes, “nope!” then runs in the opposite direction? This sequence is that sequence, and sensible people who value their lives disengage and retreat. They run with purpose, but they still run. The height has no bearing on this fight by the way, the armored knight could be 5’5 and the person who was 5’10 wouldn’t have any better odds. The sword would be bad enough by itself, the armor just makes everything worse for the unarmed/unarmored person.

Would it be possible? Yes. However, possible doesn’t mean easy or that you could do it in a conventional way. I bring up Jackie Chan (not just because he choreographs amazing fight scenes) because he does a great job showcasing the age old tactic of utilizing your environment and finding higher ground or a place to fight that’s more advantageous. If the unarmed/unarmored person chooses to stand and fight this suggested setup is the equivalent of shooting fish in a barrell. It’d be the same with just the sword, which can keep you at a range where you can do nothing or just the armor because you don’t want to go into fisticuffs with the guy or girl wearing a medieval equivalent to brass knuckles. (I assume you’re thinking of plate as opposed to chainmail, leather, or padded armor. It is worth remembering that none of those would make this situation better.)

Plate armor is the other person wearing forty to sixty pounds of solid steel, the weight distributed across the whole of the body, and the only weak points are usually at the joints or points of articulation where the armor pieces separate. The mistake most make is assuming that because armor is heavy, it is difficult to move in or significantly slows the fighter down. This is not true. Heavy armor infantry were highly mobile, and trained to develop the endurance to fight for prolonged periods in armor specially tailored to their body. Your unarmed fighter could wear this individual down but they’d have to work for it, and that’s the sprinting, jumping over walls, fences, climbing buildings, and running across rooftops types of work for it. Stand and fight will result in them being cut up by the sword before they can get into a range to be able to harm their opponent. And even if they do manage to wear the knight down, the knight still has their armor. The best wearing the knight down does is buy the unarmed fighter time to find a weapon like a longarm/polearm which might lend them some advantage or a friend who can help them turn the tables.

Would you enjoy punching a tank? The answer is probably no. And knights aren’t just tanks, and they’re not just good at wielding swords. There’s an entire hand to hand and grappling system for knights in armor, and they were usually trained to handle multiple weapon types. So, if you unarmed fighter can manage to get rid of the sword or get themselves into a tight quarters environment where the blade is more of a liability than a help, they’ll still have to deal with an armored opponent capable of punching their lights out.

There needs to be a strong contextual reason in your narrative for the unarmored character to even think about engaging in what amounts to an almost certain suicide by sword. Even then, if they must fight, there’s no reason to battle this armored character on their opponent’s terms or the ground which benefits the armored character. The armored character has every advantage, there’s no reason to give them more.

One of the issues with the way fiction writers approach arms and armor is they think of them like accessories, a trait you give one character to differentiate them from the others. Arms and armor are really about taking an advantage over your opponent, about getting the upper hand, and bettering your own odds of survival. You bring a knife to a fist fight because you want to win, not because you want to fight fair. There’s no fighting fair when your life is at stake.

The problem for the unarmed fighter is that a even decent swordsman, or a poor one, has the means to keep them at a range where they can do nothing while the swordsman slices them to ribbons. The armor ensures that even if they do get successfully themselves past the blade without dying (a challenge all by itself) then their attacks won’t do much. The steel will hurt them more than their blows will hurt the swordsman. Their lack of armor means that any blow the sword lands has the potential to be fatal, even if the wound is not deep. A sword doesn’t need more than an inch of penetration to land a killing blow. Once someone starts poking holes in your muscles, they stop working. The unarmed/unarmored fighter has to be better than perfect to succeed where the armored swordsmen can be merely okay to not great, and even then the unarmed fighter will likely still die.

None of this means impossible, it just means you’re going to have to work really goddamn hard to sell the sequence. This is where the Jackie Chan advice is helpful because you don’t need your character to win in order to cement them as a badass in your audience’s imagination. A chase scene can be as exciting as a fight scene, and a chase scene can easily transition into a fight scene. It’s important to know when your character is outmatched for the sake of your own narrative tension, so you don’t blow your story on a one off in a desperate need to prove yourself. Running from the guy who brought the gun to the knife fight, especially when he had the presence of mind to draw before the knifer could get in range, is having a sense of self-preservation. A sense of self-preservation and threat assessment are important skills for any trained fighter to possess.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.


Q&A: A sword is not load Bearing

Anonymous said to howtofightwrite:

So… There’s this scene in a book where a swordsman thrusts at a guy with two knives and the thrust was deflected so the swordsman stumbles forward. Knife Guy grabs the swordsman’s collar and then demonstrates to an apprentice that he can a) stab Sword Guy in the throat b) stab Sword Guy in the chest and/or c) cripple Sword Guy. Is Sword Guy just a bad combatant or is this actually usable?

I’m hoping this scene occurred in a safe training environment and not in a live scenario because so many more problems pop up if it did. They’d be a whole other post about why you don’t train people while fighting for your life (even against a subpar opponent, you’re confident your trainer character could beat.) That would be a whole other post about how stupid that makes characters look.

The short answer is that whether or not Sword Guy is supposed to be a good combatant is dependent on the narrative and the author who wrote it. There’s a lot about the scenario that doesn’t make sense and makes both characters look like idiots, along with a general side of “not how this works”. This includes a third arm problem. The author knew just enough to be aware of certain concepts like deflection, stumbling, and grabbing someone by the collar but not how they work or what causes them.

