Posts Tagged ‘Snippet-post’

Low permanency and live performance

Tuesday, September 12th, 2006

One advantage that the low-permanency of roleplaying brings to the table is the same advantage that other low-permanence mediums have.  Consider anything that’s about live performance: ballet, live music, theater, etc.  Each of them have a sense of uniqueness.  A sense that this performance is special and never to be repeated.

There’s this interesting, for lack of a better word, ‘vigor’ to live performances.  There’s this interesting energy that comes with live performances.  I believe that this is, at least in part, due to the inability to edit.  There’s this interesting pressure to get it right the first time because there is no second time.

There’s also a certain intimacy to live performance.  No outsider will ever be able to have that experience.  This is not the case with recorded mediums like film and text, in which an outsider can come in later and get the same content as any of the participants (though, of course, the context will be different).  This is especially true of live creative acts like roleplaying, where it’s difficult to reproduce even a similar performance in terms of content (though, interestingly, the context is easier to recapture).

Low permanency mediums are risky

Monday, September 11th, 2006

You might remember that one of the things I talked about way back in that huge Medium Matters post was low vs. high permanency.  ‘Permanency’ is really just a poor term that roughly means how solid, accurate, and concrete your record of play is.

The vast majority of traditional table-top play (of all sorts of games: board, card, roleplaying, etc.) is very low permanency.  Records of play are purely mental, and suffer from selective editing and all the problems associated with having a single, interested viewpoint.  We often remember different things because different things strike us as important in play (this move, or that character, or drawing that one card).

On top of that, we often remember things that are contradictory.  I remember you winning because you played one thing, and you remember winning because you played something else.  You remember allowing something to happen reluctantly, while I remember you enthusiastically supporting it.  Memory is a tricky thing, and the fact that we rely on it for so much of our record-keeping in play is a big deal.

Of course with short-play, single-session games (most board and card games) this is no big deal.  We don’t really care all that much whether you won that game of chess with a knight’s fork or a bishop’s fork.  We remember that you won, and we could just sit down and play another game in an hour, which is way more interesting than arguing over what happened in the last game.

But in roleplaying games, which carry a tradition of linearity, we can’t go back, and we can’t replay things.  This can cause friction since what we do now is based on what we did before.  Suddenly it matters whether a character was reluctant or enthusiastic, the story may depend on it.

Today’s post is something of a warning.  I’m talking about risks.  But the rest of the week is going to be devoted to why these risks are worth it, and what amazingly cool things they bring to the table.

Hurdles for new publishing models

Friday, September 8th, 2006

I’ve been talking this week about some of the ways that the dominant model of roleplaying game publishing constrains roleplaying both economically (in that there isn’t a solid existing market spot in the mass market for the purchase of rules), and in design (limits on the sorts of mechanics that can be functionally used). In doing so, I’ve been advocating the consideration of other models for publishing.

But there are some pretty big hurdles to new models. The two big ones are that you are starting from scratch, and that they cost more money.

The current model of roleplaying publishing (by which I mean the publishing of rules/procedures and expecting players to provide all other components) has been extensively developed by some really smart and dedicated people. Just take a look through the Forge’s publishing forum to get a good look. The dominant model has been honed over years, with hundreds (if not thousands) of man-hours invested in learning and teaching techniques.

New models are going to lose a lot of that accumulated knowledge. While some of the lessons will still hold, a lot of them will need to be reconsidered, and some of them will simply no longer apply. This means that new models of publishing are going to require significantly more time and effort to work through. This is compounded by the fact that, to the best of my knowledge, there are not analagous communities (at least not in terms of accumulated experience/knowledge) for other models (such as board game or card game publishing).

Second problem is one of money. The current dominant model is basically built upon the sale of information. In the digital age, information is cheap to produce. Publishing a game that includes components is necessarily going to be more expensive to make. It also requires a higher level of capital investment in materials for prototyping. In the current model, all you need is a word processor; but in a more component-oriented model you need scissors and glue and markers and all sorts of other things.

So, while it’s easy for me to advocate new models, I acknowledge that it’s way easier to talk about them than to build them. That doesn’t dent my enthusiasm, but it does suggest that changes are going to be slower than I might like.

That’s it for crazy publishing models for a while.  Tune in next week for an exciting discussion of why low-permanency mediums of play (such as face-to-face play) are amazingly cool.

New publishing models allow for new games

Thursday, September 7th, 2006

Continuing with the theme of what, precisely, we are publishing in roleplaying, today I’m going to suggest one reason I consider extremely powerful for trying new ways of publishing games: adopting new models allows us to publish games that we can’t publish in the current model.

