So, while reading a random (yet rather heavy) thread on Anyway, I came across a link to Play Passionately.

It’s sort of a mini-blog by Jesse Burneko in which he waxes poetically about how he likes to play RPGs.

Thing is, it’s a lot more than that. It is, in fact, a high-density wisdom container.

It’s short enough that you can read it from the top all the way through in about an hour or so. If you’re interested in role-playing at all, I strongly urge you to do so.

Recently, I played a mildly successful game of PTA. As play goes, it wasn’t un-fun, but it was far from the hallmark of awesome I know I can get from PTA. One of the players said she didn’t really like the game at all. Her character “did things she would never do”.

At the time, I didn’t really understand what she was talking about.

Now, I do.

Cheers,
J.

So, after a two-year absence over at the Forge, I started a new Actual Play discussion there:

[3.x/4e] Encounter XPs are not a reward, they are a pacing mechanism

I could have posted it here, but I’d rather tap into their collective wisdom, on this particular topic.

Cheers,
J.

Lisbon is a very quiet place at 5AM on a Monday morning, which is the time we finally rolled the car into the garage after a gruelling, yet utterly satisfying, eleven-day RPG marathon retreat.

Yes, that’s right, eleven days. We left home just before midnight on Wednesday, the 6th, bound for the Algarve, a place called Chinicato (just outside the city of Lagos, and no, not Nigeria), which is about a two and a half hour drive. Then, for eleven straight days, we did nothing but eat, sleep and play RPGs.

We played Spirit of the Century, Dust Devils, Sorcerer and Mortail Coil, but mostly, we played Primetime Adventures. A whole five-episode-plus-pilot season, which, incidentally, marked my wife’s debut as head of the table, and she did a great job, so make sure to pat her on the back next time you see her!

As available time and energy permit, I’ll be posting Actual Play for all that stuff at the Forge (where else), and I’ll be editing this post for links, so stay tuned and be patient.

Anyway, it was a good week-and-a-half, but there’s no place like home, and I can’t wait to get back to my regularly scheduled weekly gaming.

In other news, it looks like my new anti-spam thingie isn’t working either. Bah…

Go Play!

Cheers,
J.

2007-06-23: PTA Actual Play
2007-07-21: Sorcerer I Actual Play

Six months and a couple of posts ago, I injected a few paragraphs on a D&D campaign I’ve been running, and I was asked to expand on what changed, what didn’t, how I play, how I don’t, do I like the rain, what about the color green interests me, and a bunch of other assorted queries of varied relevance.

Today, on the eve of our next RPG retreat, I decided to get this task out of the way. So, without further ado, I present to you an Anatomy of a Campaign!

Campaign Log

One thing I do is keep a log of all the stuff that’s happened in the campaign since it began. I do that because it’s a fun read for me, and for those that played it (though not necessarily for third parties), because it’s smoother when I want to bring new players to the table, and mostly, because it makes my life easier with regard to keeping things consistent, human memory not being 100% perfect and all that.

Also, because it’s useful to the discussion, the stuff I’ll be writing about follows from the in-game events in this here log excerpt.

Soulday, Magic 36, 400
22:00 14 C, None, Clear sky, Wind 28 mph
As the party prepares to camp out for the night, Lao spots a lone figure sitting on a boulder. Approaching the figure, they come to the conclusion that it is another lich, although this one seems like it could be accessible. Lao and Sherazade attempt to converse with it, and succeed. The lich joins the party at their camp and has a friendly chat with them regarding various tales of the desert.

Manday, Luck 7, 400
Guided by the lich’s, tales, the party arrives at a ghost village, near a small oasis, in the mid-afternoon. They spot a shifting metallic glow coming from the nearby hills, and are overflown by a large blue dragon.

Parday, Luck 8, 400
The party prepares for a possible dragon attack and heads off to investigate the glow. They meet the source of the glow, Boromish an adult brass dragon. There, they are told about Deremorth and Borlach, sons of Yalmarish, who is identified as a blue dragon. They are told about an age-old conflict between the desert dragons, but Boromish is not forthcoming about the details.
Because Boromish is being held by Yalmarish with the aid of a magical jewel, the dragon asks for the party’s help in destroying it. The party agrees. They head down into a hole in the mountain. Within, they meet and defeat a band of six Fire Giants.
As a reward for freeing him, Boromish hands each member of the party a specially selected item.

Deaday, Luck 9, 400
8:30 31 C, None, Clear sky, Wind 5 mph
Early the next day, the party finally runs into the expected confrontation, as Deremorth and Borlach become aware of their prisoner’s escape. They do battle, Boromish facing Borlach in single combat, while Deremorth, the elder of the two siblings, attacks the party. After a long and hard fight, the party finally manages to defeat the blue dragon. Despite their efforts to actually kill the dragons, however, they manage to escape, forcing Boromish to give chase and expel them from their lair.

Motterday, Luck 10, 400
The next day, Muad-Dib announces his decision to stay with the dragon, to further investigate the actions of the blue dragons. He bids the party farewell and they leave the site, headed for Ras Oug.

