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How’s it going? My name’s Malcolm. I produce games and ideas. I’d like to share them with you. Take a look around. If you see anything you like, read and/or purchase it. You’re probably here about roleplaying games, either in the form of freelancing I’ve done for clients like White Wolf or things published through Mob United Media/Mobworx. This site is constantly in flux, so check back often. I’ll be blogging here but content still appears at: Oh yeah: Some of the stuff on this site can get a little spicy with the language and content due to swearing and mature themes and things. So watch out! Influential PersonsFrom the Bureau of Records: Public Intelligence/Persons Imagining its signature whirlwind of stars, you soar to the Bureau of Records Constellation. As you look closer you can see that every spire of light from each star divides into innumerable branches and sub-branches. Bureau Announcer: Thank you for accessing the Bureau Constellation: your universal Star Net resource. Select a star by colour and use your strand’s ghost hand to find the appropriate mote, or think of images that suggest the resource you desire and subvocalize the word “Find.” For literate visitors, we recommend text access to for rapid navigation and use. Summon two ghost hands to trigger the access slate. You call the slate. In the Star Net, the hands of an insubstantial soul write the words you imagine. You have selected Persons in Casual Narrative Summary Mode. Please note that the Bureau Act removes all liability for defamation, inaccuracy or the consequences thereof with respect to Bureau resources on persons, but third party users are not so protected. Bartholomew DethAlso Known As: Black Bart, the Scourge Allegiance: Black Fleet Occupation: Pirate Captain and Commander, Black Fleet Home System: Unknown Base of Operations: Various; the dreadnought Croe’s Tomb is presumed to be Deth’s primary residence and headquarters. Bartholomew Deth (birth date unknown) is the presumed leader of the Black Fleet pirate organization. As a suspect in 5,731 offences and a person of interest in 12,950 others, Deth is the most wanted fugitive from Archonate justice. Biography: Intelligence archives indicate that from 1552 until 1575 Bartholomew Deth acted an independent arms runner for belligerent parties in the Second War, criminals and ad hoc militia groups. By 1575, Deth’s activities had earned him a considerable fortune, and the enmity of multiple factions. That year, a Tyrant fleet battle group attacked his ship in the Croe system, forcing it into the sun. Deth was presumed dead and his assets were seized by authorities. This assessment proved to be in error. Archonate intelligence sources report that in 1635, Bartholomew Deth reappeared in a custom dreadnought-class vessel known as Croe’s Tomb. Deth used this vessel to destroy or force allegiance from independent pirates operating in developing systems. These alliances created the core of the Black Fleet. Archonate Intelligence classified Deth as a tertiary criminal threat until 1638/2/29, when he led the Black Fleet’s raid on Tuldekath. During the raid, eyewitnesses allege that Bartholomew Deth murdered Star Court Speaker Alice Chant. From 1638 to the present, the Black Fleet is believed to be responsible for attacks on 60 systems, the destruction of 170 ships and the murder of at least 5000 people for the purpose of soul trafficking. Evidence suggests that Deth was in direct command of the Black Fleet for the majority of these reported attacks. On 1641/3/12 the Archonate Hammer Initiative passed into law in response to Black Fleet attacks. Under the law, the Star Court commissioned the Hunter Fleet to protect worlds from pirate attacks, neutralize the Black Fleet and terminate Bartholomew Deth’s command. Behavioural Narrative: Profilers have characterized Deth’s actions as signs of an “irrational hatred” for civilized institutions. Deth is believed to be a psychopath who uses a personal ideology for self-justification. In this belief system, dependence on the rule of law indicates weakness and confers upon Deth the moral right to “prey upon” the “sheep” so governed. Black Fleet operations appear to support this theory. Deth directs attacks against major commercial centers instead of isolated vessels and the other lightly guarded targets preferred by most pirates. The Black Fleet usually ignores offers of parley, destroys civil infrastructures and concentrates on acquiring souls over material goods. Independent analysts from the Golden Crown and Star Travellers have theorized that beyond ideological concerns, these actions spring from the Black Fleet’s logistical needs, as the existence of Croe’s Tomb and other observed signs indicate that Deth has access to advanced military grade runecraft. Appearance: You have chosen a narrative description. Would you prefer an image? According to most accounts, Bartholomew’s appearance belies his cruel nature. He’s a tall man with soft features and white feathered wings. Bartholomew doesn’t age; he looks exactly as he did a century ago. He acts in a polite, genteel manner. Early in his pirating career, a few victims mistook him for their saviour, right before he cut them down. In recent years, his appearance has been engraved on Roaa’s collective consciousness, so no one will make that mistake again. * * * As the developer, “Black Bart” is one of the NPCs I like the most. He “pulls the trigger” that brings Knights of the Hidden Sun up to its current year, 1650. Chapter Two features a bunch of these “mover and shaker” NPCs. One of the great things about Chris’ setting is that it feels inhabited, the result of both mass movements and forceful personalities, to the point where there are a bunch of unstable points you can easily jump from to generate an adventure. Out of the other