Vive la Difference!

In his blog, Ryan Dancey has been theorizing a lot about the next generation of role playing games (or, in his terminology, Storytelling Games), about how D&D plays at the table and its similarities to MMORPGs, and what these similarities mean for the future of RPGs.

While agreeing with some of Dancey's points and remaining skeptical about others, I've been reading his posts with interest. In a recent post, "Storytelling Games 1: Thinking Hard," he proposed a technique / game mechanic that was immediately nixed by many others who commented on the blog entry.

I'm not going to go into the whole mechanic here--you can read that for yourself by clicking the link. What I found interesting was one of Dancey's responses to the objections:

One of the things we learned at WotC in our observational research of play patterns (especially of young kids, 6-8 years old) is that they need to be given good "models" of how a game is supposed to work, but once they have one, they internalize it quickly and can replicate the experience with relative ease.

Part of the challenge here is that we're discussing a very high level theoretical concept, and trying to imagine how the groups we already have, and the players we already have, using the patterns they've already learned, will use such a game platform.

I suggest to those of you who are skeptics that if you started with a small group of people who did not have much prior TRPG experience, showed them a game session driven by player input & consensus rather than GM/player divisions, then asked them to replicate that experience, you'd have a much higher success rate (and the success would be "better" than the current average success in TRPGs).

When I ran "The Secret Lives of Gingerbread Men" for a very diverse group, many of whom had never played an RPG of any kind previously, some needed a little bit of help to work the story, and some needed a lot of help, but by the end, the players were making most of the key decisions and were driving the story forward themselves. I was doing far more "narration" than game mastering. They learned from the "model" I showed them in the first hour, and by the second and third hours, they were able to successfully use that model to play the game.

That history (both formal and anecdotal) leads me to the conclusion that a lot of conventional wisdom about the inability of play groups to make good choices for fun stories is wrong, and that with a good effort to model & launch a new way of play, a lot of people could (and would) embrace it and succeed with it.

There's more than a bit to unpack in those paragraphs, but one of the things I've noticed that jives with my experience as a GM is a blend between the third and last paragraphs. Gamers seem to be more comfortable with RPGs that are similar to what they've already played. No surprise there. When I've been GM for a group of players who have been into RPGs for about as long as I have, they seem to be more comfortable with, and have more fun with, games with strong rules structures, similar to D&D or Hero system (Champions). Gamers who started in the 1990s with White Wolf games are most comfortable with games of that style, with that level of crunchiness. Again, no surprises.

Of my many activities, one of them is running a game for local teens. (And it always strikes me forcefully that, while they're all still teens, they are all either adults or on the verge of adulthood. Funnily enough, it doesn't make me feel old; rather, I've taken great joy in seeing them mature, and watching my relationships with them evolve from "adult mentor" to, simply, "friend.")

Right, where was I?

The teens I've gamed with, who haven't had years / decades to solidify their tastes for particular games / systems / mechanics (before I started GMing for them, various members of the group had some experience with D&D 3.0 and West End Games' D6 Star Wars system) have been extremely flexible in their willingness to try new games and adapt to new styles of play. They have had a lot of fun with a variety of less crunchy systems, including FATE and Cold City. They've eagerly adapted to having greater and greater influence over the course of an RPG session, including having the freedom (through Story Point mechanics and whatnot) of introducing a variety of elements into the session. We've gone a good deal of sessions without even one instance of player / GM conflict over the rules or rules lawyering, almost unheard of in the many other groups I've gamed with. They are often fully immersed in their characters. And yes, they care about crafting a coherent narrative from a session, and enjoy doing so.

And most importantly, they've had a lot of fun, which to my mind is the real point of playing a game. Adding the elements of story, of narrative, do not in themselves ruin a game when the GM and players trust each other and the experiements and introduction of new elements is paced well. It does not result in chaos, and it doesn't result in the end of fun.

So yes, in my experience, I agree with Dancey when he says: "if you started with a small group of people who did not have much prior TRPG experience, showed them a game session driven by player input & consensus rather than GM/player divisions, then asked them to replicate that experience, you'd have a much higher success rate." And they have at least as much fun as the longer-term TRPG players do with their standbys, all of which is well and good.

