Charisma is Not My Car

Those following my patreon page already know that I'm back at producing map posts on this blog.  Of course, if I'm creating content there, I'm doing nothing here.  Not good.

Picking up the player creation discussion with this post, I'm settling on the following stats for my theoretical human fighter, whom I'll call Albert.  Starting with the raw numbers 15, 17, 13, 9, 12, 16 that I introduced earlier, I'll arrange them as follows:

• Str: 17
• Int: 9
• Wis: 12
• Con: 17
• Dex: 15
• Cha: 12

The 16 placed under constitution becomes a 17 with age (goes back to old AD&D) and the 13 I place under my wisdom becomes a 12.  As a DM, I'd discourage a player from putting the 15 under anything but dexterity — which anyone in the early 80s would have known to do before inordinate stress was placed on the application of die rolls to charisma.  In role-playing in my game world, charisma doesn't help the player; I expect the player's own ability to be employed when playing the game.  Charisma affects how the player is seen when doing something well or badly, just as in the real world.

Fuck up in front of an NPC with a bad charisma, incur hate.  Achieve something heroic with a bad charisma, receive "meh."  Fuck up with a good charisma, get forgiven.  Be heroic with a good charisma, get social status.  Note the lack of a die roll.  It's not fair, obviously ... but it is very much like how things go in the real world.

I happen to have a fairly good charisma ... if I'm prepared to lie to people and say what they want to hear.  My charisma comes off fairly low here because I say things like "fuck up" rather than minding my P's and Q's, and because I don't hesitate to call out bullshit ... including using a swear like "bullshit" when I call it.  In the real world, I'm polite, I smile a lot, I say encouraging things to strangers I don't care about ... and when I'm praised for what a good and considerate guy I am by people who have no knowledge of me, I take a humble stance, downplaying my abilities or intelligence.  This works.  If I had a bad charisma, it wouldn't — as I've watched certain others try.  To make use of a good charisma, a person's must have the capacity to see a conversation from the other side.  In telling someone what they want to hear, you have to KNOW what they want to hear first.  Especially if it's very different from what we want to hear.  It requires empathy, the ability to guess what another person's day has been like so far, what sort of persons they've already spoken to, what their job is like day to day, what pressures are coming from above, or from family ... and then how to manage all the pitfalls that come from saying the wrong thing.  Much of this takes practice.  I'm much better at lying convincingly and charismatically than I was once upon a time.

A player shoving a 15 into charisma usually thinks the stat is going to do all the heavy lifting going forward.  But look at the paragraph above.  I've just made a confession that plainly says I'm an AWFUL person.  Yet the response I get from persons I lie to is that I'm a "great guy," "interesting and awesome," "patient and considerate," and "a lot of fun."  There's the problem.  I have a charisma I can turn on, like a gas stove.  I light it, adjust the heat and cook the listener on the flame.  But I can't do any of that without the charisma.

And if I don't want to turn the charisma on, like now, because I'm making a case, the charisma doesn't help me a gawddamn bit.  And I know that.  Many people who have charisma and lack empathy are just terrible people, because while they look good and seem pretty important, they still have this kind of revolting habit of saying the stupidest, most inconsiderate things.  Like, you know, Mel Gibson.

Now, some are going to see the flaw in that argument, so let me take up an alternate position.  In game terms, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, dexterity and strength DO the heavy lifting without the players needing to do anything.  I can't swing a sword to save my life, but my fighter's 17 strength shows that he can.  So why not charisma too?  The stat ought to act like a filter the player speaks through, so that if the player says the wrong thing, the character's 15 charisma tidies it up and makes it sound more awesome.  This is a fair argument ... and I often consider the stat in this regard.

Too much consideration, however, tends to make the player think he or she can say anything they want, without consequences — so long as their charisma is high enough.  I don't agree.  It shouldn't need to be said, but D&D is a game.  As a game, it hinges on the player's ability to play, not the players ability to roll.  Getting a good die roll, even choosing to put that 15 under charisma, isn't a blank cheque for everything the player says and does afterward.  The player's got to earn that charisma, just as he or she earns their survival through the employment of strength or constitution.

Therefore, the player has to choose what the charisma filters ... and not everything a player might can can be fixed therefrom.  Stand in front of a prince and insult him, then add, "Well, I have an 18 charisma, so does he like me anyway."  Um, no.  "You've just insulted him with a lot of flare and style, but you HAVE insulted him.  Because of your charisma, he's just going to put you in stocks for a week.  Instead of killing you.  Thank your charisma for that."

This isn't a popular approach to the game, especially for players who want that immunity.  What it does, however, is level the playing field for all the players, as ALL the players must use their ability to play and game to overcome the obstacle, in the same way.  This means that as Jody of the 9 charisma approaches the prince nervously, Jerome of the 18 charisma does as well.  He's not special.  The prince is.  And that's crucial to the game, which ought to reward what the player is able to do, not the character.

We've drifted a long way from this premise.  Virtually everything about the game's progression has become a sort of "pimp your ride" moniker, as if the character is a machine the player climbs into, that does all the driving while the player watches the wheel turn and the lights flip on and off.  This is enhanced by making the character bulletproof, so that no matter what the player has a SAFE ride, and never needs to worry about the character crashing or even running out of gas.  And of course, having bolting this framework securely around the player, it's gawdawful boring.  There's nothing for the player to do.

I suppose that's overstating it.  When I watch a game in progression, however, that's how it looks to me.  The player says something, then immediately reaches for a die.  He or she rolls the die, and then tells the DM what's just happened.  Since every action is delineated down to a pass or fail die roll, there's no need to role-play or problem-solve anything.

Alternatively, the player reads off some ability from their character sheet and states, "My character has a silver tongue, therefore the NPC is persuaded."  Or, again, they roll a die and that settles it.  There's no need for the player to charm his or her way out of a tight spot.  No need for the player to be skilled at all.  A fingersnap does it, or the die does.

This "gameplay" fills every session with a monotonous, repetitive drone, utterly lacking in challenge or anything new and engaging.  I believe those who embrace the game like this do so because it's comforting and relaxing.  Like watching a 3 hour video in which hands knead bread.  Which is mesmerising.

But it's not the game I want to run.

Conversation

Having cleared my thoughts of misgivings, let's tackle the matter of conversation.

Let us set the scene.  A group of players in the harbour of a small town wishes to obtain passage across the bay to reach the tip of a difficult peninsula that would be hard to access by land.  There are no official passenger boats, only working boats, so some negotiation will be necessary to convince an otherwise busy captain to take the party onboard and deviate from the intended course to drop them off where they wish to go.  Additionally, the players would like to get back, so they'll need to arrange a rendezvous with the same captain.  For this, they'll need to know: a) that the captain can be trusted; b) what a fair price would be; c) how long the trip will be; d) what the shore is like across the bay; and e) particulars like how much space can the captain offer, both going out and coming back, for equipment, food and, ultimately, treasure.

None of the party happen to have come from sailors or indeed any seagoing background; however, the druid's family were woodcutters, so at least hard labour is well understood.  Moreover, the druid is human, like the fishing folk here, and is from around the area, so that there is a shared accent.  Finally the druid understands the wild and has a little sage knowledge of the sea; so these things together are presented to the DM and the DM agrees, that's good enough to get a charisma check.  The druid succeeds and the prospective captain, whose boat seems large enough, agrees to climb out of his boat and onto the dock, to chat with the druid.

In ordinary D&D, the remainder of this discussion would be carried out as pure role-play.  Most likely, the DM would want the players to succeed, so they could get out to the intended place of adventure, the very purpose for which tonight's session was begun.  By far, most DMs would contend that there is no reason to delay the party or deny the party passage, so the matter is simply sewn up.  The druid is given a price, the players agree, they climb on board and five minutes later they're told the captain has dropped them off on the desired shore and that they'll be picked up, two days later.

But suppose we ignore such red carpet treatment and presume the world is not deliberately designed to revolve around the players' needs.  Instead, let's suppose that this is as difficult an obstacle to overcome as any puzzle inside a dungeon would be ~ only in this case, the puzzle is to sort out how to talk to the captain in such a manner that the player can get what's wanted, as we've listed.  Suppose there's a real possibility that this captain, and indeed all the captains in the marina (once the water is muddied by a bad interaction), to refuse to grant passage, forcing the players to adopt the difficult overland route.