games I’ve worked on, Exalted comes closest to having a similar quality. You can see where things might go, but it’s not where they have to go. (Actually, KotHS probably doesn’t have as much in the way of strongly implied future events.) I think Chris also created Bartholomew Deth to send an impression about the nature of the game, putting it firmly in the territory of space opera instead of making speculation on the fantasy world the focus. The Scourge of Roaa does trigger a bunch of political and military events leading up to 1650, when your Knights enter the scene, but this isn’t at the expense of the imagery of an angel of death who flies a stone coffin through space to steal souls. That’s awesome, and Knights should inspire imagery to match. NPCs are just one chunk of Chapter Two, right at the end. They’re part a thorough snapshot of where Roaa is at our assumed current date of 1650. Like Chapter One, we’re doing it through in-character documents, so that the GM can easily tell a player that her character knows exactly what’s in a given hunk of text. Out of character asides provide a less subjective commentary. As the developer, I edited and embellished the text to place more of it in the world. I’ve also elaborated on some sights and sounds to get people inside Roaa. Anyway, now it’s time for game systems, where I’ll inspect text about supersonic hand to hand combat, the secrets of the Knights of the Hidden Sun and the runes their Goddess inscribes on their souls. Haiti’s in trouble, but I’m not going to concentrate on it this month. Haiti had enormous problems before the earthquake; those won’t go away after an initial flurry of publicity. I certainly don’t want to cast aspersions on people who are acting now but I’m going to do something a bit different and hold off until February before pushing Haiti aid through my nerdly interests/products/stuff. Why?
So expect some coherent action in February. I don’t expect to be a huge influence or anything, but better than none is fine by me. By all means, donate now. Take advantage of any promotions that induce you to give. I recommend the Red Cross and MSF. But once February, March and beyond come around don’t forget about the people and situation. They’ll still need your help. EDIT: It seems perhaps I was unclear. I’m talking about my own initiatives to promote aid, not advising that you wait to give. Plus, my old friend Simon comments: The main reason to respond now (at least if you’re in Canada) is that the Canadian government through CIDA is matching, dollar for dollar, donations by individual Canadians up to a total of $50 million for Haiti. This matching stops on Feb 12. So by all means, donate now. From A Practical Reader on Occult Philosophy and Insurgency (aka “The Little Purple Book”) Although it’s loaded with inaccurate connotations, the Consensus is still a useful shorthand term to describe the elements of existence that are most vital to the Ascension War. It isn’t as simple as majority rule, though the instincts of millions exert undeniable power over the nature of things. To survive, you must combine of intellectual rigor, ideological commitment and a tolerance for enigmas. Knowledge is the foundation, and this work begins by exploring the roots of ecumenical occult philosophy to strengthen it. The Tellurian and Necessity
The Traditions and Hegemony both call the sum total of existence the Tellurian. Theoretically, the Tellurian contains all possible universes, though what constitutes a “possible universe” is subject to debate. As the ground of all being, the Tellurian contains those elements of reality that must exist for sentient beings to construct narratives, and for the most part, these are the only “raw” components of reality that sentients can perceive. These include the exoteric manifestations of physical laws. Gravity has always existed as a force that causes things to fall, for example, though its rationale and less common manifestations may arise out of narrative threads. Technocrats call this necessary base the Anthropic Principle – it only works this way because we could not exist in a universe that didn’t – while mystics refer to manifestations of the mind, ideal Forms, or the influence of deities. The primacy of consciousness and individual agency should be noted here, as it must exist as an aspect of the raw Tellurian. Sentient minds (that is, those of beings perceiving the world, not just interpreting it through sapient thought) are not directly subject to the Consensus and prefigure the Tapestry, though they can be manipulated through social pressures and direct magical working. This has been experimentally verified through the ages, particularly when Kyriarchs have attempted to turn specific peoples into “subhumans.” The Tapestry can’t satisfy their wishes, and the intended victims remain as intelligent, strong and self-willed as ever. The Tapestry and Consensus Acting within such cosmological preconditions, sentient beings shape the Tellurian’s manifold possibilities into the Tapestry: the defined or semi-defined content of the universe. Every thread in the Tapestry is a narrative created to explain the teller-seer’s life and everything he, she or it encounters. Nonsapient animals weave threads based on their immediate perceptions and instincts. Sapient beings such as humans are capable of consciously telling stories about themselves and the world around them, giving them the potential to impose changes beyond the routines of biological and ecological niches. Together, they add specificity, complexity and restrictions to existence. The Tapestry’s threads aren’t completely defined; elements that are less meaningful aren’t as fixed in the narrative continuum. This is why a sorcerer can weave a coincidence out of a conveniently placed object. The object was nowhere in particular until it had to be in a particular