People and the People They Play (Thought Eater)

Here's two new entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you don't know, it's like this: these are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write about:  Player characters vs. characters of the players for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "PCCP1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Let me tell you about my character...

Wait, don't leave!  I know that telling somebody about your character is almost the worst thing you can do.  It's the gaming equivalent to farting in an elevator.  It's like describing your baby to strangers.

But THIS character is different!

No, really.  Please don't leave.  Put your phone away.

Now, I never actually played this character, but that isn't unusual.  I suspect the majority of characters are never played.

Making a character is one of the truly fun things about RPG's.  It's got the thrill of using your imagination, the concentration of careful craftsmanship, the opening out of new potential.  It can be lots of fun.

Making this character was the most fun I've ever had in any RPG, ever.  A bold claim, I know.

I was 12 or 13 or so when I made this character.  Most of the things I made when I was that age were total shit, but this character was a shining diamond of joy.

I don't remember his name, but I remember lots of things about him.  I remember that he had -3 Charisma.  He was so ugly he had to wear a close-faced helmet.  Also he was 3 feet tall.  Not a dwarf or anything, just a really short human.  He made up for that by wearing a helmet that was 3 feet tall.  It was made of paper mache and had ostrich plumes on top.  Also he had a pet whale.  It was dead.  A pet dead whale.

I believe he also had a paper houseboat with a fire pit, a cardboard sword and a lead shield that was 3 feet tall and 1 inch wide.

All of this stuff is mildly amusing to 40-year old me, but it was incredibly hilarious to 13-year old me.  My friends and I laughed for at least an hour while we made ridiculous characters that we would never play.  It is one of the many hilarious experiences that I had with my friends, playing with role-playing games.

Those friends are mostly gone from my life.  Rayn lives close and we play board games every month or so.  Jay committed suicide when he was 18.  Nathan lives in Spain, and I see him every couple of years, maybe.  But if I think about this character, I also see them.  Sitting on cushions in the living room, laughing.

I've been a DM for most of my gaming career, so I've seen a LOT of characters come across my table.  I remember many of them.  Hadian Joyce the Bard and Grunt the dwarf.  Splint the Sharpshooter.  The Company of the Mithril Gauntlet.  Galen, Ivoen, Ghaladan, Durin and Alec Rhuddry.  Hilbo the Hammer.

Mostly though, when I try to remember characters, I think "What was Marc's Tremere called?"  or, "What was the name of that wizard that Austin played in my Celtic Campaign?"  The characters are shadows cast by the faces of my friends.  Hopefully they had as much fun making those characters as I did making the little ugly fellow with the big hat.

So yeah, that's my character.  He isn't really different from other characters, now that I think about it.



Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "PCCP2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

"Player characters vs. characters of the players 1" or “is metagaming bad”.    

The prompt question implies one of the big misconception of roleplaying history. That's a pretty big promise I will try to deliver on at the end of this essay, after I finished bullshitting.

Since the earliest Dungeons and Dragons corebooks and cool looking boxes it was implicit or in some cases even explicit, that you play a character that is inherently someone else, your character is not you, the player. It's something the player plays. And it goes even further: your character, as in that thing you play, gets an own alignment in later editions to distinguish the player even more from his character. Now your character can morally do stuff, that the player can't, since they are different entities. He can murderhobo and burn down orphanages and it's not the player doing. This is obviously a border case, the character can also do what the player would have done. The player just tries to play this character he build in a realistic way.

What happens though, when there is a conflict of interest between what the player wants vs. what the character would want. The player should wrestle with himself. He can't “metagame”, because that would be considered bad roleplaying, but he really wants his character do something the character just wouldn't do 2. How can one analyze this conflict? WotC tells us through D&D that it is an typically conflict between a player and his character The players interests against the interests of the character, something created by, but for all intends and purposes external to the player. Obviously though the characters behavior is not intended to be determined by realism, the choices the player makes for his character just have to be choices the character would have considered. This attitude can be basically boiled down to this implicit rule: The player is not allowed to make choices for his character, the character wouldn’t consider to be practical choices.

I believe that the conflict between a player and his character is not a conflict of this nature. It is a conflict between the players of the game. This needs some further explanation: The whole act of roleplaying is a social endeavor, you just wouldn't do it alone (I hope at least). The important part of this conflict is not the adequacy towards the character, that thing that only exists insofar as people see it as existing. The important part is the image of the players appearing to be roleplaying towards one another. This whole external conflict of the appearance of the player gets internalized in the upper account. If the player with the conflict in case , were to break his appearance that he is roleplaying, that is break his appearance to be engaged in this social endeavor, he would stop this social endeavor for the time being, mostly in forms similar to: “he totally wouldn't do that”, “why did you do that?”, “your character is so stupid”, “you are so stupid”. This is bad because it is boring and no fun. This is nothing new for most players though, even though it is neglected by, for example, some wizard of some coast.

Ok so we can summarize the following:
– I lied in the introduction, it's not “one of the big misconceptions”, just some companies but
also not a few individuals don't seem to get it.
– There is never an actual conflict between yourself and your character, it's always a potential
conflict between the players.
And as a necessary consequence of that: there is no harm done, if there is no conflict between players. This might be the most important consequence of this shitshow, the important part is not the internal realism of a world, it is the social endeavor in place. If the social endeavor does not break, nothing is lost.

This follows some rules that should be obvious, but aren't to some people and or companies:
If your character would be a dick to another player, just don't, even if that is not realistic.
If your character would do something another player is fundamentally against, just don't, even if that is not realistic.

That doesn't mean you should not act out the personality of your characters, they are just not as important as the social endeavor as a whole. This also doesn't mean there can't be antagonism between the characters, it just should not be between the players.

WotC would answer when there is a moral conflict between different characters “Just allow characters with a maximum difference in alignment of 1 Step!”3 instead of “just don't be a dick.” Now how can we relate this back to the beginning? In this sense “metagaming” is no problem at all, if all players agree to this “metagamed” course of action. The characters action has to match the intended action of the player? Just make shit up, why the character is to act in a certain way. Your Fighter has no reason to enter this dungeon? Make a reason up for him to go in there. This phenomenon is at its strongest when new players enter the group, even if its only for a few session. (“So you turn around a corner of this hallway in this dungeon and see a person cloaked in a dark robe covered with symbols of some kind of undead god, what do you do?” “He seems trustworthy, we take him into the party.”)

In this way there can never be a conflict of “player characters vs. characters of the players”, the characters don't exist. It's always a question of characters of the players vs. characters of the players.

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-
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1 I understand "player character" as the heroes you play, and "characters of the players" as the personalities of the players.

2 This is obviously a very exaggerated way to present it, but the core idea behind it, I claim, is the way D&D is intended to play.


3 3.5 Phb II, 147 pp. ; I bought it, don't judge me, it had feats and shit.

D100 Inns By the Side Of The Road

Crowdsourced to folks in my Google + circles here using the following method:

A. Something mundane about it (10 words or less)…B. Something interesting about it but (20 words or less)…C. How you'd find out that unusual thing (10 words or less)

This is the kind of table that should see constant regular use, so if every inn is Secretly A Portal To The Emerald Pain Dimension then we fucked up and the GM who uses it is doomed to run a Weird Inn Weekly campaign. This table is just give us some places to stay with some flavor and maybe some gameables scattered around. There is an automated version here.

1, A. It's made of bluish stone…B. The owner has a knife collection, including knives from all over the world, some exotic, none magic.…C. Talk to the owner.…B. They sell a medicinal tonic made from crystals which allows speech with the dead.…C. Read the menu small print

2, A. Single story bunker design…B. Banking and storage services offered, secure vault level underground, guarded by heavy mercs…C. Signs advertise along road for miles in each direction

3, A. An improvised pub that serves average food and ale. …B. Theres a giant stone slab table with a map of the world carved into it in the basement. …C. Several tunnels lead into the undercity from here and were used as an underground railroad by the first generation of gods. PCs will most likely find this room through tunnels leading here than from ideal gossip upstairs.