Let us further suppose that charisma will play a part in this dialogue ~ and that, having opened the conversation, the druid and the captain will talk about things.  Since the things discussed will determine success or failure, it stands to reason that the same weight must be given to these things that we would give to the success of discovering and removing a trap, forcing our way through a stuck door or figuring out how six levers ought to be pulled in order to turn off the rushing water from an aperture so that it can be entered.

Very well.  What does conversation consist of, in concept rather than in precise words?  If I turn to wikipedia, I find that we have small talk, banter, questioning, informing and discussion of ideas, facts, other people and oneself.

The druid will want to inform the captain about who he is and about the members of the party, their purpose, their time line and their willingness to be flexible.  The druid will want to question the captain about cost, space, time of departure, willingness to take a contract and one or two personal questions to get a sense of trust.  And on the side the druid will want to make small talk, to set the captain at ease, and banter a bit to perhaps put a smile on the captain's face, and perhaps gossip or make observations that will assure the captain that the druid is a good fellow with shared perspectives and motives.

Put that way, it is plain to see that charisma is strongly represented in banter, small talk and light discussion.

Okay.

Let's view what follows as a thought experiment and not necessarily a rule set.  The very worst proposal at this point would be a system supported by numerous die rolls, where the druid rolls and the captain rolls and matters are resolved thus.  At the same time, we already have a system where there are virtually no die rolls; the player role-plays freely, with the player's charisma hardly mattering at all, while the DM pretends for a while that the captain isn't willing to take them, gruffly making complaints, until ultimately agreeing because, as we've said, this is what the DM wants too.  For my money, this is a very annoying process, particularly the pretend-we-won't-but-ultimately-we-will trope.

A desirable system will allow the players to improvise what they say, but will apply real weight to the consequences of their decisions.  For example, choosing to make small talk, and how that small talk is made, will have a measurable effect, and not be thirty seconds of life that no one at the table will get back.  At the same time, however, this measurable effect has to be something the player can manage, that isn't a random shit-show of "Oops, I rolled a 2, now he hates me."  How can we do that?

Let's put you in the druid's shoes.  Consider your choices as you are walking along the dock to speak with your selected captain.  He's directing the stowing of lobster traps aboard his schooner by his mates, smoking a pipe.  We might as well have all the cliches.

Are you going to open with a question?  Or small talk.  Are you going to introduce yourself, or make a random observation about the harbour.  Suppose I tell you that there is a right answer here and a wrong answer.  Would that surprise you?

On the whole, people don't like to be questioned, particularly by strangers; making an observation can be taken as patronizing; and talking about yourself can be seen as attention-seeking behaviour.  So while either of these won't likely end a conversation, they might with the wrong person.  The safer course is the make an observation or make small talk.  "Those are some fine lobster traps."  "Looks like it's going to be a nice day."  That sort of thing.

Suppose we grant this approach as giving the player "capital" ~ which is as good a word as any for what I'm proposing.  We leave it up to the DM how much capital is received, depending on the player's choice of words.  If the DM rules it as banal, the player gets 1d4 capital.  If the DM rules it as genial or thought out, the player gets 1d6.  And if the player manages something very good, even amusing, but yet in good taste, the player gets 1d8.  These rolls then take into account that the while the DM may not be amused, the captain might not be.  Even something jovial could gain the player only 1 point.

Okay, what do we use capital for?  Let me provide a clear list of the player's options:

apology ~ ask a general question ~ ask a personal question ~ banter ~ discuss objective facts ~ give an opinion ~ give information ~ small talk ~ talk about oneself ~ talk about others

I'll go easy on the definitions.  A general question concerns anything that is not directly related to the captain or the captain's life choices: for example, a question about the value of his schooner is personal, but a question about it's size isn't.  A question about the cargo or the captain's chosen profession is personal, but how much lobster he catches a day isn't.  It's a fine line.

Banter strictly describes wit (and is hard to produce, particularly if it's in good taste).  Objective facts, opinions and information refers to meaningful subjects; like things that are not meaningful are small talk.  Anything related to our agenda ~ desires, purpose, our sore feet, etc. ~ is talking about ourselves.  Talking about others refers only to people who are not present in any way.

Everything on this list is a risk except small talk.  A general question is -1 capital, as is talking about yourself.  A personal question is -3 capital.  Banter, objective facts, opinions, information and talking about others gives +1 capital if the captain agrees, and -2 capital if the captain disagrees.

And there is one other element here that isn't specific to a form of parley: giving offense.  Twice in this post I've added the qualifier, "in good taste."  Anything in bad taste, or anything that sounds like condescension, ignorance, refusal to answer, etc., can be rated as "giving offense."  And that's -1d4 capital.

Got it?

So you come out on the dock as a druid and say to the captain, "Hello, I'm Drake the Druid and I'm looking for a boat."  -1 capital.  You start with zero and so you're already in the hole.  Any time you're in the hole, you make a charisma check.  We've already agreed that you've got some in common with the captain, so your tone of voice when you introduced yourself wasn't that off, so we'll grant you your full charisma for the check (but -1 from your capital).  You fail and the captain says, "Who cares, get off my dock," in a tone that makes it pretty clear that you've already goofed.  You succeed and the captain says, "Yeah?  So tell me how that matters to me?"

Careful now.  You're still at -1 capital.  If you ask a question, it's another minus, so that's not a good idea.  You can give information, but it's up to you the player to pick words that the captain will find to his liking, or that's a stiff penalty.  Small talk is safest ~ gets you out of the hole.  But what do you actually say that sounds like small talk, when you've just been asked for information?

That's your problem.  I'm just measuring the numbers as DM.  If you sound insipid, I'll roll 1d4 and reduce your capital for giving offense.  But you realize, suddenly, that you can give an apology.  "I'm sorry, that was rude of me.  You have a fine boat.  It looks fit and trim."  This observation is bound to obtain agreement from the captain, so you gain +1 capital and you're back to zero.  No checks needed.

The captain growls, "What would you be wanting my boat for?"

Talk about yourself?  Risky.  "I was just thinking," you say, struggling to find small talk.  "It is a fine morning.  Fresh air, talks of opportunities, doesn't it?"  Hard to disagree, basically it's small talk, though not the greatest.  Roll 1d4 capital.  You get a 4.

Awesome.  You've got room to play.  You can ask a direct, non-personal question ~ hell, you can ask four of them.  Do you know the peninsula, how far is it, what's the ship's tonnage and what is the shore like over there?

But we can ask a personal question, one about the captain himself: do you take passengers?  That's -3 capital ... and for the record, ALL personal questions require a check.  But preferably not a charisma check.

A lot of you ought to recognize this.  I don't mention it much, but I did steal some from B/X in my early days playing, as I had a copy of these rules.  I used the reaction table from B/X for a few years after I finally ditched the horrible notion from AD&D.

I'm puzzled by the "roll again" result, which seems time-wasting.  My goal is to repurpose the table, anyway.  Offer refused simply means a loss of -1 or -2 capital, in addition to the question asked.  A positive answer gives a bonus of +1 or +2 capital.  "Yes, I do take passengers!  How many?"

The result of 6-8 can simply be, the captain answers the question, according to the DM's take.  A 6 might give the answer, "I never have before," with an 8 being the opposite.  "I've been known to do so."

But some of you will notice that the best result still leaves you down -1 capital overall ... whereas the worst result leaves you at -5 capital overall.  Well, to that I say, life isn't fair.  The captain is balanced against you to start; he doesn't know you, you threaten to create problems, he's risking his vessel to a bunch of strangers, whatever.  Whereas pushing you off is safer and he loses nothing he didn't have.  That's a sentiment you have to get past.  But as long as you've got positive capital, you can keep trying, keep making small talk or offering observations the captain would like.  "Surely, sir," you say, "A value of 3 g.p. for me and my four companions, plus what we can carry ourselves, would help your situation this month with regards to the harbour fees and such."

"Yeah," agrees the captain.  +2 capital, 5 total now.  Captain rolls reaction, gets a 7.  "5 g.p. each would help my books even better."

Is this the moment to close this deal?  We don't even know how far it is, yet, or if there's even a beach.  Does the captain know where we want to go?  And who says the captain isn't going to slice our throats.  Did we think about that, with our 5 points of capital?  This isn't just about closing the deal.

