Tag Archives: dungeons and dragons

Gaming Violence and Children

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I grew up the son of a liberal Mennonite pastor. My dad was, and still is, a conscientious objector. Instead of serving in Vietnam, he did mission work in Brazil.

I recall conversations at the dining table about people struggling with the idea of paying taxes that went to the United States military complex. I knew of people who had refused to pay huge chunk of taxes, withholding the amount that would’ve went to the military. They would instead give that withheld money to organizations that promoted peace and justice.

My parents discouraged me from playing with guns. But when your primary toy is Lego, guns are easy to make. My parents discouraged me from watching violent TV, but I would sneak in an episode of the A-Team or later the Dirty Dozen.

The summer before my 6th grade year, a friend introduced me to my first RPG: Star Frontiers. I was immediately hooked. I loved the thought of reenacting Star Wars and Star Trek. To explore. To pilot a ship through a dogfight.

My freshman year in high school, the first Gulf War was beginning, and I recall many brave students standing up in chapel – I attended a private Mennonite high school – and saying they were not going to register for the draft. This meant no federal aid for college.

By this time, I had been playing Rolemaster and Dungeons & Dragons, games that placed a tremendous amount of rules explanation on combat and fighting.  And I maintain that by placing emphasis on combat, combat is more likely to occur.

I also began playing Axis & Allies, Civilization, Diplomacy, Magic the Gathering, and Warhammer. All of these games had abstract combat, but the means to victory is always through conflict.

When it came time to register for the draft, I wrote “Conscientious Objector” all over the draft card. I also wrote a letter, which I assume is still on file at my high school, stating that my conscientious objector status was not something that came about on a whim.

And over the years, I’ve continued to play role-playing games; Some sessions are full of combat, others are very light on combat. And while combat can be memorable and exciting, I have always looked upon it as something somewhat competitive.

Combat rules, more than anything, seem to receive the most scrutiny. It is in this arena, where two or more players engage the rules with little concern for the mechanics. Hit points are abstract, just as the damaging attack is.

But violence, that is a different thing from combat. When I am playing, I am not looking to channel some untapped unpleasant destructive urge through my role-playing games; I am simply looking to engage with the game and seek an escape for me and my friends around the table.

There have been times during a game of Diplomacy, where violent thoughts most certainly crossed my mind. And there have been role-playing games where heated arguments turned somewhat ugly, but even then violence was not part of the equation.

Trying to then frame this all in the context of children, I have to look back with my paternal eyes upon my experience. I have always felt physically and emotionally safe playing role-playing games. I know this is not likely the case for everyone, but I believe that is more a function of who you end up playing with than the system you play.

Role-playing games are ultimately a framework for telling a collaborative story, with a focus on providing a means for conflict resolution. RPGs are simply structured “Cowboys and Indians” or “Cops and Robbers” or “House.”

For myself, in middle school and high school, I gained a tremendous amount of self-confidence through the mastery of the rules systems.

Here was an arena in which my friends and I were in control. We were the strong and athletic, the movers and shakers of the world. There was a comfort in having this control, as my country waged war and my parents divorced.

In my rather intense studying of games and rules, I learned about probability, subsystems, abstraction, mental arithmetic, project management, communication skills, managing meetings, planning, writing, drawing, expanded vocabulary, and likely a whole lot more. A long list of things to learn at the expense of engaging in fantasy violence.

This post is in response to Jeremy Garber’s winning comment in my 202nd Post Competition.

Transitions in Table Top RPGs

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Consider a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Your group is conversing with the evil Duke in the Duke’s throne room. It is a role-playing scene, between two groups, and things begin escalating towards a conflict. And someone, usually the thief, says “I’m shooting him in the face.”

The game would then often times abruptly switch into the combat subsystem – maybe from another subsystem, but more likely from free-form role-playing that had occurred. There may even be a need to place characters exactly, precisely, and correctly on the detailed map. A map that didn’t so much matter until the game rules required precision.

And don’t get me started about starting a role-playing scene by drawing on a map the Duke’s throne room, and having the players declare where they are standing. Then you are just asking for the players to attack the Duke.