place. The less narrative importance a facet of reality possesses, the less defined it is. A map sets the territory in place – prior to being defined, it only has a tendency toward a location or specific nature. Technocrats say that reality in this type of flux has an eigenstate, and this term is widely use beyond their labs. What creates an eigenstate out of unbiased potential, or makes it difficult for most people to impose any narrative they desire? Nonsapient sentients create powerful eigenstate biases based on their own experiences, forming ecologies with spiritual as well as physical significance. Human mages must contend with the resultant natural principles. That’s why theories of spontaneous generation have never been true – at least in this Cycle of existence. Nature knows the truth. Before a human begins to tell his or her own tale, she must take into account the reality of the natural world. (Then again, some believe that everything permitted within an eigenstate does in fact happen, and that there are many worlds based on every way in which a narrative thread might “collapse” one into itself. Due to the subjective problems involved in exploring these possibilities, it’s difficult to determine whether evidence showing this is true is discovered or manufactured, or whether the two possibilities are even contrasts.) Sleepers face another limitation. They instinctively weave narrative threads that only minimally conflict with others, particularly those that are a part of their direct historical situation. Sleeper threads are intersubjective, based on interpreting what has come before and what surrounds them in light of their own experiences. In a way, the human sense of history an culture is a trap, tangling people in its tendencies – a property The Hegemony exploits. Common trends throughout these related threads create the Consensus mages shape and defy, but this is not to say that Sleepers always agree with it. They resist in private worlds of the imagination and might see “impossible” events, but they lack some vital combination of will, instinct and intellectual patterning to disrupt the efforts of their ancestors and contemporaries. Awakening and Spiritual Reality
Enthusiastic mages characterize Awakening as a state that liberates them from the instinct to weave intersubjective stories into the world, but the truth is that they’re never wholly free and barring Ascension, can’t be. To truly believe the world is arbitrary would drive them insane – and when it occurs, that’s exactly what happens. Mages draw on alternative explanations of the world, minority histories and sincere fictions that not only make sense of Creation as it is, but encode the possibility of radical change within them. This new paradigm establishes primacy over his or her ordinary intersubjective state. Many draw upon an established mythic Tradition, but a strong minority construct their own paradigms out of various elements, devising an syncretic base upon which to explore their inspirations within consistent praxes. No sorcerer is wholly orthodox, however; like Sleepers, they establish unique relationships with the narrative threads they value. Simply interpreting a paradigm as a static model restricts the sorcerer to rotes and conservative routines. To progress, a mage must reach beyond his or her established mythology. Obviously, Awakening depends on consciousness, because a Sleeper on the threshold must choose to plunge his or her life into an alternative thread. Don’t assume, however, that only sapient beings can weave meaning into the Tapestry beyond the boundaries of ordinary experience. Ecological patterns are far older, stronger and more pervasive than human desires. They generate spiritual beings and realms of existence. These belong to a substrate of meaning running through the Tapestry and while often studied, remain one of the least understood manifestations of reality. Paradoxes and Blurred Boundaries The more a mage reaches beyond historical narratives and their most plausible extensions, the more he or she comes into conflict with the established Tapestry. When a magical narrative resists assimilation the Tapestry is said to “fray,” causing a Paradox. Reality responds in unpredictable ways until the Tapestry reweaves itself to swallow the contradiction by fiat, turning miracles into accidents post hoc, even to the point of altering Sleeper perceptions. The likelihood and power of a Paradox depends on the nature of convergent narrative threads and their relative strength, along with the eigenstate’s bias in the situation to be affected by a magical working. A region long associated with the mage’s paradigm inhabited by Sleepers who belong to a compatible cult might blunt a Paradox or render it a non-issue. In a populated area long beholden to Hegemonic interests, (that is to say, most of the world) magically interfering with a notable object can provoke a severe fray. In this scenario, the mage generates a conflict with current “running” threads (the active self-stories of witnesses) and the entrenched history of the object and region. In a more hostile scenario such as a busy city street, a sorcerer might still avoid a Paradox if he or she manipulates the eigenstate in a plausible fashion – it’s easy to define the location of an unexceptional tree in the forest, for instance. Unfortunately, the mage can’t employ self-deception or misinformation to manipulate the presence of undefined elements. For example a mage can’t “coincidentally” conjure something he or she knows isn’t there by reaching into a pocket, even if it’s a common object, and can’t get around it by asking an accomplice to randomly stuff his or her pockets – they both know what’s inside them. The precise limits of this are not always consistent, however. An important object might devolve to a less defined state after a