Is it a "Hell yes"?

One of the things I've frequently heard with regard to both hobbies and life choices is that you shouldn't make a big decision unless the answer is "Hell yes!" This is usually applied to things like moving to a new city, moving in with a romantic partner, or spending a bunch of money on something. But it can work for hobbies as well, when deciding how to spend one's time and effort.

And one of the elements of my hobby that I've been thinking a lot about for the past two weeks is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, 2nd Edition. I know, I know - I said I'd be taking a break from trying to run D&D in any of its forms. But that doesn't mean I don't still spend time thinking about it. Part of the reason that I switched my campaign from it to Basic Fantasy is because I viewed the front-loaded complexity of AD&D (as in, it takes a long time to make characters, but the actual gameplay is pretty smooth and fast for someone who's familiar with the rules) as a deterrent to new players.

Maybe (as some of you have pointed out) I just got a group of dud players. The decrease in complexity hasn't served to get them to actually show up to sessions, or pay attention if they do show up. Meanwhile, the same lightness that I initially reveled in now means that I have to do a lot more work on my own, as it's harder to import rules from other books I own without doing some (at times extensive) tweaking.

Not to mention the nostalgia that I still feel for 2e. Unlike the fond memories I have of the Pathfinder Beginner Box, however, the system is still one that I like; Pathfinder is both front-, middle-, and end-loaded, not to mention excessively dependent on miniatures. (I do like minis, but I don't want to be forced to use them - especially for a random encounter with a couple of rats.) In contrast, 2e is flexible enough for both my needs and those of players who desire a moderately complex system (with specialist wizards and the wide variety of mechanically distinct weapons).

So - assuming I had courteous, consistent players who were willing to pull their weight as far as learning the rules is concerned - would I want to run AD&D 2nd Edition again?

Hell yes!

What Dungeons Are For

Part three in a loose trilogy, following on from my previous post.

I am tired. Not just tired of trying to find players who will engage with a game on its own terms, nor merely tired of pulling teeth to get people to respond to my queries for a time and place to game. My fatigue is a lot simpler:

I am tired of Dungeons & Dragons.

I spend hours upon hours tweaking the rules to my liking. I seek the input of the few players that can attend consistently. I draw maps, and stock them, and work out connections between various antagonists, both individual and collective. And what happens?

Games Should Be Hard... Except When They Shouldn't

I've come to the conclusion that there aren't really any groups near me who are interested in playing actual roleplaying games. Following on from the distinction made in my previous post, most of the players I've been able to find are more interested in storytelling games. Part of this is due to the aversion to learning rules, part of it is the aversion to any kind of challenge to the player as opposed to the character.

This attitude is especially bizarre to me because the exact opposite attitude prevails where video games are concerned. A couple of years ago, some of my friends couldn't stop raving about Dark Souls and how awesome it was. For those unfamiliar, it's a hack-and-slash game with light CRPG elements; its primary features are its brutal difficulty with no margin for error, and its bass-ackward control scheme (on consoles at least). It probably falls into the same category as games like Super Meat Boy and the more recent Cuphead, although it's a 3D game as opposed to 2D.

I gave it a shot, but not only do I not have the reflexes required for these types of games, there's a part at the beginning that soured me on the game even more than the terrible controls and incomprehensible story did. In the first area where you have some freedom of movement, there are two paths that pretty much look identical. Taking one of the paths is apparently not intended, and will lead to facing much tougher enemies than the other path... a beginner's trap. I was pissed - royally pissed - when I was told this by another friend.

Now, the same people who positively relish this kind of abuse in video-game format balk at the slightest amount of perceived unfairness on the tabletop. "You mean I have to roll for my stats? But that means I might get low rolls!" (To the average d20 System player, "low" rolls are equal to or less than 14 on 4d6 drop low.) The same applies to their interaction with the game world being more descriptive than "I make an Insight check."