4, . A.Small collection of log cabins.…B. Halfing cook is a famous royal chef on the lam.…C. Talk to the drunk at the end of the bar.

5,  A. Retrofitted wizard's tower now famous for BBQ…B. Humble server is languages savant, able to translate many ancient/extinct/arcane tongues…C. Only speaks to the exceedingly polite

6, A. Many stray dogs live around the grounds.…B. A voice sometimes echoes out of the well telling secrets.…C. Show a sign of affiliation with [religion] to the proprietor.

7, A. Family run: "I SAID ERTUS, PUT THE DAMN DOGS OUTSIDE!".…B. Secret orc blood, hold ceremonies to orcish pantheon on new moon. Mother a Cleric-3 of Gruumsh.…C. Scary-ass masks, spears, etc if they break into the family's rooms.

8,  A. Run by monastic order under vow of temperance, master brewers…B. Entire staff badass unarmed fighters, roam area at night kicking evil's ass…C. Assemble for pre-dawn martial arts training at nearby temple  

9, A. The stone building is round, with a shallow domed ceiling.  …B. Indecipherable words are carved into the walls, telling the story of a forgotten hero fighting demons. …C. The local druid knows the tale, but demands a tithe. 

10,  A. The menu changes every moon and has clever descriptions…B. Famous bards practice their new material in private shows in the backroom.…C. Break the cypher on the menu

11,  A. The sign is on a chalkboard…B.  The name can be changed by the current reigning champ at daggers  (like darts)…. C.  Ask the bartender.  Note that the current reigning champ is a washed up assassin and this is all she has left.  Several other champions have died and reverted the title to her.

12, : A. The place has a very tall wrought iron fence around it.…B. It has no windows, and the battered doors are always barred shut after sunset. …C. If the party tries to leave after dark.

13, . A.Pocked and teetering limestone…B. Someone is using the holes in the back wall to pass messages, love notes, meeting notes for the thieve's guild.…C. Going to the outhouse at or noticing the papers

14, . A. Facade replica of famous dwarf city, interior decoration: tasteless dwarf-kitsch …B. Proprietor has tearful freak-out triggering crowd hostility if dwarf-fixation questioned, criticized…C. Friendly, subtle warning from elderly patron

15, . A. Filthy hovel of a cob-walled flop house, but weirdly big.…B. Food is surprisingly good. Seriously, the best food you've ever eaten.…C. Taste the food. Rumors will not be believed otherwise.

16, A. There's a small stage in the main hall.…B. Locals use this place as a church once every 5 days, from sunrise until sunset. Expect terrible singing. (1 in 6 chance of arrival on that day.)…C. Stick around. 

17, A. It has no windows or doors, just hanging leather flaps.…B. When you first visit the inn you get super ill the night after, and then you are immune to it.…C. A retired waitress told me, but she was high.

18, A - made from mud and hay much like a qala. Large living area with only a couple of rooms.

19, . A. Half buried into a hill…B. The hill grew around the inn.…C. There's a plaque

20, : A. It's a single roomed hut and a stable where patrons are allowed to sleep.…B. The owner is a cannibal.…C. Players find out when owner nervously offers to pay the group 10 gold for a body, any body.

21, A. It's a three-story building.…B. All the patrons are women.…C. Look around.

22, A. During the war the inn was used to house prisoners.…B. One of the prisoners hid himself inside the walls and he still lives there in secret after decades.…C. Often small items go missing and are later found used.

23, A. Coaching Inn, built round a courtyard and stables…B. Has illicit cockfights, dogfights and small monster bouts as a novelty in the barn…C. Notice the landlord keeps a lot of Dandy Dinmont dogs.

24, A. It's infested with vermin and staff is somewhat deformed.…B. No one actually cares how much you pay for anything as long as you pay something.…C. Look how much regulars pay.

25, A. A gnomish inn. Partying hard all times of day and night.…B. It's a perpetual wake for a fallen gnomish adventurer. A doom will fall if the wake ends.…C. Elders will relate the tale if the party joins in.

26, A. Bargemans stopover built on a bridge over the canal.…B. Smugglers den, jobs available transporting stuff, nobbling customs men, snuffing out squealers, etc…C. Scruffy bargees playing mumblety peg for pouches of nobleman's quality baccy, coded smoke rings blown across room.

27, A. Place has no name or identifying features, only the noise and lamps being on all night distinguish it from the other houses on the street.…B. The most authentic [ethnicity] food so far away from [place of origin].…C. Place is famous with travelers and the homesick.

28, A. The outhouse is clogged.…B. The chess-like gameboard inlaid in one of the table tops is partially made with cockatrice bones.…C. The old guy in the corner knows. 

29, A. The inn is dilapidated and staff very pale and malnourished.…B. The inn actually exists only during the night. At dawn it just skips right into the next night.…C. Wait till morning.

30, A. Very basic beer hall built into an arch under a viaduct.…B. Spies use it as a dead letter drop.…C. Loose bricks, crumbling mortar, might see some drunk leaning on a wall idly fiddling with them.

31, A. It has windows that have dripped with age.…B. It smells of incense and peppermints due to the owner's peculiar taste in sweets.…C. Stay up all night and sneak into the kitchen.…B. Each person isn't at all a person. They're either automaton, or illusionary or phantasms.…C. By trying to interact with them in any way.

32, A. Yurts and carts standing in a field, jocular nomads offer strong spirits., play raucous music, sing the songs of their people.…B. Fortune telling available.…C. Every one of them claims to see omens and portents, will tell you for silver.

33, A. Typical "public house" run by recently widowed wife.…B. Husband will return as a ghoul in 1-6 days hissing his wife's name, lashing out at drinkers and punters.…C. Roll for initiative.

34, A. It's carved out of a single large moss covered boulder.…B. The beer gives hallucinations due to the moss they put in it.…C. Drink the beer.

35, A. The communal cheese is especially wormy.…B. The owner's son or daughter is an amateur necromancer and they've a mostly tame zombie in the cold cellar.…C. The kid has kohl around their eyes. The trapdoor jiggles.

36, A. Former chateau, now run down.…B. Run by former soldiers who were billeted on the genteel residents, still has some nice plonk in the wine cellar.…C. Le Comte, a drunk who will drink anywhere except his former home.

37, A. looks like an inn.…B. The owner hates halflings.…C. No allowances are made for halflings, everything is too tall.

38, A. Ancient stone structure unsound, no sensible dwarf would enter…B. Cage in corner holds mangy, still-vicious owlbear, various implements of abuse, what are they feeding it?…C. Smell hits one in the face upon entry

39, a. Set deeper into the woods, reached via trail.…B. Animal - headed or masked patrons after midnight.…C. Stay up.

40, A. Bar in front gate house of a brewery.…B. Whole operation run by Workers Cooperative, capitalist brewing barons want it shut.…C. Subversive newspapers sold over the bar, bars on windows to keep out bricks slung by hired agitators

41, A. The inn doesn't have many patrons.…B. There is some weird time stasis thing going on.…C. The candles don't melt down over time.

42, A. Wood panels and dingy, crummy scrimshaw art.…B. Innkeeper once crewed with an infamous pirate king. His compatriots also innkeepers now.…C. He'll tell you. It's like a restaurant chain.