—–//—–

Naturday, Soul 32, 400
After a long, yet uneventful journey, the party arrives in Ras Oug. Their reputation precedes them, and they are invited to a small reception, along with some of the attendees to the New Year’s Celebration. At the party, some of them taste the refined Al Barghoz licquor for the first time. They are also told that their destiny is to play a large part in the future of the desert, and are introduced to Baab alShams, a wizard studying at the academy, who, they are told, shares this destiny.

Motterday, Power 40, 400
After spending a couple of months crafting an assortment of magical items, the party decides to do some exploring of the nearby regions while winter rages on.

By the way, don’t worry if you don’t recognize the names of the months and weekdays. The campaign has its own calendar, as campaigns are wont to have

Session Types

The above slice of log actually covers about nine sessions, not all of which the same length, which I’ll endeavour to dissect.

1. Conversation with a Lich – This session began right after the party had left the province capital, where they had just killed another Lich. Events at the table were mostly in-character conversation with the Lich itself. We took the opportunity to have an interesting in-character discussion about some stuff on the campaign handouts, and in some very subtle ways, the campaign story moved forward a bit. The session ended just after the pary was overflown by the blue dragon. This is what I call a story/RP session.
2. Imminent doom – This session began where the other ended, with the party spending a few hours discussing how they would prepare for and handle the dragon attack they were anticipating. Unfortunately, the session started late and ended early, because some players couldn’t get there sooner and others had to get up early the next morning, so that was that. I remember leaving the table with a mild taste of incompleteness in my mouth. Nonetheless, significant strategizing occurred. This is what I call a strategy/resource management session.
3. Tea with the Brass Dragon – This session began immediately the next morning, as the party set out to investigate the metallic glow. As it turns out, it was a dragon, but a friendly one, and the rest of the session was spent in conversation with the critter. The campaign story moved forward a bit further, but no fighting occurred. I can’t confirm, but I have a feeling some of the players left the table a bit disappointed about that… Anyway, another story/RP session.
4. Finally some action – This session began as the party entered the cave that lead to the fire giant lair. About an hour was spent on some situational maneuvering and rolling of dice, followed by a five hour tactical fight. These sessions are generally the highlight of the campaign, as this is where the players’ decisions matter the most. The fight was a lot harder than it had to be, because of some bad rolling during that initial maneuvering, but them’s the breaks at a gamist table. No “plot” of any kind surfaced, and indeed no “in-character”ness happened at this session, but that doesn’t mean that there was no story, or that we weren’t role-playing. The session ended about two minutes after the last giant died, as everyone was on the verge of being dead tired by this time. This is what I call a tactical/combat session.
5. Back to the Brass Dragon – This session began immediately on the wake of the previous one, as the party received analysed and divided their loot. Ther dragon’s presents were selected out-of-character by each player, so as to best represent the wisdom of an ancient creature. Some of the characters levelled as a result of the fight. Furthermore, there were still two blue dragons to face, so the events at the table were all about the levelling, the treasure, and the rebuilding of the anti-dragon plan. Another strategy/resource management session.
6. The war – This session began early the next morning, and it started with a quick review of the plan and, when the players were ready, a gallant charge from the two blue dragons. Fighting the dragon took about six hours. I remember this session took forever and a day just to schedule, because of difficulties with everyone’s availability. Usually, I play with two players absent, for one reason or another, but I figured killing a dragon ought to be a momentous event in a campaign, so I wanted as many people there as possible. Eventually, we had to play with just one player absent, and that was the player that ended up dropping the campaign shortly after. Anyway, another tactical/combat session.
7. Back to the regularly scheduled travelling – This session began right after the fight. We handled the levelling of another couple of characters, distributed loot from the dragons, had a parting conversation with the Brass Dragon, then removed one character from play as the player had dropped the campaign. A month and a half of travelling ensued, new handouts were, well, handed out, which the players spent some time reading, and a new player joined the table. The party arrived at the city where they will be spending the winter. A couple of things were bought and sold, and the party wanted to start with the magical item crafting, but I had them hold off on that for a little longer. This was another relatively short session, and it was more socializing than anything, what with the new handouts and the new player, but all in all, it was still a strategy/resource management session.
8. A reception – This session was all about the welcoming reception that a city notable held in honor of the characters, a party for the party, if you will. It was a chance for the players to have their characters act on the content of the new handouts, and it was a chance for them to meet the new player’s character. Some more in-character-ness ensued, and a hefty dose of color was injected. I was acting all mysterious about a couple of NPCs at the party, but that’s mainly because I really haven’t decided where I’m going to go with them yet. I have thoroughly dropped the habbit of withholding “sehkrit infuhmashun” from the players, as they are all mature enough to distinguish between player knowledge and character knowledge. The campaign story moved forward again. Another story/RP session.
9. Gadgets gallore – This session began right after the reception, and it was another relatively short session. The players spent about two to three hours making magical items and redistributing their now copious wealth, then we adjourned. A classical strategy/resource management session.

And there you have it. Play around the table clearly falls into those three categories of story/RP, strategy/resource management, and tactical/combat, and each session carries with it its own mode of play, although it’s not always one hundred percent obvious what the next session will turn out as. I fully expected to get through the giants, the dragon and the travelling in three to four sessions, and it ended up taking twice as long.

Next up, I have some new handouts about adventuring opportunites in the forest and the sea, and the players will pick an entry from the menu and go to it. I have no idea what they’ll do.