Now, how would you adjudicate the above in D&D 3E? Would you have everyone roll initiative? Would you give surprise to the aggressor? His team? Would you have them use their initiative modifier? Or perhaps either their Bluff or Sense Motive bonus for initiative? Would you give the aggressor a bonus? What about allowing them to use their Bluff skill opposed by their targets Sense Motive to see if they get the surprise.

Most of my campaigns have a notable number of scenes that start out with swords sheathed only to escalate into either a stand-off or an all out conflict. I would like to think that I’m trying to tease out that moment in a story where things either escalate or cool down. And shame on me for not codifying these transitions, though to not be so hard on myself, I’ve been a player in plenty of these, and I love playing thieves.

I’ve witnessed numerous moments where the character declaring the “I stab him in the face” then rolls a terrible initiative and ends up staring as bloodshed erupts around them.

In reading Eon Fontes-May and Sean Dunstan‘s Dungeon World Guide, I had a ”Yes that! I should blog about that!” moment. Consider the following text and its paired commentary:

Text: You dig around in the metal eyesocket [of the seemingly inert automaton] and the ruby comes loose, rolling into your hand. As soon as it does, though, the clockwork springs to life with startling speed, it’s hand is shooting for your neck like it’s going to grab you. What do you do?

Commentary:  Here it is, this is the beginning of combat, here. But there’s no initiative, we just slide into it. I describe the beginning of the monster’s attack and wait for the response.

It is that simple moment where things are in motion, and the character must decide.

Any GM, in any system, could follow the above script, but I would wager many GMs would not ask the question and instead look to the various subsystems to attempt to adjudicate this event: saving throw, an attack roll, or initiative.

After all, a GM in most other systems has a pool of dice, just like the players. And I know that when I have dice as a player or GM, I want to roll them.

And why is this different in Dungeon World than in most other games? Because of the structure of moves. To resolve something unknown, a character must trigger a move via the in-game fiction. Once the character triggers a move, the player rolls the dice then adjudicate the results. The adjudication is part mechanical and part narrative, and thus transitions back to the in-game fiction.

In other words, as a GM, I can easily push a character to a decision point, knowing that there will be a move that the character can use to respond – but I don’t necessarily know what move they will choose.

In that move, there is a chance that I, as a GM, will have permission to hit them hard. And more importantly, there is a chance that the character’s player to avoid my trap. But more importantly, the player character responds as they see fit.

Post Script

I still love the scripted actions of Burning Wheel as I feel interesting narratives emerge – it is impossible to predict what will happen after a handful of scripted actions are all adjudicated into a singular narrative.

However, I don’t want to see scripted actions with every interaction. Which is why I feel as though Dungeon World does things very right. Let the characters declare actions, and have most of the GMs moves be “shit is about to happen, what do you do?”

Make a Decision Already

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I sometimes struggle with analysis paralyses.  I’m looking at you restaurant menus and complex strategy games.

In the last session of the Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker, we ended the session with an interesting Duel of Wits.  Chase, Peter, and Margaret were going to ensure Julia marries William.  And the Duel of Wits turned ugly fast.

As a player, I wanted to advance certain skills and abilities.  My character, however, wanted to make sure that her sister’s wedding went through as originally agreed.  And there was beautiful tension of player and character.  As the duel of wits spiralled into the dark corners of a pyrrhic victory, I was marking off tests for various skills and dishing out slander against Julia’s future in-laws.

And in this tension, I’ve discovered more about my character Margaret.  She is oblivious to the ramifications of her words…Misunderstood perhaps.  She’s very rash when it comes to “protecting her family” and will pull no punches.

Take a moment to read Luke Crane’s micro-interview from RPG Countdown’s “Best of 2011.”

We came to the climax of the [three year] game and every player was chewing his beard or gnawing on his knuckles going, “Oh God, I don’t wanna do this thing…but I can’t…but I should.” Burning Wheel Gold gets you to that point. When you have those conflicts and they are rewarded, [Burning Wheel Gold] loves it. It doesn’t care what decision you make, it just wants you to make a decision.

For my RPGs I want what Luke’s talking about – meaningful decisions.  Decisions that shape future direction of the game…Decisions that are not easy, but show the mettle of a character.   But here in lies a tension with meaningful decisions comes the potential for analysis paralysis.