43, A. Holds a colourful, whirling dance competition ($ entry, $$ winnings) at week's end.…B. Popular with fey and avatars in disguise who bequeath quests to leveled dancers.…C. Dance Dance Revolution! Players plan routines, more points for more flourish at higher difficulty. Fumble table for injuries. Placed winners approached.

44, A. Highly polished light fixtures. Effervescent speciality cocktails, taste like rosewater.…B. Owner is a time traveller from the distant future. Gave up on going back, resigned to inconveniences of medieval life.…C. Have something from the future on your person. She'll notice.

45, A. Low fieldstone building with a poorly thatched roof. …B. The old well in back is half full of bones. …C. Go fetch some water. …B. 2) Sailor has agreement sending victims to Sirens in exchange for their valuables, which are sold off at the local pawn shop.

46, A. The building is dome shaped.…B. There's a second secret establishment in another dome, upside down and underground beneath the first one. For high rollers only.…C. You spot someone going through the hidden door.

47, A. It's called The head in the barrel.…B. They have a goblin head in a barrel of brandy.…C. They advertise free drinks if you first order and drink the goblin head brandy.

48, A. The Charmed Life. A pretty little cottage. Smoke curls invitingly from the chimney. …B. Dark, empty, and cold as death inside. …C. Cross the threshold. 

49, A. Building is brand new. Opened yesterday.…B. Previous tavern on this site burned down. One before that exploded. One before that collapsed. Locals think its cursed, owner doesn't seem to care.…C. Talk to any patrons or staff.

50, A. Offers low-quality wine very cheap, sold by the amphora…B. Caged lava child used as heat source in kitchen. …C. Hear it complaining while the kitchen door is open 

51, A. Cheap food. Nice people. …B. A candle burned to a nub in your room will cast the shadows of the last murder committed on the road. …C. A vulgar poem carved into the bar. 

52, A. Inside appears old, built in even older construction.…B. Basement infested with giant rats. Staff kill them and use them as basis of popular roast rat steak.…C. Check the menue. 

53, A. Furnishings much repaired/replaced.…B. Host to weekly scheduled bar fight, put on to entertain rich voyeurs. …C. May be asked by owner to take part in exchange for free drinks. 

54, A. Serves only harsh spirits. No ale. …B. The door to the cellar is heavy. The stairs to the cellar are slick and hard. The innkeeper is fast, and stronger than she looks. …C. Order and ale. 

55, A. Pretty little country cottage.…B. The site of a gruesome murder suicide.…C. Anyone drunk. It's local legend. There's a crummy song even.

56, A. A coaching inn. Reroll- a cottage, shack, or large home.…B. Below the floorboards: noblemens' skeletons, crushed under the chairs of marauding giants, drinking to their victory over the noblemen.…C. Everyone knows the story, curses dwarves and giants alike.

57, A.  The inn is built from black volcanic rock.  …B.  Hot springs under the inn provide a constant supply of hot water.  …C.  Overnight guests are offered the use of the hot baths.  

58, A.  The inn is a river boat, either moored or drydocked.  …B.  All of the servers have had their tongues cut out.  …C.  Try to get one of the servers to speak.  

59, A.  All the local patrons drink quietly and no music plays.  …B.  The rooms have no windows.  Doors are securely locked at midnight with garlic and henbane blooms hung over them.  …C.  Rent a room and hear heavy locks latching at midnight.  

60, A.  Wind constantly moans softly throughout the inn.  …B.  The inn was built on the site of an historic battle where a local king was slain.  …C.  At dusk the innkeeper bids patrons to toast the king.  

61, A.  Every wall is painted a different color.  …B.  An elderly blind woman cooks all the meals without error and helps serve when she has time.  …C.  Ask about the blind woman serving food.  

62, A.  Only serves beer made from fermented mushrooms.  …B.  Has a backroom where orcs (or appropriate substitution) are chained up and forced to dance nude for onlookers.  …C.  The characters are asked if they have special entertainment interests.  

63, A. One get the feeling that the food is not cooked properly.…B. If checked one can find that around a hundred people have gone missing at the inn or its proximety.…C. The mad hobo outside likes to whisper it.

64, A. Each table has one chair clearly cosier than the others.…B. The innkeeper whistles the same cheery tune, which earworms PCs on a failed save.…C. At the day's end, when your eyelids fall closed.

65, A. The squirrel stew is known for its thickness.…B. All of the tables have one leg that was shortened by a brownie the innkeeper insulted, causing them to wobble. …C. Talk to the servant boy who cleans up the spilled food and drink. 

66, A. The inn is two stories high.…B. The third floor vanished in an Aleister Crowley-style dark ritual and now exists only between the first and second floor.…C. If guests try to leave without paying due to chronic nightmares the owner may blab.

67, A. People enter The Cork Owl, but you never see them leave. …B. People leaving The Cork Owl cannot be observed. …C. An invisible waif will probably try to take your purse. 

68, A. A thick walled squat fortress of a place, well constructed of heavy black stone. The inn is also a Dwarven Brew Pub.…B. The dwarves are terrible beer snobs.…C. Just try to order a drink which isn't a fancy craft beer.

69, A. Old, colorfully painted, now peeling.…B. Serves visitors to a minor, now unpopular roadside miracle. holy water spring. Tree of iron. Hill clangs like a bell.…C. Its the first thing the tired innkeeper/bored staff asks.

70, .A. The old lady always insists in giving free dessert.…B. This lady is the widow of an elf king and has several letters from him.…C. Ask old elven courtiers about the story of the kingdom.

71, A. Was a bell tower once.…B. The bell no longer rings.…C. The owner has the clapper hanging from his belt as a club.

72, A. Wattle and daub building.…B. Stools are incredibly sturdy.…C. There is a bar fight every night and the stools are the main weapon.

73, . A. Half hangs over a steep drop on tottering palings.…B. Back rooms (over the drop) are "long sleep" rooms and half price. The inn has collapsed several times already.…C. A waiter sick of the innkeeper's advances confides in you.

74, A. Luxurious and newly rennovated.…B. Monosyllablic seal-man at the bar is a fence for exotic and illicit goods.…C. Spend a night or more hanging out with at least one eye's worth of attention on him.

75, A. Staffed by 4 moody teenagers.…B. Teenagers have locked real inn workers in cellar and are pocketing the money tonight.…C. Go anywhere a guest wouldn't normally go, overhear nervous conspirators

76, A. Run by an extended family. …B. There is nothing in the inn that is not for sale.…C. You will be asked to make an offer on the chairs. 

77, A. Large hole in wall blasted out by fleeing sorcerer…B. Proprietor turned to stone, now kept in closet, regulars collect money for de-stonification, raised 42 gp so far…C. Patrons wheel proprietor out and pass the hat at midnight

78, A. Decoration highlight: glass barrel dispenses rings in wax balls randomly…B. The owner operates a chain of similar tavern/inns with a network of spies tracking adventurers' quests through tracking rings.…C. Mounted, haunted elven skull whispers this info at Table #9.

79, A. Built from rough pine logs and thatched in green pine boughs.…B. Whole structure is actually a living mesh of pine trees, formerly a wizard's abode.…C. Lazy owners. No upkeep. Roof always green. Subtle-carved sigils everywhere.

80, A. Roof patched with painted wagon siding.…B. Proprietor a former caravan guard. She's seen the start of many an adventure.…C. She's quick to tell you.

81, A. Situated near flat, muddy field, Y-shaped pole structures at ends…B. Impending game of ultra-violent rugby analog vs. rival roadside inn…C. Active recruiting of able-bodied for innovative kamikaze strategy 

82, A. Rudely carved devils adorn the lintels, bannisters, doorknocker.…B. The innkeeper's genealogical disposition to short, broad and ugly means they always play Satan in the local morality plays.…C. Anyone. He also tells a ghost story every night.