Afterthoughts

This may be too complicated for legitimate play ~ and I realize a fair number of DMs couldn't tell an observation or a statement of fact from small talk if their lives depended on it.  There's a lot of deconstruction going on here in a few seconds of chatter, that quite a few would find hard to manage in terms of numbers ... and, of course, there's still that pesky truth that the DM doesn't want to ditch the players here on the quay, if adventure is right across the bay.

But, as a thought experiment ... capital drops into the negatives and it's a charisma check to manage a willingness on the other person not to end the parley over a choice of words.  Whereas on the other hand, gaining capital is the player's responsibility; the player has to come up with good sentences and decide how far to press their luck with regards to opinions, ideas and hard questions.  The player who manages everything through small talk has no right to complain when the captain turns out to be a pirate.  Play it safe in a parley and risk not protecting yourself in advance.

Post Script

Let me just add that this post must seem a little strange after the bitter pace of my last one, written early this morning.  This is a part of my thinking process.  There may be things I put to paper that make me look like a raving lunatic, or reveal me as an embittered cynic ... but for all those emotional quandaries, they don't describe the whole person.

Whatever hateful natures I have broiling in me, this is part of a simmering brew of creativity and innovation, unrestrained by social mores and appropriate emotional discourse.  All that I have written this morning, ALL of it, came into my mind in the last four hours.  I got out of bed at nine having not one iota of any of this thought experiment in my head ... and yet, like a muse possessing me, I sit down and all of the above comes out, without my knowing how or why this appears so thorough and pre-planned.

I still question my posts of bitter free associations, but I can't deny that there is something in my personal creation process that demands a rampaging pillaging first, to lay the ground bare for the construction that follows after.  It astounds me as much as anyone.  These four posts have been my creating in real time, word by word, paragraph by paragraph.  I think better when I write than I do at any other time; and so, when I can't think, I settle in to write and things ... come out.  So it goes.

Another Role for Charisma

Following a long conversation with JB in the last post, I find myself thinking that there must be room for the amount of charisma that a character has somehow influencing the outcome of the conversation, after the conversation is opened. It would be logical that four or five sentences into a conversation with an NPC, the charisma kicks in.

I am not prepared to consider charisma “a gift.” I consider it a disposition; a willingness to put one’s own immediate gratification aside and make other people feel important, or give other people a sense that you are sincere, predictable and ready to support their wants and their causes.

I think many people try very hard to adopt this disposition and fail, often horribly. Salespeople and bad politicians in particular will often try to have us believe that they have our interests at heart, but their tone and their guesses at what we consider important are so off-the-mark that we are soon feeling squeamish about how slimy and insincere they are about their wanting us to buy something or believe something.

Yet even these people have some success … because very often, a significant proportion of the population is so willing to believe, they will dismiss the apparent sleaziness of the speaker and concentrate on the apparent message. I’ve watched this personally happen so often that I don’t have much respect for most people; it’s hard for me to see trust as a charismatic influence when cynically I’ve seen trust arise amazingly often in spite of the speaker’s painfully obvious self-aggrandizement … and time and again I’ve seen that self-aggrandizement become textbook after the politician was elected or after the renovation of an acquaintance’s home proved twice as costly because the company was shoddy and half-way criminal.

But you cannot tell some people, “Don’t trust that guy,” and expect to hear reason. There are people in this world who will trust their lives and all of their money to the most reprehensible, repulsive, stupid, incomprehensibly incompetent people imaginable.

I have been told all my life that I am charismatic, almost as often as I have been told I’m intelligent. I don’t see it, myself. In any case, I’m not disposed to be charismatic. I know from experience that if I’m prepared to lie flat out to people, and tell them what I know they want to hear, their opinion about me and my motives instantly improves. If I pander to the boring lives that people want to talk about, if I approve of the moronic decisions people are apt to make, if I overlook the obvious defects of character that cause people to cheat their customers or absently fail to clean a table they’ve just used to cut raw chicken (and I cannot begin to describe the endless examples of restaurant kitchen life that would make your heart shudder), then I will be looked upon with greater appreciation and importance than I receive through being honest. We can argue that it is charisma that makes a first impression a positive one, but I can argue just as thoroughly that unrestrained lies and a complete lack of moral principles will do just as well and get the same results.

It's a shame he missed his opportunity to be swimsuit model.
And before people start screaming "personal magnitism" at me,
show real, honest-to-pineapples proof of it; argue causes with
me, not results.  I think he was a motivated sociopath;
and that, in spite of what most believe, is more than enough.

We have plenty of proof of that from history. And we usually slather an argument overtop of it, like the old saw that Hitler was charismatic. We don’t have a single bit of film that suggests charisma ~ but we do have extensive eye-witness accounts of his petulant mannerisms, his profound level of god-like megalomania, his screaming fits at not getting things his way, his inability to listen to the advice of other persons, etcetera, etcetera. But then, we can’t figure out any other way that he could have possible convinced all of Germany to murder so many people and act so irresponsibly all together, so it MUST be charisma, how can it not have been charisma?

I’m not convinced. From observing my mother’s German-Canadian relatives, all of them racist down to the bone, I’m not sure the culture their antecedents came from needed much of a push. And given the economic climate of Germany in the ’20s, I’m quite ready to believe that all that was needed were a group of very, very willing men to put their shoulder to the wheel. But here I’m not arguing facts, I’m arguing from emotion and anecdotal evidence, meaning any of this has as much value to the conversation as a pair of dingo’s kidneys.

I only present this to establish the baseline from which I view charisma.

Arguing from facts, when I look at the Wikipedia page on Trust as a social science, I don’t see any significant arguments presented there that invoke the “compelling attractiveness and charm that can inspire devotion in others,” the definition under charisma. The word has no real meaning in psychology, except to describe a particular kind of leader. This means we can argue all the live-long day about what celebrities have or what politicians and great leaders have, but none of it applies to day-to-day speech in a manner that has been tested and retested.

“Trust” is something that exists in our mind, and our mind alone, and who we trust says much more about us than it says about the abilities and personalities of others. And if that is the case, I don’t know how to frame rules that empowers those with charisma to enforce their will on other persons. I cannot think of a single time in my life when someone with “charisma” caused me to change any belief that I’ve had ~ but I can think of plenty of times when I’ve changed my beliefs stupidly, and temporarily, out of lust or greed. And I can equally think of quite a lot of people I’ve met who were clearly treated as though they had charisma, that I despised right off. I’m thinking of the blonde shithead from the original Karate Kid, who was pretty much a perfect representation of every popular kid I knew in school, or the slack ass bosses I’ve had who were loved because they were slack ass and not because they were great conversationalists.

I have known charismatic people that I’ve liked; but the charisma was always an icing on the cake. They were capable and charismatic, they were ambitious and charismatic, they worked hard and they were charismatic, they were brilliant and they were charismatic. The substance in the person was never, ever, their charisma.

So I am at a loss. I don’t have to “believe” in charisma to give it a game function. I’m happy to empower charisma to increase morale in followers, or to grant a fighter or cleric or thief with high charisma a special place among, specifically, fighters, clerics and thieves. I suppose I’m prepared to let a paladin get their questions answered without his needing to be of some profession; perhaps there is an argument to be made that everyone recognizes a paladin when they see one, so the “celebrity” glow carries on to such a person. I can make like stipulations for bards and, to some extent, for druids.

But I simply balk at any rule that argues the position, “I turn on the charisma; does she fall in love with me?” And that, Dear Readers, would represent almost all the approaches I have ever seen a character use where it comes to accessing the benefits of their charisma.

This has been a very negative post. And I doubt it has produced any value, except perhaps to clear my head. I repeat. It would be logical, given arguments made by JB, that four or five sentences into a conversation with an NPC that the charisma kicks in, somehow.

But I don’t know how.

Charisma Does Not Create Trust

"Looking back at your posts from this time last year, I wonder if there's some way to use the character of a block to drive the types of NPC interactions the players might have there.  What NPC concerns and attitudes are typical to this area?  How frequent, and how extreme, are the outliers?  Then we're not looking at a series of erratic, random parleys, but something more like a coherent social setting, with cues and mores the players can start to understand."