The publishing model that is typically used for roleplaying games acts as a constraint on design in similar ways that games act as constraints on fictional input.  The constraints can foster creativity, but in doing so they place limits on creativity.  That is, the constraints are powerful tools, but they are artificial ones that sometimes need to be discarded.

Consider Joshua Newman’s Under the Bed as an example.  It’s a game that is practically unworkable within the traditional roleplaying publishing model.  Sure the rules could call for the player to write down the various traits on their own, but that’s not going to fly with most gamers.  And look at Jason Morningstar’s Shab al-Hiri Roach, with its roach cards.  Both of these are games that don’t work in that traditional publishing model.

Most board and card games have components that act as short-cuts and reminders more than they act as necessary elements of play.  Games with scoring tracks, or fake currency allow you to track important numbers without relying on memory or scribbled notes.  Contrast this with roleplaying games in which you are forced to rely on memory or scribbled notes.  This limits how complex you can make the game.  Vincent Baker’s Dogs in the Vineyard is a great example of this: there’s a practical cap to how complex a character can get and how long a conflict can go based on how many traits you can track in your head.  A character should never get so complex that players might forget whether they have used any given trait in the conflict yet or not.  This is fine, but it’s also limiting; there’s nothing wrong with having characters who can be played completely mnemonically, but there’s nothing wrong with having characters that can’t either, as long as you have the tools to make that possible.

The current publishing model for roleplaying games, with its focus on publishing texts and not components, must therefore rely on ‘found’ or ‘common’ components for play.  This, in turn, forces an interesting inverse consideration on publishers.  Games can be published that require relatively common components (d6s instead of d12s, for instance) in order to target a wider market, but doing so inherently limits the design.  In the current indie roleplaying game market, if it requires anything more esoteric than a polyhedral dice set, some glass beads, a deck (or two) of playing cards, a pack of poker chips, or a print-out of a provided PDF file then it’s hard to sell.

I’d love to see some of the ideas that would surface if we weren’t so constrained by our ‘selling books’ publishing model.

Publishing procedures vs. publishing components

Wednesday, September 6th, 2006

Building on our discussion from yesterday in which I suggested that the model that is generally used for publishing roleplaying games is similar to the model used for publishing card and board games, today I want to discuss a fundamental, and possibly important, difference.

Publishing roleplaying games is about selling procedures and rules. When you think about it, this is not the model employed by other forms of games (with the possible exception of CCGs, which I’m hoping to go into more depth on tomorrow). Board and card games are about selling components not rules. In fact, most game publishers have their rules available online for free.

Most roleplaying games don’t provide components at all. You are required to print your own character sheets (though the resources to do so are generally provided), and you have to bring your own dice/cards/whatever to the table.

This puts roleplaying games in an odd position commercially. They don’t fit into the conceptual slot for games because what is being ‘sold’ is fundamentally different. They don’t quite fit into the traditional how-to model (things like cookbooks), at least not in the Forge paradigm, because it is expected that you will follow the directions provided precisely, and not change things up.

The question that comes to my mind when considering all this is: must we publish roleplaying games in this idiosyncratic manner? Must it be about selling procedures? Could a workable model of roleplaying publishing be built around selling components? What about selling teaching texts? Would those still be roleplaying games?

Thomas

What is it that we design?

Tuesday, September 5th, 2006

The Forge philosophy of roleplaying game design resembles philosophies of board, card, and (traditional) video game design.  That is, the product is designed to be played as-written.  All rules-changes are intended to be front-loaded as a design consideration rather than a play consideration (rules variants, video game mods, etc.).

This is a very workable model.  It has resulted in some extremely tightly designed and very fun games.  However, as we are constantly reminded, gaming is really all about actual play.  And it turns out that designing games isn’t the only way to impact actual play.

It’s not like this is all that revolutionary: I know people who own libraries devoted to improving their chess and/or go play, and there’s always Robin’s Laws of Good Game Mastering (by Robin Laws).

But let us consider another potential model: the model of hobby crafts.  While there are many publications that are simply step-by-step instructions for hobby crafts, they tend to be written in a slightly different tone.  It is not expected that readers will duplicate your steps precisely because it is assumed that their needs are at least slightly different from the writer’s.  Thus it is expected that the reader will take your instructions, and tweak them to get what they want out of them.

Further, there are many publications in hobby crafting that are focused purely on techniques.  Articles about a cool new material, or about a neat way of accomplishing useful effects, or a cheap solution to a complex problem are extremely common.

I’m not advocating that we give up our games model of publishing roleplaying stuff, but I am suggesting that we consider interesting new ways of publishing.  Just because we have traditionally worked within the game design paradigm doesn’t mean that there aren’t other really cool things we could be doing.