narrative thread stops focusing on it, for example (but this isn’t guaranteed, as important events leave a more lasting influence). Ultimately, these are matters of meaning and sentiment, not immutable laws. Can magic manipulate the raw Tellurian? Mages doubt it, and most scholarship states that the unmovable nature of the Tellurian is a tautological property, necessary to define the “unmoved” as something distinct from the Tapestry of narrative and myth. On the other hand, there is no strict division between the two and myths credit mages for making permanent, large scale changes to the nature of things. Generally speaking, the more fundamental a change and the more it violates broadly held principles, the more likely it is to impose a Paradox. CES happened this week, and tech companies rolled out a bunch of new gear that has major implications for electronic tools in tabletop RPGs, a topic I’ve blogged about here and here. As I cover the tech beat for one of my freelancing clients none of this was too surprising, though I didn’t think there’d be such a strong consensus. That’s a good thing because I think it’s going to nudge people out of complacency. Looking at where hype-driven market leaders are right now and just saying “Me too!” is just going to help hasten tabletop RPGs’ decline. So what happened? The Rise of the Practical Tablet Form Factor: Tablets are nothing new but tablets that don’t suck? That’s 2010. Sensitive resistive and inexpensive capacitive touchscreens with multitouch combined with software that works for a change (Windows 7, Android 2.0 to 2.1) made it possible to finally release practical general purpose tablets — previously, this form factor was mostly limited to specialized industries. Virtually every major company presented a tablet. Many were obvious responses to Apple’s rumoured iSlate, but recent patent applications from Apple indicate that the iSlate may end up being released with some dodgy mobile subsidy a la the iPhone, and might feature limitations similar to the ones that prompt people to jailbreak their iPhones. Basically, you want alternatives. Tablets are important because they let players and GMs use machines at the table without the antisocial barrier of a screen and with natural game table actions such as written notes, page turning and more. Would a pure tablet suit gamers best? I’m not sure about that. HP did showcase an inexpensive convertible capacitive multitouch netbook however, meeting 75% of my requirements for an good next gen tabletop gaming machine. Lots of E-Readers — Crappy, Crappy E-Readers: It’s easy to look at the abundance of e-readers at CES and conclude that they’ll be the best way for tabletop roleplayers to interact with books. That’s confusing popularity for practicality. CES’ ready for market e-readers don’t suit RPGs graphics-intensive qualities or gamers’ need for supplemental utilities such as character creators and dice rollers. They’ll get better, but will tablets get better first? I think they probably will, and e-readers may end up being an intermediate device. Pixel Qi (and Maybe Mirasol): As Gizmodo put it: E-ink is dead. I’ve been watching Pixel Qi for a while. The technology lets you switch from a full colour backlit LCD screen to a non-backlit, power saving reader mode just by turning a dial. In reader mode you can still access normal applications and even watch video, though the colour is washed out. Screen response is far faster than e-ink. But the real killer behind the technology is that as a form of mature LCD technology it’s ready for mass production using the current LCD manufacturing infrastructure. The only thing with a hope in hell of beating Pixel Qi is Qualcomm’s Mirasol display technology. It doesn’t piggyback on standard LCD but it does do colour and video (even 1080p HD) and it’s supposedly going to be installed in next gen Kindles. Basically, if you’re thinking of buying a Kindle for gaming (not standard reading, where the current versions work fine) don’t bother until the model with Mirasol and prepaid 4G shows up. Even then, you’ll want a mature app selection for any such e-reader to match a tablet-form general purpose machine with Pixel Qi installed. Otherwise, you’ll get the books, but not the tools (dice, campaign management) that really make going electronic worthwhile. Androids in the Cloud: After a few experiments in the Chinese market, Android jumped into netbooks and tablets. This is probably a stopgap, as we all know the Chrome OS is coming (and Google has said it may eventually merge Android and Chrome) but it demonstrates that once again, tech companies want us to try (quasi) thin client computing. Unlike past initiatives, it looks like this will actually work because we can do pretty much anything remotely now. Companies should definitely think about serving tabletop RPGs this way, though it may only be viable for the top of the market. Slow but Graphical – NVIDIA Tegra and Mobile Flash: One of the most interesting trends to come out of CES is stupid machines — that is, mobile-ish devices that run more slowly than traditional desktops and laptops but work just fine for the Web. The only problems with this approach were that ultramobile devices (smartphones and MIDs) struggled with video and couldn’t read Flash (Youtube on current devices uses an emulation script, not straight Flash video). The NVIDIA Tegra chip is set to augment devices to the point of playing streaming HD video and the Flash problem has been fixed for many devices. That means 2010 is the right to to roll out all of those funky graphical RPG applications like virtual tabletops. Let Me Tell You What to Do How should you respond to these developments? Here’s what I think: Gamers: Buy a capacitive multitouch convertible tablet that uses Pixel Qi display technology. This will give you a flexible device that doesn’t interfere