Setting up the Fights

You will have noticed that sessions 4 and 6, namely, the fight with the giants and the dragons, were looooong. Basically, that’s because both of them were EL 14 encounters, and the party was mostly level 9.

Some of you may be getting ready to call me a character murderer, but the fact is they won both fights, even though I wasn’t pulling any punches. I do get ready to pull the last punch in each and every fight I throw at them, but when that happens, they get hit heavy on the XP and loot. It’s about winning and losing, not living or dying.

Here’s where the idea for that came from, by the way.

(Side Note: The advantages of playing with high-level encounters are all rather well laid out on that link I provided. There is, however, one major drawback, which is that a form of resource management has completely disappeared from our game, and I have a feeling it’s one the designers held as important. Namley, players never feel compelled to conserve their resources during a fight. Wizards and sorcerers go all out with their spells, fighters and rogues fight to the last hit point, and the healers have no qualms about converting anything and everything into cure spells. Whether this is an actual problem or just a feature is something I’ll have to devote more time to…)

Leading the Story

One major feature of our game playing is that the “story”, meaning the collection of in-character events that happen in the campaign, is almost one hundred percent my turf, much more so than in other campaigns I have GMed and played in. It is generally assumed at the table that what characters do between fights is really only important insofar as it helps me decide what the opponents will be for their next fight, and whereabouts in the game world will it take place.

This isn’t to say that their decisions don’t have a major impact on the fight situation itself. They do. Especially with regards to surprise, terrain advantages, initiative, stuff liike that, their decisions and skill rolls have a deep impact on he very playability of each encounter, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.

But, they don’t get to decide who to fight. They don’t get to decide why to fight. And most especially, they don’t get to decide what happens because of the fight. And they don’t want to, and that’s why this particular campaign has avoided the Mother May I epithet.

(Not that I think there’s anything wrong wth playing Mother May I, as long as you recognize it. I’ve just started a Bushido campaign, and I expect it to be a fully functional Mother May I game.)

So, when someone asks, as some of you have, whether I take it upon myself to find excuses for their fights, or if there is some sort of player input towards that, I’ll say, well, I do take my cues from their in-character actions, but all actual decisions are mine and mine alone, and everyone understands and accepts that.

That’s not to say the non-fight sessions aren’t important to the game. They’re vital. The resource management sessions are their most important input towards mechanical character effectiveness, which is a big part of combat and a big part of D&D playing in general. And the RP sessions are there to provide color for everyone. They’re there so that the fights are simply disconnected board games. Even though the story itself is totally within my control, their actions and attitudes provide the color that binds the whole thing together.

My GMing Ways

Some of you also asked what has changed in the way I GM the sessions within the two years of the ongoing campaign. The short answer is: nothing.

Well, that may not be true. I’m sure some details may have changed, such as the way I handle certain magic objects, or how I will allow or disallow certain spells into the game. But in general, my thought structure and the way I approach the game have not changed, and neither has the structure of the game itself.

That’s not to say I don’t have certain shortcomings. One of the players, for instance, is constantly calling me out on the fact that I disallow certain items, materials or spells, for purely arbitrary reasons. He’s right, of course, and it’s something that, from a purely tactical and strategical point of view, makes no sense whatsoever, and it diminishes from the value of the cash rewards I’ve been handing out. It’s a problem, and one that I’m not quite ready to address, seeing as I don’t quite want to lift the restrictions just yet, for reasons I don’t fully comprehend myself. But that’s really a minor quible.

The one thing I do that defines the way I GM, though, is simple: I tell everybody everything.

“Everything” is, of course, limited to meaning “everything I know”. In session 8 above, the one with the party, one of the NPCs told the party they “had a momentous destiny, that was tied to the future of the desert”. After the session, one of the players asked me what I was talking about, and I had no answer to give, because I have no idea what their destiny is. But one thing is for sure. They’re 10th level characters, headed for 20th level, and those type of people tend to have impact on the world. Plus, the “shared destiny” gimmick is cool for inserting new characters in the party. “Hey, here’s this other dude, he too is bound for a great destiny and I read it in the stars that it was tied to yours.” I’ve done it twice, now, and that usual feeling of artificialness that follows the introduction of a new character was greatly toned down, at least in my mind.

On the other hand, whenever the players defeat a big bad, I have no qualms about informing them as to what their enemies wanted and what they were doing. If the characters themselves find out, then all the better, but if they don’t, I’ll just inform the players anyway.

Lessons to be Learned

There are none.

I’m serious. How I play is how I play, and I’m not trying to explain to you what the “one true way of playing D&D” is, or any other such nonsensical crap. If you like what you read and want to adopt it, fine. If it works for you, wonderful, let me know and we can share stuff. If it doesn’t, wonderful as well, let me know and we can share stuff. If you don’t like it and would rather play some other way, that too is wonderful, let me know and we can share stuff. Notice a trend?

Hopefully, though, if you were looking for some sort of information on how I play the game, this post has served that purpose. If you have more specific questions, feel free to post them in the comments form below, and I’ll do my best to answer them. If you just want to tell me off, feel free to do that as well. Comments are moderated at this blog.

Either way, I’ve spent enough time writing, and I’m sure you’ve spent enough time reading.

Go Play!

Cheers,
J.

