originally posted at https://canmom.tumblr.com/post/750512...
So if the actual TTRPG games are mostly learned by observation and practice, what is the something that RPG books claim to give you in order to enable that?
Here’s three things I can think of.
This isn’t intended as a Forge-like categorisation of games, most RPG books offer (or claim to offer) all of these to some degree, ideally in complementary ways…
- A ruling reference - RPG book as legal system
- A grab bag of interesting prompts - RPG book as inspiration in the moment
- A machine to guide you to a specific experience - RPG book as auteur blueprint
- Secret fourth thing…?
- Story games are not books either
- The shared context of storygames
A ruling reference - RPG book as legal system
In the intro to a typical mainstream RPG book, this is typically the explanation that is given.
Over the course of a telling a story together, all sorts of weird edge cases come up where you might not want to simply make a call on how it should resolve. Moreover, consistency is valued, for both challenge and narrative reasons.
In this case, the RPG book is a big collection of rulings for specific situations. ‘What happens when a character falls off a cliff?’ You can look it up. It’s like legal precedents. This is how a lot of the stuff in the early D&D books started - stuff that someone had done, and a referee had made a ruling, and it got written down. Then it would get systematised, unified, and streamlined so that it’s easier to remember and extend to new situations.
A lighter game avoids special cases and just suggests a general procedure for resolving situations of uncertainty, conflicts etc.
This angle doesn’t tend to cover procedures for how the game is physically run - how to go about setting up the scenario, who should get priority when speaking, etc. etc. - beyond perhaps offering prebuilt modules to inspire you. In older games, most of that is stuff you pick up by watching. In newer games… well, hold on.
A grab bag of interesting prompts - RPG book as inspiration in the moment
Most RPG books have flavour text; many also have tables of weird shit you can roll on or select when building a character, character sheets full of interesting abilities, descriptions of NPCs and so on. A select few RPGs like Unknown Armies and Chuubo’s Marvellous Wish-Granting Engine have really distinctive prose too.
The aim of all these tools is to give you something to latch onto when you’re in the moment and you need to think of the next thing to say. It’s also to get people onto some shared understanding of what this game is all about.
This is where the bulk of many RPG books lies. It’s explicitly the aim of Apocalypse World’s MC moves. Many one-page RPGs are nothing but lists of evocative names and description elements, and a short snatch of prose.
Prompt tables and lists of names are popular in just about every tradition of RPG design - trad, storygames, OSR, all use them. Sometimes they’re the most memorable thing about an RPG, like Dark Heresy’s crit tables.
Sometimes pages of tables is the RPG - in recent years, card-based games have become popular, using a regular deck of cards which indexes into a big table of events, each of which is like ‘here’s a short description. how do you respond?’. This type of game has a great deal in common with storylet-based interactive fiction like Fallen London.
Prompts don’t have to be short, though. Arguably an adventure module can be pretty much this - something you consult when players arrive in a new place to get an idea of who they should meet for example.
In D&D, the Monster Manual is straight up a book of real freaky guys you can put in your game. It also has stat blocks for them, of course, but the descriptions and pictures do a lot of work here to make them concrete.
This is why I describe the pictures in Lancer as load-bearing. The pictures help - or are supposed to help - grease the wheels of imagination when you’re trying to imagine mechs.
This function of RPGs is a large part of the angle you’re playing if you tie the game to a particular genre, setting or IP.
A machine to guide you to a specific experience - RPG book as auteur blueprint
So here’s the newer flavour.
RPGs can be one of the most feelings-dense forms of art that humans create - it’s your story, with your characters. This is something that tends to arise organically after you spend a long time with a character and ‘get into their head’.
However, there is often a desire on the designer’s side to structure the game to bring about a particular kind of emotional experience more directly. From horror games to games self-consciously ‘about’ colonialism, abuse, romance, etc., these games try to give you a particular experience, similar to what a film or book gives you - or indeed, a computer game.
Here are some examples:
My Life With Master is an older Forge game. It’s about the ‘Igor’ servant characters in a classic horror movie, billing itself as ‘a roleplaying game of villainy, self-loathing, and unrequited love’. It presents you with an emotionally charged scenario and mechanics that try to push you towards specific drama - if you want to be critical, a firm instance of the incentives and buttons oriented design that Huntsman was talking about, sometimes quite explicitly saying ‘this mechanic was designed to…’
Dog Eat Dog is a game ‘a game of imperialism and assimilation on the Pacific islands’, with the DM reimagined as a colonial power adding more and more restrictions and the players as native people who will inevitably break its rules, until they are eventually pushed to ‘run amok’ (fatally), or assimilate. It’s a game whose entire argument is more or less spelled out in the book itself.
But games don’t have to be this narrowly scoped to have this kind of aspiration. Something like Apocalypse World still wants to bring about certain kinds of interaction, laid out quite explicitly as ‘agendas’ for the MC and players. It is strongly ‘opinionated’, in programmer terms.
Even a very flexible game can take on this model. Fiasco is a very abstract structure, designed to set up a chaotic situation like in a Coen Brothers movie. Microscope is designed to give you a fractal zoom in and out of a fictional history. These games are almost all procedure; Fiasco has some fantastic prompt tables, and a clear way to cook up your own, but the bulk of it is the stuff it tells you to do with scenes and dice.
These could be seen as games on an auteur model, with many of the emotional beats of the scenario already rigged up in advance. You get this type of book to experience a good/meaningful story - with a certain amount of flexibility in the details that gets you more attached. If there is a GM/MC/etc. they have instructions to facilitate the expression of that story.
