Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Daði

In Breaking Bad, the workers for Pollos Hermanos place a small star on the buckets of chicken slop that have drugs concealed inside them, so that the receivers don't have to open every slop bucket.  This post needs a star to indicate that it doesn't end in a link.

I want to tentatively recommend a youtube D&D content producer, Mystic Arts, specifically yesterday's misnamed video.  I resist giving any outright praise; the presenter's attitude contains that sort of performative smugness that I fucking hate, specifically because it's designed to make the listener feel the speaker really believes what's being said... and because, in this case, as the speaker, Daði, has revealed himself to be of this school, it's the shitty voice that film arts school teaches graduates to adopt.  Some graduates buy in very hard on this.  The video doesn't quite reach the level of ire-inducing face-breaking that I reserve for guys like Colville, but I would rather this fellow just talk like a human fucking being.

He has some valuable things to say regarding presentation, which some readers here could advantage.  Daði has identified a problem that's rarely addressed, one I don't have simply because I don't stop talking during a game session until I've successfully put the players in a position that they have to act in order to protect themselves or achieve their fore-stated goals.  There are many examples of this in my game play scattered throughout this blog and other places.

Frustratingly, Daði has identified this as "the DM hasn't presented them with a game."  In this instance, the word "game" is terrifically non-distinctive, which greatly weakens the value of his argument.  It is a little bit like saying that the two teams are standing around because the referee, or the umpire, hasn't yet given them a "game" to play.  This is true, but it's not the parlance we'd expect.

Using this quote from 5.5 player's handbook,

"The rhythm of play is as follows: the dungeon master describes a scene; the players describe what their characters do; the DM narrates the results of the adventurer's actions... the dungeon master tells the players where their adventures are and what's around them, how many doors lead out of a room, what's on a table..." [and so on]


This is a reflection of an old, old habit, and not the result of a badly made game (though it is one).  Description is not an adequate motivation to play.  Players cannot be soothed with "easily digestible chunks of information" alone, though Daði makes a game attempt at arguing as much.  Asking my party mate to read a scroll I cannot read does not make for "exploration," nor is it "problem solving," any more so than my shorter daughter asking me to reach to the top shelf to get down a pot that gets used twice a year.   Rolling a die to see if a term is remembered isn't "exploration" either, it's a totally random, tiresome old-school game feature that continues to rely on the argument, "not knowing" is scarier than "knowing."

I'll take a moment and explain this one.  Two characters don't know the meaning of "the screaming mass."  Suie the druid has a chance of knowing what this is and makes an intelligence check.  In game, if Suie succeeds, the party learns what this term means.  If Suie fails, they don't... and must withstand the agony over not knowing, which supposedly gives the die roll meaning.

It doesn't.  It never has.  Why wouldn't you want your players to know what this is?  You could provide them with a deeply disturbing terrifying description of the mass, which is far, far more engaging and immersing than the teaser of two words... and you're using a game mechanic that has, as it's "feature," the ability to muzzle the DM's capacity for creating immersion.  This is idiocy.  It is based on a cinematic premise (Daði is a self-described filmmaker) that ALSO assumes that every answer in a film will be answered within 20 minutes of it being mentioned.

D&D does not move at anything like that pace... and it shouldn't.  It's not a movie.  Therefore, we should discard "movie rules" about information giving, which trusts to keeping the viewers locked in because, in reality, this concept won't take more than three episodes of binge watching to reveal.  If it takes more than three episodes, then the watcher's going to get tired of waiting and turn off.  There are rules to these damn things; you can't apply those to D&D because unlike three episodes of a streamed show, which last just over 2 hours, a session goes twice that just to resolve a combat (in 5th, that is).

But this is a quibble.  Daði has the right idea... it's only that he suffers from the miscomprehension that these tiny, incredibly dull details are sufficient to drive actions, regardless of how they're presented.  If your players are jumping at the description of a rolling staff, as though this is the best thing that's ever happened to them, then we're presenting the level of interesting that can only be found in reality television shows.  You know, the sort where the premise is that every episode will show a different iteration of more or less the same discoveries and responses, such as watching the enormous face of a sleasy asshole who purchases crap, only to sell said crap to other sleasy people.  In every episode.  All episode.

Fundamentally, Daði is arguing for the gamefication of a game that is already a game... only all the parts of the game that used to be there in earlier versions has been gutted and removed for the sake of new "game" concepts.  This isn't good, but it's a logical result.