Yeah, it’s been a while…

Basically, this last trimester has been hard on my time, what with all the work, but especially, all the gaming. Seriously, these past few months, I have taken Tuesday nights off to specifically not game.

Sunday night is board game night. Monday and Wednesday are ASL nights. Thursday, Friday and Saturday are RPG nights. Heavy!

And then, there’s work. The life of a freelancer is somewhat chaotic and unpredictable, but this is ridiculous. From October on, a number of different projects fell on my lap, every single one of which is “vital, and must be completed before the end of the year”. Of course, I could turn some down, only, I really shouldn’t…

But mainly, the reason I haven’t written in a while is that, frankly, there’s nothing to write. True, I did fall out of sync with most blogs I’ve been tracking, not to mention Story Games, which means my ear isn’t exactly on the grapevine. Mostly, however, my own gaming has been on the money, so there’s really nothing new to say.

Still, just so I don’t get out of the habit too much, I thought I’d take this opportunity to recount my more recent RPG exploits.

The Shadow Of Tomorrow

Currently, I’m playing in two Shadow of Yesterday campaigns, one of which as the Story Guide. I’ve posted at length about the other one, both here and at the Forge, so I’ll lay off of that one for now, but the other one bears some note.

A few months ago, a friend from work came up to me and said, “so I hear you do RPGs and I’ve always wanted to know what that whole shebang was about, can you show me”, so I said, “right, let’s put together a group”. So, I got him and two of his friends together with me and Rogerio, the Story Guide from the other campaign and my gaming partner for like forever, and we sat around trying to figure out what we could do to “show these kids what RPGs are all about”. (And when I say kids, I mean grown men with jobs, every last one of them.)

So Rogerio says, “hey, we should do TSoY, cuz, you know, I want to be a non-SG player some more”, and I say “right, I’ll be the SG, then”, and my wife Ana, who is watching TV in the next room, overhears this and pops in with a “hey, if it’s TSoY, I want in!”

And that is how I ended up heading a TSoY campaign with six people at the table (including me), and let me tell you, it’s been a blast! I have, however, reached an interesting conclusion: the more inexperienced players you have at the table, the better the whole TSoY experience will turn out to be. Funny, eh?

(Actually, that’s not exactly right. I should amend that to say ‘the less players there are who happen to be very experienced in the so-called traditional form of role-playing but who happen to have little to no experience in other forms of role-playing’, but that’s a mouthful, so there.)

In any case, I do believe those three guys are sold to the concept of RPGs forevermore, which is a Good Thing(tm). We’ve already discussed winding down this TSoY campaign and moving into other game modes, just to get them to see other things, but either way, they’re in and the future looks bright!

Donjon-eering With The Kids

Godinho and Isabel (who comments here as Elora, from time to time), two of the players from the other TSoY campaign (the older one, not this newer one) have a ten-year-old kid named João (like me). (Yes, they are married, and yes, it’s to each other, so there!). It just so happens that João took an interest in our TSoY sessions, and it also happens that his father, one day, sat the kid down at our table with a blank TSoY char sheet and proceeded to probe the group as to the posibility of his son joining the game.

Now, personally, I was delighted that the guy wanted his kid to play, and I was delighted that he wanted his kid to play with him. Furthermore, I’d been on his case before, about getting his children to play some RPGs, and I was looking forward to playing with João and Godinho together. (Sofia, the younger sister, is likely to need a couple more years before she’s ready for this, not to mention that João is likely to need a few more years before he’s mature enough to play at the same table as his sister.)

But, I mean, Shadow of Yesterday? Really, is that the most apropriate game for a ten-year-old? Everyone quickly agreed that it was not. And so it was that I found myself yet again at the head of the table, playing Donjon with the kid and his father. Ana and Rogerio volunteered as well, whereas Isabel decided to sit this one out.

Playing this game has taught me a thing or three about children, which is presumably a good thing when the time comes for me to have my own. First off, there’ the attention span thing. If someone else is trying to think of what to do, or trying to come up with an interesting fact to inject, João’s mind will start to wander very quickly. Second, there’s the impatience thing. Seriously, not more than two minutes go by without the kid wanting everyone to pay attention to him and his latest wild idea. Thirdly, he doesn’t have a complete grasp of the rules of the game yet, which means we still have to repeatedly explain to him where the limits of his facts are.

But, those are the bad parts, and as far as I’m concerned, the good parts far outweigh them. For one thing, he’s young and he’s bright and he’s learning, so things are getting easier with each session that goes by. Mostly, however, his facts are always fun and his solutions are consistently the most creative at the table. In fact, he’s our top dude when it comes to twisting his facts to suit his character’s MO, then using them to tackle the next problem. Great stuff.

Not to mention that Isabel walks in once in a while and catches the kid doing something new. A few sessions ago, for instance, she was drooling over the fact that her son was reading in English (which, as you may or may not know, is not entirely trivial, seeing as how we’re in Portugal and all).

Also, in this age of television and game consoles, I can’t get enough of seeing fathers and sons doing stuff together, especially when I get to be a part of it, so that’s just too cool!

Tradional? Who, Me?

And then, there’s my D&D campaign. Seriously, whenever I start to pontificate on the merits of GNS or on the different roles of the GM or whatever, someone somehwere always pipes up and says, “hey, D&D is fun too, you know”, and I always have to say, “yeah, I know, that’s why I play it!”, which generally surprises the hell out of them.