But, if the decision is important enough – related directly to a character’s belief – then there should be some gnashing of teeth and grinding of gears.  Characters are forged in the fires of adversity.

Contrast this with D&D 4E.  I’ve witnessed player turns in various D&D 4E games that took far too long – I don’t need to witness 3 minutes of decision making paired with 3 minutes of action resolution for a single player.  If you are aware of the math in D&D 4E, any single decision doesn’t carry that much weight – there are no Save or Die spells.

In D&D 4E, the weight of your tactical decision is inversely proportional to the number of hit points you have remaining.  This encodes a narrative ebb and flow.  Early, there is little tension, and as hit points are lost, the tension increases.

Whereas in Burning Wheel, the advice for tension regarding tests is based on how close a test cleaves to a belief.  If a test is directly related to a Belief, the stakes should be very high.

I’m willing to sit back and watch someone deliberate about a test for something they believe in…a meaningful test.  I want to better understand their character.  I can take those insights and as a player or game master fold them back into the ongoing campaign.

 

Survey of Methods of Advancement

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The other evening I had an interesting RPG conversation concerning character advancement.  His opinion surprise me.  However, I’ve since started thinking about the various systems of character advancement that I’ve seen – this is not an exhaustive list, only ones that I’m more familiar with.

Level Only

In this method, when a character levels up, everything about them gets better.  They are better at hitting, resisting, enduring and doing things within the narrative. The classic example would be the earliest editions of D&D and Labyrinth Lord.

One of the key points of this method is that all elements of a character improve with level regardless of the actions taken to achieve that level.  Namely, if I raised my level solely by treasure and role-playing rewards, I’m still better at fighting.  In this method, it is likely easiest to “balance” characters against each other.

Points

In this method, there are no levels, instead, characters advance each statistic independently.  Dresden Files, and if memory serves ShadowRun.  In ShadowRun you get a certain amount of Karma after each session and when you simply pay to advance a statistic.

When points are part of advancement, there is typically a graduating scale regarding point cost.  That is to say Rank 1 costs 1 point, Rank 2 costs 3 points, Rank 3 costs 6 points, etc.  It is a non-linear advancement cost for a linear statistic.

From my limited exposure to these systems, use of the skill is not a requirement for advancement.

Points per Level

In this method, character’s still track levels. However, upon achieving a new level, they receive a set number of points to improve their character – but again regardless of the skills used during the sessions.  Rolemaster and Alternity are the best examples, although the D&D 3E skill sub-system also applies.

In Rolemaster it is possible to create a 10th level fighter that is no more competent in combat than a 1st level fighter – or a 1st level wizard.  This would be done at each level by having the fighter’s character invest their points not in sword and hit points, but in other wilder fancies.

Points & Level Hybrid

In this method, character’s track levels.  But it is an amalgam of the above.  The potential areas of development – the character statistics if you will – are broken into sub-systems.  And each of those sub-systems operate a bit differently, and may overlap (i.e. D&D 3E/4E Feats overlap with the D&D Combat and D&D Skills sub-systems).

By breaking the sub-systems into different advancement methods, the game system can tinker with balance across the sub-systems ensuring that one character classification is stronger in one sub-system than the other.  That is to say a fighter is better in combat than a rogue but a rogue has a wider range of skills.

Test-Based

In this method, a character using a skill advances that skill.  If you want to get better at something, you had better do it.  In this way, characters evolve based on the ongoing narrative.  Burning Wheel, Mouse Guard, TechNoir and Hârnmaster are some examples.

This method requires a bit more attention to any goals that you as a player have for your character.  Do you want your character to defeat some alluded to master swordsman? Then practice your combat skills.

Potpourri

One could argue that Apocalypse World and Dungeon World are point per level.  Each time you “level” you get one point to purchase some advancement.

Diaspora fixes your total possible talent, but allows you to rearrange your statistics within those constraints.  So if you want to get better at something, you’ll need to get worse at something else.

In Do: Pilgrims of the Flying Temple your monks don’t get better but instead changes how and why they interact with the ongoing narrative.