83, A. Shopworn stuffed cat, bumbling owner who's very curious.…B. Cat comes alive if a stranger admits theft; cat becomes a leopard if a stranger admits homicide. Living, it's invisible.…C. Rowdy crowd? Stuff gets knocked off shelves & people get mauled.

84, A. A meticulously looted ancient tomb complex of black volcanic glass, where a few of the empty sepulchers and crypts have been turned into a fine roadside tavern.…B. The ancient gods and spirits are very angry about this state of affairs, but far too weak to do anything without a few blood-sacrifices.…C. Holy workers, clerics, houngans and such can sense that the whole place is spiritually uneasy.

85, A, Built from various shattered sailing vessels….B, Innkeeper is former sailor, can sell information about sunken treasures…C, Ask around at the inn.

86, A. Nice looking well kept place...B. - has hidden tunnel in the cellar that leads to a hidden room in the back of a warehouse.…C. - you will need criminal connections or to stumble across/find the door (if in the cellar)

87, A. Rickety, wooden construction on a small hill called "Gleaming Shell"....B. - Built on dragon turtle's back, hibernates 3D20 years at a time. Innkeeper its half-human daughter.…C. - At night psychically sensitive or magically gifted share turtle's dreams (turtle enjoys this very much, may provide oracular answers).

88, A. Typical Middle Eastern-ish caravanserai...B. - Is located somewhere cold, and is run by an efreet exiled here for some kind of court intrigue…C. - Strange, flickering lights come from the proprietor's room - it's always burning in there.

89, A. Reasonably nice digs, drinks are kind of expensive though...B. - There's a fake wall near the exit to the outhouse. Behind it is a secret fancy bar. In addition to delicious custom cocktails, it tends to be frequented by people in the know on criminal and adventurous matters.…C. - Talk to someone in the local service business

90, A. Exceptionally large and well furnished coaching inn....B. - Actually a spectral presence, though harmless unless you happen to arrive on the one night a year it was sacked.…C. - Always has the same patrons, everything many years out of date.

91, A. Cottage of local widow, seats 8, space to sleep in barn, plenty of beer....B. - The village drunkards congregate here will be really angry if there aren't at least five seats left for them - may burn the place down.…C. - Travel in a group of four or more.

92, A. The "inn" is actually a clearing with some fire pits, lean-tos, and a few barrels of ale. ...B.: Local fey will occasionally wander in to drink and chat with mortals in poor disguises. …C.: Mushrooms grow in a circle around the camp. 

93, A. Nice place, richly furnished, clean and staff are well dressed....B. - cult of a succubus worship out of this place. Been made to look rich and classy so as to keep away commoners and people of lower classes.…C. - find the secret room / see the wealthy leave in droves / hear about it though rumors or from a rival demon

94, A. Upper class, plebs can stay in the stables....B.: Two bands of young idealist revolutionists with opposing views often have secret meetings here, unaware of each other.…C.: They'll stare at you if you look like you're listening and speak in hushed excited voices.

95, A. A den of thieves and murderers and looks like it, brawls are common....B.: Strangers are expected to stay in their rooms the duration of their stay and leave as soon as possible, otherwise there will be trouble.…C.: The barkeep recommends you stay in your room.

96, A. Christian imagery covers the walls and there's a crucifix in every room....B.: The staff and regulars are very pious waldensians as are most villagers around the inn.…C.: Speak about the christian faith with any of them.

97, A. A sign in front declares the inn is under the protection of the Knights Templar....B.: It's completely run by children (10 years old on average) after their parents fell ill and died.…C.: Ask to see their parents.

98, A. Seems normal on outside, inside a slimy coated room of flesh...B.: with happy patrons gnawing on growths from walls and drinking fluids dripping from orifices…C.: open your eyes unless you fear SAN loss

99, A. Sign is an old battle-scarred shield....B.) Bartender can do amazing knife-juggling, only when drunk.…C.) Order whisky, talk about the war. Bartender will join you.

100, A) five storeys high, narrow and long…B) top floor of the inn serves as an aviary/inn for migrating birdfolk, innkeeper is an aarakocra…C) ask anyone within 5 miles, wildly famous spot
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Normal People (Thought Eater)

Going to put up a new d100 table tomorrow, but for now here's two new entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you don't know, it's like this: these are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write about: Common people in RPGs for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "COMMON1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Let's face it: many adventuring parties are just self-aggrandizing murderhobos who've gotten a bit too big for their britches.  They think the world revolves around them.  But it doesn't.  Sure, they can shape it, break it, maybe even save it now and then, if we're lucky.

But they didn't make it.  They don't keep it running.  They're not down in the grit and the grime and the grue day in and day out, struggling to keep economies running and societies flourishing while barely making ends meet for themselves.  There's no glory in peasant work, in being common.  Yet being "common" is probably the toughest gig around.

"Common people" in RPGs -- especially in medieval(ish) fantasy RPGs -- face lethal danger and adversity every day of their lives, in the form of plagues, starvation, oppression by their masters, and a host of other forces conspiring to put them in unmarked premature graves.  These are threats that cannot be quickly defeated by swords or spells, threats that linger after the high-faultin' murderhobos leave town on their next epic tomb raid.  "Common" people -- that is to say, the peasantry -- deserve much better treatment than they get in most OSR games, where they are usually an afterthought if they're thought about at all.

I have a house rule for NPC commoners in my OSR campaigns that reflects this struggle: for every year of life beyond attaining self-sufficiency (usually age 16 for humans), a "commoner" gets either another hit die beyond 1, or a +1 bonus to Constitution-based saves or resistance rolls.  These benefits are cumulative, so grizzled old veterans become a bit more of a challenge should any prissy young adventurer types decide to harass them for sport or spite; such a common man can't dole out much of a beating, but he can take one, and take it in stride.  And subsequently shame or embarrass the hipster with a sword just by leering and grumbling, when the little piss-ant clearly expected him to buckle.

Every "commoner" is a folk hero who never happened.  There but for the grace of the DM your average dungeon delver would have gone.

Common people give DMs a chance to keep PCs grounded, to put their actions in perspective, and to reign in their high-falootin' attitudes with a healthy dose of community shaming when necessary. After all, who picks on Old Fred? I mean, really?

I've been lucky that most of my players over the years haven't gone out of their way to abuse the peasantry, so I've gotten the point across in other ways, like surprising them with how much punishment Willie the Farmer can take in a fight against bandits, or how resistant Willa the Milk Maid is to the lich lord's plague that laid them low.

And when the PCs have taken the time to notice the resilience of common folk in the face of such crippling, daily-grind horrors, it often inspires them to greater heroics, or becomes the basis of a whole new character-driven quest to save the land not from rampaging monsters, but from degradation or virulent disease.

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Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "COMMON2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Common People Define Your Game World (and sometimes the game itself)

Commoner and peasant NPC’s in your game can help define and flesh out your campaign setting. Their descriptions, their stats, their implementation, and even how they are generated provide an insight into what your game world is like: how mortality is treated, what kind of status quo your world operates on, and how the same world differs for the player characters.

For the purposes of this article, common people (commoners, peasants, serfs, townsfolk, etc) are different from hirelings and henchmen. The latter takes an active role with PC’s in dungeons, the former doesn’t. That said, a common person can become a hireling given certain circumstances, but the two aren’t interchangeable.