Let’s start at the top.

1. A sword is not load bearing.

Swords weigh between two to four pounds. They’re not heavy. The only way it’d be possible for the swordsman to stumble on a thrust would be if he had to throw his entire weight behind the sword, and have the forward momentum carry him forward. (Which is why the great axe is swung in a figure eight pattern.) However, you don’t need deep penetration with a sword and a thrust is about the tip, not the whole sword. A thrust moves off one leg, not both, in a step forward (if that) and a deflection will not unbalance your opponent on its own. If the weapon weighed twenty pounds, then it couldn’t be deflected. It’d have too much forward momentum. The swordsman would never come close enough for the Dual Wielder to grab him, and the Dual Wielder couldn’t grab him by the collar anyway because he’s duel wielding.

However, this is all predicated on the idea that the swordsman stumbled close enough to be in range for the Dual Wielder. Swords add an extra four or so feet of distance. He wouldn’t be close enough for the dual wielder to reach him. Dual Wielder would have to come to Sword Guy and not the other way around. An experienced knifer would know that.

2. Dual wielding knives is about a sacrificing defense for offense.

Outside specific tools like parrying daggers (which are not the same as regular daggers), knives exist to accentuate hand to hand. Using two means you’ve made a conscious choice to sacrifice utility and defense for more offense. Sacrificing utility includes collar grabbing. He would either need to drop one of his knives (bad) or he sprouted a third arm.

You can hold the knife or grab the collar, not both.

3. The sword is never out of play.

A good rule of thumb is: deal with the weapon first.

This technique that’s being shown off assumes that your enemy will politely stand there while you move two ranges in (from sword to hand to grappling) so you can grab them by the collar to stab them in the throat or chest or stab them in a joint to take them out of the fight. (Let’s ignore the chest too because you’ve got to deal with the breastbone and the unprotected stomach, abdominals, gut is just a few inches lower.)

Of course, Sword Guy still has his sword and edged weapons can cut you coming and going.

If sword guy is using two hands then he can rotate his sword and come back across on the deflection. It assumes the blade is not coming on a downward angle on the thrust, which is not getting deflected. This also assumes sword guy is not half-handing (where one hand is halfway up the blade) which can’t be deflected/parried.

So, all Dual Wielder did was open up his side to a blade that can be reoriented and brought sideways. Which assumes the deflection could happen in the first place, which is unlikely because…

4. You don’t parry with knives.

Again, that’s what your free hand is for.

There’s a problem with this scenario regarding the size of the knives in question. Some knives or daggers like bayonets are long enough they could concievably parry a sword, and get away with it. However, if your blade is long enough that it can parry a sword then grabbing someone by the collar is superfluous because you will be able to strike them before you are in range to grab their body. You’d also be putting your weapon outside the range where it is most useful to you, which is goes against the lesson this teacher is trying to impart.

5. There’s a misconception about depth.

You don’t need to go deep with a blade to do damage. Think about how painful a papercut is, or how easy it is to cut yourself while cooking. Surface level cuts to the skin can cause you to bleed out over an extended period, especially during times of high activity when your heart is rapidly pumping blood through your body. You don’t have to go deep to start cutting muscles in the arms or legs, which can debilitate your opponent.

A lot of writers obsess about stabbing someone in the heart or running someone through with a sword, but the true danger of bladed weapons is that it doesn’t take much against an unarmored opponent. That’s why people wore armor, and part of why the formality of first blood in duels exists. A single cut can be deadly. Surface level injuries with these weapons in the right place can kill you, especially if left without medical attention. Every cut you land is bad for your enemy.

6. We moved two ranges in.

We talk about range sometimes on this blog, but the key thing to remember is that range just means the distance it takes for a specific attack to hit your opponent. Grabbing hold of someone’s collar puts you in grappling range, which means that the person is right up next to you. This is close enough that your arm couldn’t reach full extension if you punched. This is the range where hooks, elbows, and upper cuts come into play.

The kind of stumbling this scenario is talking about is the kind you get when you grab someone and pull them forward. It’s actually very hard to get someone to stumble on a basic attack because most stances will have you set your balance, and your body moves together when you attack. So, in order for you to stumble a large amount of force must be delivered into you or you’re purposefully knocked off balance. All a deflection does is shift the strike off vector so that it misses. If you follow up with nothing, then the other person either resets to their original fighting stance or changes tack and like rotating the blade, kicking, or striking with their other hand. There’s no reason for Sword Guy to stumble at all, certainly not stumble through two other ranges (sword and hand) into grappling without the Dual Wielder needing to do anything. The best way to get someone to stumble forward is to catch them off balance and yank, which can’t be done if you’re holding a weapon.

Conclusion:

The basic problem of this scenario is that it sounds good on the surface but falls apart when you stop to think about it. The scene also lacks key understanding of how these weapons function and why they work. Dual Wielder has an overfocus on the neck/chest, neither of which are particularly good strike points. Remember, the sternum protects the heart from a stab or downward strike. If you want to get there, you’re going to need to go through the ribs. The neck is difficult because if you’ve got short weapons then you have to be up close. Both these places sound good to novices because they know they work or that they should work.

