Grrrrrrrr ...

I want to write more about the "DM as innovation," but getting distracted by a comment, I feel I have to write this to clear my head.

Earlier I read this post at B/X Blackrazor ... which I'm not going to talk about now.  I only want to call out these words of JB describing basic games as "specifically written as beginning instruction manuals for new players."   Just that.  This is why they were written.

Then I want to quote this passage from page 6 of Mentzer's 1983 Players Manual:

"Aleena can’t find Bargle, and is starting to look worried. Suddenly, the sound of a spell comes from a far corner of the room! The cleric turns and runs in that direction, waving her mace and shouting. the black-robed magic-user appears in the same corner as the spell noise, with a glowing arrow floating in the air beside him. He points at Aleena; the arrow shoots out, and hits her! She wails and falls with a sigh, collapsing in the middle of the room. The glowing arrow disappears."

Yes, I grasp that this is an "example of play."  Yes, I understand the text above is super-imposed next to game rules.  I get the "cleverness."

As someone who did not learn to play the game from someone's text example, but from direct contact with other players and a DM for many months before reading through any complete book, I have a very different perspective on the "importance" of Mentzer's flavour text.  That is, it isn't important.  In fact it's a wrongdoing.

No one, absolutely no one is going to accept this, especially if they read the above words at a young age.  For most, the text makes D&D "come alive."  It translates just what player characters feel, helping new players comprehend what the dice represent, awakening their imaginations.  These are not just die rolls, they are moments of tremendous drama!  Etcetera.

No one, absolutely no child, needs to be taught this.  There are no examples of this kind in the rules for the Game of RISK, yet I'm quite sure every one of my readers has memories of soldiers freezing to death in Irkutsk or drowning between North Africa and Brazil.  All of my readers, I'm sure, have made the sounds of soldiers dying as little pieces of wood or plastic (depending on how old you are) were killed off in large numbers.  We have television, movies and books to teach us how drama works.  I'll remind you that D&D came into existence because the inventors of Chain Mail could not keep themselves from anthropomorphising little chits of cardboard.

What Mentzer's little play does is tell you what to think specifically, in the prejudiced framework of Mentzer's imagination — and NOT YOURS.  You were never given the chance to invent your own framework.  Mentzer jumped in and did it for you.  And today you think that's fine, because it's all nostalgia to you, and you've been programmed to think that's fine, you dumb, brainwashed prat.

Why should Aleena look worried?  Because women look worried when they can't find someone?  Why doesn't she get mad?  Why does the sound of the spell come "suddenly"?  Do spells get passed suddenly?  Or ought they to take time, like the rules of an earlier version of the game, AD&D, says they do?  Should the cleric run?  Is that the best action?  Did you even question that when you read it?  NO, you didn't, because this is the format of how a book is written, and in a book, when the characters do something, you take it for granted.

Only, THIS ISN'T A BOOK!  It's a game.  And it's not supposed to be teaching you how other people would play, it's supposed to be teaching you the rules so that you can figure out, like a blank slate, how YOU would play.  Would you "wail"?  Would you "fall with a sigh"?  Isn't that up to you, not Mentzer?

As an adult, you're completely convinced this has had no effect on your thinking process — except I can show you libraries full of psychology research that says yes, it does.  As a child, you had no frame of reference for this.  You couldn't decide if this was a legitimate way to teach this game or not; and as an adult, shoving this shit at your children, rather than just teaching them the rules without this shit, you think you're doing a good thing.  But then, at least they have you as a frame of reference.  In my day (and I'm a fucking ridiculous old man), we didn't have parents to give a frame of reference.  We didn't have a voice to ask, "She wails?  What gooey girlie sexist bullshit representation is this?  Don't girls grunt too?"

It's hard, I know, to comprehend how cultural and socialized signatures get shoved through this kind of thing.

"You pass through one empty room, and then find the bodies of the cleric and the goblin in the next.  But you see dark, quiet shapes in the darkness beyond: it's the ghouls!  Quickly, you put the cleric's body over your shoulder and run for your life."