Let’s look at some examples from different games:

• In Type IV D&D commoners are almost never present or have stats; unless they’re put in danger and need to be saved. This emphasizes how much bigger a deal the PC’s are, and how different/stronger they are. They’re the “heroes” that commoners could never mechanically be.
• Type I D&D (AD&D) commoners are ranked by their level of activity (Sedentary, Active, Labouring, etc) and given access to most of the same options as PC’s (alignment, class, race, etc), all determined through a bunch of random tables. This emphasizes that commoners, while still below PC’s, can be just as diverse as them because the underlying system that governs them and the PC’s is simple.
• In LotFP commoners are all 0-level. Even with some bonuses they are still really fragile, but not much more so than player characters. This reinforces how dangerous the world is for the PC’s, but it is more so for them.
• In DCC players start out as commoners with the 0-level funnel, and you’re meant to roll up a few at a time. This is a world where anyone can become an adventurer...provided they’re lucky and clever enough to survive.
• In Dungeon World commoners are little more than concepts in a table, used more as a storytelling device to get the PC’s attention, give them what they need, and send them on their way. This focusses the attention on the player characters, and the dungeons below.
• In Torchbearer commoners are further abstracted to an image of a town on a page: an amalgam of people meant to be an abstraction of a safe haven where “town things” happen, distinct from dungeons and wilderness. This is meant to isolate the PC’s even more, driving home just how dire and unfriendly the world can be.

How easily a commoner is killed compared to a player character shows how lethal your game and your world is. If both characters are killed by roughly the same amount of damage, that’s a pretty lethal world. If commoners tend to die more easily than PC’s, that’s a more forgiving world that takes expertise and protection into account. If commoners can die in droves, but PC’s seldom die, then that’s a world where they are exceptional and favoured.

How commoners behave in the background of a game also informs the world of that game, and can highlight where there are inconsistencies. Are the common people in a city all gruff and crazy and jonesing for a fight but their surroundings are pretty tranquil with few random encounters? That doesn’t line up. Are the kings/queens/viscounts/dukes in your setting all awful and corrupt? The common people should then be doing what they can to revolt (or at least be scared after their last peasant revolt was put down).

When you are generating or preparing common people for your game, consider what impact they have on the game world, because there should be an impact.
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(Thought Eater) How People Choose Games

Two new entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

Here's how it works: thesea re not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG folks who were both assigned to write about: Why do people choose games or certain editions of a game? for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "CHOOSE1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Here are things I want a game to do:

• Provide a sense of danger. Establish physical laws severe enough that the players can plausibly die even if I softball the difficulty.

• Provide scope for material progress. Establish economic laws that allow the players opportunity to advance in wealth and power without me explicitly having to give it to them. 

• Provide for the differentiation of PCs. Allow different mechanical ways for the players to interact with the first two systems. Characters fight differently and they become more powerful in different ways. They have different skills and different weaknesses.

The first two things take some of the burden off me as a DM. They make it easier to challenge the players and they make it easier to motivate them. The third thing takes some of the burden off my players. It limits their options and makes it easier for them to decide what to do next. It also means they don’t have to invent an interesting character from scratch.

I still have to put some thought into challenging and motivating the players, and they still have to put some thought into their actions. But having game rules lowers the difficulty of those things to the point where they are enjoyable instead of frustrating.

Now here are things I don’t want a game to do, but that I have gleaned other people appreciate:

• Provide a setting. I already have more settings in my head than I know what to do with.

• Provide for the emergence of a coherent, emotionally satisfying narrative. I don’t take games seriously enough for this to work. No matter how distraught the pixie queen is about the obliteration of her culture by the goblin invaders I’m not going to be able to care about it in a tabletop game context. (I guess that what I crave is the narrative of motion. I want to imagine the interactions of elements, but I don’t care about the drama or the intrigue. I want an action movie, not a period piece.)

• Model social interaction. I can improvise this in a way that everyone at the table will agree is fairly plausible. I don’t need rules for it. Note that the same is not true of combat.

• Incentivize roleplaying. I don’t care if people roleplay or not.

The first list is fairly characteristic of things that OSR games do. The second list is fairly characteristic of things storygames do. This is clearly the most important political debate of our time.

What they all have in common, however, is that they make it possible for you to achieve a particular aesthetic goal without you having to put in the kind of backbreaking labour that is usually associated with the achievement of aesthetic goals. You want to fight a terrible ogre, or you want to explore a fantastic realm, or you want to simulate the heartbreaking trauma of losing a child. Game rules make it possible for you to spontaneously generate these experiences. You lose some quality, in that procedurally generated works of art are, at our present level of technology, generally less good than bespoke ones, and you lose specificity, in that you can’t control exactly what kind of experience you get. But it’s much easier and much less time-consuming than painting or writing or filming or composing would be.

When you design a system for a tabletop game, you make two assumptions. The first is that the kind of aesthetic goal your system is designed to achieve is a valid one. The second is that people can’t achieve it on their own, or at least not easily, and so they need the assistance of a system.

Everyone has a different internal sense of what aesthetic goals are valid, and everyone is better at some things than they are at others. This determines what you do and don’t want from a game.

The experience I want from a game involves greed, violence, breathtaking stupidity, the exploration of ancient tombs, cool monster designs and really horrible shit happening to people for no reason. I’m good at improvisation, setting design and on-the-fly characterization. I’m bad at balancing combat mechanics, finding goals for my players that they are actually interested in pursuing and figuring out what the right level of difficulty is. I don’t want in-depth roleplaying (I won’t object to it happening but I’ll never pursue it), power fantasies or serious emotional growth.

The systems I get the most use out of are the ones that do things I want but am bad at. For me this is providing a sense of danger. My games are very improvised. I’m always concerned with making sure that they players have complete freedom to do anything they want, and this comes with a corresponding loss of danger as I invent stuff that wasn’t already in the script. The reason for this is that if your players decide they’re going to venture off the edge of the map it is kind of cheating to put an immortal dragon, or a straight-up invisible wall there. I can’t spontaneously kill people at a whim. But I want spontaneous death to be a possibility, so I need it to be encoded in the game rules. When the players all fuck up and contract mummy rot I need to be able to point to the manual entry for mummies and say “That was always going to happen, I didn’t just invent it to fuck with you”. Rules, for me, are most useful as something to blame.

The systems I get the second most use out of are the ones that do things I want but am good at. I can design my own villages. It’s all on stilts and the mayor’s a toad. Boom. But I still have a use for a random village generator from time to time, if only just because not everything can be on stilts. And sometimes when you’re good at something you can extract more use out of a system than someone who is bad at the thing. It becomes a sort of skill magnifier. So setting design and tables of personality quirks are still useful to me, even though I don’t strictly speaking need them.

The only systems I don’t use are ones that do things I don’t want. I don’t give bonus XP for roleplaying because I don’t care about it.

This is not the only reason people choose to play certain games. People choose games because it’s what they’re used to, because their friends were doing it, because they already knew the rules or because they think it will make them cool. But it’s the reason the kind of person who still has her old notepad full of scribbled continents from high school and who drags her friends into it when they aren’t really interested and who writes essays on D&D theory for Zak Smith’s blogging competition chooses games. They’re obsessed with emulating a specific aesthetic experience and they want a system that reconciles this with their existing skills.

Now there is something I haven’t accounted for here, which is: games create their own audience. You don’t always have an idea of what you want and go in search of a game that will allow you to do it. Just as often, probably more, you will play a game, have an experience, develop the desire to seek out more of it. Games can plant an idea in your head. If I’d never started reading Zak and co. I wouldn’t be chasing after this particular aesthetic experience and I wouldn’t be looking for games that dovetail with my skills in order to create it. How I think this works is, you play a game, you see something in it that you like and that the creator didn’t necessarily intend, you go away and try to create a better, purer version of that thing. Gygax didn’t intend to create a kind of ultraviolent medieval comedy. He was emulating Tolkien, who is the opposite of that. But the potential for ultraviolent medieval comedy is built into his work and modern OSR games are about extracting that and distilling it to its essence until whoops, murderhobos. And obviously what happens then is that someone plays modern OSR games and sees something in them that the designers of those games did not anticipate and goes on to create some entirely third thing.