~ Silberman

Following up on this idea, I find that some studies (K. Fiedler & G.R. Semin) have concluded that the perception of strangers tends to be based primarily on group membership, and their identity as a member of an "out-group."  Elements that really matter in communication depend on whether we're speaking with an adult or a child, a stranger or an insider, someone high or low in education, whether communication is oral or written, whether we're under time pressure or in a relaxed setting, whether it takes place in the workplace, in a pub, in the bedroom or in the public forum.  In each case, our approach depends greatly on whether the person we're speaking with is someone we psychologically identify as being a member of our class, culture, race, gender or religion.

Note that "charisma" is not included in the above examples.  Inherently, we distrust someone who is an outlier from us.  Most likely someone who is a charismatic outlier is a greater threat, since they are probably surrounded by synchophants who can potentially hurt us.  If a highly charismatic individual steps forward from a group to speak with us, rather than viewing that person as a potential friend, we will worry about that person's influence over their group.

Player characters as a group, therefore, are only likely to get along with worldly, educated, powerful individuals who are well-spoken and most likely to understand the difficulties of acting with independence, taking risks and being forced to act bravely.  There may be some friendliness with, say, other bakers if the character's family were bakers; or with like-minded persons of the same religion and culture, particularly if we're all in a foreign land together where there are so few people who share those characteristics with us.  If we're in Shanghai, we're likely to trust a westerner a great deal more than we would on the streets of New York.  But again, where it comes to first meetings, charisma has little importance.

Charisma applies where it comes to interpersonal relationships ~ the strong, deep or close association we have with persons who know us.  Trust is a matter of shared experience; charisma does not create trust.  It creates love, solidarity, support, commitment and a desire for reciprocity.  Romantic relationships and companionship depends on a like degree of charisma, enabling us to stand someone we have known for a long time.  Your charisma, then, relates to the loyalty of your followers and your long-term relationships.  But you cannot, CANNOT, exercise your charisma with any real meaning or purpose over someone you've just met.

This utterly explodes 99% of the basis of role-play logic in D&D.  Every party always assumes that the character with the highest charisma "ought to do the talking," when in fact the one who ought to do the talking is the one with the most shared characteristics of the listener.  Clerics should talk to other religious persons, fighters to soldiers and guards, mages and illusionists to the highly esoteric, thieves and assassins to the criminal elements, bards to performers, druids to rural folk and so on.  A highly charismatic wizard would be seen as a poof and an ignorant dolt by a guard of the realm.  A highly charismatic paladin would be no more than a pompous asshole to a common beggar.  We just don't see the benefits of charisma as something that appeals to us directly, if it is not also connected to our social outlook.

I think this improves opportunities for role-play, if the players are made to understand this.  They would be noting on their character sheets that coming from a family of sailors, cooks, leather workers or lawyers each have a peculiar opportunity attached when it comes to speaking with strangers.  And it definitely shatters the controlling approach of the one player who thinks that because they have a 16 charisma, they are always the chosen one where it comes to every interaction.

To sum up, I'm firmly saying a charisma check, for first meetings, is ONLY relevant if the character also shares a common experience with the stranger.  And that charisma check should only dictate that the other has given enough time to listen to the character explain the premise of their inquiry.  The answer to a succeeded check should be, "All right, I'm listening."  And a fail should be, "I haven't got time to talk to you; move on."

After the opportunity to present one's case is gained, it should be up to the character to say things that will matter to the stranger, and gain the stranger's interest: to gain information, to barter, to offer assistance, ask for it or whatever.  But every time others in the party who don't also share the stranger's background speak up, that should also be a charisma check ~ at half-points.

If I'm a sailor/fighter, talking to a group of sailors, and the bard with a 17 charisma pipes up with a question, the bard's check is made against a charisma of 8.  If that fails, then the bard is scowled at, ignored, possibly verbally rebuffed ... and MY charisma is now challenged.  I have to make my charisma check or the listener will rebuff me, possibly ending the conversation.  "Tell him to shut up," says the listener to me, of the bard, and if I don't turn to the bard and say, "I'm doing the talking here," I lose more ground still ~ perhaps a -1 to all future charisma checks.

On the other hand, if the bard makes the check, all the bard gets is a gruff answer ~ and then the listener turns attention back to ME.

This forces others in the party to clamp up and let this party member have their moment, where they have to carry the day.  It reduces free-for-all conversations and most of all, the charismatic member of the party is forced to accept a little humility.

I quite like it.

P.S.,

Sorry for the title change.  Seemed better.  More bait-worthy.

The Big Picture

As a writer and a role-player, I am a believer in numbers.  I believe that numbers are the reason why D&D became a phenomenon at all.  Whatever some might say about the actual role-playing, or the spirit of adventure and so on, none of it would have gotten off the ground without the six basic ability stats.  Ozymandias recently wrote a post about the fundamentals of D&D.  For me, the fundamentals are in the game's design, and the understanding of that design.  The six ability stats, and their conjuration, is the one single eureka moment in role-playing.  We don't give enough thought to how much the game hinges on these numbers.

It has bugged me for years that in the strictest of game terms, where so much of the game relies upon self-image and understanding clearly what that image is, that we have never been able to identify clearly what it means to have a "12" constitution as opposed to a "13" constitution.

We know how to make the numbers dance.  The 13 gives us a very slight edge on the 12 where it comes to checks and rolls ... but honestly, if the two persons were standing side by side, how do we see that this one is a 12 and this one is a 13?

There are only 16 variations in body type, after all, between characters that can barely function with a 3 constitution and those who are the very peak of condition with an 18.  That's not very many.  You would notice if your body were suddenly given a spectacular one point boost in resilience, health, fortitude and endurance.  You would really notice.  You'd be out right now, running and bicycling ... and probably high as blazes, since that boost in constitution would mean an unholy blast of both endorphins and adrenaline.

Yet ... we're supposed to ignore all that.  Who has posted their personal list of subdivisions, hm?  I've never seen one.  Apparently, we think it's impossible, or that it just doesn't matter.  The only third reason I can think of is that people just haven't thought about it.  That seems ... hard to believe.

Louis XIII, King of France from 1601 to 1643;
my game world takes place in 1650.

I had a commenter today who disputed my interpretations of charisma points, which is exactly what I expected.  There's no question my interpretations were weird.  I had a bunch of pages open, I was researching the hell out of charisma, trying to fine-tune the descriptions for each point of gain through a careful use of the thesaurus.  At each point along the pathway, I considered the next logical advancement.  The complete Quasimodo of a charisma is improved by pity, then sympathy, which leads to tolerant indifference.  If I could think of a sliver between sympathy and tolerant indifference, I would have used it.  The next step up the ladder is occasional notice ... the plain girl, the schoolteacher, to whom everyone is polite but no one wants to marry.  From there, I could see a pattern of attention for the individual following a path of social class.

Common people will marry and associate with common people, but the middle class doesn't and neither does the gentry.  Once your charismatic enough to gain the attention of the middle class, you fall out of the orbit of the common; increase further and the gentry get interested in you.  Then, finally, the real players take notice: those with real power and those with titles.  With each group, it is the same progression ... from inattention to some attention to complete attention.  And as you rise above the class, they see you as less and less attainable.

Of course, we in the 21st century, have been taught by films to believe that everyone is attainable.  Fat, ugly men in television sit-coms are constantly married to women with model bodies. Men in their 70s have affairs with beautiful women in their 30s.  It is a fantasy.  Viewed coldly, it is a ridiculous fantasy ~ which we justify by supposing it can be made to work with money.  And the ditzes from Orange County encourage that mockery.

My world, however, takes place in the 17th century, not the 21st.  There's no film, no "entertainment industry," there's a profoundly calcified social strata at play and most people live and die within 10 miles of where they're born.  Masques were worn by attractive women who moved in the upper circles; attractive men gathered in tight cliques and ~ like the Karate Kid ~ acting like complete assholes towards everyone who did not measure up to their evaluation.  Beautiful milk maids were the stuff of fairy tales ... in other words, so completely and absolutely unlikely that these stories became told over and over as fantasies for people who were tittilated by an amazingly attractive woman living in a fireplace.  We've deluded ourselves, in this century, with the belief that the fairy tales had a hint of truth in them ... but of course, we never apply that "hint of truth" to the magic that's cast or the "happily ever after" that neatly wraps up the story.  We're perfectly ready to be jaded about that nonsense.