Any others? In particular, how would you categorize Dogs in the Vineyard, InSpectres and Lacuna Part I, but the advancement mechanisms aren’t registering.

Personal Preference

I like to see characters that are mechanically different.  I like the idea of advancement through use.  I also understand that as players we are not necessarily seeing every action of our characters – I know I don’t follow my character into the bathroom – and therefore arbitrary advancement is acceptable.

The Now 400 Pound Gorilla Has Awoken

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…and he’s looking to put on a few hundred pounds.

Today, Wizards of the Coasts announced that they are working on the 5th Edition of Dungeons and Dragons.  They are going to be conducting ongoing open playtests for the next iteration.

“The goals we have set for ourselves are by no means trivial or easy. By involving you in this process, we can build a set of D&D rules that incorporate the wants and desires of D&D gamers around the world. We want to create a flexible game, rich with options for players and DMs to embrace or reject as they see fit, a game that brings D&D fans together rather than serves as one more category to splinter us apart.” — Mike Mearls

Superficially, this mirrors Paizos’ open playtest for their Pathfinder RPG.  The Pathfinder RPG exists, in part, as a response to 4th Edition’s bungled third-party licensing process.  The Pathfinder RPG is solidly rooted in the 3rd Edition of D&D — Thank you Open Gaming License (OGL).  It was further developed, and modified, through an extensive open playtest.  And by some accounts, Pathfinder sales were tied in 2010 and eventually outstripped D&D sales in 2011.

D&D was once the 800 pound gorilla shed much of it’s weight by not providing a clear path from 3rd Edition to 4th Edition, both for players and for vendors.

So today, D&D is again the nerdy kid looking in at the cool kids with their open playtesting, dreaming what every geek dreams…to be invited to the game table.

I have abandoned 4E, because frankly, it doesn’t do it for me.  The classes are far too similar.  The game is so very well balanced that it is boring.  Every combat had so much going on and was so meaningful, which, ultimately reminds me of one of the great lines in the Incredibles:

Helen: Everyone’s special, Dash.
Dash: [muttering] Which is another way of saying no one is.

Personally, I want to see D&D succeed.  D&D is more than a game, it is an icon.  I can say to people “I play role-playing games” and they give me a blank stare.  I can say “I play games like D&D” and they understand.

If this new design direction works to incorporate all flavors of the game…Great.  If it also aids in translating older adventures to the newer format…Great.  If it truly is a modular game that allows me to drop in sub-systems I’m interested in…Great.

And most importantly if it is not released via the OGL or comparable license…It can wither on the vine…because the OGL is what brings everyone to the table.  It is, in my opinion, why Pathfinder and 3E are and were wildly successful.  Having forsaken the OGL, it is why the once 800 pound gorilla has been on starvation rations and looks hungry as hell.

Acceptable Weight of Conflict Resolution

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Role-playing games inevitably contain some form of conflict resolution mechanism.  Even the rules-lite Fiasco has the mechanism of either the player frames the scene or determines how the scene ends.

System Survey

Dungeons and Dragons has hit points as the primary currency for use during conflict resolution.  If you run out of them, you are out of the fight or dead, depending on your version.

Diaspora and other Fate-based cousins, have stress tracks (health, composure, and wealth) along with consequences.  So long as you only take stress, you are fine; But once you have a consequence, the bad times are just beginning.

Burning Wheel has body of argument dice or injury dice, depending on your flavor of conflict.  If you run ouf of body of argument dice, you lose your Duel of Wits; Accumulate too many injury dice and you may be incapacitated or more likely begging for mercy.

Short-Circuiting the Standard Method

In Dungeons and Dragons, there are plenty of methods that short circuit hit points.  The dreaded level drain, in which a month or more of hard work is undone via a specters could embrace;  The annoying stat drain, in which you get a little weaker and have to recalculate your bonuses.  In older editions of D&D this wasn’t so bad, but ability damage in 3E was an actuarial pain in the ass); The save vs. death, throw the dice and pray you live.

In Diaspora, I could hand out consequences, but that goes against the design; I can do stress damage, but the decision of taking a consequence is up to the player.

