Inflation

Reflecting on the town market, and now on fish, of which things like fish livers, bladders (also called sounds) and eggs are special delicacies, I'm reminded once again of an idea I had years ago but never implemented.  I must have discussed it before on the blog, but it's been so long that I can't find it.

The notion would be to collect a massive list of things that can be consumed ... everything from ordinary fruits, vegetables and meats; then into various wines, ales, liquors and such; adding then more extraordinary things like truffles, duck eggs and burbot livers; and topping it all off with the manner in which an item is cooked, and make this a random roll for every player.  This is then the character's thing ... the specific bit of joy in the character's life that he or she craves.  Jim loves, for example, oranges.  Can't get enough of them.  More importantly, he's sad when he can't get them ... which unfortunately extends into certain times of the year, and certain parts of the globe, where oranges are frustratingly scarce.  On the other hand, Claire enjoys a good smoked whitefish, whereas Barnet is constantly on the search for an inn that will properly serve claret at the right temperature.  And so it goes.

The concept would be to provide a meta-level of satisfaction in game terms.  This could be done by increasing something to the characters' benefit — a +1 to any roll one time per day, an overall +3% to all the experience received — within a time frame after the character has feasted upon his or her orange, whitefish or claret.  Alternately, things could be adjusted into the negatives if such-and-such an amount of time has gone by in which the character hasn't enjoyed their cherished delight: a -1 to the first damage done to an enemy, a -3% to all experienced received ... you know, to convey the idea that the character's depressed, woeful for not having had that bit of something that makes all this hacking, slashing and loot worthwhile.

Now, the question arises, can a character with a "create food" spell specifically create that food the other character's crave?  And if so, is it an orange or a whitefish of equal value to one that picked or caught that morning?  Or is it just "food," a sort of matrix-like stew that'll keep the party alive but has no verve?

One reason I cling to the structure of AD&D, for all the changes I've made, is that the inflationary quality of the system gives meaning to tiny alterations in the player's ability.  As the world moved towards 2nd edition in the 1980s, it was plainly clear from the products being published wanted to give the players MORE strengths, skills, powers, influence and so on straight out of the gate.  Early developments like the Barbarian and the Archer were structured on constant, greater bonuses in combat ... a trend that expanded dramatically with the feats' functionalities in the 90s.  Step by step, the steady momentum of game design in D&D has been towards an inflation of the character's ability to hit, cause damage, heal damage, perform actions, break the bounds of reality and so on.  This has especially been so in the case of spellcasting, where more daily opportunities to cast were surmounted by duplications of spells, then reductions of time needed to cast, until finally the caster could blast away at the same rate as a combatant could swing a sword.

The effect of this inflation cheapens every adjustment that a designer makes to any part of the overall system.  It's similar in effect to the way we progressively view money.  My mother, in the 1940s, could see a movie for 8 cents.  As a child, a penny had a dramatic influence on her happiness.  When I was a child, in the early 1970s, I could see a movie for 75 cents.  I recall what it meant to have a quarter in my pocket.  Yet in the present era, and for quite some time now, I haven't touched a quarter, or even seen one.  Whereas once I could take five minutes and search the furniture and drawers for change, to head out and get a drink at the corner bar, I know right now there's no change at all in my domicile.  It's all been thrown away, because it has no value.

When I write something like giving a +3% bonus to a character's experience, this has merit because my game still functions on the meta-value of rules in 1980.  Whereas in the present, a +1 bonus one time a day is a ludicrous nothing in a 5e game.  And since the game has been inflated past all recognition, it's ended by destroying much of the game's functionality.  Combat, for example, is boring in 5e.  Players claim there's too much of it because, in fact, they're almost certain to win.  Their character powers have been inflated to the point where it's next to impossible to lose.  Further, because the DM's status has been deflated in the fact of character agenda-based backgrounding, players feel free to claim that they ought to win the combat, whether they do or not.  The combat, then, is a meaningless act, using up game time to produce a fully predictable result.  It might just as well not happen.

The natural solution to my proposal for the character's "favourite food" is to produce it on demand, through spellcasting or some other means, instantly handwaving the notion out of meaning.  But here we have an interesting departure from the human experience.

As humans we find passion in things that are emotive ... that is, contrary to analytic.  While D&D is a problem-solving game, it's also an activity that arouses intense feelings, defying dissection.  As things are made easier for the players, this behavioural quality is snuffed out.  Feelings in the inflationary game have to be artificial, because every feeling that might have been forced upon the players has been subverted.

And this is the reason people who "discover" AD&D get so excited about it, and cry the peon of "rules as written" ... because the rules do force the players to accept consequences they don't have to accept in the game that's been inflated out of meaning.

How did that happen?  The commercial need to satisfy the customer, of course.  This is not, in itself, bad.  I like that I can have a beer, that companies go on making enough beer that there's never any chance of it running out ... short of a dystopian collapse of civilisation, that is.  But the "more" that players asked for with regards to early D&D wasn't met by a creative community who might have forseen that more bonuses, more spells, more character classes with more abilities, was an inflationary self-destructive spiral.  We shouldn't be surprised.  This is the same mindset that continues to inflate Magic: The Gathering.  Inflation is the only tactic the creative community understands.

And here I do not only fault the company.  The recent OGL crises serves to express the deep, deep failing in RPGs as an art-form.  The strongest "solution" to the crisis was to "switch games."  Not to take a stand on D&D as is.  Not to claim the game as the "ours."  Those sentiments were expressed, but by far the overwhelming response organised itself around the declaration from Paizo, which offered to receive D&D players who wished to switch allegiances.

Not that this matters to me, or my players, or anyone who loves D&D.  If all the non-sailors want to jump into the sea, we'll get home just fine.  It's only worth noting here because it plainly demonstrates the sickness at the heart of the public RPG community just now.  It matters more, to more people, what game their choice celebrities are playing, than the game which they themselves play.

The long-term effects of inflation are not growth.  The long-term effects are a bust, followed by a shattering depression.  I've begun to wonder where we'll be in 5 years.  Part of my concern arises from the fact that I've three times in the past six months signed on to a table at a game con, only to be informed (and my money given back) that the game con has decided not to take place this year.  Hm.  Are we still adjusting?  Or is there a trend at work?  Has cosplay as a phenomenon run its course?  Has so much time outside the group-think of community events produced only a temporary fallout, or has it intrinsically caused a great number of people to re-evaluate their perspectives?  I don't know.  I'm not assuming it's anything at this point.  But I'm keeping an open mind, adjusting my expectations and taking a wait-and-see position.  I'm looking into game cons taking place in June to September, but webpages are NOT being updated for 2023 and my emails are NOT being answered.

There is something going on in the game community that doesn't bode well.  I'm interested to see how the movie does in March.  Is the internet going to wreck it?  That would certainly have an effect on Hasbro's motivations.  Have to wait and see.