So as I envisioned characters getting more and more attractive and personable, I thought about how uncomfortable that would be for common folk.  This fabulous popular and attractive fellow of 15 charisma walks into a workman's bar in the evening; the workers have had a hard day's labor behind him, but this fair fellow is on a first name basis with the mayor, he's a bon vivant around town and he has a fine position as the master of the dockyard, which he obtained through being very likeable.  What is the worker going to say around this fellow?  Can the workers be themselves, while this fellow is here?  Can they cut up and tell rude jokes, and bitch about the leaders of the guild, with this fellow in the room?  Of course not.  So they all get very quiet.  And polite.  Oh, of course, the fair fellow is pleasant, even generous.  And it is very kind of him to take notice of us common folk for a bit.  But he makes us nervous.  And he reminds us we are never going to look like he looks, or talk like he does, or have what he has.

That is only going to get worse as the charisma increases.

For myself, I ended up there without intending to do so.  I simply saw no other way around it.

But I was going to take a moment and talk about those who commented about the subjectivity of charisma.  I was asked, is the charismatic person still charismatic if they're in a culture that is not their own?  Surely, charisma only applies to one's own people ... what with different customs and attitudes, charisma must diminish when it shifts elsewhere.

I honestly don't know where that comes from.  We have endless stories of explorers entering lands on all the continents being embraced and beloved by complete strangers in utterly odd parts of the world.  It wasn't at all uncommon for a European to make friends in Japan, among the Hurons and in the deepest parts of Africa ... the charismatic individual simply cast their own habits aside and adopted the habits of the natives.  "Going native," like Gordon of Khartoum or Lawrence of Arabia, goes back beyond Alexander the Great, who fell in love with Persian customs and married a Persian woman, after conquering the country.  We know his fellow Greeks thought this very, very strange.  Dio and Plutarch both write extensively about Alexander's beauty, charisma, communication skills ... and about the obsession he developed for prostration (look it up), which was very NOT Greek.

Charisma has far more power than merely to manipulate.  Charisma is an adaptation.  It allows the individual to become our best friend, by embodying all the characteristics we want to see in a best friend.  The high charisma individual moves through the crowd, mutating instantly from person to person, so that each person feels special, each individual feels like they really know the fair fellow.  But the fair fellow is, in truth, unknowable.  He isn't just one person.  He is hundreds of people, at once.

He could win over the common folk in the bar, if he wanted to.  He could don their clothes, he could go down into the mines with them or work in their fields, and soon he would be adopted as one of their own.  Because he is just so darn likeable.  But honestly, why would he?

One in a thousand might find that interesting.  Thomas More did, and so did Francis of Assisi.  Victor Hugo had that strain in him and so did Leo Tolstoy.  But most beautiful, capable, charming people despise the meek and the common people.  The meek and the common have nothing they want, while they can perform the same mastery of language and likeability with princes and kings.  Why would they wallow in the muck with the pigs?  Why would they enter the bar at all, except to see what it was before getting back in their coach and going to their more interesting, diverting lives?

Please don't think that any list like this I put together is mere manure slung at a wall.  I am not merely invested in doing such things right, I'm working from a very large pile of sources, the sort that most role-players wouldn't think of reading.  Though I urge you to read them.  They're difficult and complex, and full of references that it takes decades to feel certain about, but the depth of information is amazing.

I'm reading a book now, called War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450-1620, by J.R. Hale.  I'll give a taste:

"There was probably no single year throughout the period in which there was neither war nor occurrences that looked and felt remarkably like tit.  There were a number of unstable frontiers ~ Scotland/England, Spain/Portugal, France/Spain, French/Imperial Burgundy, Christian/Turkish Hungary ~ which were zones of constant raids and counter-raids, where no one worked unarmed and no garrison force could do what it liked best to do, namely, pawn its arms and make love to taverner's daughters.  The practice of reprisal, whereby a shipowner was empowered by government to recover by violence the value of goods lost by piracy or unlawful sequestration in port, grew into privateering, or piracy-by-licence that made marines, guns and convoys as necessary in peace as in open war.  Moreover, as frontiers, after surveys by land commissioners and the construction of strong-points, did become more stable, especially in the later sixteenth century, their place as zones whence military escalation was always possible was taken by 'those who are called to be the rulers of states should have glory, expansion and enrichment as their principal aims.'  But he did not see expansion as leading to enrichment, though he hoped that wars of conquest might at least recover theri costs.  No government, no privte theorist saw profit as a tenable aim of war; enrichment was to be achieved by a more methodical development of a country's own economical potential and the nurturing of favorable balance of exports against imports.  This process could be benefitted by war, but only to the extent that a foreign war calmed, by diverting, civil passions and gave governments the excuse to pack off the unproductive elements in society ~ rogues, vagabonds and paupers ~ to be slaughtered."

What does any of that have to do with charisma?  To begin with, the above is real.  It isn't dragons, it isn't wizards sending people off to recover quest McGuffins, it's the hardcore business of managing power in huge, massive chunks, with unfathomable consequences hinging on wrong decisions.  The mastery of those decisions ~ what keeps the subordinates from killing off the kings pulling the triggers on the wars and legal justifications and pushback, is charisma.  It isn't strength, it's intelligence to some degree, it's certainly wisdom ... but it is most of all the other stats employed by people who are capable of being liked enough to get a law passed without being murdered in their bed.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, this above was the game.  And for those with the charm to get in the door to take some small part, the halls of power offered something the local bar just didn't offer.  When making a system that defined what charisma was, and how it was applied, I didn't limit my framework to whether or not the girl at the bar looked nice.  I went all in.

I do wish that people would really get it into their heads how vast role-playing is ... all from a set of numbers and rules to play with them.

Charisma Breakdown

This ... took awhile.

Again, I plan to post it here and also on my wiki, under the heading of charisma. It is a breakdown of each point of charisma that a character might possess, from 3-18, in detail as you can see. I imagine some really, really won't like it. Others will quibble the exact divisions. The highest four categories, from 15 to 18, are going to surprise. I'm tempted to explain it; but I think I'll wait to see if someone asks me about it in the comments first. There's a lot here.

Measuring charisma is an effort to quantify the effects the ability stat has upon the reactions of others, their spontaneous treatment of the individual and their overall generosity to award the individual with opportunities and status. Low charisma individuals are met with revulsion and distaste, treated with disdain and usually ostracized or left out of social gatherings and organizations. High charisma individuals are met with liking and interest, are treated as desirable and often rise to positions of authority and trust within organizations.

The increase in charisma from ugly to bewitching compounds benefits that each amount of charisma above that level also enjoys (except where it is superseded by a more rewarding benefit). Creatures are capable of being particularly cruel to individuals of low charisma, whatever they might do; while often awarding those of high charisma more than they really deserve, as they often do little to earn it. 

The descriptions below only partly describe player characters. For such persons as those detailed here, it will often take years of commitment to rise through the ranks and be discovered for their charisma. Those with very high charismas, above 14, will be much less common than the dice might imaginably dictate. Some may be born with a 16 or more charisma, but a harsh life, accidents, poor health, disease and other consequences may severely diminish their potential. Only those charismatic who are born at least partly to privilege will remain so long enough to enjoy it. Players, of course, fall into this category. They, too, are unusual, even those whose fathers and mothers were common (though the character background generator adjusts their backgrounds with their charisma).

In large degree, it is suggested that a DM recognize that an extraordinarily beautiful and pleasant person moving about a late medieval or early modern world casually, as a cleric, bard, paladin or druid, would likely be seen as something of a freak. The list below is intended to effect that depiction.

Ugly (3 pts.)
Reactions to such persons will often be a mixture of repugnance and horror, as ugly persons are generally misshapen, frightful and even ghastly in appearance. Unusual color, a rank odour and outward signs that are suggestive of disease (even if no disease is present) is repellent and produces a strong aversion.

Treatment is harsh, as the ugly character tends to be manic, aggressive, needy and often unable to make themselves clearly understood, often due to the shape of their mouths and their lack of confidence, others will treat them with contempt, disrespect, abuse and verbal derision. Mockery is a common response.