In Burning Wheel, as part of a failed test, I’ve handed out Light wounds; I haven’t gone so far as giving out a Midi, as I’m a bit skittish about delivery that kind of injury via GM fiat.  Maybe, as my understanding of Burning Wheel develops, I’ll hand out the Midi — after all, that -2D can be a boon when you are attempting to advance a skill.

Providing Enough Player Agency

Dungeons and Dragons, at its core, is merciless.  If you get hit by save vs. death, you’d better hope you’re a high level cleric and a lucky one at that.  Otherwise, bam, you are eaten by a grue.  You can’t get help from your team, nor do you have a luck pool to draw on.  You are dead, and your companions are already looting your body.

Diaspora and Fate in general, provide ample opportunities for a player to fudge a conflict in their direction; One roll of the dice can be modified by free-tagging aspects, spending fate points to tag aspects, or re-roll a horrific dice roll.

Burning Wheel provides numerous ways of improving your odds; First you can solicit help both from others and by FoRKing in your own skills.  Then, you can opt to spend your Artha both before and after the roll.

Resolving a Big Deal with One Roll

For me, both Diaspora and Burning Wheel provide enough touch points in a dice roll for me to say “I’m satisfied with how this conflict was resolved.”  I may not like that my character picked up a moderate consequence, but I had the opportunity to spend Fate points to avoid the consequence.

Contrast this with D&D where I have little recourse against Ability Drain; Either the specter hits me or it doesn’t.

This also highlights the fact that I’m okay with Diaspora and Burning Wheel using a single dice roll to adjudicate a much larger deal than Dungeons and Dragons.  If I, the player, have ample opportunities to influence the test (even if it’s likely to fail), I am much more willing to accept the outcome.

And in Fiasco, I simply want to see everything go up in flames!

Necromancers’ Maze

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During the 2nd Edition D&D days of high school and college, we would occasionally get together and play through a Necromancer Maze.

The concept of the Necromancer Maze is rather simple; It is a player vs. player game adjudicated by a game master.  The game master is responsible for tracking the position of characters on the map.  I believe, in most cases, the players had access to the entire map.

Why Necromancers?

In 2nd Edition, Necromancers couldn’t access Illusions and (if memory serves) Enchantments.  This meant that Invisibility and other spells that were more painful to adjudicate in PvP were off the table.

How We Played

Each player would submit their necromancer’s moves (i.e. I move from here to here) via paper.  Then the game master would handle any incidental sighting of other characters.  If characters noticed each other, then conflict would ensue.

The game master would pull the players aside and have them resolve their conflict while others were puttering around the maze.

Fun Times

This player vs. player concept was great.  We were playing in the age of Mortal Combat and Street Fighter II, and found the spell selection and tactics of the Necromancer’s Maze to be very engaging.

Typically, the necromancers were 5th to 7th level, so they had a few hit points and plenty of spells to fire off.  The GM would give each player a set of magic items (pick 2): +1 quarterstaff, 1 healing potion, +1 ring of protection, and probably other things of use to those trapped in a dungeon with a bunch of other angry necromancers.

What We Could Do Today

Contrary to what some may believe, I don’t play a lot of video games; I tried playing Zelda: Twilight Princess when it came out, but lost heart after I spent 15 minutes training and that game was erased.  When my brother is in town we’ll play Mario Strikers and Mario Tennis.  But that is about it.

So the concept of PvP remains somewhat novel to me.  I believe this method of play would work reasonably well in today’s D&D 4E, but most 4E characters might have too many hit points to make the fights quick enough.  I suppose you could have 3rd level characters running around beating each other up.

The Enjoyable Chaos of Scripted Actions

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Back in the early days of my gaming career, I played a lot of AD&D 2nd Edition.  I had an extensive collection of books, and was frequently the Dungeon Master.  One of the things that stuck with me early on was that we declared actions before rolling initiative.

This idea of declaring actions before executing the actions has led to absolutely sublime moments: the stone giant smoothy, the memorable Irv the Mole session, and convincing a gnome to join us with only the promise of adventure.

Burning Wheel implements three subsystems for declaring actions before determining resolution.  The scripted systems of Duel of Wits, Fight, and Range & Cover.  Each time we break out one of these systems, which has predominately been Duel of Wits, I must plan my steps to victory.