Little do they know that in my college years, I was known among my gaming buddies as Johnny D&D, all because I once said that “system doesn’t matter, you can do anything with D&D”. Oh how wrong I was, how naive. And yet, at the time, the people that laughed at me and pointed towards all the “different and much better systems” were actually pointing at games that were exactly like D&D from a structural standpoint. Today, after having played TSoY and DitV and PtA, I get to have the last laugh.

But I digress…

Seriously, we’ve been playing the game for almost two years, now, and while I can’t claim that it’s been perfect, all in all, I feel the experience has been positive. I know a lot more than I used to about what makes a particular game session tick and, let’s face it, D&D is all about the fightin’. So, I try to come up with interesting excuses to put the PCs in fights, then I try to come up with hard, hard fights, and then I try to come up with interesting ways of bringing them to the next excuse for a fight, and so on and so forth, all the while keeping a few Deus ex Machina devices handy so I can save their butts when it turns out that I went too far on that “hard fights” thing.

As a gaming mode, it’s fun enough, though it has an interesting consequence. Because the game world and its problems grow with the players, so as to keep a good balance, and because dying always gets you ressurrected, with the consequential loss-slash-delay in XPs, really, the only actual reward at the table is for dying less often than everyone else. Which is why the one guy that hasn’t died yet is at 10th level while everyone else is still at 9th.

On the other hand, the campaign now boasts 6 PCs, which is a tad too much for a GM to keep track of, so I hereby give you DM Genie. Seriously, no matter how experienced you are with D&D, there’s just no way you can manage all the details of a 16 on 14 combat, together with attacks of opportunity, grapple rules and all the other nightmares, and still keep track of potion effects, spell durations, and who did what to whom. If you’re serious about big fights, I can’t recommend this enough. Not to mention that it’s good for keeping track of all the campaign details. Plus, I like the weather module.

Still, having six players at the table means tons of scheduling hassles. The campaign is supposed to play every other Friday, but the reality of it is that it’s much more of a monthly thing than I’d like it to be, and still, it’s a rare session indeed when everyone is at the table!

Ok, then, so now you know. Hopefuly, come next year, things will quiet down some and I’ll be able to post more (and I’ll have more to post about).

By way of parting, I leave you with a link to the Category page of that DM of the Rings thing. You’ve been keeping up with it, haven’t you? No? Shame on you. Go to it!

Cheers,
J.

And welcome to my latest diatribe on game play and design techniques. This little essay is called:

A Study on Stances, Authorities, and Shared Narration Rights

GM: You are attacked by a man in a black velvet mask.
Player: I spin around and strike at his face, tearing his mask right off!
GM: Guess what, it’s Barnabas, the stable keeper!
Player: No kidding? Holy shit!
(Adapted from an example provided by Ron Edwards in this thread.)

Aside: Most, if not all, of what I say here can be gleaned directly from that thread, by the way, so really, you should go read it. This essay is really just my attempt at explaining these concepts in my own words, as a way of fostering my own understanding, as well as that of any hypothetical persons that might still be a tad lost about all this stuff. So, really, go read the thread before you read this.

Stances – A Quick Refresher

The Big Model and the Forge Glossary define stances as “the cognitive position of a person to a fictional character”, but really, that’s just a mouthful to describe the limits of a player’s actions and attitudes, as regards a particular character’s own actions, attitudes and motivations, when playing that character.

The model recognizes three (and only three) different stances: actor, author and director. Again, from the Glossary:

Actor Stance – The person playing a character determines the character’s decisions and actions using only knowledge and perceptions that the character would have. This stance does not necessarily include identifying with the character and feeling what he or she “feels,” nor does it require in-character dialogue.

Author Stance - The person playing a character determines the character’s decisions and actions based on the person’s priorities, independently of the character’s knowledge and perceptions. Author Stance may or may not include a retroactive “motivation” of the character to perform the actions. When it lacks this feature, it is called Pawn Stance.

Director Stance – The person playing a character determines aspects of the environment relative to the character in some fashion, entirely separately from the character’s knowledge or ability to influence events. Therefore, the player has not only determined the character’s actions, but the context, timing, and spatial circumstances of those actions, or even features of the world separate from the characters. Director Stance is often confused with narration of an in-game event, but the two concepts are not necessarily related.

(Emphasis mine, and really, the only reason why this section is here in the first place.)

There’s two points I want to hold in your head about this: one is the one in bold italics above; the other is that, when I describe this stuff to people, they think that a non-GM player using Director Stance is a totally alien concept. However, in all likelihood, it’s the second stance they use the most (with the line falling roughly down the middle between people that like Actor Stance first and foremost and relegate Author Stance to last, and people that like it exactly the other way around).

Compare and contrast:

GM: Your search for the thug eventually leads you to the living room, where you finally find him. He opens fire on you.
Player: I flip the coffee table and hide behind it, shooting blindly at him and hoping to give my teammates time to arrive.
GM: Ok, roll your Suppressive Fire maneuver.