with face to face gaming, allows easy reading and saves power. They aren’t available yet but they should be soon. Find web apps that you can use with a glance and swipe. Unless you have money to spare, don’t buy a dedicated ebook reader for gaming purposes alone. The technology isn’t good enough yet but it’s okay for conventional books. Game Companies: Develop touch-friendly web applications and get back to graphically ambitious tools such as the virtual tabletop. Look at how magazines are developing new content delivery methods for the iSlate and other tablets. Try developing games in the cloud and get past the idea that a pretended book is the best way to present content electronically. Art isn’t always for challenging the audience, but a creative community needs that if it’s going to thrive. RPGs aren’t doing that. By “challenges,” I don’t mean Maybe old D&D rules kicked ass! or I bet we can do this without a GM! because these things don’t have wider social relevance. This also applies to We’re going to try not to be bigoted! because this is both a moral obligation and in some ways (though hardly perfectly) it’s attempted quite often. (I should double-emphasize that it’s not as if RPGs don’t have a ways to go with that last one. For instance, I’m still a bit stung that the transgendered cop I created for “Bloody Mary” in Urban Legends got that part of his background cut at the developer’s insistence.) Right after the D20 licence came out but before the Book of Erotic Fantasy I floated a thought experiment with some other writers about attacking the license with three books:
In retrospect a rewrite of the D20STL would have just resulted sooner, but the real point wasn’t to attack the license as much as use it as a conceptual benchmark in pursuit of challenging ideas. It’s all pretty contrived, but I’m afraid that I don’t think RPGs are doing better right now. They’re about Meta-issues for gamers, either situated in the game or the community. There are a whack of games stabbing at depth, but they just don’t succeed. It’s stuff like Man, organized religion sure is screwed up! or It’s hard when people die! or Poor people sure have it rough! or Aren’t you offended when I’m gross! Challenging art requires to to fight a position that’s commonly believed in a way that gets to the point. Gamers are overfond of Star Trek-style superloose allegories (It’s really about black people/queer folks/etc, not aliens!), possibly because these were invented to avoid complaints from people just like them. The fact that these people lived in the 1960s indicates we haven’t come very far, have we? We like to use these to dodge blame for the bad stuff (like orcs as stand ins for colonized peoples) and take credit for the good stuff. We need to build challenges that are harder to dodge. Werewolf: The Apocalypse and Mage: The Ascension (and others; just going with what comes to mind first) both tried out these sorts of challenges, though neither succeeded completely. Werewolf started out by saying Human nature and corporate capitalism in particular are immoral, destructive forces. Mage said Modernity isn’t necessarily desirable, probably isn’t rational and is a servant of political interests, anyway. Boy, did that make people mad, and not mad in a kind of throwaway fashion. Gamers still get pissed off about it. They get pissed off when hints of it come up, like when Awakening added a nod to John Zerzan-like primitivism in Tome of the Watchtowers, or whatever Phil Brucato wrote in Changing Breeds, and they’re probably not going to like something in an upcoming book where the easy colonized-peoples metaphor are the smart guys. This kind of thing doesn’t happen too often though. It’s hard to present a commercial proposition that’s based on telling the audience their beliefs are screwed up unless it’s about religion. If it’s about religion it’s pretty easy because people who can’t irreverently manipulate signs suck at RPGs anyway. So besides things like like Satan was a good guy! Angels were stone killers! writers and designers get scared of saying this stuff because they don’t want to alienate their audience, especially now that segments of the audience can broadcast all kinds of crap in response on a public forum. You would think that smaller publishers would pick up the slack here but by and large, they don’t. They’re pretty addicted to Trek-level allegories to inoffensively pick up the slack, with a side order of the ‘ol grossout (like that Old School thing where the guy details the evil things you do to summon demons and crap). I’m not saying it’s never been done there (Steal Away Jordan, for instance) but the small press sure has some ways to go. It also doesn’t help that the culture of gaming is chock full of creative machismo. Everybody wants assurances that their creative impulse isn’t being oppressed by the GM or designer or group of something — everybody’s an enemy of the big swinging cock of self-expression. Challenging that . . . Well, it pretty much feels like pointing below the belt and laughing to these types, and making a statement about how you ought to think or feel can’t help but do that. It’s a pity, because it other media people take more responsibility for their responses. I’ll put it this way. You know those crazy far right movie reviews that talk about how every flick will turn you into a gay(er) (more) heathen (card carrying) communist? Keep that style of analysis but remove the slant (mostly; there’s something inherently totalizing and fascist about that mode anyway) and you have how pretty much every internet-vocal gamer reacts to new RPG stuff they have a problem with. If someone did that for every movie they saw without a hint of satire or comic effect you’d probably think they were assholes, wouldn’t you? Finally, you can’t do your best job without revealing something of yourself. It’s