While I see the points of a lot of people who disagree with Dancey, how the techniques he proposes might fall flat with them or in their gaming groups, I can't help but think that some of Dancey's propositions would succeed magnificently with groups who have no prior biases. And this, ultimately, seems to be his point--he's proposing some different ways of doing things for a new generation of players. It's quite possible that Dancey's propositions might seem as new and fresh and eye-opening as the original Red Box D&D did to me, and might be just as effective an introduction to RPGs, fun games full of adventure and imagination.

SF Campaign: Player Responses

Recently, I emailed my players with the following question:

"What is one thing--one element, one feature, one theme, one *whatever*--you absolutely want to see in my campaign?"

Two answers ...

... out of 5 players--*AHEM*! ...

... and my commentary, follow.

"Lots of anthropomorphic aliens, AIs (but not necessarily sentient robots), beam klaives (light sabers), xenoarchaeology. (Well, I couldn't pick just one, so any of these would work.)"

This response tells me that the player wants the trope of ancient alien civilizations and technology to be a part of this game, and more, that he wants this element to play an active part of the campaign, as opposed to just being setting color. Thus, I may need a rules system that scales easily for dealing with objects of great power.

I'll also need rules for constructing a variety of alien races (preferably, quickly and easily). If I'm dealing with AIs, I'll not only need rules for them, but setting-wise I should also start to consider why THEY haven't taken over ... or, if they have, what the ramifications are.

And hey, who wouldn't want laser swords?!

"Space suits, space ships, and other ways to breathe in the great beyond."

(Well, I think we can accomodate you here. Otherwise, it's likely to be a very short campaign. :-)

I found this response interesting because it implies that, yes, she expects the characters to be going someplace. This is important, because "space opera" is a pretty broad subgenre, and some examples of space opera don't actually show people in space, flitting about from planet to planet. Then again, some nitpicky types (like me) would consider planet-bound stuff as more space fantasy / sword and planet / planetary romance, so there you go. It also tells me that I will likely need: a vehicle system; a system for vehicle combat; and fiddly bits for dealing with little details, like "what happens to a character whose suit is leaking oxygen?"

SF Campaign, cont.: Addendum to Previous SF Campaign Post

... unless, of course, I and my gaming group create a setting that's even more fun than that found in Fading Suns.

A worthy challenge, that, and a worthwhile endeavor.

...

MOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

SF Campaign, cont.: Humbling Advice

I've been rereading Robin's Laws of Good Game Mastering by (duh) Robin D. Laws, a book that I consider a good refresher on the important basics of Game Mastering, and I was reminded of something very important:

"There is no shame in using an established setting." (13)

To which I will add:

"... especially if several of your players have requested that setting by name."

Fading Suns it is.

(Hey, I've already expressed my admiration of the creators' work on that world, so what the hell--I'm going to have a blast with it. Never let it be said that I'm too stubborn to listen to others.)

Towards a Science Fiction Campaign, Part 01

As is usual on Friday nights, I went to game with my friends. We're about to switch campaigns soon--next week we're wrapping up a D&D 3.5 campaign and embarking on an Exalted game. (We rotate among 4 GMs.)

In any event, the conversation turned toward what I'd be running next, and I think at least 2 of the 3 people then-present (I could be misremembering--it might have been all three) pressed upon me to run a science fiction / space opera campaign the next time I GM.*

Far be it from me to not give my players what they crave. While it's going to be a while until my turn comes up in the GM rotation--I'm guessing February to March at the absolute earliest--I have plenty of time to consider what I'm doing.

So how to go about it?

Well, if it's one thing I've learned over the years it's this: I really hate playing in other people's back yards. While I own a whole host of RPGs--enough to start my own RPG lending library, in fact--I really don't like running in prepackaged settings designed by others.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy RPGs. I enjoy reading them and playing them. I enjoy figuring out their systems and monkeying around with them.

But overall, I've discovered that it's rare that I purchase an RPG and end up actually playing it.

Yeah, that doesn't sound strange or anything.

I really enjoy buying generic RPG systems, and I actually get a lot of use out of them. I like systems with a toolkit design the best. I'm not a system designer; rather, I tend to read an RPG system, then monkey about with it, improve and tweak it. I don't build engines, I just enhance them for performance.