Beginner's traps can be found in RPGs in the form of useless skills or feats, while getting wiped out happens as a result of deviating from your prescribed class role, rather than not having reflexes sharpened to a monomolecular edge by can after can of energy drinks. While playing a cleric in D&D 5, I've had players chew me out for doing anything other than healing them, right this second. I'd argue that, hey, maybe you should stop charging into melee against demon-possessed gnolls, but this would fall on deaf ears.

Finally, it's been explained at length why video games will never be as limitless as tabletop RPGs can be - and some video games are more linear than others. True, having too many options of more or less equal desirability can lead to paralysis (and does for me in a lot of cases), but I've repeatedly had players respond with silence, blank stares, and snarky pseudo-answers when asked what they want to do at the next session. The idea of agency mystifies them; I haven't figured out whether this is the reason so many of them enjoy anime, or the result of internalizing too much of its plot clichés. Either way, they seem to demand an adventure path... but I'm too weary to make one for them, for reasons that will have to fit in another post.

Soundtrack Sunday: Conan the Destroyer

As sorry as I am to rip off Stelios' gimmick here, I wanted to share this one, as I recently re-watched this film. Perhaps you may be thinking, "What? Really - that silly, goofy one with Grace Jones that killed off the franchise for so many years?"

I admit, I'm not too happy about A View to a Kill either. Leaving the shortcomings of certain Bond films aside and getting back on track, it's surprising to hear this caliber of music in a film that is, arguably, more of a parody of the 1982 film Conan the Barbarian than it is a sequel. Fortunately, the one area in which this film was not a huge step down from its predecessor was in the soundtrack. Of course, nothing can really replace Basil Poledouris' stirring themes from the original movie, but here the result was not a complete aural betrayal of everything the first film did right.

Ordinarily, I would embed a video below (as Stelios typically does), but YouTube won't let me embed this one clip. Less fortunate still, this piece of score has yet to be officially released on CD, so I had to use the actual scene from the movie; the orchestral strains are still pretty prominent nonetheless.

Sit back, and enjoy!

Storytelling "Games" Are Different

Storytelling games aren't games, per se. Not in the same sense as a board game like Trivial Pursuit, a video game like Marathon 2, or a quasi-sport like tenpin bowling. The closest term I can find that describes them is an "activity", but that word is so vague and broad that it adds additional time to most conversations, to the extent that one frequently resorts to the term "game" anyway just to get out of the conversational clover-loop.

Me: I'll be running an... activity next Today.

Any human: What kind of activity?

Me: Umm... a storytelling activity.

Any human: What?

Me: A... game, kind of.

I'm not the only one who can't find a more appropriate, generally-understood word than "game" to describe this sort of thing. On the American version of Whose Line Is It Anyway? (one of the few shows I will stop and watch if it's on) the various portions of the show, such as "Dubbing" and "Scenes From A Hat", are referred to as games by the host. There are sometimes rules put in place; in "Questions", the performer is buzzed and has to swap out with their teammate if they can't think of a response, or answer in the form of a statement.

But the penalty for breaking the rules of the show itself - i.e., no content that makes the censor unhappy - is that the "game" temporarily halts, and things are reset to a prior point. (This isn't apparent when watching the broadcast, but watching the outtakes reels like this one can be very instructive - not to mention, frequently just as funny as the finished show.) The rules in an improvisational activity like WLIIA are more guidelines to ensure that "play" proceeds smoothly. This is purely format-oriented and censor-oriented in that show, but in a storytelling "game", tone and agency are also important.

Another example from television is helpful here; in an episode of The Office (again, the US version) where Michael is at an improv class, he frequently disrupts others' scenes by charging in with a handgun and shooting everyone. The other participants generally comply, acting as if they were shot, but are clearly not happy about it; their reactions suggest that this happens even more frequently than the viewers are shown. We've probably all encountered players like Michael, and even if they aren't bad people, they're bad players in the sense of being disruptive - having fun at their peers' expense.

I would suggest that this tends to happen more in storytelling "games" than in roleplaying games, due to the use of easily-bent guidelines rather than mutually agreed-upon and enforced rules, but I haven't had enough experience with the former to be sure; perhaps someone else can offer their two cents.

What's the difference?