Your sense of what is a valid aesthetic goal comes from a whole complex of biological and environmental factors, including your ability to understand what other people think is a valid aesthetic goal. So when you look at other people’s art and see that they had different aesthetic goals to the ones you currently have, the interaction between your weird psychological quirks and theirs results in a kind of hybridized third thing that you then have to go and create for yourself because it doesn’t actually exist anywhere but your head. Which is where we get new art from. I have now explained all creativity ever, anywhere, and no-one ever has to think about it ever again. You’re welcome.

Second One


If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "CHOOSE2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Why do we choose the games we choose?

At first, the answer is a lot easier than it seems: genre. Style. Tropes, if you will. No matter how many times we say that system matters, there are many people that will play ANY game with “Star Wars” written on the cover, no matter if it uses d6s, a d20 or lots of weird dice. There are those who would prefer westerns, Arthurian myth, superheroes, and so on. Dungeons and Dragons is a genre unto itself, and every new editions will have lots of fans, no matter how good or bad it is.

In many cases, it is really choosing a book by its cover.

The real question, though, is why do we KEEP playing the games we play after knowing many different games?

“Personal preference” is a poor explanation. We don’t choose games like we choose flavors of ice cream. Nor can one say some game is simply better than others. The best comparison, I reckon, is that sticking with a game is somewhat like having a friend. No, really. Think about it.

First thing, you must have some common interests. I mentioned genre, but there are also specificities inside each genre. Maybe you’re really into resource management, and your friend prefers to talk about how the situations affects his feelings. Maybe you like swords, shield and polearms while she is all about personalities and hidden agendas. Maybe you want things to be simple, fast and straightforward, while he wants precision, nuance and detail. Maybe you’re into gritty realism, while she thinks realism has no function but to limit the vast horizons of possibilities.

Second, you usually must have some friends in common. Maybe they introduce you, or you introduce them. This makes all the difference in the world. With games, most often than not you need a group of people to agree upon this choice. It is very common to play a game that is good enough but not your favorite, provided your friends like it. Just like hanging out whith the friends of your friends, really.

Finally, you start to build memories and thrust. You know how your friend will behave in most situations, you know he is always fun to be around, you know if she is always reliable and predictable and if she might surprise you in a good way. And if he did something to disappoint, sometimes you will remember it for a while.

There are quite a few gamers that will treat games like friends, too. They will defend their favorite games as if attacking them was a personal offense, and will be eager to speak highly of them at any opportunity. But convincing someone that your friend is a good person will not make them befriend him, either. All you can do is introduce them, maybe mention some common interests, and see how it goes.

For all of us, there is a time in our lives when we are most likely to make new friends. It is the same with games, really. Some us will read new games every year, but some of us will be happy enough to keep playing the same game over and over, because we have already found something to like. There is nothing wrong with either approach, really. Some people have many friends, some people have few very good friends, some people have both.

Just keep in mind that you’re never too old to make new friends if you want to.
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Preterite Rules (Thought Eater)

These are the next two new entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you don't already know, these essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG peeps who were both assigned to write about: Address an Often-Ignored or Derided Thing In D&D for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "IGNORED1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.


What Alignment My Alignment Is In

One of the first aspects of D&D that many players ditch or change or ignore is alignment. It is no wonder. The alignment rules are a mish-mash of simplistic personality mechanics and allegiances to higher powers, with several of the players’ choices simply being unplayable or disallowed by a reasonable DM, who could actually improve his campaign by removing alignment (in fact, there is an old Dragon article that makes that point persuasively). Having no alignment rules means no tedious arguments or pronouncements about what a “Lawful Good” character would do, or not do, and, if a player has his or her characters do something dumb, that player won’t be able to say Alignment made me do it.” A character is as a character does, and writing “Lawful Good” on a character sheet means nothing if the character is actually “Paranoid Greedy.” Personality does play a role in D&D characters, but that role varies, and it is best handled at the table.

However, alignment can also represent an allegiance or orientation to a greater ideal. This use of alignment is most evident in early editions of the game in which characters who violated their alignment could lose experience points, characters of the same alignment could communicate via an “alignment tongue,” and many spells dealt explicitly with “Good” and “Evil.” Indeed, some of those spells are present, one way or another, in every edition of D&D. However, in subsequent editions of D&D, alignment has drifted away from this allegiance toward simply serving exclusively as a personality mechanic, something for which it is ill-suited. Although not every D&D campaign needs alignment, some campaigns do need it, not as a personality mechanic but as a guideline for dealing with universal principles or ideas made manifest.

How would this version of alignment work conceptually? First, a DM would only use alignment if the campaign called for it, if these universal principles or ideas were also represented by NPCs, monsters, places, and/or events. Second, the DM would have to choose those universal principles. Certainly Good and Evil and Law and Chaos are classics, but it is possible to come up with different alignment systems that are not binary, such as the Endless from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series, and the various ideas that they represent. In that setting, even the Endless (the powers who govern the various alignments) have multiple alignments. It might even be possible for someone to have both alignments in an opposed alignment system such as Good vs. Evil. It even makes sense. Are any of us simply good or evil? On the other hand, in some systems, alignments might be mutually exclusive, as in the case of James Raggi’s Lamentations of the Flame Princess, in which Law, Neutrality, and Chaos represent three radically different ways of being connected (or not) to the great forces of the universe.

Once the DM understands the alignment system he or she will be using in the campaign, the DM must decide how to use the system in play as a DM and as a player. One of the best ways for a DM to make alignment come alive is to apply alignment to NPCs, monsters, and locations. If Chaos is an alignment in the campaign, then entering the chaotic ogre’s cave is not simply a matter of going somewhere gross, it is a matter of entering a place in conflict with reality. Perhaps when the PCs enter the ogre’s cave, it is the ogre itself that they enter, and this remains true even as they fight it face-to-face. PCs too should be given a chance to demonstrate their alignment, to benefit from it and to suffer for it. A good example in Fifth Edition D&D is the paladin, who obviously gains power from alignment with certain ideals, and who can lose those powers too, for not acting in alignment with those ideals, and who can gain power again by embracing the opposing ideals. But as good an example as the paladin is, it could go further. Paladins -- or any characters -- who respects their alignment should be respected by others of the same alignment even if circumstances put them at odds. In addition, those characters who embrace their alignment should have an easier time dealing with environments that match their alignment. A chaotically-aligned character, for example, should have an easier time in the ogre’s cave than a lawfully-aligned one.

One temptation that DMs should avoid, however, is turning alignment into a number, like faction. Universal powers and ideals should not give out bennies like the Harpers or the Zhentarim do. Luckily the advantage / disadvantage mechanic of Fifth Edition D&D covers most passive benefits and drawbacks that alignment could provide, and I would suggest using it. More active benefits and drawbacks require dealing with the NPCs, monsters, places, and great powers devoted to or oriented toward particular alignments. As PCs become more powerful, they should start drawing personal attention from powerful beings, and anything that happens as a result of those interactions should be based on roleplaying, not an alignment number.

If DMs were to get rid of alignment as a personality mechanic, they could focus on alignment as a connection to important, universal ideals. This focus is not necessary for every campaign, but if it used, it should be used correctly. This means deciding on those ideals, coming up with guidelines for following them, and avoiding the trap of tracking them with numbers. Alignment is an important part of D&D’s history, and although it should be kept as part of the game, it needs to get back to its literary roots in works such as Michael Moorcock’s Elric saga.


Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "IGNORED2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.