But I don't have the time or patience I had when I was younger and just discovering RPGs. I have a full-time job. I have a family. I have responsibilities. I don't have the time to invest in systems that are clunky or require voluminous amounts of reading. D&D, Hero, GURPS, all of these may have been options for me at one time, but no longer. I like my systems sleek, streamlined, and ready to run right out of the box. These days, I like BESM, D6, FATE, and Savage Worlds, and I'm curious about True20 and the reissue of HeroQuest (QuestWorlds).

As far as settings go, I notice that I tend to read RPG setting stuff for inspiration and entertainment rather than with any real desire to run a game in a given setting. I prefer to design my own settings, with their own tone, feel, and flavor.

So where is all this going?

I've been GMing and playing RPGs for 26 years now, but my first love, before fantasy, sf, horror, wuxia, literature, films, before all of that good stuff, is comics. I've been reading comics for 32 years now.

My good friend Tony sent me an interesting email recently, and I haven't been able to get it off of my mind. The email was an anecdote referred to by comics writer Matt Fraction, about the legendary comics creator Jack "The King" Kirby.

There's an anecdote at the end of the new Jack Kirby Fourth World Omnibus where Mark Evanier relays the story of an artist coming on the CAPTAIN AMERICA and announcing he intended to carry on in the Kirby Tradition. And then, Evanier tells us, Jack quipped in the raspy, apocryphal way he would quip about such things, that "The kid doesn't get it-- the Kirby Tradition is to create a new comic."

To me, that pretty much says it all.

I'm not dissing anybody else's creative efforts; far from it. I have thoroughly enjoyed the time I've spent reading about the events that occur in the Fading Suns and Tribe 8 universes, for example. But if I'm going to run something, if I'm going to put all that time and creativity into something, I want it to be something that I created, something that my brainmeat gave birth to, something that I'm invested in.

Moreover, when I design settings, I try to be sure that the players have input into the setting as well. In the RPG sessions, they are cocreators along with me in playing a game and spinning out a story. I figure that they should be in on the game creation, particularly the setting, from the ground floor.

So here's how it's going to be. I'm going to be building a setting step-by-step, getting input from the other group members, and putting it together here piece-by-piece. Then, when I've got a nice general idea of the setting, I'll choose a system to run it in.

Too many times (and I'm thinking of D&D as I say this, though there are certainly other systems that have the same problem), I've seen GMs feel that their game is constrained, even strangled, by a given system, that they have to bend and warp their settings and their games to fit a certain system. I'm a firm believer that the setting and the game you envision running should be of paramount importance, and that the system should fit the game and setting you want to run, that it should be flexible, adaptable, and easily modified as necessary to fit the game you want to play. And yes, this flexibility has to include the creativity and imagination of the players as well. Because the system, the game engine, is only one part of the game as a whole.

So once I've got the beginnings of a setting, I'll start fitting it onto the frame of a system, and figure out how to work all the nifty bits I and my players envision in the terms of that system.

I figure that if we're successful then we'll have created a game worth playing.

You know, in the Kirby tradition and all that.

*The two other players were out picking up food at the time--I should ask them what they think.

Risk Response and RPGs

I tell you, reading Robin D. Laws's blog is educating.

"Risk In RPGs

I am less interested in categorical distinctions between RPG game designs than I am in those that describe what actually happens during play. This is part because, as a designer, I’m more interested in providing tools that work than in adhering to an aesthetically or theoretically coherent framework. It also goes to the old saw about the rules not being the game, but the set of tools used to build the game.

One distinction between RPG play moments I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is the one describing the players’ and GMs’ attitude toward risk. Does the play environment demand risk aversion on the players’ part, or is risk aversion a problem that leads to an unsatisfying experience?

Risk aversion is essential to tactical play. Players are expected to seek the greatest benefit at the lowest cost. The lower the risk, the lower the cost they stand to pay for their actions. The primal example of this style is the dungeon crawl. You aim to collect maximum treasure and experience points, while carefully shepherding your various resources: hit points, spells, etc. The major tactical decisions are all about timing: 1) when to use your limited resources and 2) when to give up and go home to recover lost hit points and spells. In other words, you keep going till you have to use your fireball, and then you split.