Writing weapons means brushing up on your anatomy. You need to study how the human body works, where it works, and how it breaks. You can cut someone on the wrist, either going after the artery in the forearm or just to distract them while you move in on the better protected target. With knives, two cuts are better than one. You don’t need a lot of penetration.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: A character can only teach what they know

keleviel said to howtofightwrite: How does one teach fighting? The teacher in question is a dirty street fighter who learned via being beaten up until she learned how to stop that, but assuming she doesn’t want to just pummel her student.

A teacher teaches the way they’ve been taught, especially new teachers who have no other examples to pull from. The problem, of course, is that beating someone up as a training method doesn’t actually teach anything other than how to survive being beaten up. (If the student even learns that, they may just learn how to get beaten up.) This is the sort of slug fest, even when you lose, that makes you feel powerful and strong when you come out the other side (Fight Club is an excellent example) but this is an illusion. You don’t actually learn technical skills from slugging it out with someone else.

The problem here is while I could talk about the methods one uses to teach fighting that won’t actually help you that much, because the methods are entirely dependent on the individual’s experiences and what they’re learning how to do. So, this street fighter can’t teach their student anything they haven’t learned how to do or teach from a method they wouldn’t have any reason to know especially if those methods are outside the realm of their own experience. This will be even harder if she’s never taught before and has no one to go to for advice. This gets even harder if you’re planning to tell a story where either teacher or student has to go outside their own sphere and are up against professional or seasoned combatants used to fighting higher caliber opponents than the ones you find in backroom brawls.

Have I mentioned street fighters are, by their nature, low tier?

They have the capacity to be dangerous, just like everyone else. They have the capacity to do harm, but in terms of technical skill they are at the bottom. No amount of “dirty fighting” changes that because “dirty fighting” is just breaking the expected/established rules of combat and everyone else already does that.

Again, you cannot teach what you don’t know and not all training is created equal. Instructing someone in the combat arts requires a certain level of technical skill, the ability to process and understand that skill, then contextualize it so someone else without the same experiences can understand and imitate. A street fighter can teach a lot of other skills, survival skills for the streets, but they don’t really have the luxury of putting together a robust training regimen to pass on their fighting skills. Mostly because they don’t have that many skills to begin with.

Stop an ask yourself an important question, what did this street fighting character learn from being pummeled? There’s the generic “until she learned to put a stop to it” but that’s generic and doesn’t tell you anything about her experience, about what she learned to do from being beaten. What did she specifically learn to do? How does she, specifically, fight?

Once you know what she can specifically do then you know what she can teach, and start the process of her figuring out how to teach it. If you’ve never thought seriously about the specifics of her fighting abilities then that’s the flaw you need to address. Her limitations are not a bad thing depending on what you need her for as a character and what she needs to teach her student for your narrative to work.

A drill sergeant can only teach you how to be a soldier.

A boxing instructor can only teach you how to box.

A taekwondo master can only teach you taekwondo.

And on and on it goes.

“Street fighters” generally learn to fight by brawling, usually through backroom and backyard brawls. If they don’t learn quickly, like about knives and other weapons, they die fast. This isn’t some cohesive fighting style that’s carefully cultivated and passed on from one fighter to another. When we talk about “street fighters”, we’re usually discussing gangs and similar groups who survive and thrive in the dark corners of society. The romanticized “dirty” component is usually them trying to get a leg up by using knives and other weapons in ambush combat where they finish the fight in the opening blows. Ambush combat is where you take your opponent by surprise and attack before they have time to retaliate, but for street fighters this is often a one trick pony. They often don’t have the stamina or the technical ability to keep going if the first attack fails. Outside underground boxing tournaments, they often operate in groups because numbers will make up for that lack of skill. They don’t usually have the ability to coordinate effectively in a group, but that also usually doesn’t matter because they’re preying on those of even ability or those less capable than themselves. Numbers are what give them an edge over law enforcement because high enough numbers trump skill.

All your street fighter knows how to do is survive ambush combat and execute ambush combat, which is what the beating or brawling process in the street fighter “training” is for

This probably isn’t the romanticized ideal of the “dirty street fighter” you imagine, the deadly fighter whose skills are honed by battles fought to ensure their survival on the streets. The one whose hard won knowledge beats out the soft warriors in their castles. Whose dirty tactics turn the tables to give them an edge while battling the honorable upper crust. The ones who dare to break the rules of warfare because they and they alone understand, “the only fair fight is the one you lose.”

The problem is that anyone who fights in a life or death situation understands that rule. Everyone fights dirty. Everyone takes every advantage they can to win because winning is surviving. Everyone wants to go home to their families at the end of the day. There is no pure combat, no clean combat, and no proper way of doing things. The ideal exists because the ideal is comforting, but warfare is not an honorable business.

I mean, there are soldiers making jokes on Instagram right now about hunting and how they want to say they hunt people but don’t want to sound like a psychopath.

Jokes on you though, because they do. They hunt people.

The romantic ideal of honorable combat which must be embraced for dirty fighting to work is actually bullshit. Honorable combat is a notion that exists both for society’s comfort and to set up rules for controlled combat scenarios like tournaments. You’ll still find people there who are standing by the letter of the rules but breaking with the spirit of them. Like those knights who would unscrew the knob off the sword hilt and bean the other knight with it at the start of the match before attacking. The reason behind the act was to distract their opponent so they could land the early points which would ensure their victory. Yes, nobles were often ransomed during the Middle Ages but plenty of regular soldiers were blinded, had their limbs removed, were imprisoned, or killed by the enemy after capture. The same often happened to those nobles who had no means or no wealthy patron to pay their way.