But what separates a storytelling "game" from an RPG? An easy distinction is sometimes provided by the product itself; Prince Valiant, as well as most of the World of Darkness lines (Classic, New, and Chronicles), specifically refer to themselves as Storytelling Games. These games de-emphasize rules, suggesting that dice rolls be minimal and that rules be changed or ignored in the service of the "story"; in Prince Valiant, it is even explicitly stated that players have only limited agency.

In contrast, a roleplaying game - emphasis on game - has defined rules that are adhered to, and the emergence of a "story" can be something that is applied afterwards, rather than consciously created by the Referee and/or certain players. The game may not have the same limits as a board or card game, but it does still have some limits, demarcated by the rules.

If a game specifically identifies itself as an RPG, that doesn't mean that the presentation of the rules is geared toward providing rules for a game. It certainly doesn't mean that a particular group will treat it as such. I've been in multiple games referred to as "Dungeons & Dragons", and with a bright red D&D emblem on the covers of the rulebooks, that were clearly being run as storytelling games. I've also discovered that some games, such as Halberd, are too loosely written and full of gaps to function as actual RPGs - but as the framework for a storytelling game, they're adequate.

This does not mean that storytelling games are bad or wrong. A storytelling game can be a great deal of fun for those who enjoy improvisational thinking and character interaction, when the players and the Storyteller "click" and agree on what they will and will not do. (Boundaries are just as important in a storytelling game as in an RPG - possibly more so.) And I've participated in storytelling games that were almost completely free-form, with the only method of task resolution being a Magic 8-Ball (seriously). These were fun, but in a very different way than an RPG.

Neither a storytelling game nor a roleplaying game is the best kind of game, and it's definitely possible to enjoy both. But I think that having a clearer distinction between the two, and making it clear which is preferred and which is being offered, will lead to a lot less friction and disappointment about the game itself. There will always be overly-controlling "Dungeon Masters", narcissistic players, and potato-headed rulebook authors, but if a player knows that they're getting into a storytelling game and is prepared to participate in such, they will be less likely to balk at the lack of risk or the use of fuzzy rules (heh) than if they were told that they were joining a roleplaying game.

I'd replace the title with "Storytelling", but that would make it less clear to most.

Authentic Role-playing

Quick update: the first episode of Alexis' Authentic Role-playing podcast is live as of yesterday. I've just listened to it, and there is some good discussion between Alexis and his guest, Sterling Blake (who should be commended for taking the plunge, as it were).

I'm sharing the news here for both selfish and unselfish reasons. In the latter category, I quite enjoyed his prior podcast, and getting the word out (through my admittedly limited "channel") will hopefully mean that more podcasts in a similar vein can be made in the future. In the former... well, I don't want to jinx anything, so I'll just say that I'm looking forward to the remaining episodes of this season.

A Gnome By Any Other Gname

A slight follow-up to my previous post, with some more musing I've done on the roles of dwarves, gnomes, and halflings in my campaign.

Previously, I've been hamstrung in attempting to make major changes to my game, largely in part due to the ruleset being used (AD&D 2e for some time). I was reluctant to change things due to other elements of the rules taking the specifics of each part into account when making additional material. Admittedly, 2e isn't nearly as strict about this as 3.5 or Pathfinder, but the problem is still there to some extent.

A major advantage of switching to a sparser system (in this case Basic Fantasy, although it could have been original D&D or Dungeon Crawl Classics if different circumstances had prevailed) is that I feel more freedom to build things up as I and my players see fit. The players who have little interest in giving input on the rules - i.e., most of them - find it easier to begin with less and then add more, instead of starting with too much and then having me take it away (which I would have to do if I ran 5e or some other thing).

In the interest of "less", I've been thinking about what exactly a gnome should be in my game world. When most people hear "gnome", they think of the really little lawn jockeys with white beards and pointed hats. The same might be said of "elf", but the cultural impact of The Lord of the Rings is so massive by this point that the roughly human-sized elves come to mind just as easily. Since the Bombadilesque gnomes aren't a firm factor in my game... why not make them Tiny?