Or:

GM: Your search for the thug eventually leads you to the living room, where you finally find him. He opens fire on you.
Player: I flip the coffee table and…
GM: Wait! I never said anything about a coffee table!
Player: Oh, there isn’t one? Ok, then, I hide behind the couch and…

Etc, etc… These were just two quick examples of a player trying, with varying degrees of success, to use Director Stance to describe his character’s actions. Again, I’m just doing this to show that, in mild forms, Director Stance is much more common than it would appear at first glance.

Authorities

In the thread I linked to above, read down to post n. 11, where Ron explains the concept at length. If you don’t care to follow the link (or if you dislike Ron on principle, which I’m told some people do, for some reason), here’s my take on this fundamental concept.

Below, I’ll be re-quoting passages from the example above, so feel free to take a few seconds to scroll up and re-read it.

Whenever you have the right to say something about the game (whether you are the GM or not), then you generally have at least one, but really any number, of the following four authorities: content, scene, continuity and plot.

Content Authority – the ability to determine independent truths within the game world, with the explicit exclusion of bits of mere color, such as the aforementioned coffee table - “Guess what, it’s Barnabas, the stable keeper!”

Scene Authority – the ability to frame the current scene and/or dynamically insert elements into it – “You are attacked by a man in a black velvet mask.” – Note: Ron calls this Situational Authority, but I think that gets confusing with regards to authoring the Situation at large, where Situation is a major concept of exploration, and really, let’s just not go there right now…

Continuity Authority - the ability to state that something is happening right here, right now - “I spin around and strike at his face” – Note: Ron calls this Narrational Authority, but again, I think that gets confusing with regards to the concepts of Narrative, Narration Rights, and really, Narrativism itself, and, well, again, not now…

Plot Authority – the ability to create plot events, which are changes in any of the following: the various characters’ knowledge bases, the relationships between the characters, the fundamental motivations of each character – “tearing his mask right off!”

There is a rather large number of ways in which these authorities can be distributed around the table. At the very least, most games distribute Continuity Authority in a fairly equitable manner around the table in a mild, GM-veto-able way. For instance, when the GM turns to you, as a player, and asks you what your character is doing, and you reply, you are exercising Continuity Authority, even though the GM may veto your input in certain circumstances. (“There is no coffee table in this living room.”) However, the GM may not nullify your input altogether and openly take over your character’s actions (again, barring explicit circumstances, such as mind control and the like).

As a further example, most strictly traditional games make Scene, Plot and Content Authority the strict realm of the GM. Only he can introduce the man with a black velvet mask, only he gets to say if and when the mask falls off, and only he gets to say who the man is.

Lately, however, a number of games have been turning up with other sharing schemes for these authorities. Games with stakes negotiation, for instance, attempt to share Plot Authority around the table by having any number of players create possible (and possibly mutually exclusive) plot events, and then turning the choice between those events over to the resolution mechanics. In a like manner, games with Shared Scene Framing, like Primetime Adventures, distribute Scene Authority around the table according to a highly structured and more or less equitable algorithm.

And, of course, in games with Shared Narration Rights, the number of ways in which these authorities can be apportioned is virtually endless. But more on that below.

In the meantime, I want to point something out. Re-read the definitions for the authorities above, and realize this: there is no relationship whatsoever between Stances and Authorities. None. Zip. Nada!

Oh, sure, some combinations might feel weird. For instance, you might say that it’s hard to exercise Content Authority while keeping strictly to Actor Stance. After all, how can I determine independent truths based solely on the motivations of my character, right? Wrong. Imagine you’re playing a game based on the movie Dark City, in a world where the characters have awesome powers over reality itself, and you’re there!

Shared Narration Rights

If you recall, way back in May, I talked about ways of consciously avoiding heavily-GM-centered-play, including the use of shared narration rights. I want to revisit them now, for two reasons: number one, they are a good bridge between Stances and Authorities; number two, most Shared Narration Rights games I know of do a very poor job of explaining them.

By the way, I realize that the very concept of giving players other than the GM actual narration rights is totally alien to many people. Their immediate reaction is generally one of, “hey, how can the GM be responsible for the story if the players can then just narrate it away”?

Of course, if you’ve been reading this, then, by now, you should realize that the general answer (other than that the GM doesn’t have to be solely responsible for the story, although he can, of course) is that nothing in the concept of Shared Narration Rights implicates that the players really can simply narrate the GM’s story away. Really, at their most basic, all that Shared Narration Rights means is that various people are explicitly given some combination of Authorities, for an explicitly limited amount of time.

Explicitly, I say? Well, not so much. Like I said above, most games are fairly unexplicit as to which Authorities really come with said Rights, and that creates confusion galore.

Take Primetime Adventures, for instance. PtA does Scene Authority distribution flawlessly. It then goes on to say that “the person that drew the highest card (or rolled the highest die) gets to narrate the conflict resolution”, but then is notably silent regarding what kind of Authorities said person can use in that narration.

The way my group played it, that person simply took over all four authorities, then narrated away until they felt like shutting up, solely restricted to the fact that they couldn’t simply change the whole scene outright. (Note that they still held a limited form of Scene Authority, meaning they could bring in a new character or expel a particular character from the scene.)