As I’m writing the script, I am also subconsciously constructing a narrative of the resolution.  I’m hoping and almost expecting to get that lucky jab in against my opponent, without sustaining a wound, and victory will be mine.  And in the planning there is also the specter of failure raising the tension level.

As each player reveals their script, I watch as my well laid plans are either brought to ruin or succeed against all odds.  And thus the story I thought would come to pass does not, but is instead a story built by all participants.

And, if you are judicious about keeping the scripts, you may very well be able to reconstruct the conflict at a later date.

A Note on Player Engagement During Conflict

I’ve sat through plenty of conflict where the characters take turns as per their initiative order.  When a player’s turn pops up, they act, then when it’s not their turn they wait to record damage and adjudicate forced movement.  In short, a player is only active for a fraction of the total conflict.

Contrast this with a character involved in Fight.  Everyone in the Fight scripts their actions.  Then everyone reveals and resolves their actions.  There is engagement during the entire Fight.  That is to say, characters involved in Fight, experience less downtime than in D&D 3E+.

Modeling the Chaos of Conflict

When I first looked into Burning Wheel, I found references and interested in its scripted conflict.  I had long been engaged in the initiative system of 3E and 4E, where conflict began with a single action and every action there after was a response.

Contrast this with Burning Wheel where conflict doesn’t begin at a single point, but is instead joined by all participants.  In this chaos, there is an uncertainty, and inability to predict the conflicts outcome. The chain of events is more akin to a web of events.

There is tension as you look to your scripted sheet and realized you have an unavoidable strike coming your way, but know if you can survive you’ll deliver a great strike against an exposed opponent.

Wrapping It Up

Not being much of a poker player, I have to wonder how the scripted conflict of Fight relates to a hand of Texas Hold’em.  Engaged in the conflict, you work to outwit your opponent, but a bad flop can have devastating effects.

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Bloodstone – It Is Time

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Yoda talking with Luke on Dagobah

Yoda talking with Luke on Dagobah

This one a long time have I watched. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. — Yoda

Bloodstone is one of my gaming grails.  And I’m thinking it may very well be time to run it.

Waxing Nostalgic

I’ve had several conversations at different times with Matt and Mike about what made Bloodstone so memorable.  The campaign draws inspiration from the Seven Samurai and The Magnificent Seven, but as that resolves the greater story unfolds.  There is plenty of politics, intrigue, heroism, and large-scale military conquest.

Endless Summer

Over the summer, due to various scheduling conflicts, we’ve had a particularly hard time getting our group together for both the Precious Few campaign and our Scales of War campaign.  The last sessions were June 5 and June 26 respectively.

I feel as though I’ve lost momentum for the Precious Few, but I’m working on an idea to wrap this up in two sessions, and possibly this could be done in one session.

The Scales of War campaign marches on, and on the surface has many similarities to Bloodstone.  There are a few differences, but one of the key components is that in Bloodstone the characters are the leaders, choosing what to do.  Whereas in Scales of War the war council directs the players to go hitherto and yon.

Think about that for a moment.  Bloodstone presents the characters with situations that require a response, and gives the GM the tools to handle those responses (i.e. a map of the region, various factions, its inhabitants, etc.).  Scales of War, instead informs the characters that a huge war is being fought and they are repeatedly assigned special operations by the ruling council.

It’s All About the System

I maintain that the system you play will strongly inform, and likely even dictate, the type of game you will play. Another way of saying this is determine how you want to play and pick a system to reflect that decision.

Which leaves me to ask what rules system should I use for Bloodstone?  The contenders are: D&D 3E, D&D 1E, Burning Wheel, Dungeon World, Mouse Guard or FATE (i.e. Legends of Anglerre or modified Diaspora).  Quite a long list of contenders.

The Predicament

One thing, highlighted in the Diaspora system, but that I’ve been aware of for a while, is the disconnect of character advancement. I’m not so much concerned with advancement, as much as the effect the advancement system has on actual game play.

In the modern iterations of D&D (3E and 4E), Legends of Anglerre, and Dungeon World, character advancement involves gaining new prestige class features, more powerful attack methods, more powerful feats and stunts, custom moves, etc.