Generosity is utterly lacking for such persons; it is extremely rare that they are given a place or means to make a living, unless it is in some role that is wretched or very unpleasant. They are often the victim of some person who cruelly exploits their dreadful condition. Otherwise, they are often too ugly to even beg, and are thus reduced to scavenging for food. Some are taken in and taught to be assassins ~ the only character class such persons can aspire to be, as no other profession would be moved to train them.

Ill-favoured (4 pts.)
Reactions are often a strong dislike and disinclination to interact with such persons, as the ill-favoured often appear to be physically damaged, demented or mutilated in appearance. Often deathly pale, possessed of straggling hair, off-set eyes or a strong odour, the response is usually abhorrence. However, there is a softening of the appearance occasionally, that will move another person to a sense of pity for the poor creature.

Treatment is inflexible, as the ill-favoured character cannot help their boorish mannerisms, their odd-pitched speech and their corrupt use of language; they are shuffled from place to place, living by handout, forced to feel ashamed for themselves and friendless. But there is little hate; merely callous disregard. As ever, only assassins would train such a person to level status.

Generosity permits very little. They may knock on a door in very poor times. Some will let them find shelter in an airy stable or behind a stoop. No employment would be given; only beggary is available. As before, such persons drift into the orbit of assassins, who look for persons like this with the other necessary characteristics to become heartless killers.

Base (5 pts.)
Reactions possess a hesitation to shun the person, but still to push them along so as to relieve themselves of the person’s unwanted presence. The base individual is vulgar in appearance, unclean, a whiff of odour, while disagreeable in face and posture. While distaste is rare, others will be sharply displeased or dismayed at the individual’s presence, urging them to move on and mind their business elsewhere. This is often said with some sympathy, supported by some small bit of charity … a copper coin or a direction to a proprietor to get the base person a bit of bread.

Treatment includes distaste and an urge to cross the street rather than meet the individual, but not everyone feels that way. There is daily humour at the expense of the person, but it is jovial, not cruel. Others treat the person as “a part” of their community, though from habit rather than warmth.

Generosity allows for open beggary, which even allows the person to be treated with momentary kindness. No other place would be given, except for a modest permission to allow them a permanent shelter, though an unpleasant one. Even now, only assassins would train the person to have a level.

Homely (6 pts.)
Reactions may be a sniff of the air and a moderate displeasure; the homely person’s face and body is off-putting, being bent over, gangly and somewhat lopsided. They will have a cheerful smile, however and are seen to be only unfortunate; if met, they’re rarely acknowledged, and even more rarely noticed. Others will usually given them little to no attention.

Treatment would consist of benign disinterest. Others would pass on the street with a slight nod, if giving any notice at all. Still, no one challenges their presence in the community. Folk sell them goods, exchange with the person, give a tacit approval and speak well of the person, somewhat.

Generosity provides a form of necessary work, as a gong collector, rat catcher, gravedigger or similar occupation, too mean for an ordinary folk. Some will be levelled; a fighter that’s gone to war; a ranger acting as a gamekeeper; an independent friar; a small-time thief or assassin; perhaps a very private monk, mage or illusionist, in this latter case most likely from far away and without any ties. Most would know nothing of their levelled ability, as they will use their skills infrequently, not wishing to bring attention and perhaps frighten others, who would see them as a threat.

Plain (7 pts.)
Reactions are lukewarm and indifferent, with a tacit approval that the individual belongs as part of the scene. A mild greeting is normal. Often passed over but usually acknowledged. Plain individuals lack any sort of distinctive feature, with a modest mix of eyes, nose and mouth, suggesting rural habits, honest intents and an artless lack of pretension. They are nodded to or quietly acknowledged as they pass.

Treatment is cooperative, sometimes helpful; persons are likely to remain alone all their lives, but might become a helpmate to a commonplace person or act as a servant in a household. They will be gruff, impatient and bitter. Most know their name; others will listen to their opinions but will put little store by them; occasionally, to gain support, another might ask a plain person to give their opinion.

Generosity includes, as said, with opportunities to be a servant. Most often, they work for family. As mages and illusionists, they may set up a tiny, unobtrusive shop, that will receive few customers. Some are morticians. A cleric will be an unpleasant deacon, managing a few pupils. A fighter will be a private guard for a single employer ~ and never part of a larger entity, where they would not get along with others. A ranger is most likely to act alone in some capacity, as hunters or private wardens. Assassins or thieves would roam as solitary criminals. Most common plain persons would have mediocre, painstaking work to do, with little to look forward to day-to-day.

Commonplace (8 pts.)
Reactions will tend to be welcoming, if muted. While not noticed as an important person by any means, commonplace persons will be granted the same initial reception as anyone else. In appearance, they’re merely people. It will be noticed by such persons, perhaps because they come closer than those with less charisma, that there are “average folks” who are friendly and gentry who tend to overlook such persons. Commonplace persons will generally find love with others of their charisma and social standing.

Treatment is an everyday acceptance, as the individual will most likely have an extended family, responsibilities, a plot of land, a secondary skill, and compatriots of about the same level of charisma. Most others in their immediate orbit will treat them with belonging. Outsiders, particularly the gentry, will treat them with some level of disdain, as poor folks.

Generosity dictates their lives will revolve around work, seasonal events, births, deaths and little opportunity past their mundane lives. However, this offers a comfort, as well as knowledge that although their lives are dull, they are sound and productive. Most levels conform to their kind, performing what skills they have for the benefit of their kin. Clerics alone stand out; with this level of charisma, they are accepted as minor priests and functionaries inside the church system, though rarely do they ever become important and never do they preach to a wide congregation.

Neighbourly (9 pts.)
Reactions will be a strong salutation, followed by several interested questions before personable matters are dropped in favour of other things. A neighbour is rugged, fine to look at, with a gentle charm. No strong bond is evident, but even with strangers there’s a sense by appearance, expression and stance that this is at least a fellow countryman, individual or person of similar breeding to the norm. Some consideration is paid by the gentry to a neighbour; but a stranger among the gentry will give no notice. A neighbour might find love among others with a point more in charisma and a social standing slightly higher.

Treatment is a low-born respect, as they have excelled somewhat among their commonplace peers. They’re given the best tables at the worker’s tavern, they are respected by guards and by officials. Their weddings are usually publicly celebrated; and at festivals they are often chosen first to compete in games. To the gentry, they are treated as peaceable, but rarely are their names remembered.

Generosity permits these lower middle class persons are upstanding members of their guilds, town watchmen and minor officials. Some are farmer leaders and foremen; most are not, and at best lower level authority is all a few are offered. They do lead healthy lives, however, and can usually trace their family half a dozen generations, at least, into the past.

Friendly (10 pts.)
Reactions to such persons will be a strong hail, with others going out of their way in public places to make sure a greeting occurs. A friendly fellow smiles, is easy to talk to, will laugh at a joke and is open to what others want to talk about. They will be more sympathetic, causing others to express their like and appreciation often. Friendly persons find committed love among others up to a 12 charisma, with a fair status above their own. They may dabble in relationships with persons up to 14.

Treatment is kindness, as they pass on the street. Well spoken of, they are friendly with guards and officials, Gentry are apt to notice them and converse for a moment or two.

Generosity enables them to become relatively successful, giving them strong houses, yards, comforts for their children and contact with family in other parts. They are more in low-level positions of authority, particularly in guilds; a reeve or hayward might be friendly, as well as a head guard, a local apothecary, a kindly minister or a willing scout and guide.

Affable (11 pts.)
Reactions by others, upon greetings, will include genuine concern for the affable person’s situation, while others will certainly beg the person’s good wishes. Folk will gather as they appear at a tavern or in the market place, to share stories. These persons may find committed love from anyone, and are often courted.

Treatment often includes others that laugh at their jokes and see them as important residents in the community, or as interesting persons that are passing through. Buying a drink for an affable person is a common request.

Generosity enables them to set up independent workshops or become senior members of guilds, while they are often approached with duties for the village or local quarter. They will often agree to become toastmasters or to head a small welcoming committee. Levelled persons are celebrated for their skills and are often encouraged to send their children to distant places for training.

Warm-hearted (12 pts.)
Reactions will be to approach the individual with concerns for the person’s welfare and situation, most likely offering a good meal upon greeting if known to the area, in an attempt to share company with the person. Others will be anxious to share news, tell the latest gossip and positively remark on the warm-hearted person’s appearance and anything new they might see.