possible to do a good job writing against your beliefs, but it can be seriously disconcerting. I despise the world views of the Euthanatos and Silver Ladder, but people frequently cite that stuff as some of my better work. RPGs represent a special danger because the audience generates its own deep narratives and might really piss you off with them. I really sympathize with Vincent Baker dealing with Dogs in the Vineyard being used to play SS members, resulting in oneupmanship where everybody tried to sympathize with the SS. The answer to these challenges is that doing something like this means you’re an asshole, but nobody really wants to be put in a position where they have to call somebody an asshole. And win or lose that fight, you’re dealing with someone who created an involved narrative to an immoral end. That’s the danger; that’s the challenge. Once you flirt with the heavy stuff you’re not dealing with remote intellectual questions any more. You’re laying it out, and you may end up confronting what you don’t just think is a creative conflict, but a basic moral error while you’re fighting for a position you believe leads to something finer in the world. Who’s up to the challenge? Am I up to it? I don’t know. I think we need it. I hope we get it in 2010. Like I said at the beginning, it’s not the purpose of art, but without it, an art form has no purpose. Participant fudging and fiat are excellent techniques for all RPGs (and other games, but they’re really great in RPGs). People say a lot of silly things about it for three reasons:
The first two problems are pretty easy to fix unless you get caught in a destructive scene, which happens frequently when people start gaming as teenagers. Teenagers are status and peer group focused to the point where it mutes individual moral and creative agency, but that’s not their fault. The second and third points stick around because of Graphocentric cultural biases and poor explanations in the books, respectively. They reinforce each other in a pretty insidious fashion. What do I mean by “Graphocentric?” We belong to a literate culture where certain texts are privileged as sources of revelation. These texts typically have teaching roles, are the focus of communities and are not written to be chronologically sensitive, like newspaper articles. At the simplest level, we have a tendency to revere texts, but once you combine that with a slightly educated middle class its members discover that they can jockey for position over who gets to tell you what the text means. Either way, power doesn’t flow from the text, but from us. One really dangerous aspect of the Graphocentric perspective is that even though hermeneutics are subjective, we are reluctant to admit this because it makes the text look weak and undeserving of its central role. That’s where you get a lot of chapter and verse bullshit about what things really mean, but make no mistake: It’s really a social control strategy using the text as an instrument. To express it simply: People use RPGs to tell you what to do because we all like to pretend the RPG is really telling us what to do, to the extent that even the folks telling you what to do through the RPG believe it’s all the game, not them. Vague advice about fudging doesn’t help, though it’s vague for a reason. In their own way, game designers understand the triple threat and usually advise fudging as a way to escape it and take ownership of the game. Many know (though some have forgotten) that the most serious play issues have little to do with differing agendas or any of that bullshit. They stem from hermeneutic conflicts between people aiming for the same thing. These people fail because they put the rules at the center of the relationship instead of each other. That’s why designers who advocate fudging are reluctant to codify the process. They fear that text will just assimilate the specifics anyway, making them a new source for dispute, but it should be obvious by now that people are so twisted by Graphocentrism that they’ll use any bit of text to reflexively impose their wills. (Once we acknowledge Graphocentrism we can also see that hitching your wagon to a text is a foolish way to cure social problems, that expressing the group’s relationship as a contract [text] of any sort isn’t significantly useful compared to a bunch of other things, and how poisonous in-vogue advice to do either of these things is.) This insight frees us to talk about what fudging and fiat really are. Let’s begin by looking at a common but incorrect formulation: Fiat happens when the GM ignores the results of the rules in favour of what s/he wants. or Ignore the system for a GM-determined result. But when you observe fudging and fiat in the wild it generally doesn’t go down this way. The GM is usually very concerned with the rules, and rarely makes a decision that ignores them in such a simple, binary fashion. (If you haven’t taken the time to sit by a game as an observer, there are a bunch of places you can read about this stuff. I recommend Over the Edge 2nd Edition to start, though it’s more about in-world consequences than where the dice fall.) It’s more like this: Rules results + player input + GM input + story needs = result Changing your perspective answers the question of why GMs roll dice if they’re going to make a ruling that ignores them – they aren’t! GM-adjusted/”ignored” dice rolls (or equivalent system outputs) are extremely useful. Let’s look at a classic move: Changing a hit that will kill a PC if left as is. The rules results tell us that the monster hit and inflicted 20 HP damage. The target character only has 8 HP. Depending on the exact situation this could tell us the following:
With this information in hand we consider the player’s input. What does s/he want? What did s/he do to get there and how does it relate to the situation at hand?