So, the question you should be asking yourself is how would your street fighter train someone to fight? What does she know how to do? What doesn’t she know how to do? What has she learned that her own master didn’t teach her? How would she choose to impart similar lessons to her student in ways that aren’t vastly outside her own experience or things she wouldn’t think of? Because most of the answers I could give you about how people learn to fight would involve her going to watch some other training master in some other part of the city to see how they train their students then try to imitate that, which ultimately defeats the purpose of what you’re after. She’d be teaching them to fight like someone else and not like herself.

The problem with fiction is that the best writing holds to the rules of the world it exists in. Which means that your character may be the best street fighter but she can only use her experiences to train her student to (hopefully) be the best street fighter. This doesn’t mean they’re the best fighter who can take on all comers, this just means they’re the (hopefully) best street fighter and will have to learn more from other teachers in order to progress through any other sphere. This is also a standard storytelling technique in most sports and martial arts movies, so learn to embrace it.

Remember, the world of the combat arts is vast and specificity is key. Your characters can’t act outside their knowledge without explanation, and a character who comes from a conventionally trained fighting background before going to the streets is very different from one for whom the streets are their only experience. You should review the fighting style you envision this character possessing and ensure it fits with the background you’ve set for them.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: The Villain In a Heist is reliant on the Wall

quietemptydiariess said to howtofightwrite: I’m writing a female lead heist film with two lead characters. The villain is one of the women’s best friends. However, I’m having writer’s block on creating the villain character. I haven’t come up with anything.

The antagonist of a heist film is the security systems put into place to prevent the theft of the valuable object the thieves want to steal, the villain of the narrative is either someone who protects the valuable object (like the art museum’s security director) or the owner of the object the thieves want to steal. They can be the owner of the object, another thief who stole the object first, a private collector, the runner of a museum, an interpol agent, an FBI agent, or someone like an insurance investigator put in place to protect the millions of dollars the insurance company will need to dole out if the valuable object gets stolen. Or, there can be multiple secondary villains/antagonists set in multiple positions in the narrative. We have the criminal who owns the piece the thieves want and will kill them if they catch them, the interpol/FBI/insurance agent who is investigating the thieves and applying external pressure, and the security director who is the primary head to head nemesis our thieves are working around.

With a heist narrative, the big antagonist is always the security systems put in place to protect the valuable object. If you don’t have that then you don’t have a story and you don’t have villains.

A heist narrative has two primary antagonists, one are the characters actively working to prevent your thieves from stealing the object and the security systems being put into place to keep the object from being stolen in the first place. The foe in the heist story has to catch their opponent, they can’t simply find and kill them. They investigate them.

The security systems are a wall antagonist, your characters have to find their way around or over a wall. The live antagonist is ultimately secondary to the security precautions, which is the problem your characters are looking to solve.

Heist films aren’t about a race against other people, but your characters are the ones setting the tempo. How do you get the information you need arousing suspicion? When you’re under suspicion, how do you ensure you don’t move too fast that you start making mistakes but also don’t move so slow that you miss the window of opportunity? Your characters are putting themselves on the clock, they need just enough time. They need to be precise.

You, as the author, are setting up a puzzle box.

If you’re having trouble with your villains, you’re having trouble with your puzzle. If you’re having trouble with the villains, you need to be spending more time on your puzzle. The live actor is not the driving force of the narrative, they are reacting to the actions of your thieves. The thieves are the ones who are pushing the story forward. The live actor, the villain, is someone who is just doing their job and the tension with them in the end is they either do their job or they don’t. It’s up to you to build the character drama on whether the best friend will turn one of your heroes in at the end of the film or give them a pass.

The heroes of the heist narrative are active rather than reactive. This can be difficult if you’re not used to working with the heist genre and female characters specifically can have issues with proactivity. Women in fiction tend to be passive (by design), in supportive roles or acting under the direction of an authority figure, they’re reactive rather than proactive. You’re going to have to fight against that impulse, which is to step aside and let someone else (usually male) set the tempo. The villain of a heist narrative doesn’t have to do anything, if your characters never make the first move then what they have isn’t under threat and they don’t need to defend it. Your characters have to get in first and keep moving because if they do nothing then the other side wins by default.

What do you want?

What do you need to get it?

How do you get it?

How do you avoid getting caught?

What are the complications?

This is a chess game. Your heroes are playing white, the villains are playing black. White moves first, black responds. If white doesn’t move, there is no game. You’re playing both sides, and occasionally trap doors will open to take your pieces. After all, this game is about winning and not about rules. White will cheat, but if black catches them cheating it’s also game over.

Heists are exercises in your characters’ creativity.

Your villains are reacting to your characters’ actions.

Relax, and focus on the circumstances surrounding the object the characters intend to steal and how this other character relates to that object.

Once you have your puzzle, you’ll have your solution and then your answer.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.


Q&A: Similar, But not the same (Improvised Weapon Follow-up)

rainbowfoxes said to howtofightwrite: Would someone who’s been trained in a particular weapon be able to adapt to a makeshift one? For example, if someone was trained in the chain whip, would they be able to use a bike chain to similar effect?