Treatment encourages these people to sit and converse, which they will do while their friends will assume their workload. Warm-hearted people provide emotional sustenance and encouragement to others, who treat them as special benefactors.

Generosity will make allowances, so that in times of hardship they are given welfare and support, both for them and their families. They are rarely evicted; someone will find a way to create work for them or pay their rent. If necessary, they will be given light duties to perform on behalf of the town. In general, however, they rise to be important leaders of guilds, associations and collectives. Many will use their personalities to ensure receiving training when they are quite young.

Social (13 pts.)
Reactions will be for strangers to notice the person as they move up the street and to introduce themselves politely, even if they are strangers. Those of 8 or less charisma will hang back, intimidated. If known to the area, invitations to important events will often occur, with promises that a special table will be arranged, or a space at the head table. The gentry will view the individual as one of their own.

Treatment insists they have a special set of gifts that enable them to liaison between different customs and circles, as they are welcomed often even by those with which they share little in common. They are listened to fervently, their words are considered to be truth and rarely are they successfully questioned in public.

Generosity encourages them to set aside labour entirely and be organizers, courtiers, hosts, social reformers, political leaders and others like voices. They are very busy. They move behind doors where those with less charisma would hardly be allowed. They exist in large enough numbers that they make up the majority of the cultural hoi polloi. Those lacking skills may still move in these corridors, though less well ~ somehow, on charm, they get by.

Chivalrous (14 pts.)
Reactions of all persons, except the gentry, will be somewhat intimidated, but nevertheless very welcoming. There will be a distinct use of genuflection (show deference) from those of 10 or less charisma, while others will hail and engage in short, polite conversations. Invitations, when they occur, will occasionally arise from the middle classes and the gentry, but the lower classes will be satisfied to gaze on the person from afar. Shopkeepers will rush to please.

Treatment of these persons is a mixture of homage and appreciation for their contributions. These are especially celebrated entities whose capabilities outweigh the gentry around them. They move about in carriages, with retainers and hangers-on, with others who appeal to them for moments of their time.

Generosity enables them to become captains of the guard, respected courtiers, persons in charge of the finances and running of the area; though of course, subordinate to aristocrats with titles. Those without special knowledge or wisdom are given duties that fit their limited skills.

Fair (15 pts.)
Reactions of the non-gentry will be muted and deeply respectful, accepting company if it is given but never seeking to impose. The gentry will, if given the opportunity, seek to adopt the person, bringing them around to the house, introducing them to children of marriageable age, encouraging the person to begin in business or some other respectable activity. The gentry will, in fact, be something of a pest in this regard.

Treatment begins to reflect the relative rarity of these persons. As persons of consequence, they do not have to work so hard as their lesser peers to be heard in the halls of power. Even if they are not especially bright, they are usually found a place, as they are a pleasure to be near, for persons of great stature.

Generosity allows many who do not have skills to marry into the upper echelons. Some may obtain power through less savoury means, as gigolos and courtesans ~ but most exploit their skills while around them, they are celebrated for their personalities alone.

Beautiful (16 pts.)
Reactions will be strong and highly appreciative. Most persons, even the gentry, will tend to give space and respectfully give acknowledgement. All persons, from the shopkeeper up to and including the gentry, will show varying levels of making room, giving attention or otherwise dashing about as they serve and attend to the person. The single exception will be persons with legitimate power and title, who will view the person as a person to know and to engage with.

Treatment demonstrates that these are likely the most beautiful persons that ordinary people will ever see in person. Even at that, they are rarely viewed directly; most of the time, they will protect their appearance with privacy, not because they are truly threatened, as they usually surrounded, but rather because their beauty disturbs persons.

Generosity ensures that most of them are directly connected with court or with persons of power and title. Generally, they will escape the provinces for the comparatively comfortable life to be had in capitals. They may be enlightened persons of consequence, or they may surrender that to become manipulators behind the scenes, moving less attractive persons as puppets.

Graceful (17 pts.)
Reactions will be distant; most persons, except those with power and title, will consider themselves inadequate to hold discourse with the person. Less attractive persons will be pushed out of the person’s presence; an aura of space will expand around the person should they go anywhere. Those with power and title will suggest paths towards marriage or political power.

Treatment is hushed and reverential. It will be difficult to speak directly to lesser persons, who will describe themselves as unworthy. The degree of intimidation others feel will be very high.

Generosity will lead them to become lords and ladies through marriage, or by gifts bestowed upon them. Paladins will be profound, unusually prized members of court, as their appearance is startling and tends to strike even courtiers with astonishment.

Bewitching (18 pts.)
Reactions will be something like fear. It will be generally held belief that a person cannot be so charismatic without having some special powers, to charm, beguile or fascinate persons out of all safety. In some quarters among the gentry, there will be an unspoken, strong resentment, that may be problematic in the right circumstances. Lower establishments will refuse to serve, considering themselves unworthy. An ordinary life is possible only through disguise.

Treatment is exceptional and mystifying. Such persons are probably never ordinarily seen by even gentry; their incongruous presence is eerie and unnatural. Even kings and queens are made humble by their appearance and their personalities. Because of this, persons of this appearance are vulnerable. They will often wear a mask or covering of some type, to minimize their outward effect.

Generosity of their charisma enables them to become master manipulators behind the scenes. A few become usurpers. Each is an entity onto themselves, defying categorization.

Guilt and Conflict

I guess I'm not finished with the subject of the last post.  That is suggested reading before begining this one.

Ultimately, the conflict series I proposed some years ago now failed because the consequences for the players actions were not dear enough to contain their willingness to exploit the system.  As I have said before, the cards were used as a "charm person," in that if the roll succeeded and the defender lacked fortitude to resist, the players could have their way with said person.  This wasn't a problem with the first group of people I played with, but it became one as the system was better understood.

So I took it down, with the understanding that I would have to think about the system to determine a meaningful solution.  It had not occurred to me at that time that success could, in fact, be a deterrent.

As I explained in the earlier post, it might be.

Putting aside concerns about evil characters at the moment (and acknowledging that the decision to "be evil" should not necessarily be seen as an immunity to guilt), I'm only looking for a system that gives players pause.  The goal is to suspent players from simply saying, "Gosh, aren't I well-spoken and attractive; mind if you lend me all your money and the use of your house while I'm in town?"  We could create a system that would cause the charismatic individual to feel some remorse afterwards for making the request, especially if the request was accepted.

It would make the DM the arbiter of bad behaviour, however ~ something I always see as a problem.  A best-case scenario would be to create a list of anti-social behaviours ... but such a list would be extravagant and most likely incomplete, no matter how much work was put into it.  Humans are terrifically gifted at finding new ways to be anti-social.  A better strategy would be to framework anti-social behaviours so that if something new came up, it could be judged fairly not only by the DM, but also by the players.

Anti-social behaviours are those that harm or cause lack of consideration for the well-being of others; intentional acts of aggression; covert and overt hostility; and effectively contempt for others.  This certainly describes murder-hobos, as we well know, but it also describes talking a guard out of doing his job and letting the party past, a favorite example of "smart role-playing" in order to avoid combat.  We give experience for this.

Now, before anyone panics, and assumes I'm rushing to impose a morality on D&D, please keep calm.  I'm merely digging a hole for the foundations.  I'm not digging a grave here.

We have to acknowledge that the so-called "heroes" of many a campaign, particularly those on line, practice an awful lot of this sort of behaviour.  For example, this infamous bit.  I have little to no problem with the choices made by the party than I have with the constant identification of these persons as heroes.

But ... there are always multiple justifications for all the anti-social behaviours listed above.  Those orcs we slaughtered in that dungeon were evil.  Yeah.  That's what they certainly were.  And the children too.  That guard is an employee of evil ... he ought to know better than to defend such horrible, awful people, who are protecting that stone they absolutely have no right to possess.  We're not thieves if we're in the employ of Our King, who doesn't happen to have any actual jurisdiction in this country, but that is really, really not important, is it?  Etcetera.

Francis Drake wasn't a pirate, he was a British patriot.  George Custer wasn't a murderer of women and children, he was an American Hero.  Christopher Columbus wasn't a dick in every sense of the word, he was an entrepreneur and a legal representative of Spain.  Anti-socialism is a question of what social system you defend and which you denegrate.