I have seen, and have been guilty of, pining for that nifty power I’m going to get in 2 levels versus focusing on my character’s current situation and moment.

Certainly, at least for me, there is a joy in watching a character’s mechanical development unfold. But none of this is narratively very memorable.  In fact, regardless of how I go about gaining XP, I will eventually gain these new features.

Contrast this with earlier editions of Dungeons and Dragons, where the mechanical advancements were often times limited to improved saves, bonuses to hit, and possibly spells. Only the most bizarre player will look longingly at improving their saves.

I recognize that more than a few wizards at 4th level saying “I can’t wait until next level, because I’m totally going to fry things with my fireball.”

Show, Don’t Tell

Contrast the above with Burning Wheel’s system for advancement.  In order to advance something, you have to “fight for what you believe in.”  Burning Wheel scoffs at the idea of killing 1000 orcs and thus improving your diplomacy.

If you want a powerful Call-On trait, then show everyone how you are getting there.  Spend that Artha!

My goal as a Game Master is engaging players in the moment.  To ensure my players are engaged, I will bring every tactic and strategy to bear.

Should the Bloodstone game be run using a system that does not readily lend itself to pining for those cool new class features? If so then we will be playing D&D 1E, Burning Wheel, Mouse Guard, or a modified Legends of Anglerre (seeking inspiration in Diaspora).

Of course, if I’m running the game, I can simply dictate that we will be playing whatever system tickles my fancy.  There is one other consideration, who will be playing the game with me?

Master of Bandwidth

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Prelude

Years ago, I religiously read Ray Winniger’s Dungeoncraft column.  It is a treasure trove of insights into GMing Dungeons and Dragons, with many relevant insights for other RPGs. In his Action and Reaction essay, Ray Winniger names the three responsibilities of GMing:

  • “Providing effective descriptions.”
  • “Determining how to resolve the outcomes of the characters’ actions.”
  • “Deciding when you should automatically reveal information and when you should force the players to specifically ask for information.”

There are likely other assumed responsibilities (i.e. keeping player attention), but the outlined responsibilities are at the core of an effectively run role-playing game.

Lewd

This afternoon, my twitter feed had a very enticing tweet from Ryan Maklin concerning “The Fate Pot” and player-on-player compels. In it, he references the idea of the Fate Pot, a collection of Fate tokens that can be used by a player to compel another player.  Fate already allows players to compel other players, but they must expend their own precious currency to do so.  Ryan highlights a tremendous advantage of the Fate Pot:

[Wayne Coburn, the GM,] said that we were free to compel each other, taking coins from the [Fate pool] rather than using our own. I thought this was brilliant–the GM has to spend a lot of bandwidth keeping track of things to not notice every moment worthy of a compel.

Further democratizing how a character is pushed/pulled through the narrative in essence frees the GM for other tasks: describing the world and determining how to resolve action.  It frees up the GMs bandwidth.

Which ties into my academic understanding of Apocalypse World (I have yet to play this game).  In Apocalypse World the Master of Ceremonies has a very clearly defined method for resolving action.   The MC cannot throw a punch that does measurable damage until a player has acted.  Once the player has acted, the resolution is shared between the acting player and the acted upon player.  So the MC can focus on “barfing forth apocalyptica“ and revealing information.

In addition, Apocalypse World is the first system I’ve encountered that keeps dice rolling strictly in the other players’ domain.  And the benefit of this?  Freeing bandwidth.  No need to worry about making opposed Stealth and Observation tests. The Master of Ceremonies can focus on framing the situation and reacting to the character’s action.

Postlude

So here we are, investing energy in freeing up a GM’s bandwidth.  Dungeons and Dragons 4E has focused on making the Dungeon Mastering easier.  They have worked to reduce prep time, continually refining stat blocks, and encounter presentation.  Which illuminates a general understanding that it ain’t easy being the Game Master, Dungeon Master, Referee, Master of Ceremonies, or Games Orderly Director.

I wonder how a person’s mental agility changes overtime for those that run a role-playing game versus those that don’t.  A longitudinal study would be quite interesting.