A bike chain not so much, but only because it moves on a single plane and isn’t flexible. A regular chain? Sure. You put a heavy steel lock on the end of a regular chain and you’ve got a makeshift flail/meteor hammer.

However, improvised weapons are not the same as the real weapon and they are more limited in capacity. So, you could probably use a length of chain with movements derived from the whip chain but only the basics (single hand with the other holding the rest of the chain, no redirecting off your upper arm/elbow) and most likely without the same range. This doesn’t mean a simple length of chain cannot be used to devastating effect because it can be, but it won’t be exactly the same with the same techniques. They don’t transition fluidly, and you have to be very specific about the weapons and every day objects you pick out for to combine for improvisation

A tire iron is not designed to beat someone about the head even when that’s what it’s being used for. The benefits of the tire iron lie in the fact its a length of solid steel with a handle and hitting someone with it will hurt a whole hell of a lot. However, given the choice, you’d rather be using a tactical baton. The tactical baton will transition much better to a skill set learned on, say, eskrima with fewer limitations than a tire iron. If you took your tire iron up against someone wielding a tactical baton, you’d be at a disadvantage with subpar weapon.

Add to this the fact you are used to wielding a whip chain and not used to wielding a regular length of chain, you’re going to run up against some problems. The chain is going to be heavier, it will be less fluid, more difficult to spin, your tempo will be slowed, and you’re going to be heavily reliant on the most basic of techniques. The ones you might normally transition into will be out, and there’ll be specific patterns (like the ones where you’d catch on your ribs and stomach) that you will need to avoid for your own safety. Your reflexes will be trained to transition smoothly from one technique to another, which can lead to costly mistakes with a heavier weapon you’re not used to wielding. Those fractions of seconds in delay, the parts where you actually need to stop and think about control rather than react and let your body act, where you’re splitting your attention between your environment and the techniques you’re trying to carry out, can cost you the fight.

This is the advantage of the trained combatant over the untrained combatant. The trained combatant has their techniques ingrained into their reflexes, their reaction times are ten times faster, and this frees their conscious mind up to focus on what’s happening around them rather than on what their body is doing. This is the result of practice, practice for hundreds and, on occasion, thousands of hours retraining their body’s reflexive reactions. Training their muscles to respond, cutting those reaction times down, slimming down the time it takes for their brain to send orders to their limbs. All of this will give them an advantage over someone who does not have similar preparation.

However, weapons are not interchangeable and they are not the same. You hand someone a meteor hammer when they’re used to using a whip chain or rope dart and it will still take time for them to learn how to use the meteor hammer effectively. They’ll learn more quickly than a raw beginner, but they still have to learn. The same truth follows for improvised weapons. This is not the weapon your character is used to using. Similar, yes, but not the same.

This distinction is important to grasp because it can be an excellent source of tension in your scene. In fact, it is one of the hallmark handicaps for experienced fighters handed off by fight scene coordinators. Experienced fighters being forced to rely on weapons they’re not used to can provide uncertainty, and part of stacking the odds against them. Others are numbers, unfamiliar terrain, unexpected combat, without weapons, and forced improvisation. These can all be used to great effect to transform even the most experienced and talented of fighters into underdogs.

And you want them to be underdogs, you want your hero in situations where they’re out of their depth, you want them in situations where they need to get a little creative, you want them in situations where they’re forced to run. You want to establish their limits because once they have limits you can create scenarios where they start to shine, where your audience has a chance to bond with them, and you build up your antagonists in the bargain. It is not very fun to read a fight scene where we know the outcome, even when we already know the outcome. If your hero is not under pressure, if they’re not facing difficulties, if they’re not uncomfortable, if they’re not just a little out of their depth (but not so far that they drown) then the scene has no tension.

Improvised weapons are one means of turning the experienced into the underdog, especially when the enemy has actual weapons. If you can beat the idea into your brain that actual weapons trump improvised weapons no matter who is wielding them (hero, villain, or mook), then you’ll have a better chance of establishing your tension. A character can be unconcerned due to their own ego if they’re outnumbered and outgunned, but you, the author, should be giving your audience reason to be concerned. That starts with establishing limitations.

No two weapons are the same, even those of the same type. Each weapon has its quirks, its flaws, and imperfections that the character who wields it has learned to account for. A character may be able to wield someone else’s longsword, but they won’t wield it as well as their own. Two different weapons of two different types, even those from the same family, are not interchangeable. Improvised weapons suffer from severe limitations because they are not, really, weapons.

Understanding limitations works to your advantage because limitations, external, internal, physical, mental, and moral are key to building tension. Tension is what keeps your narrative interesting.

Your character has her whip chain but she is used to wielding it in open areas with room to swing it and is forced to fight in a crowded street filled with parked cars against five or six enemies who are hunting for her.

This could be a great scene if you’re able to make the most of the presented limitations: numbers, populated area, unfamiliar terrain. You can use the whip chain in close quarters, but the advantages of the whip chain against numbers are out. So, the character must fight in a way the audience was not primed to expect given the weapon choice.

See? Similar to what might’ve been, but not the same.

There’s your wrench. Throw as many as you can.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: Common accidents are not cliche

For a beginner attempting to use rope/chained weapons, how cliche would it be to have them getting it wrapped around themselves?

