Wednesday, May 26, 2021

Popularity

In his book The Big Con, David Maurer explains that everyone ever taken by a confidence scheme has one overriding characteristic: they think there's an easy path to money; that everyone who has money found that easy path; and that the secret back door is the thing they haven't found yet.  This let's the con invent "an easy way to make money," then sit back and reel the fish in.

Everyone that gets taken by a con catches themself.

Yet every time you see a television show (there's one on Netflix now) or a documentary that talks about scams, phishing schemes and cons, the one thing you can expect the "experts" to say at the end is that "anyone can be taken by a con; there's no correlation between victims."  Hint: the word expert is in quotes because documentary film makers are not con artists.

The key word is "easy."  Most people seek the easiest path.  And most people seeking that path know intrinsically that their lives have not fared well for that.  Most convince themselves its because they haven't found that back door — and so they get taken again and again.  The rest, as they get older, begin to realize that maybe they should have tried harder in school; or gone to university; or at least buckled down and given a better effort at that one good job they had 12 years ago.  Unfortunately — and this is the deeper problem — there's a nagging feeling that even if they'd wanted to try harder, they'd have still failed.  That's not necessarily true, but for people in that headspace, it's enough that it feels true.  And so, as they spend their money on this week's lottery, which is also a scam, they justify it in that hey, what else are they gonna do?

With the last post, Alex asked me, "What do you want?"  I want my readers to recognize there is no easy path to DMing.  There are no shortcuts.  I don't want my readers to find themselves ten years from now feeling like they might still be playing D&D if only they had cared more.  I don't want them feeling like D&D was another important thing in their life they didn't give their all to, because they didn't know how or they didn't want to work that hard.  I want my readers to feel that they can master this thing; that they can raise themselves beyond what they are now, and into something better.  And I want my readers to understand that being able to master D&D uses and enables the same skills that will let them do anything else they like, from bettering their relationships, their careers and their happiness.  The repeated examples I pull from psychology, problem-solving and academic deconstruction proves that.  Learning how to manage this game will grant people the tools they can apply to anything else they do in their lives.

Some sneer at that.  They do because they still believe that "easy" is best.  Or they do it because they've already reached an age where they've started to think that "acquiring new tools" is a thing of their past.  For those readers of this kind, who don't believe their future can be much influenced by D&D, I rush to point out that I have 18 year olds that read this blog also.  I have young readers who are just starting; who haven't given up on changing themselves or believing they can do whatever they want.  Too often, I get comments from people who think because they have a ton of experience, they can see right through my agenda ... until I remind them that I'm also writing to a lot of other people.  Not just them.

The easiest way to recognize a con is have a thesaurus open to the word "easy."  Hearing that word, and any word like it, is a clear sign.  Real things in the world never have "easy" stamped on the label.  "Hey, come to Harvard, it's easy!"  "Be a doctor, it's easy!"  "Become a filmmaker, it's easy!"  Easy, simple, passively comprehensible things are always popular.  Earlier today, JB tried to equate this blog with a classroom, arguing "... doesn't PRACTICAL legitimacy come from attendents [sic]?"  I think it does come from attendance ... only in blogging circles, attention is nearly always given to the most simple-simon of writers.  Grognardia — penned by James Maliszewski — took an 8-year hiatus from blogging and is written by someone who unquestionably took a shit-load of money from readers (the reason he disappeared in 2012), and yet he's stepped right back into his old popularity, even though he's rewriting the same dreck material he produced a decade ago.  His secret is to mutter bland things about very old content, or new content that is very much like old content; he never says anything of consequence, offers no practical details at all and frankly, gushes like a 14-year-old on Demi Lovato.  Hasn't hurt his "attendents" one bit.  By the way, you can find Maliszewski's blog on JB's blog roll.  Maliszewski writes three or four posts a day, so you won't have to scan down very far.