By the time you get to this narrative on page 7, the rules descriptions have evaporated.  Mentzer is just writing fiction at this point, and bad fiction at that.  In any case, the above doesn't describe any parties I've ever fucking played with.  Run?  From ghouls?  Are you kidding me?  And what about the freakin' rules about picking up a cleric?  How much does the cleric weigh?  How much shit is he carrying.  Even at 16 someone playing would have asked this.  Does Mentzer take the time, obstensibly with this book "teaching" children how to play?  No.  He's too busy getting his time in the sun, soaking up all of page 7 with his novelist fantasies.

But it's okay.  He's telling you what to feel.  What to think.  What D&D is "all about" ... from the prejudiced point of view of one man who we don't fucking know from Adam in February 1983.

This is the sort of shit that makes me lose it.  Particularly as I realize that this is a sacred cow, beyond reproach, that no one's allowed to disparage, ever, for any reason, A-fucking-men.

I'll remember to genuflect after I press publish.

Foreword

It should be no secret that I consider Dungeon Mastering to be an art.  The underlying creative process described on this late post fits perfectly into writing, composition or design, occupations that are unquestionably "artistic."  Yet even in 1979, the editor of the original DMG, Mike Carr, resisted the notion, writing,

"If you consider the aspect of experimentation, the painstaking effort of preparation and attention to detail, and the continuing search for new ideas and approaches, then Dungeon Mastering is perhaps more like a science — not always exacting in a literal sense, but exacting in terms of what is required to do the job well."

This is a familiar, criminal misinterpretation of "science," one we see everyday in the media and online.  Science is a systemic exercise that gathers and organizes knowledge from existing conditions.  Science studies things that already exist; please name the pre-existing phenomenon that role-playing "studies."  There isn't one.  With the statement above, Carr does nothing more than emphasize that he is an uneducated, ignorant hack, purporting to create a controversy where none exists.  D&D is not preparing for an experiment — it is creating something out of thin air so it can be presented in the game.  We're not searching for a new game approach that already exists in the physical world, or questioning the fundamental nature of knowledge or reality; we are creating game rules and narratives.  And please don't get me started on the semantic disaster perpetrated by Carr's need to cram "exacting" into the argument, manufacturing a dualism between "science" and "D&D."

A better foreword could read,

Dungeon Mastering challenges the individual to take what they know of human activity and literature, coupled with their ability to conceptualize a fantastical, fictional space, and convey that an imaginary yet tangible setting, so that others are able to see and imagine themselves functioning practically within that setting.  The dungeon master's presentational skill at conveying this setting is of highest importance.  The DM must be able to inspire others, through description, gesture and passion, to envision the same game world the DM imagines.  Given the awareness this requires — insight into how something needs to be described, resourcefulness in creating further details spontaneously, discernment between what is important and what's not, ingenuity, wisdom of one's fellow human beings and good horse sense about what will and will not motivate players — it is impossible not to view dungeon mastering as an Art.

DMing is a labour, not only of love, but in the tenacity needed to assimilate tens of thousands of details and principles well enough that they can be disgorged and argued when the moment demands.  This book alone contains 239 pages of description, tables, tools and details that would swamp a 3rd year humanities student if the final exam demanded a thorough knowledge of all that has been included.  The good DM needs to know this material cold; this means long afternoons of reading, and long nights of burning the midnight oil in order to assemble the ingredients that will make the next day's running memorable. 

Yet whatever the effort, the reward is worth ten times the cost.  This is an opportunity that few persons will ever obtain — the chance to earn tremendous respect from one's peers; to become the source of both enjoyment and opportunity; and to bestow experiences that both friends and strangers may remember all of their lives.  We will find ourselves in a position of judgment; but through fairness, reason and empathy, it is ours not only to settle disputes and bring tolerance, but to show others how to do this both in the game and in their everyday lives.  As we teach ourselves to manage our players, we teach ourselves how to be better people, with forbearance, kindness and self-sacrifice.

It is not easy to be more creative; or commit ourselves to an effort that may cause us to fall flat on our face.  It is no mean feat to run a game world every weekend, so that every Friday evening and every Saturday afternoon is spent pouring over pencil scratchings and books rather than partying or lounging in the sun.  We may question time and again why we do it; we may feel from time to time that the task is thankless; but when the players appear like clockwork, week in and week out, talking animatedly, spreading out their papers and dice, waiting for the moment when we will give our word that the running is about to start, we will know why we dungeon master.

Because it rocks our worlds.