GM input exists throughout the whole process in this instance, but it’s easy enough (though not always desirable) to open this up to group discussion and reduce the GM”s direct input. In terms of traditional GM responsibilities s/he may consider the following:
Fudging is the sum total of these influences, so it really is silly to say that the dice or player actions are meaningless. They’re usually more important than the GM’s intentions, though the GM has some serious responsibilities in the whole equation. I should also note that this flood of information doesn’t wait for the decision point. Most of it happens in the run up, as the group discusses its situation and play unfolds, so it’s already done most of the “work” required. It’s not that hard when we compensate for the Graphocentric perspective, put the game in its place and trust each other. That’s it for now. I was going to delve into objections that hiding fudging and fiat is a bad thing, but it struck me that the arguments against these are so value-laden (like getting mad at costumes in plays, erasing wires with CGI and a host of other craft techniques) that it’s probably a waste of my time to deal with them. The idea that fudging and fiat can be eliminated by better design is dumb, but I’ll talk about that some other time. The history of RPGs is the history of things you can’t do, and various strategies to veil, deny or accommodate that fact. Players like to think they can go anywhere and do anything with their characters unless there’s a mechanism in place to solidly prevent them (and make them like it) or trick them (also, to make them like it by preserving the illusion of freedom). The desire for freedom versus its practical impossibility is an enduring tension so it’s easy for RPG designers/thinkers/grognards to score cheap points by railing against restrictions in one game, or designing a solution that is really way of disguising restrictions. The oldest restriction is the dungeon crawl. Gamers like dungeons because they have pretend physical walls. For some reason, pretend matter trumps other kinds of pretending, and players don’t mind it getting in their way much. Classic dungeons are usually flowcharts that push explorers toward some signature encounter, even if there are some pass/fail encounters, backtracking and general screwing around to deal with in the interim. The only exceptions are random dungeons, and even the old generators enforced some rising tension with the character level to dungeon level equivalence. (Wilderness encounters in old D&D were interesting in the way they weren’t level dependent, but the need to get from location to location was restriction enough.) The dungeon’s flaw is that many people eventually get bored of them, or learn to despise increasingly dodgy rationales for hauling ass through a flow chart. These types accused GMs of lacking imagination or defying realism, and complained they wanted to focus on character portrayal and romance and things, but they had to deal with the Maze of Peril of the Week. Eventually angry players and inventive GMs figured out that you could do without physical walls and simply outline the rough course of play, but they kind of blundered into this with a healthy dose of denial, because nobody could really admit that the whole point of these structures was to remove the freedom to do anything you want. Unfortunately, without pretend walls, GMs were forced to get honest or desperate. Some asshole would always ignore the signals and wander off. This happened in dungeons, but the jerk couldn’t get far, because he had to walk the flowchart. When the only restriction was linked to story flow, it was harder to develop a pretense to keep everyone on the rails. Designers provided theme and mood and setting tools to help GMs roughly delineate what players could do (plot against the Prince in Vampire, say) and couldn’t (all kinds of stupid shit that Vampire players did anyway). One of the tricky elements of this scheme was that it required the GM to show his hand as an artist instead of ascribing it to a trick of the dungeon. But people have been educated to be suspicious of art. They believe it’s something social deviants make to subtly mock them, or it was something created by mighty white men in days of yore, such that it would be arrogant to follow in their footsteps with art of your own. Certainly, modern people are not allowed to manipulate signs meaningfully unless it’s for large commercial interests. Some companies tried to convince gamers that they were some form of social deviant and allowed to dress oddly, dye their hair and make art, but this was only semi-successful and generated resentment that would simmer over the next decade and a half or so. At some point, people playing through these plot and trope-based restrictions started to believe the GM was making all the decisions (which was pretty much bullshit, but these players have been around since the dungeon, when they kept walking the wrong way up the walled flowchart). Interestingly, many of these players were total book bitches. They didn’t want to be told what they couldn’t do, but vaguely understood that they needed to point to some basis of unity, even if it wasn’t the other players. If they were going to do anything, it was what the book told them. If things went bad, it was the book’s fault. Eventually, this heady mix of misanthropy and ad hoc textual criticism met the Internet and formed a community. Members wrote their own games. Naturally, they (like so many others in previous eras) half-knew that the central problem was keeping people from doing whatever they wanted, but this group was even less likely than the last to explicitly admit this. They did however know what they would obey, which was whatever was in