Now, I also took money from readers in 1996 for a book I never produced.  And I have felt sick about it.  I also didn't go hide in shame.  I stayed right here and kept writing, answering whenever anyone brought up the issue, and have tried to make amends by producing meaningful, practical, useful content.  However, I'm also saying very clearly that a good D&D game comes from suffering.  It comes from long nights, it comes from hundreds of hours of preparation, and thousands of hours of practical work and research, along with changing what you are and how you do.  It does not come from gushing about old shit written by amateurs with only a few years of empirical, applied effort.  If the game was invented in 1974, and Blackmoor was published by Arneson in 1975, based on wargaming sessions he began in 1971 ... when Arneson was 24 years old, how exactly does this express the chops necessary to write anything that deserves the special praise it gets today?  I've read it.  I can't say I'm impressed.

I feel my readers can do better.  I feel they can do a LOT better, since there's been a lot more focus on the game than ever existed between 1970 and 1975.  But while I'm selling work, guys like Maliszewski are selling wank.  The more popular is obvious: wank is easier.  And woah, do the rubes get taken.

Every subject has it's mix of how-to books.  And while "blankety-blank for dummies" sells a lot better, the key word in the title is "DUMMIES" ... as in, the moron who has bought this book in spite of real books that exist on the subject, that are not useless overviews but will actually teach you how to rebuild your car, cook food, survive in the wilderness or fix a dishwasher.  Real books that teach real things always exist, but they are never popular ... which is why there are so few people who know how to do difficult things well.  I am of the school that the best things we can do for ourselves in our lives are difficult things.  I am in the minority.

People who cannot do difficult things constantly find themselves in situations where they're stuck and helpless.  Their car breaks down on the side of the road and while they know how to fill the tank, program the buttons on the radio and even open the hood, when they do the latter they are unable to make heads or tails of what they see.  Then, some nice soul comes along, stops, looks at the engine and adjusts one tiny valve inside of three seconds and says, "give it a try."  And the car works.

When this happens to most people — whether its a car, their dishwasher or trying to find a polling station or use a computer — it makes them feel STUPID.  They hate looking stupid.  They don't want that.  Of course, they could take a very simple course on how to fix a car.  Or a dishwasher or a computer, or learn to navigate a website.  But they don't.  Because that doesn't sound easy.  It particular galls them that the guy who fixed their car makes it look easy.  That is the fucking worst.

This is why, when I haul out my wiki, my writing, my map posts, my spread sheets and my trade stuff, sure it proves I'm not talking out of my ass.  That is not in my favour, except with a small few dedicated readers who come here to get what they can't get elsewhere.

This is good.  I don't want to be Maliszewski.  I want his popularity, but only because that would mean more people out there wanted to play a better game, realizing that working is a good thing, maybe the best of things.  Far better than hope, in my opinion.

4 comments:

  1. That should have said “attendees;” I definitely didn’t mean attendance.

    [jeez, my brain in these early morning comments!]

    But, no, I didn’t mean to equate legitimacy with popularity. More of: look at the students (and their “quality”) rather than the size of the crowd. Your readers tend to be serious-minded...or they don’t stick around.

    Still hopeful about the book, by the way.
    ; )

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  2. JB, one day you're going to write what you mean and I won't have to feature you in my posts.

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  3. Yeah, some just don't understand why we work so hard at this 'game'. Recently I was talking with my brother to get his opinion/help with some statistical analysis I was doing (because he's better at math than me and it's been years since I was in school so I'm often unsure of the results I get, in this case I did it right) and afterwards he said I could just make the numbers whatever I want, nobody cares, it's just a game, blah blah blah. The thing is I care; it is true I could take the easy way and assign random numbers that I pulled out of my ass, and when asked about something in game i could just say that's the way the game is or a wizard did it. But I want the answer to be there when I need it; I need game to be rational. I do these complex analyses and in depth research for myself, and my game is richer for it. Some of us do care about the quality of our work.

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  4. My daughter says the difference between my game and other games is I don't hand wave. Since she's a mother now, I presume that means she won't handwave her son's aspirations either. Handwaving gets to be a habit.

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