I kid you not when I say the first and most common injury you’ll get from the three-section staff when first learning to wield it involves hitting yourself in the head.

Chain/rope weapons are about gaining force with momentum, which means you’re learning to keep the weapon in a state of constant motion. With a weapon like the shaolin dart, the nunchaku, or the whip chain, you use your body as the guide to redirect the weapon while it is moving. This is not just your hands and your wrist, but your upper arm, your shoulders, your sides, your legs, and even, in some cases, your neck. The more complicated the motion, the more difficult the weapon, the more likely you are to make mistakes during training, and chain weapons are the pinnacle for weapon difficulty.

Look at the three-section staff, if you can’t imagine it rebounding at the wrong angle and hitting you squarely in some place very painful during the learning process then… well… lol. That’s unrealistic.

You’re going to lose control of a chain weapon at some point (probably multiple points) during training. And, honestly, you’re going to end up with it wrapped around you at some points on purpose simply because that’s a great way to make it stop moving.

The question about whether or not this will be cliche in your writing is going to depend not on the character getting their weapon wrapped around them, but how this occurs and what kind of motion they were going for to begin with.

Take a moment, (or an hour if you watch this instructional video with John Su) to familiarize yourself with the movement patterns of the weapon you want to write.

If your character is doing a forward spin at the side of their body, then the chain is unlikely to wrap itself around their whole body as part of a mistake. The chain is actually unlikely to wrap itself around anything. In fact, the weapon is more likely to lose the forward momentum, hitch in the middle, stop spinning, and fall to the ground. The chain whip is likely to only wrap itself around the neck, for example, if the practitioner is doing a specific technique which involves the neck. Or a technique which involves their body, and in those cases more likely to wrap around a specific body part in a tight spiral than the whole body.

So if you were imagining the whip chain wrapping itself around the character’s feet and body in such a way that they fall to the ground then you’re not just edging toward the territory of cliche but also that of unrealistic. Mistakes that come from the chain moving in an unnatural manner for the sake of showing the character making said mistake are going to be cliche.

You have to be going pretty fast for the weapon to wrap around you multiple times, and part of your training is learning to control it just enough so you can perform a catch and release. This involves learning to not just moderate your speed at specific junctures during the technique, but also mastering the patterns of circular movement. It’s not just that the weapon is going to wrap around you, but that you control when and how it does.

See take this example. They won’t be going this fast in the beginning, they should practice slowly and in individual pieces or they’re far more likely to hurt themselves. However, even an experienced practitioner can end up with the whip chain hitting them or wrapped around them in a way they didn’t intend.

Still, the term beginner is also a misnomer. The whip chain or nine section chain, the rope dart, the three section staff, the nunchaku, are all advanced weapons at the end of a comprehensive martial arts curriculum. They are Eastern weapons, and there is a specific pattern of advancement all students follow before they reach a point where the weapon becomes accessible. So, you don’t join a martial arts school and get to start using a chain weapon right off. You will begin building the whip chain’s technical foundation while studying the staff, just as you begin with hand to hand techniques before gaining access to the staff weapons. If the character you envision learning to wield the whip chain does not have at least three to five years of martial arts training under their belt with a firm foundation in hand to hand and, at least, some training on the staff then that is not realistic. More likely they’ll go through the staff weapons and the bladed weapons before they get to the flexible weapons. (This is especially true if you plan to have them using the whip chain in combat rather than exhibition.)

Your character may end up a specialist in flexible weapons, but they should have a solid foundation in martial combat before they get there. Remember, this is a weapon that specifically builds on the techniques of other weapons. They progress together, and you can’t learn one without the other.

Now, there are weapon traditions like some Western traditions where you can pick and choose what your character knows. These specific chain weapons are just not one of them.

Don’t forget.

The chain weapon isn’t just going to wrap around your characters so they get tangled in it, it’s gonna full on hit them too. More often than not. Sometimes in the face.

Example: Downward arc over the head, under the left armpit, across the right shoulder, and whumph right into the nose/mouth.

If you want this weapon wrapping around your characters, you gotta get that circular patterning down so your audience can visualize the misery your characters inflict upon themselves.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.


Q&A: Size Matters Not, Medieval Shoes, and Knife Fighting

Hello! Recently I heard that there is no way that a 60 kg woman can defeat a man weighs more. Is that true? There is a rumour that woman are also mostly useless as policemen and firefighters because of their lack of strength. Is that so? You’re my most reliable source.

Whoever said this is a moron. The weight argument is the preferred stomping ground of idiots who have no idea what they’re talking about. They don’t regularly make arguments that a man who weighs 140 pounds is completely useless as a police officer compared to a man who weighs 180 or 220, do they? Remember, you heard it from them, all men who weigh 160 pounds need to give up on his sports dreams now and go invest in knitting. And a man who can’t get above 150? Forget it, he’s trash. (Remember, Bruce Lee weighed 60kg, 132 pounds.)

“Someone who is short can’t defeat someone who is tall.”

We take gender out of the argument and the argument itself becomes ridiculous. This is an argument that’s not based in facts or reality, but rather one based in gender bias and societal conditioning. The “science” argument is just there to legitimize their position, but has no real basis in reality. The argument is telling you a woman can’t defeat a man because she’s a woman. Ask, what about a 220 pound woman? And watch them sputter.