Risk seeking is essential to narrative play. The rules of drama decree that characters are placed under pressure, and are moved along a cycle of victories and reversals, the stakes growing ever higher until it all comes to a head in the climax. If you’re really emulating storytelling structure, everything gets as bad as it can get, until the heroes turn it around at the last climactic moment. Under this play environment, risk aversion is an impediment to forward motion—the characters have to get into trouble in order to get out of it. Although the characters shouldn’t appear suicidally reckless, extended planning sessions are counterproductive under this paradigm. In fiction, elaborate planning sessions are setups for reversals. Either the plan goes horribly wrong (as in most heist films), or the plan seems to go horribly wrong but is in fact a cover for the deeper, better plan, which succeeds in a surprising way: see the Ocean’s movies.) [sic.]

Because of the vicarious nature of the RPG experience, we tend to be much more risk averse as players than we want characters to be in traditional entertainment. Suffering a setback that would be par for the course in a dramatic adventure story feels like a sock in the jaw. If the GM didn’t give us a chance to get the benefit without the risk, we might even complain that we’re being railroaded.

Needed: better tools to help players embrace the judicious risk-seeking necessary for success in narrative game environments."

What I'm contemplating is:
While I see ways to adapt this approach to more tactical games, it seems that narrative playstyles are (obviously?) best suited to games where narrative play is already accounted for in the rules design. Would it be more difficult to use the above advice in more tactical RPGs, such as D&D, than it would be in games like HeroQuest?

Narrative Roleplaying and Player Planning

Robin D. Laws, who has written or contributed to a LOT of games that I'm very fond of, gave the following bit of advice on players' planning in RPG sessions:

"You Have Already Planned

Detailed planning sessions are cool for games with a heavy tactical element, where a low-excitement, high-results outcome is not only possible but desirable. Under a narrative paradigm, you want the characters to spend time working out what they want to do, but not necessarily the nuts and bolts details of how they're going to do it.

In a novel or movie, the only reason the author shows you the characters engaged in lengthy planning is either as a prelude to the plan going horribly awry, or to set up a false set of expectations in which the plan seems to be failing, but is actually going well, because we haven't actually seen the real plan discussed. For an example of the former, see most downbeat heist movies: The Killing or Big Deal On Madonna Street. The latter structure appears in all three Ocean's flicks. Both instances follow the narrative Law of Reversal: if we expect something to happen, and then it does, we're disappointed. Instead we expect one thing and are surprised when something else happens.

To do planning under a narrative paradigm, tell the players that they've had already a chance to plan their tactics for the invasion/infiltration/raid/whatever. But don't show the planning. Instead, allow them to improvise responses to events as they occur, as if they have brilliantly planned—but we are seeing the results of that planning for the first time.

So the heroes round the corner into the installation and find their way blocked by an XK-7 Drill-Kill autobot, intent on their destruction. The PC with the Robotics skill makes his ability test to see if he's properly incorporated it into his planning. If he succeeds, he has: he can emit a special IR beam to disable the bot for a precious 180 seconds (or whatever), enabling the group to temporarily surmount the obstacle. He gets to look cool, the action sequence continues, and you didn't have to go through hours of discussion in which the players find out there's an XK-7 on site, then discussing six different ways to take out an XK-7, complete with various sidetracks and digressions. They dispense with it as quickly (or not) as it deserves. You don't have to throw in some additional element to provide the necessary reversal to make the XK-7 encounter surprising, thus invalidating all that planning.

Because, when the scene unfolds, the planning has already happened."

Now personally, I love this bit of GMing and playing advice. It allows for delightful elements of surprise, keeps the players on their toes, and keeps the session moving rather than bogging it down in endless point/counterpoint arguing. (In over 25 years of gaming, I've seen far too much of that in RPG sessions.) However, it requires a few things of the players and GM:

1. The players need to be comfortable with improvising. If a GM is running for players that freeze like deer caught in headlights when they're put on the spot, then this technique might backfire.


2. The GM must be working with, rather than against, the players. If the GM simply stomps on every idea the player fires out, then this approach won't work. Then again, I suspect that the stomping sort of GM is unlikely to be interested in narrative play anyway.