Gamification is the practice of incorporating game-like elements into non-game activities to make them more engaging and motivating. It involves using features such as rewards, challenges, and competition to encourage participation and enhance the user experience. By tapping into people's natural desire for achievement and "fun," it's hoped that something that's really dull and boring, like the workplace, or education for children, can be made engaging.

However, gamification is a bad thing.  Ian Bogost has referred to it as "exploitationware" that exploits psychological triggers for profit.  Heather Chaplin, writing for Slate, describes gamification as "an allegedly populist idea that actually benefits corporate interests over those of ordinary people," suggesting it serves more as a tool for corporate manipulation than genuine user engagement.  Kevin Slavin of MIT has criticised gamification as flawed and misleading, particularly for those unfamiliar with gaming.  Natasha Dow Schüll, an anthropologist, has studied how gamification techniques, initially designed for immersive game experiences, are now pervasive on smartphones, affecting various apps from social media to investment platforms, often leading to detrimental consequences like fostering addiction and promoting unproductive behaviors.  It's not accidental that this kind of thinking has drifted into modern D&D, which is more concerned with making the new version feel like a game rather than it actually being one.

On the whole, gamification reduces the context of rewards and achievement to shallow, supposedly reward-based systems, such posing a group of doors for players to open, or like Balder's gate, a set of premade things to click on, to provide "something," to use Daði's word.  This is barely above the level of encouraging monkeys to press a lever to get a mango, then calling it a game suitable for humans.

Overall, it treats players as though this alone will be enough to satisfy their interest level.  It's short-term engagement, unlike the longer lasting adventure-driven model where players are unsure for a long time if they'll survive the quest.  If, on the other hand, we remove survival as a concern, and make the success at the quest a certainty, it removes the overall stress that's related to long-term goals.  Short-term goals, on the other hand, those associated with gamification, employ the same psychological principles that drive gambling.  Suie isn't really learning what "the screaming mass" is, she's learning whether or not her die roll is successful, without the knowledge or reward being given having any real meaning.

This short-term engagement is expected to take the place of long-term growth, which 5th edition has done everything in its power to kill.  Judging from the content, 5.5 is not taking another direction.  Daði's video pretends that providing these "rewards" for "problem solving" have meaning... but, in fact, his particular version of this only works if the game itself is irretreivably dull and broken.  Which it is.  Since the goal has long since ceased to be, "become great."  This has been replaced with, "Enjoy being great.  Leap at a rolling staff."

2 comments:

  1. Ran this past ChatGPT and got this:

    Modern Dungeons & Dragons aligns with the concept of gamification because it introduces superficial reward systems and rigid structures that undermine the intrinsic motivations central to its original form. The game has shifted from being about meaningful, emergent storytelling to a standardized and measurable framework where rewards, progression, and outcomes are largely divorced from genuine player-driven achievements.

    By making leveling automatic for all players, regardless of individual actions, the game removes the personal stakes and sense of accomplishment that once came from earning experience points through deliberate choices and risk-taking. Everyone levels together, not because they’ve meaningfully contributed to the story, but because the system insists on uniform progression. This reflects gamification’s tendency to prioritize engagement metrics—keeping everyone "in the game"—over fostering genuine, earned satisfaction.

    Furthermore, modern D&D downplays real consequences. In older editions, character death, resource depletion, and other harsh outcomes were integral to the experience, teaching players to make thoughtful decisions and embrace risk. Today, the game has been softened to ensure players are rarely punished for their actions, reinforcing the gamified idea that the primary goal is sustained enjoyment rather than immersion or realism.

    The mechanics have also shifted toward rewarding behaviors that are easy to systematize but often meaningless. For instance, granting "Inspiration" points for role-playing attempts reduces the organic joy of storytelling into a transactional system where players act "in character" for mechanical benefits rather than intrinsic enjoyment. This is a classic hallmark of gamification: taking complex, meaningful activities and reducing them to measurable, incentivized behaviors.

    Finally, modern D&D’s design leans heavily on prewritten modules and balanced encounters that ensure a predictable, curated experience for players. This structured approach removes the openness and creative freedom that defined earlier versions, replacing it with a guided, almost theme-park-like experience. In doing so, it mirrors gamification’s focus on creating safe, repeatable, and entertaining engagement loops, often at the expense of depth, freedom, and challenge.

    Ultimately, modern D&D’s changes embody gamification not because it is a game, but because it increasingly applies game-like incentives and structures to simplify and control the experience. These changes strip away the richness and challenge of old-school role-playing, turning what was once an open-ended, collaborative narrative into a homogenized, reward-driven activity. This undermines the very essence of what made D&D revolutionary in its original form.

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  2. This comment from a generative AI made me hate it a little less.

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