I have a lot of faith in parties being able to justify their murder-hobo intentions; I don't want to put an end to them.  All I want is to codify it, so that my party can feel content marching into a dungeon to slaughter the inhabitants for the good of the kingdom and the state, and the wellbeing of the surrounding peasant folk ... just so long as they then don't decide to burn a peasant's house down the next day because the peasant wasn't sufficiently grateful.

I don't want morality to impose its absolute will on the party ... but I would like the party to at least acknowledge that there is such a thing and that it's a little important to the fabric and structure of all this goodness and heroism they purport to defend.

You kick that beggar.  You kick him as hard as you want.
Because you have moral superiority.

In that line of thought, along with cards for discussing with persons using reason, status, money and intimidation, we might talk about cards that offer "rationalization," "vindication," "excuse," "legal privilege" and "sadistic indifference," equally based on a player's ability stats, relationship with the crown, local authority, cause or right of revenge.  These cards would then be available in short supply and ONLY at specific times ... and could create a dynamic in which the first part of going off to slaughter all the denizens in the castle would be to get the card granting the legal or moral authority to do it.

And getting that card would have to be done legitimately also, if the consequences of lowered endurance, emotional wellbeing and stomach-churning, weakness-inducing guilt were not things to be managed while killing women and children in the castle 'just for fun."

Once again, I'm mindful that this is NOT your D&D.  Got it.  Think of it as a thought experiment, the imposition of another hurdle that has to be overcome or a guard rail against player misbehaviour in the extreme ... which, I admit, does not seem to be considered a problem around a lot of tables that are definitely not MY D&D.

This could be a thing.  Still needs some more thought.

Charisma Issues

So. Charisma.

I've been thinking about why it is such a headache.

Attempts to impose systems that enable characters to use charisma to have an immediate, direct effect on the dealings of others, principally by players against non-player characters, has largely failed. The tendency of players is to see NPCs not as believable entities, but as tools towards an end ~ and thus, charisma is used as a weapon to dominate or coldly manipulate guards, officials, common persons or enemies into a state of obedience and submission by virtue of a die roll. Given any chance that this will work, without any real consequence experienced by the player, the player is bound to try again and again, like pulling a slot machine, addressing each NPC with the expectation that the roll will work, so that this time, the character-victim will instantly become the player’s vassal.

This suggests that die rolls cannot work.  However small the chance for success, the player will always go for it; and supposedly, the high-charisma character should have a fairly decent chance of winning over strangers and influencing people.  Without a consequence, failure to do so is fairly meaningless; and what consequence can we provide that will mean something to a player outside of the NPC immediately taking  up arms?

We can leave interactions to role-playing, insisting the player win every success through parley with the DM ... but then we're forced to accept that the NPC is always the same person, with the same likes, dislikes, buttons, prejudices and recognizeable behaviour patterns.  However much the DM might try to take on another personality, we're still going to the same well and, ultimately, that well is predisposed to allow success or impose failure based on the DM's agenda.

In effect, the player character is a psychopath.  Because charisma is used as a tool, the expressions are glib and superficial. The PC is bound to have a grandiose and exaggerately high estimation of self with compared to NPCs.  The PC feels no resistance to lying, cunning or manipulation of NPCs.  If an NPC dies under the player's watch, it is easy to lack remorse or guilt.  Players are generally very callous towards NPCs and rarely possess empathy for them.  Players casually kill NPCs without notable impact on their self-identity.  Players are overly impulsive, particularly in their dealings with NPCs.  They will usually objectify NPCs, seeing them as possessions.  And so on.

None of this really matters, because NPCs are fictional objects and the players know it.  It requires an enormous build-up of a particular NPC to gain a player's concern or empathy for that fictional character ~ and some players will simply refuse to invest themselves personally in something that is "just made up."  It is a challenge that has frustrated many writers for centuries, in having to deal with readers who insist on treating film and literary characters as "not believable" for a host of pejorative justifications.  These range from not liking strong women, superheroes, drug addicts and other criminals, the presence of intelligent black people, anything verging on a racial stereotype, LGBT issues, anything suggestive of weakness and, of late, a pronounced dislike of cultural appropriation.  "I hate your Egyptian character because you're not Egyptian."

Whatever the motives, players often won't adopt a sense of wrongdoing when using their 18 charisma to flat-out exploit NPCs, wringing out their last hit points dry before casually leaving them to face the dragon while the party beats a hasty retreat.  So it is crucially difficult to create a game system that doesn't detrimentally empower characters with high charisma (leaving those with low charisma to shut up while the beautiful people talk), while encouraging the abuse of NPCs while vastly reducing the immersive qualities of player/NPC discourse.

What's needed is a consequence that doesn't depend on the nuclear option.  At low levels, it's enough to make one NPC draw a weapon to discourage a player from getting too bossy, but as the levels climb it's necessary to have the whole tavern draw weapons, followed by the arrival of a substantial city guard, two or three knights and a local mage, half the town and perhaps a good portion of the kingdom eventually, because a 19th level fighter took it in mind to bitch-slap a fictional 14 y.o. servant.  It gets a little ridiculous.

We humans, of course, don't act like psychopaths, in very small part because of the legal consequences involved but because we would feel awful for long periods afterwards, even our whole lives if the choice to do something really selfish and vindictive caused us to lose a friendship or question our legitimacy as likeable human beings.  Guilt is a serious consequence; and not something that players feel overmuch.

Guilt can have serious physical and mental consequences.  It can lead to headaches and stomach aches, muscle tension, lack of sleep, feeling on edge, feelings of desperation, self doubt, anger, overcompensation and a tendency towards suicide.  In game, these are all measurable responses, none of which require an NPC to draw a weapon.  In fact, they will tend to manifest because the player was successful in their manipulation, rather than the contrary.

Of course, players want to be free to be as evil as they like, without consequences.  There's enormous fun in teasing small fictional children to fall out of windows to their deaths and pushing an unsuspecting townsperson into the open to "see" if the enemy has bows or not.  What evil female character hasn't pretended to be a prostitute long enough to lure a client into a private place in order to assassinate them and pick up a few coins?

If we impose a guilt rule on such persons, what then?  Where's the fun?  And in what ways are we challenging the principles of player agency?

I'm not sure there's an answer for that.  It may be that player characters must be self-declared as creatures immune to guilt, a condition that cannot be possessed by characters with a charisma above a certain point.  Someone will inevitably argue that Hitler had a charisma of 18, but I'd argue there's no measurable evidence of the assertion, and that our mythology of his charisma is due to our needing to explain the irrational willingness of the German people to embrace him into their hearts.  When I look at the little corporal with his silly mustache, stomping and strutting, and hear the words of his speeches and his manic delivery, I don't see this "charisma," though I do see a certain drive and intellect in his unbridled ambition.  Accounts of Hitler in the 1920s don't bear out this "charismatic" argument, but it is clear that he was loud, irrepressible and willing to surround himself with gangsters, whom he then organized and empowered through his ruthless strategies.  We know that the crowds of "adoring" Nazi synchophants were populated with gangsters who did not hesitate to club and beat those who did not show enough sychophancy.  It is probable large parts of the crowd attended in order to be seen by their neighbors and therefore not called out as traitors to the state, rather than any appreciation for a maniacal racist megalomaniac.  The charismatic theory has some considearable holes in it.

But ... we're only interested in game procedures, at any rate.  If we regulate evil persons out of the exploit-through-charm option, and if we impose meaningful repercussions upon players who use charisma in order to callously exploit NPCs, reducing their constitution, wisdom, ability to rest or their ability to be fully charismatic for temporary periods, or even potentially permanently, players might hesitate to use their 14+ charismas as a "let's fuck over everybody" game strategy.

I wouldn't think it would be popular.  Quite a number of players, used to acting as assholes towards NPCs and shrugging it off like a speck of rain, will chafe at the notion.  It would probably be embraced only by players who already don't want to use charisma as a weapon.  The idea wouldn't be adopted at tables run by DMs who actively encourage players to lack empathy or concern for anyone except their selfish selves ... so long as they pay fealty to that DM.

Such a rule, however, would be constructive in causing a player to hesitate before flashing a smile, winking, and suggesting the princess betray her father, her people and her virginity, so that she can run off to a life of adventure with this gorgeous adventurer whose going to dump her in the next kingdom over as soon as the quest is complete.

A player might, then, feel a little bit bad about doing such things.