…well, I refer to it as an auteur model. Thankfully not everyone is Ron Edwards! Apocalypse World has a whole chapter about how to modify the game to your taste, or build new games on its framework, and that - plus its conceptual simplicity - probably played a role in its hundreds of derivatives. ‘Hacking’ games was well established as a practice in the storygames milieu right from the early days. Probably the vast majority of games put out on itch.io are simply hacks of an established framework, very few offer real innovation.
Despite this, the offer of these products is still that they’ll tell you how create a kind of verbal machine to realise some very specific thing.
Secret fourth thing…?
I can’t think of others right now, but I hate presenting a list as exhaustive unless I can prove it’s exhaustive. It’s very likely there’s some other function a book can claim to perform.
However, to summarise, you look at an RPG book to get:
- a consistent set of rulings to handle situations of uncertainty
- a set of prompts to help inspire your imagination when you need inspiration
- a carefully designed procedure to lead you to a specific experience
The third thing is kind of a different beast to the other two, huh? You might be thinking that the first two are trad games and the third one is post-Forge ‘story games’, but it’s really much older than that. Paranoia is a great early example; there are shades of it in many games published in the 80s and 90s. Not all these games are affiliated with the Forge and its diaspora either - take for example Jenna Moran’s games and Bliss Stage.
Story games are not books either
The Forge and its diaspora led to a lot of games being printed, and launched the careers of many an ‘indie TTRPG designer’, which was not really a thing you could be in the same way before. It would be easy therefore to think this was the main contribution: we should assess it on the basis of the printed games that resulted.
However, nothing says you have to use a book to pilfer from their idea pool.
The really interesting contribution of the whole movement, to my eye, is that it calls our attention to a facet of TTRPGs that had often been left implicit. Who speaks, when? Who gets the ‘narrative authority’ to make the final call on what becomes ‘true’? How do you organise time - do you frame scenes, use flashbacks, cut between different characters? What makes a dice roll exciting? How do you work out what would engage the other players, and communicate your own interests? Are you trying to help your character win, or are you more like a writer who might choose to make them suffer? How do you make a compelling character arc? What can be changed around behind the scenes to make a better story?
These are all aspects of ‘play’, the thing that you do at the table. Any given TTRPG group will settle on its own implicit or explicit approach to this kind of thing.
Different RPG books will tell you to do this or that. Some games will tell you to set stakes, or make failure interesting, or make choices that act as ‘flags’ to show what you’re looking for.
But these tools are not tied to any specific game. You don’t need the ‘permission’ of a book, nor can a book stop you doing it. A book may lay out a procedure that makes it easier, may introduce you to an idea that you haven’t heard before, but once you have the idea, you can play with it however you like.
The way I approach a trad game like D&D, from either side of the DM screen, has become very different after my sojourn into the world of story games. A lot of what I liked there, I kept doing. Other inspiration comes from outside of the ‘hobby’ entirely, in related milieu like improv comedy.
This is something the OSR milieu seems to understand quite well. Everything is expected to be mixed, matched, and interpreted by the needs of your group. Posts will be framed as mere advice, which can be picked up and applied regardless of context.
But that all depends on a certain amount of common ground as to ‘what the game is’. There is an authoritative DM who runs the scenario. The emphasis of the game is probably on exploring some kind of ruin and surviving in a dark, decaying fantasy world populated by various factions at odds with each other. Players control flimsy characters whose survival is not guaranteed, but if they live long enough, they can become major powers. There is a heavy strategic aspect: you are trying to use your resources to survive and get something. This is the general shape of a ‘prototypical OSR game’.
The shared context of storygames
Story games form their own subsubculture, but they do not have this level of shared context. Instead, a different kind of shared context is kind of implicit in the milieu.
Here’s how things go at the London Indie RPG Meetup Group, which I’ve attended a couple of times: a group of nerds gather in a pub. People will pitch games with a couple of sentences; then people will form groups and play that game as a one-shot session. Someone will have a book, or printouts. Most players will not have heard of the game before.
In this kind of context, a lot of the quirks of story games make sense. ‘Read this out’ paragraphs, rapid character creation based on selecting prompts, simple mechanics designed to push you into drama as quickly as possible: all of this stuff is perfect for a one-shot game you play once or a few times. This type of game is not really trying to ‘take on’ trad games.
But then there’s the ‘middle ground’ kind of game, which are closer to a ‘trad’ game - a game master, persistent characters each controlled by one player, multiple sessions, progression - but also instruct you to do something more experimental by trad-game standards. This includes Apocalypse World and its derivatives, Blades in the Dark and its derivatives, the Burning Wheel/Mouse Guard lineage, Jenna Moran’s games… and so on.
It’s this point of overlap where things get sticky and it all becomes a bit tense. Since, well, story game fans can be quite evangelistic - and part of that evangelism depends on a dismissively book-determinist view of trad TTRPGs. But conversely, trad players can be quite reluctant to imagine there is any other way of approaching this whole activity, and dismissive of any other approach. I do not like it, Sam-I-am.
So you end up with a situation of camps, with both groups bristling at the sense that they should be compelled to give up the thing they like to do it the way they consider inferior.
And if you want to criticise the other camp, what do you do? Pick up their book and criticise it as a product, according to your sense of what a TTRPG book is for. Which seems hopelessly besides the point when a book is such a small part of the story.
I’ve played trad games, story games, OSR games, ‘freeform’ forum games, LARP, MMO roleplaying, improv comedy… Not as much as I’d like of anything, but enough to get a sense of the many ways we can do this ‘roleplaying’ thing, whether by explicit rule or implicit convention.
So the puzzle I now have is, if there is to be a book involved, what is that book there to do? What really makes for a good RPG book? Are there other ways to get that thing? How do you game design honestly?
We’ll try to address that in part 3 of this series, coming… sometime soon, hopefully!
Comments