the book. They’d ruined play by picking text over people, so they thought they could probably solve it by tinkering with the text. Naturally, the games that resulted were more restrictive than all prior games, but this could be ignored if you believed that “playing the game” was equivalent to “obeying the book.” In the dungeon era, you’d throw up physical walls inside a mountain to kick people to a final confrontation with an evil witch, but some bastard might run away and get drunk in a tavern, and the best you could do was ignore him, give him a loaner character or kill him. The new games were designed so that there was no support for ever going to a tavern – that doing anything besides getting up the mountain to face the witch was meaningless, stupid, and possibly a moral violation resulting from abuse or brain damage. Game designers like feeling like they’re making people they’ve never met play a certain way, so this approach became quite popular. People who’d left the business to do something more profitable wished they’d thought of it, and some folks working in the commercial end of game design realized that it was terribly simple to come up with contrived metrics for design success by using this style. If it didn’t work, the players were obviously doing it wrong. Unfortunately, these new strictures didn’t sit well with everyone, and newer games were designed to be unplayable if you didn’t accept your inability to wander off to the pub. These malcontents stuck with older games. Some of them went right back to the dungeon, where the old Flowchart Made of Rock would provide some solace. Some of them stuck with plotty games. The community was a house divided, except for the shared belief that if they played some other way, they’d lose their freedom but if they obeyed their school, they could pretend this wasn’t really happening. It was happening, though. To everybody. What’s the solution? In some special play groups (though more than you might think) participants crossed the watershed and realized two things: 1) Restrictions were necessary. 2) It was natural to fight against them. And in these special groups, the participants realized that this tension was never a flaw, but a remarkable source of inspiration. This tension created novel solutions. The group needed to develop new mechanics to support leaving the beaten path, but in such a way that the wayward player returned. The GM learned to moderate his vision, or figure out what happens when the group leaves the dungeon half done. They accepted that some disputes were inevitable, even passionate ones, as people are liable to be passionate about their creative efforts. Through forthright talk, compromise and above all compassion for every participant, these groups accepted the problem and turned it into another toy to play with. It started with a Star Wars game. I loved the old West End version of the RPG but had always run and never played. I was ecstatic when I found a handmade poster in my LGS requesting players for a local game. I was so elated a friend ordered me to “stop beaming.” The next week, I met up with this new group and that session changed the way I saw RPGs forever. Before Star Wars, my modules worked much like a standard Knights of the Dinner Table session. The PCs would be a group of strangers who united under some nebulous pretext. We’d find a dungeon filled with traps and monsters. We’d avoid the traps, kill the monsters and take their stuff. Along the way the PCs would try to outdo each other in carnage. Crits were politely applauded, fumbles would be met with mocking scorn. I’ll admit it was fun and besides, I had no idea there was any other way to play. The Star Wars game I walked into was a new kind of beast. The GM ran it like a movie. He had a soundtrack, celebrity portraits for NPCS and detailed maps that were drawn to look like something out of an official supplement. What truly stood out however, was his pacing. He kept the game moving. Our characters ran from one scene to the next at breakneck speed. He didn’t give us time to argue rules. We didn’t measure out 5 foot blocks on dungeon maps in order to calculate the volume of our grenade explosions – we threw and prayed. An action round involved more than move, hit and damage. We had to weave through traffic, leap across rooftops and dodge explosions in the thick of the fight. The GM seemed intent on using the universe to kill our characters. We loved it. The players in this group were amazing. Something happened with them that I had never seen before. Near the start of the first session our characters had to chase down a rebel leader on a monorail. It was leaving the station when we arrived. Every character but mine succeeded on the roll to jump on the train. My ended up clinging to the side for dear life. In my old group she would have just died. Everyone would laugh and the game would continue while I found a new sheet. This time, without hesitation, a player informed the GM that his character was smashing through the window, grabbing my character, and pulling her in. I was floored by the idea of a party where PCs looked out for each other. Of course, the GM had given us a good in-character reason to work together form the start. We were an Imperial Special Ops team who had worked together for years. Needless to say, it was one of the best gaming experiences of my life. This has coloured how I run my games since and it’s also heavily influenced how I’ve written Knights of the Hidden Sun. I want my game to play like a movie. I want Knights to look out for each other, and I’ve designed tools to help other GMs do this:
If you can easily run this game like a high-octane action flick then I’ll consider this project a success. |
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