Tasked with mining some value out of a frequently ignored or derided thing in Dungeons and Dragons is a bit taxing when you don’t actively play Dungeons and Dragons. From my loose knowledge, I could write about the bollocks that is encumbrance tracking? Maybe focus on the box-thinking logic of the alignment system? Hell, which version of D&D am I supposed to be considering here? Let’s chuck a random fireball into the dark and look at an aspect of the spell system – the use of spells.

A magic user can cast x amount of spells based on their level and intelligence level but once they’re cast they need to rest up to recall them. The second they’re cast, they’re forgotten. The idea that someone would need 8 hours to commit something they've read repeatedly previously just seems wobbly at best. I get that reading a magic spell isn't the same as memorising a poem but there should be some middle ground here. If all that mage is doing is reflecting on one or two spells, they should be able to at least attempt casting them more than predetermined number of times per day.

Instead let’s try and push to the side how it works at the moment and see what we can do.

Our subject Geoff, a young wizard in training, has learnt the spell “Magic Missile”. He’s fully refreshed, he’s literally just put the book down – its in his head and good to go. He cast’s the spell successfully with no hesitation at a scarecrow opposite him, sending bits of straw sky high and surprising the poor mouse that had been nibbling away inside. Excellent work Geoff!

He turns to the next target scarecrow and thinks back to the spell. It was pretty complicated for someone starting out, but he has just read the spell like a minute ago and he’s not an idiot. He is however inexperienced and magic takes it out of you, so a Constitution check is required. He passes (he’s a young bloke, fit and healthy) and he successfully casts it again. This happens several more times successfully, littering straw everywhere, but he starts to get a bit drained. He knows he shouldn't push his luck, but he tries one more time and of course fails his Constitution check. Poor Geoff.

This time he needs to make a second roll, lets call it Save Vs Fuck Up. Each spell now has a Fuck Up value between 1 and 20. The player needs to roll over it, applying their intelligence bonus. If they succeed, the spell is still cast but that spell is now corrupt in their head – much like when you’re trying to recall your PIN number at the ATM but forget it momentarily and start coming up with vaguely similar numbers that you’re sure are correct (but in fact wrong), the spell is now jumbled up in your head. If they fail the roll, then something bad will happen depending on the spell – its not just a failure, its an incorrectly cast spell. The Magic Missile example would obviously be something like the caster taking the damage. Other spells could be more disastrous (What if the floating disc ended up being cast inside the magic user? What exactly would happen to a character that used a spell to open a locked chest incorrectly? Eww.).

You can attempt to cast the spell again but must still make the constitution check and the Save Vs Fuck Up check. Resting/taking time to re-read your notes will correct it however. Yes, there’s nothing mechanically then stopping a mage from flinging fireballs all day but then there’s nothing stopping a fighter from swinging his sword all day either. The deterrent is the risk of failure.

This could be modified to include a sliding scale for difficulty too if the above seems to make the magic user to over-powered – perhaps every casting of the spell sees the difficulty of the Constitution check increase? Add a sliding scale of difficulty to the Save Vs Fuck Up and you’ll be pulling that mage in a bit but not leaving them entirely without options should they find themselves in a corner. It's a step towards making things a bit more exciting at any rate as opposed to a flat out, "No, you've cast a set number of spells today, you're done till you have a nap.".

Magic should be dangerous, unpredictable and deadly. I'd rather be playing in a game where mages can do crazy powerful things but are more likely to screw themselves over in some interesting and gruesome manner.
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Infinity (Thought Eater)

Here are two new entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you don't already know, these essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG peeps who were both assigned to write about: The Infinite In Games for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "INFINITE1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

You want is a system created that enables you infinite play? A campaign that goes on forever?

You can’t have it. Nothing is boundless. There is no infinite game. Everything ends.
And that is beautiful.

Infinity is fucking scary. It’s wrong. It has no place here, in our hearts and minds. The Abyss is infinite. I hear that when you gaze into it and it gazes into you. (Though it also has 666—a finite number-- layers so try to make peace with that, too) The Infinite is unknowable and immeasurable. It’s what your adventurer is going out into. It is the void that births the horrors. It’s why part of you is still afraid of the dark, and it’s why you get gooseflesh when in that one room in your house. It’s why when you gaze long into that starry night sky, you feel inspired but also small. Very, very, small.
Lives, objects, things around us—those have beginnings, middles, and ends. We can measure them. We can count them and we can know them. But the infinite is amorphous, unbound, and unknowable. Infinity has no end, and no structure. Endings are what define us.

One day, you will stop playing Dungeons & Dragons.

Any number of things might stop you. Your Cleric may need to work some extra shifts on Thursdays, or maybe you asked out another player and even though you both promised it wasn’t going to be totally weird, it’s still totally weird. Maybe you just had twins. Your partner doesn’t game and you’re not comfortable leaving them with two newborns so you can go pretend to be an Elf for a few hours.

You might just die. You have an end.

 One day, you will roll dice for the last time.

From that, we have two useful ideas for gaming. The first is that Infinity is scary. As a player you struggle against it. Adventure is the act of striking out into what is unknown and undefined. You are on an undertaking that seeks to create an ending, to give structure to the boundless--to tell the untold.

As a referee or game master, you use the various infinities as tools. You present them to players, and interpret the results of their choices. Tap into the fearful nature of the infinite, and never take it for granted. Don’t ever present or use the known. When the Goblin becomes a pest to be exterminated instead of a horror to stand against, retire the goblin.

The second useful gaming idea is to make every roll count. If you’re going to spend 4ish hours of your time each week, plus your prep, make sure you’re spending it well.  It, like everything else, is finite. It ends.

Try new and crazy things. Don’t play with rules you don’t like. If you find you need a new rule for something, make one. Write it into your PHB with a black permanent marker. If it sucks, scratch it back out with that same marker. Make what you are playing hard--a challenge. Talk to everyone and everything. Pick up everyone and everything. Break the magic staff. Slay the monster. Insult the wizard. Seduce the High Priest. Carouse. Use a lot of random tables and accept the result. Play hard. Die. Roll 3d6 six more times and go again. While you’re rolling those 3d6 six more times, look around the table and ask the Halfling to pass the Doritos. If the Dungeon Master is getting up for a beer, ask them to bring you one and ask if she wants you to roll for starting gold. Then look around and realize that you’re working hard, playing like a fool and doing it with a few of your closest friends. That beer is going to taste motherfuckin’ delicious.

Take that. Take your infinite, your interminable horror. If you did it right, it’ll make your skin crawl. Add the Halfling Rogue you asked out and with whom things are still totally weird, but hey, they passed the Doritos so maybe it’s not a lost cause. Your cleric friend just (finally) finished their shift, and you’re rolling up what might just be a serviceable paladin. And that’s good, because the Dungeon Master hired a baby sitter, and put together a new matrix of random tables to try out tonight.


It is not infinite, and that is beautiful.
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Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "INFINITE2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

==== The Expiration Date of Canon ====

"Kingdom A is ruled by Queen Blaah and..." I've seen so many settings described like this. Details about people, history, ongoing conflicts etcetera. While much can be said about the format of those descriptions, I want to talk about the WHEN of all those settings books.

Let's say you play a game with an extensive meta plot and LOTS of setting material. At what point will all that material start becoming useless to you? I was co-GM in a campaign set in a world like that. The other GM and I spent a whole lot of time discussing how the latest events set off by the players would reflect in changes in canon information. The collective amount of information in the meta plot was centered around a snapshot in time - the reason for which I believe must be the ease at which something like that can be written. Whenever we drifted too far away from that specific point in time, we would reboot the campaign with new characters at some other place in the setting. We had paid for those books and spent hours reading them AND GODDAMNIT IF WE WEREN'T GOING TO USE THEM!