3. The GM must be rather patient with frozen players; a bit of handholding might be necessary here.


4. The GM must be ready and willing to encourage the players' improvising with both praise and (here's the kicker) tangible bonuses. Otherwise, the players may descend back into endless planning and strategizing (i.e. bickering and bonus mongering).

What think ye?

Oil and Water *WILL* Mix. I Demand It!

The Question:
How do you combine "gritty" in fantasy with the tone of myth and mythic fiction, folklore, and fairy tale? And once you've done that, how do you wrap it all up into an RPG campaign?

(Random thoughts follow. You have been warned.)

Perhaps the "grittiness" aspect should be primarily in a combat system that is suitably, but not overwhelmingly, crunchy?

I want a game that isn't child-ISH; there should be a feel / tone that is eerie, yet reminiscent of the childlike awe and wonder in folklore, fairy tales, creation myths, mythic fiction, and epic poetry.

I want it to be well-shaded, but not exclusively “dark.” (And yes, I am here distinguishing between "gritty" and "dark.") I want it to have light and dark extremes, but the tone must slip between the two, though always angling toward the fabulous, the wondrous.

I don’t want it based in the modern world. I don’t want it to be a “crossover” genre RPG either--people from our "real" world traveling to a fabulous world; while not a deal breaker, I never particularly liked that element in my fiction. Rather, I want the characters to be native to the fabulous world, though with little exposure to its fabulous elements prior to the beginning of the campaign.

One way to combine gritty and wondrous is, perhaps, is to selectively twist some of the fabulous elements to the horrific. Give the players hints at marvels, then surprise them (i.e., stab them in the face) with horrors. This has been accomplished to excellent effect in recent volumes of Berserk by Kentaro Miura.

Another way is to have the fabulous elements seem surreal--to have the characters seem firmly grounded in their gritty, low-magic world, then selectively add elements that are, by turns, weird, fabulous, and (to the characters) surreal.

And that begs the question of how to use magic as a fabulous element. Fabulous elements, including magic, must be culturally rooted, grounded. Each land / culture should have its own magical / mythical / fabulous elements, and these elements should *feel* different than the fabulous elements of other cultures. Thus, even if players are familiar with how magic works in their characters' cultures, magic remains novel / wondrous / frightening enough when their characters are exposed to other cultures. Rumor and hearsay can even be used to enhance, rather than detract from, this effect.

Should exploration and journeying should be an important (perhaps crucial) element of the campaign?

I've been thinking that the One Roll Engine (ORE) used in REIGN might be the perfect system to combine with many elements in the game Everway. ORE has the system crunch that makes combat and conflict satisfying. The combat system is gritty, perhaps deadly, enough to give the players pause, but its “unworthy opponent” (i.e. mook) rules make gives the players some satisfaction that their characters are suitably buff. The magic can be easily simulated once I have the magic / spell creation rules for REIGN, and REIGN’s magic already feels adequately culture-specific. The other Everway elements can be incorporated over time, including locations (though perhaps not multiverse aspects) as desired. Alternately, with exploration and travel campaigns, the other worlds found in Everway can simply be introduced as other cultures / lands on the same world.

Then again, the "narrativist" rules of HeroQuest might be a better system, though HeroQuest might not have enough combat crunch to satisfy many players.

Hm. So, yeah, that's what I want. So there.

Fiction with the right "feel" / tone I'm looking for might help, yes?

• Curse of Chalion, by Lois McMaster Bujold



• The "Kushiel" series by Jacqueline Carey



• The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars by Steven Brust (obviously, not the modern aspects, but the folktale sections)



• The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien has a bit of this tone, though not his "Tolkienesque" imitators



• Some of the weirdness found in the work of Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, and other pulp fantasy

Huh. Maybe I really want a good blend of pulp fantasy and folklore and mythic fiction? Hm. Pulp fantasy combat vs. unworthy opponents, but gritty combat vs. PC grade opponents. With fabulous elements that feel folkloric. And lots of intrigue and skulduggery to boot ...

*SIGH* ... this is going to take a while, isn't it?

Thoughts?