However, there are other ways to do it. If a group likes to have the Producer be a bit more responsible for the story, they might, for instance, limit that person’s use of Content Authority and force them to turn to the producer whenever actual Content comes up. Or, they might even go to the extreme of restricting the rights to strict Continuity Authority, negating said players the right to even create a plot event. (The player might narrate the black velvet mask coming off, for instance, but the Producer might be within his power to force the player to narrate how it is that his identity remains secret for the time being. Or, the other way around, the Producer might force the player to narrate how it is that the masked man’s identity comes to be known.)

Now, this whole section is about one point and one point only, and it just happens to be the same point that is at the core of the thread I linked to in the beginning of the post. So, again, go read that thread, if you haven’t. But do realize this: just because you have narration rights doesn’t mean you can do anything you want!

Why Should You Care – Game Play

For the purpose of your own game play, you really only need to care about any of this stuff if any of the following are true:

• The game you’re playing has shared narration rights, but you don’t know how to use them;
• You like the idea of shared narration rights and would like to try it, but you are worried about stepping on the GM’s toes (or the players stepping on yours, if you’re the GM);
• You want the players to step on your toes, and you want to set them at ease regarding what they can and cannot do;
• You’ve had game sessions go belly-up because of conflicts regarding who has what Authority when, even though, at the time, you might not have realized that that’s what all the fuss was about.

When selecting games to play, you should also realize the following:

• Some people are strict traditionalists and dislike shared rights on principle – this is entirely a matter of taste and they are entirely within their right;
• Some people discard the concept of shared rights because they fear their power and are afraid that anarchy might ensue – although they too are within their right, those people should have this or other similar articles force-fed to them in a feeble attempt at further enlightenment;
• Some people dislike shared rights because it has consistently made it hard for them to connect with the game – this is also largely a matter of taste, and again, they are entirely within their right;
• If you do have shared rights, the exact manner in which rights are shared should be clearly understood by all.

Why Should You care – Game Design

For the purpose of game design, however, you should really try to understand how these concepts work, and what their consequences are to game play, and you should try your best to make the following explicit:

• Who has what rights when;
• When are different people expected to use different stances (or at least which combinations of stances are adequate);

I’m going to quote Ron directly, here, because, you know, he’s one smart pumpkin, regardless of how you may feel about him.

This is key. Functional role-playing requires that everyone knows who has what authority in all four kinds, and whether it switches around from person to person for any one (or more) of the kinds, and if it does, when and how. But if someone thinks narrational authority is the same as (for instance) content authority, and someone else thinks content authority is concentrated in one person’s hands, well, you’re in for some serious techniques-clash disagreements.

As Ron says, the state of the art regarding game design and these fundamental aspects of the structure of a role-playing session is completely in its infancy. Even a game as forward as PtA gets it wrong at a very basic level (and it still manages to be one hell of a fun game, and a “must play at least once” game for everyone who wants to know what role-playing is all about).

So, if you’re putting together your own role-playing game, do yourself (and the industry) a favor and at least think about this stuff!

Lastly, when you’re designing your game and selecting a market for it, do keep the following in mind:

• Some people are strict traditionalists and dislike shared rights on principle – these people will never play games with shared rights, period;
• Some people discard the concept of shared rights because they feer their power and are affraid that anarchy might ensue – these people might play games with shared rights, but they’ll do so tentatively and they will hold back;
• Some people dislike shared rights because it has consistently made it hard for them to connect with the game – these people will play games with shared rights with increasing levels of resistance, until they either find a game that breaks the pattern or give up trying altogether;
• If you do have shared rights, the exact manner in which rights are shared should be clearly understood by all.

Sound familiar? Who said that game play shouldn’t inform game design?

Well, I’ve written enough for one day. Time for me to go deal with my own Barnabas, the stable keeper!

Cheers,
J.

Duval, the elven Ammenite with a conscience, is no more.

In the brief days of his existence, he participated in a full moon feast, chased a manipulative rascal, made friends, saved lives, got fallen in love with, was imprisoned, rescued, ambushed, fought, and was called a traitor, and then a hero.

In his finest hour, he single-handedly fought and defeated over fifteen of his own countrymen, who, acting on the orders of the commander of a much more sizeable force, were poised to stage a large-scale invasion of his friends’ land.

Through his actions, he stopped the invasion on its tracks and went on to end the war itself. Of course, in the long run, the Ammenites can’t be trusted, but for the time being, at least, the Khaleans can sleep soundly.

And when it was all over, he walked off into the sunset, never to be seen again.

Actual Play at The Forge, as usual, with some substantive content regarding the game play, and yes, I’m being immodest about it.

Cheers,
J.

After a looooong delay, I’ve finally managed to post an Actual Play report on our TSoY sessions during the most awesomest June Retreat.

The actual AP report lives here and is rather long.

Because it might be useful, I also posted the initial situation here.

Lastly, I posted all the keys we came up with here.

Also, this marks the end of my reporting regarding the retreat. I posted about My Life with Master here, about Torchbearer here, and about The 101 here and here.

Up next, I’ll be trying to collect some thoughts I’ve had about Dogs in the Vineyard, which have been gathering dust in the back of my mind.

Cheers,
J.

Last weekend, we playtested Galactic, the new game by Matt Wilson, of PtA fame. As is rapidly becoming a tradition of mine, I’m going to post the in-game stuff we generated here, while the actual playtest comments will be emailed to the game author.

The players were me as GM, my wife Ana, Ricardo, and Rogério, at whose house we were playing.