This person you were speaking to was fantasizing all violent conflicts as duels, or physical conflicts with no surprises. Violence is not a stats game. Weight will do jack all against a knife, for example. This fantasy man will go down like a wet paper bag from a blow by a tire iron. Let’s not talk about guns. Even with weapons removed from the mix, weight isn’t an issue except in grappling. Here’s the thing: weight is a main consideration to the untrained, the ones with no martial training.

They hyperfocus on size rather than technique because size is the only advantage they have. They think weight is unbeatable because it has always worked for them. Weight does matter on the playground, size is intimidating when you’re six and up against a bullying boy of twelve. Starke likes this comment from a police officer once told him which is, “most people haven’t been in a fight since high school.”

Martial combat places its focus on disruption. You roll your wrist against the thumb when someone grabs you to escape because the thumb is the weakest point in the grip. You block a punch before it extends, because you put your extended arm against a fist with the elbow still bent that fist is going nowhere. Step between someone’s legs and a simple push to the chest or head can destabilize their whole body. The force of a punch comes, not from physical strength, but from the hips and shoulders, from the momentum generated by your body. You can control a tall man by grabbing him by the head and craning it sideways so his whole body is off kilter. Where the head goes, the body follows.

Size has its advantages, and its weaknesses. Exploiting those weaknesses is what martial training is all about.

This person can’t conceive of a world where weight isn’t considered important, where it doesn’t really matter because you’ve already learned to deal with it. There will always be someone who is taller, someone who is physically stronger, who is physically faster, who is more clever, who is smarter, who is more gifted than you are. However, that’s no reason to give up.

There are policewomen and female firefighters, female soldiers, female EMTs, guerrilla fighters, mercenaries, a female soldier just recently qualified for special forces training this November. You can check out Samantha Swords if you want to look at women who practice HEMA. There are women all over the martial arts world. They own their own schools, they compete in tournaments, they are self-defense specialists who run their own seminars teaching other women.

“No way”, especially when used broadly about an entire gender that reflects half of the planet’s human population, is an argument you can ignore.

I’ve been researching, but I don’t know if I’m just really bad at it or what, because I was wondering if it would make sense for my medieval military to wear tall, slightly heeled boots kind of like Wonder Woman’s, and if the boots would inhibit their movement too much or if I should change their footwear

Historically high heels are riding shoes and they’re for your cavalry, so the foot stays in the stirrup. Your standard infantry would not wear them. Generally, the shoes word during the middle ages (depending on period) were completely flat. The high heel didn’t become a fashion item until the 1700s and, in the beginning, were still worn by men.

Here are some middle ages shoes. Here are more shoes. The sabaton is the piece of armor which goes over the top of the shoe and protects the shin. This is the armor, depending on period, your soldiers (who were able to afford the armor) would wear. Wool and leather were also armor worn during the period. You can also watch Lindybeige discussing the reenactment medieval shoes he ordered for his HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts) and why they work well with sabatons.

Some other resources: Medieval Warfare, Scholagladiatoria, and Wikitenaur.

If you don’t mind helping, what type of build would a knife fighter need/develop? And how would they train/be trained? Thanks so much.

An athletic build like the kind you see off of long distance runners. Their muscles will be long, developed by hours of stretching them out versus thick like you get off weight lifting. This build will be more a product of their physical conditioning regimen than their training, and what you’ll get off most martial arts combatants who don’t run around in heavy armor or are bowmen/women. You do a lot of physical conditioning in any sort of martial training to build up your endurance. This means lots of running, lots of wind sprints, lots of development of the lungs, and the body’s core to build up balance. They’ll be doing a lot of sit ups.

How they were trained would depend on the era they exist in, the country where they live, and the kind of blades available. This is part of the problem with general questions like this because martial combat training is very specific to and heavily reliant on the world your character exists in. Combat and martial training are responses to environmental threats, so a character who has to deal with heavily armored opponents on the regular will be trained differently than someone who grew up in South Central.

Knife fighting is butcher’s work. You don’t need to be trained in the use of a knife to wield one effectively in close quarters. They’re a fast weapon that is used to gain significant advantage in hand to hand combat. Bull rush, stab a guy in the stomach six times, and he’s done. The knife itself is a utility tool in most martial arts systems and primarily used to support other weapons, or, again, as a hand to hand tool. You use the knife because you want an advantage in unarmed situations.

Ergo, your knife fighter will also be/should also be a skilled hand to hand combatant because if they have been trained to fight will start with hands first. Hands are safer, and in a structured system provide the building blocks which are necessary for the more deadly techniques.

Marc MacYoung’s “Knife Fighting Lies” is a good breakdown about the difference between knife fighting taught in martial arts versus knife fighting in the real world. Keep in mind when reading that he’s specifically discussing knives in self-defense and rebuking the fantasies of martial arts, but it is a good breakdown if you want to bring a knife fighter into your fiction.

When asking about knife fighting, I assume you mean systems like Indonesian and Filipino martial arts such as Silat and the kerambit. Or, something similar. The graceful, deadly knife fighter of fiction is going to come out of traditional martial arts systems that heavily emphasize hand to hand where the knife is a utility tool accentuating techniques the student has learned. This means the knife fighter’s training won’t really be any different from that of the standard martial artist. Their training will depend on the system used, and what that system prioritizes. Use of the knife will be the last thing they learn rather than the first. They will never train with a live knife, especially never with a practice partner. The practice knife will be made of rubber or wood or blunted metal (like all practice weapons, the only time you will train with a “live” weapon is sticks or staves, and even the ends of those can be padded during sparring.)