Moved to a new city. Joined a new group. Same game; same setting. A year later I realised I hadn't flipped through those setting books again ever. Now, almost a decade later, I still haven't.

Because when this group moved further away from that frozen snapshot in time that the canon info presented, we just tossed the books aside and said "Now THIS happens!" And bam. Suddenly our campaign had gone several hundred years in game from canon. World wars. Mass migrations. Demonic invasions. Nothing was the same, and all I've kept at hand are the pretty nifty looking maps.

That never-ending campaign that we keep returning to year after year is all in our heads and notes now. Most of the players have been replaced a couple of time over the years and together their memories form a mosaic of amazing stories. The only part of everything that nobody reflects on is that starting point. That shitload of books that was only interesting to me and the other GM (yes, I've co-GMed this one too) for a very short period in the beginning.


These days I relish in setting-neutral adventures, locations and tools. Those are the kind of books my campaign will never move away from. That possibility of infinite fun and development is not in shelves and shelves of crap static fiction anyways.
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How Relationships To Character Change Over Time (Thought Eater)

And now the next entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you jumped in late, these essays are nto by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG peeps who were both assigned to write about: How your relationship to your player character changes over time for the contest.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the first round Thought Eater essays are up...

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "CHANGE1" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

I think that our relationships with our characters changes as we change.  They are a part of us, after all.   Even the big ones, the ones that sort of split off and become their own personality, they are still "us" in a fundamental way.

I'm thinking about maturity here, particularly.  As I enter in to middle age, I can see how the world has changed a lot, become both larger and smaller.  This has greatly affected how I feel about both my older characters and the ones I make now.  When you're young and immature, the world is simple, characters tend to follow the same pattern- a single class, or a "tribute character".  You play what you know, what you think is cool.  Characters are more of a mask you wear, then a different person.

Get a little older, and the world becomes suddenly very wide and open.  Things are not only new, but you have the complexity to understand them more.  Characters are taken in new directions- old ones are given new faces, and new characters are a little less like ourselves, and more like what we want to be (or think we want to be).  Characters at this time are a work of art- you take the time to craft every aspect, get them just right.

After that, it's all about refinement.  You drop characters that don't mean so much, and you're more likely to let characters grow organically- sometimes to the point of having characters marry, have kids, and retire.

I've found that the characters that last the longest, are the ones that go organic.  When you have a character real enough to grow with you, they stick by you, like an old friend.   You grow to know their scars.  For me, finding a character like that is one of the great rewards of gaming.

Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "CHANGE2" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle or vote on Google +. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

In thinking about a player’s relationship with their characters, I first started thinking about different stages characters might pass through. New characters, veteran characters, broken characters, etc. That approach seemed limited to just description, and therefore would just be a useless taxonomy. Is there commonality between these stages? Are there ways to examine how games and campaigns might shape the way players related to their characters?

There are major differences in the way that players think about their characters across games, genres, styles, and campaigns. An investigator in Call of Cthulhu, a troubleshooter in Paranoia, a thief in Swords & Wizardry, or a loser in Fiasco all have players approaching them very, very differently. It’s worth looking at a few components that feed into player/character relationships and think about how they’re shaped by games and the environment around those games. And, of course, how these factors can change over time.

Customization: The more a player is able to modify a character and make it their own, the more that character becomes memorable to the player. Elements of wish fulfillment can come in with some players and in some games as well, and the player’s imagination can be fueled by the opportunity to make the character their own. A system with greater options during character creation allows for potentially greater investment in a character, or at a minimum, a greater sense of ownership.

As time moves on, many systems allow for more or fewer options for customization as characters gain experience. A system like Pathfinder/D&D 3.5 has vast options for characters to advance. The plethora of multi-classing options, feats, skills, and everything else lets players express their creativity, and can deepen their attachment. In most D&D derived games, there are significant opportunities to modify characters as the campaign continues.

In other games based around campaigns, characters might not change significantly as time goes on. In many superhero systems, for example, characters might gain resources but their abilities often don’t change much. In these other types of systems, we wouldn’t expect the player’s relationship with their character to change much as a consequence of the Customization variable over time.

Control: In some games, a player is solely responsible for the actions of their character. Or, at least, is close to solely responsible. In others, events in the game will constrain choices, or the GM or other players might exert more control over the character. The more a player has control over their character, the stronger their relationship will be to that character. With less player control, other elements of the game such as the game world, the story, or other aspects become more important to players.

The style of game being run can change the level of control as well. A sandbox style of gameplay can increase a player’s feeling of control, as their characters become a driving force in the narrative and end up with considerable freedom of action. A campaign based around a particular story arc is going to be more constrained, more on rails, with a corresponding decrease in player control.

For the most part, the player’s control over their character won’t really change with time. Most of the factors playing into control are inherent to the system, campaign, or particular game, and those factors are unlikely vary without the players and GM making conscious decisions to make those changes. There are exceptions, though, as players may discover things about their game that illuminate their level of control, with a corresponding change in their relationship with their character.

Attachment: How much does the game encourage players to be attached to their character? Are characters disposable? Is character death frequent and understood, or a shocking event? Are characters intended to just play the part in their story, or are they generating the story? In a lot of ways, this is one of the harder factors to tie back to mechanics, but it’s unmistakably affected by the game. A high-attachment game will encourage the players to view things through the lens of their characters, as their primary way of recalling the events of the game later. A low-attachment game will instead cause people to think first of the world or story, and describe what happened at a level of remove from their characters.

Of course, attachment will generally increase with time. A player becomes more comfortable with their character, they acquire more of a history, there are more fond memories of a character. This, of course, is increased in games that encourage players to play in longer campaigns, and in campaigns with relatively high survivability.

Putting these factors together, it can be fun to look at some systems and see what types of character relationships they might encourage. OSR games tend to be pretty high in all three factors, with a fair bit of customization, strong character control, and high attachment through longer campaigns. High death tolls can chip away at the attachment, but a character that survives the gauntlet is especially prized. Later versions of D&D arguably measure even higher on these scales, with the additional character options available, although I think the differences are probably negligable. Many older RPGs fall into similar patterns: Traveller, Warhammer, Rolemaster/Spacemaster, Cyberpunk - all of the games of these systems that I’ve played in have fostered similar relationships between players and characters.

Paranoia would be an example of a game at the other end of the spectrum from D&D. There are few meaningful options for characterization, the players all have the same role in the game, player control is pretty minimal as they are often just props in set pieces, and attachment to a Paranoia character is laughable. Something like Fiasco scores some points on customization, encouraging players to be creative with their characters, although they’re constrained by the relationships chosen for them during the character generation process. However, it’s fairly low on player control, as other players can put you in scenes and your choices can be quite constrained. As a game of one-offs which also encourages player deaths, attachment is extremely low.

Most of the story-based games I’ve played have tended to encourage fairly low attachment and control, as your characters are secondary to telling the story the game wants you to tell, and you’re expected to behave in the “right” way to keep the story moving. There are exceptions: Amber is a game where player control is about as high as possible, and it’s geared towards longer campaigns, although the customization end of things is fairly low. Nobilis is another game featuring very high player control, reasonable customization, but with low attachment, with much of the game being somewhat at a remove from the characters.

Thinking of player relationships in terms of these factors can allow players and GMs to explicitly shape one or more of them in their campaigns, and might allow them to make changes as the game goes on. Allowing for more options when levelling characters can increase player investment through greater customization. Ensuring players have agency in the campaign’s direction as time moves on can increase their control. Even just giving players a fair environment to keep their characters alive can increase their attachment. Or, if players are looking for a different sort of game, these kinds of factors can be reversed as time winds on, providing a different feel than earlier in a campaign, moving focus onto the story or world elements.


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