Because that’s where the book begins, I’m going to start with the Ship Captains:

Rogério played Chris Ritter, captain of the Orion. The Orion is a salvage ship, and captain Ritter spends his time fliying after rumours of derelicts and ruins.
Explorer: 4d6; Scoundrel: 3d6; Tinkerer: 3d6
Virtue: Compassion; Vice: Greed
Connection: Jillian Summers, an information broker and salvage buyer
Crew member (played by Ricardo): Eric Maine, a gun nut, who carries secret cargo aboard the Orion, hoping but oddly unable to unload quickly
Crew member (played by Ana): Ice Q, the first officer, a ice lady, who is secretly a runaway heiress

Ricardo played Jack Savage, captain of the Warthog. Jack is an ex-military turned mercenary and the Warthog is a war ship for hire.
Astronaut: 5d6; Scoundrel: 2d6; Warrior: 3d6
Virtue: Preserverance; Vice: Recklessness
Connection: Commander Ilyena, a warship commander and war time buddy
Crew member (played by Ana): Joe, the mechie, who secretly wants to be captain
Crew member (played by Rogério): Sol Hernandez, communications officer, who carries within him a secret telepathic symbiote

Ana played Mariana, captain of the Flimsy Scoundrel. Mariana does odd jobs for a privately owned space corporation, to be decided upon later. (CSEA, as it turned out, see below.)
Astronaut: 3d6; Explorer: 4d6; Warrior: 4d6
Virtue: Courage; Vice: Arrogance
Connection: Madam Martha, rumor monger and information broker
Crew member (played by Rogério): Dr. Sanders, science officer, who secretly resents the captain and finds her incompetent
Crew member (played by Ricardo): Ambassador Christian Troy, PR officer, who is an impostor, and actually, a criminal on the run

Next up: Factions

CSEA – Caliban Space Exploration Agency, a privately sponsored and privately run corporation
Reports to: (patron or patrons unknown)
Allies: the Thoas
Enemies: the Ghouls

Queensborough Family – A noble merchant family
Reports to: —
Allies: Al-Madina, the Gargoyles
Enemies: the Orion Crime Syndicate

Orion Crime Syndicate – A large group that conducts all sorts of illegal activities
Reports to: —
Allies: the Thoas (secretly)
Enemies: the Concordance Colonial Navy

The Thoas – Grey, large-skulled, large-eyed alien race, largely unknown to the colonies.
Reports to: —
Allies: the Orion Crime Syndicate
Enemies: the Ghouls

Concordance Colonial Navy – a rather huge military organization
Reports to: the Concordance
Allies: CSEA
Enemies: the Thoas

Al-Madina – Pelian Intelligence Agency
Reports to: the Pelian Government (a Caliban territory)
Allies: the Ghouls
Enemies: the Concordance Colonial Navy

The Ghouls – A large band of marauding anarchical pirates
Reports to: —
Allies: Al-Madina, the Orion Crime Syndicate
Enemies: CSEA, the Thoas, the CCN, the Gargoyles

The Gargoyles – An illuminatti-like group of wealthy people with a secret agenda
Reports to: —
Allies: the Ghouls
Enemies: Al-Madina

Finally, the initial planets. Ana rolled highest, followed by Ricardo, and lastly Rogério.

Everwinter – A colder than earth-like world, with orbiting rings
Thin atmosphere – people tire easily
Flat terrain – long lines of sight
Large predators – huge man-eating beasts
Cold temperatures – snow and ice abound
Resource: Information (libraries)
Adversity: 2d6+1d4
Crisis: race against time – an alien device is destabilizing the rings and threatening the whole planet
Factions: CSEA (wants to repair or disable the device)
Goals:
 - Find information about the Scourge: 1d6
 - Help CSEA find the device: 1d6
 - Capture a predator cub for study: 1d4
Starting hazard: 4

Van Eyck – An ocean world
Artifical floating islands – can’t just land anywhere
Rare, yet huge tsunamis – strap things down, just in case
Heavy, humid atmosphere – low visibility
Large aquatic herd beasts – to hunt and eat
Resource: Natural resource (petroleum)
Adversity: 2d4
Crisis: Human invaders
Factions: Queensborough Family (current holders)
Goals:
 - Organize the colonists: 1d4
 - Save a hostaged Queensborough daughter: 1d4
Starting hazard: 6

Aruna – A desert planet
Sandstorms – don’t get caught outside during one
Deep narrow canyons – where people live
Limited daylight – dark most of the time
Toxic spores – one week per year
Resource: Labor (potential soldiers)
Adversity: 2d4
Crisis: Human civil war
Factions:
 - the Gargoyles secretly backing a faction
 - possibly religious fundamentalist rebels
Goals:
 - Find out about desert still suits: 1d4
 - Discover the Gargoyle plot: 1d4
Starting hazard: 7

That’s it. Coming up with all this stuff proved to be a fun collaborative process, as world building is wont to be. Next, I’ll be composing an email with all our playtest findings. Hopefully, they’ll be helpful for Matt.

In the meantime, I’m late reporting on our June Retreat, but at least, I’m almost finished. Only the TSoY stuff to go, and I got started by posting the initial situation, here.

So much to write, so little time…

Cheers,
J.

At the Forge, where else? Linky thingy.

Cheers,
J.