Knife fighting is deadly. Knife fighting is about killing other human beings. Knife fighting can easily end in a double homicide with both participants dead if they both have knives. Knives are ambush weapons, so practically its not good to think of them as dueling tools. Knife fights are usually over in a few moves, so we’re talking a fight that lasts (at best) thirty seconds. Most likely, the fight will be shorter than that. Any wound from the knife can kill you, and you won’t escape unscathed.

Sammy Franco has a good discussion of knife fighting you can find on his website.

Kill or Get Killed by Colonel Rex Applegate (1943) is still considered the go-to manual for Western style hand to hand combat. I’d say this is a good starting point for anyone with an interest in knife fighting from a modern combat/warfare perspective.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Q&A: 1vX? RUN!

Hi, you’re backlog of answers and posts is both impressive and intimidating. It is my personal goal to reach the very first post reading back from the most recent. I thought I’d pose my own question while I’m at it: the prospect of being very outnumbered and the way it’s addressed in fiction. With no combat training, it always rings bullshit bells, whether they are fighting off hordes at once or discreetly dispatching one after another. It feels like a person’s fatigue would catch up with them.

If you go back far enough, you’ll find the posts we’ve done on the 1vX. Fighting multiple opponents is possible but difficult, the fight is brutal, and, if caught in this situation, you are probably going to die. Fiction likes to show of the 1vX because it is the most difficult type of combat available which if done correctly will cement your character as an amazing fighter, and when done incorrectly breaks all suspension of disbelief. The best films to showcase the basic theory for fighting multiple opponents are some of the old school Jackie Chan movies where you see him bouncing off the walls while he runs away from the hoarde of mooks like a madman. That’s basically how it works — you run, you get in a hit or two, you shove a few into each other to slow them down, then you run again.

You’re juggling.

You’re not really fighting so much as dragging them into each other so they can’t coordinate. If you cede the floor to them, if you let them surround you, it’s over. You can’t stop and fight one at a time because they all come together, and they work together. These are not the stuntmen who sit in the queue patiently waiting their turn until their time comes to be beat up by the hero. Humans are social creatures, we’re pack animals, and even untrained groups will come against you together. The more opponents there are then the more the difficulty exponentially increases, and it was already sky high. Two people working together can easily kill you, even when you know what you’re doing. Eight will murder the shit out of you, and eight combatants is the maximum limit the single human brain can handle at once. People work together. The better coordinated they are, the more used they are to working together, the worse it is. An individual can be overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and it doesn’t take many for that to start happening.

One of the most common tactics from school yard bullies to prison inmates is to have one person lock their target down while the other person, grabbing hold of them either from behind or at another angle while the second wails on them (or knifes them.) This means the individual can’t fight back and is rendered helpless. This is the group’s ultimate goal.

The single combatant in a 1vX situation needs to keep moving. They can’t afford to stop. If they have a long or mid range weapon like a staff or sword then they might be able to hold down a single defensive position provided that position defends their back. With enough open space, the staff is better for this than the sword.

You’re in a sprint for your life. The fight is brutal and exhausting, you cannot afford to make mistakes. Once you lose the initiative, once the group takes control of the fight’s pace, it’s over. You turn your defense into offense.

Fighting multiple opponents is possible, but, especially with unarmed/hand to hand, we’re talking top tier difficulty situations which will most likely kill you. Two on one is likely to kill and has killed people who are experienced combatants. A Navy SEAL getting knifed by six bikers behind a bar shouldn’t be a surprising result. If your character is trying to protect someone else and get separated from them, then you should remember that the group is not all going to turn around and come at you. Some of them are going to keep chasing their original objective, especially if there’s more than two.

Fiction obsesses over the 1vX for fight scenes because the difficulty grade is excellent for showing off the hero’s skill and also because in visual mediums they’re exciting to watch. Then, they end up in situations where they’re breaking down the combatants levels by the numbers of enemies they can fight at once then utilize this to define the villain’s skill level. This narrative technique works well under the right circumstances but when you’re imitating the structure of the martial arts genre without understanding the nuts and bolts of why it works, we run the risk of the scene running wildly out of control. At this point, power creep sets in and numbers cease to matter. The narrative tension goes when this happens, the illusion breaks, and we get dolls slapping each other on the page or stunt actors punching shadows. Most 1vX fight scenes in film, especially in the US, are actually just the fight choreographer throwing as much action onto the screen as possible to overwhelm your eyes/brain and hope you don’t notice. They’re there to convince you that the character has control over the situation instead of a revolving door of, “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Where you’re trying to track a crazy amount of movement and split your focus between three different people when they all just need to focus on you.

The problem with the presentation of the 1vX in fiction is that the sequence type has become so ubiquitous it tricks the audience into thinking they’re easy to write. A well-written 1vX fight does require a fairly sophisticated understanding of how martial combat works because you’re juggling multiple fighters and you run the risk of queuing (lining your different characters up to make attacks so the character only fights one at a time while the others wait their turn.)

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.