This is final.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Time of Trouble
After much thought and deliberation, I have decided to leave the Vast Numbers post up. I look like an idiot and I find the failure in my math embarrassing. I should have done more research and made more effort to be accurate. It's clearly a case of arrogance gone astray. However, I'm leaving it up because the comments are so terrific I couldn't bear to take the thing down. Of late, I've had truly great comments from Steven, Blaine, Giordanisti, Tim, Jeremiah and especially Matt. I am thankful to everyone for their efforts in contributing to this blog. But enough equivocating.
I was wrong. I'm sorry.
I hope that was clear.
Some of you may have seen already that I've put a page on the blog for book reviews. Lulu has no policy at all that moderates reviews before they appear on my system, which is unfortunate. I am getting up to six attack reviews a day, which Lulu dutifully takes down, as they are clearly abusive and unacceptable to Lulu, nevermind the insult to me. However, Lulu has had to take down enough that they are now harassing me to turn off my reviews. I can't really blame them. Lulu, like Amazon and a host of others very large business sites are getting their fill of trolls. There's a lot of money there being annoyed by them. We should recognize that when the day comes when we have to use I.D. to log onto websites, we have the trolls to blame. Me, personally, I would be happy to have a net where no one is allowed to comment without their REAL NAME appearing, and without there being an automatic fine for personally abusive behaviour on public sites, such as speeding in a car, illegally parking or ignoring stop signs. I understand that in Canada there is legislation moving in this direction, as there are many small businesses, restaurants and retail stores, who pick up a troll that works day and night to vindictively put them out of business. I would not be at all sorry to have that troll come home one day to find the police and the court casually seizing all that the troll owns in compensation. That day is coming.
In the meantime, I'm the victim, so I'm taking the best action I can think to take. For those who left reviews on the Lulu site, I'm afraid that turning off the comments removed those reviews. I'm pretty unhappy about that. If you're willing, you can find your reviews on the blog here - I sincerely ask you to repost your review the review page. I would be very thankful.
If someone wants to write a bad review, one that indicates that they've at least read the book, so that I could print it, I would appreciate that, too.
I apologize for all the inconvenience I have been responsible for these last few days. Please bear with me, folks, in this time of trouble.
I was wrong. I'm sorry.
I hope that was clear.
Some of you may have seen already that I've put a page on the blog for book reviews. Lulu has no policy at all that moderates reviews before they appear on my system, which is unfortunate. I am getting up to six attack reviews a day, which Lulu dutifully takes down, as they are clearly abusive and unacceptable to Lulu, nevermind the insult to me. However, Lulu has had to take down enough that they are now harassing me to turn off my reviews. I can't really blame them. Lulu, like Amazon and a host of others very large business sites are getting their fill of trolls. There's a lot of money there being annoyed by them. We should recognize that when the day comes when we have to use I.D. to log onto websites, we have the trolls to blame. Me, personally, I would be happy to have a net where no one is allowed to comment without their REAL NAME appearing, and without there being an automatic fine for personally abusive behaviour on public sites, such as speeding in a car, illegally parking or ignoring stop signs. I understand that in Canada there is legislation moving in this direction, as there are many small businesses, restaurants and retail stores, who pick up a troll that works day and night to vindictively put them out of business. I would not be at all sorry to have that troll come home one day to find the police and the court casually seizing all that the troll owns in compensation. That day is coming.
In the meantime, I'm the victim, so I'm taking the best action I can think to take. For those who left reviews on the Lulu site, I'm afraid that turning off the comments removed those reviews. I'm pretty unhappy about that. If you're willing, you can find your reviews on the blog here - I sincerely ask you to repost your review the review page. I would be very thankful.
If someone wants to write a bad review, one that indicates that they've at least read the book, so that I could print it, I would appreciate that, too.
I apologize for all the inconvenience I have been responsible for these last few days. Please bear with me, folks, in this time of trouble.
Reviews for How to Play a Character & Other Essays
If you have a review to write on the book, How to Play a Character & Other Essays, please include it below. Bad reviews will be published, so long as they are about the book and not the author. Please do not include content that does not relate to the book's content.
I would prefer not to run reviews on my page, but Lulu has indicated that there is little they can do about the obvious stalker (they have told me all the abusive reviews are coming from the same IP address) except to have me turn off the review option. I've done this. I hope the reader can trust me to be honest about publishing appropriately negative reviews about the book.
I would prefer not to run reviews on my page, but Lulu has indicated that there is little they can do about the obvious stalker (they have told me all the abusive reviews are coming from the same IP address) except to have me turn off the review option. I've done this. I hope the reader can trust me to be honest about publishing appropriately negative reviews about the book.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Vast Numbers
From Malcolm Gladwell's David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants, giving a typical example of a teacher speaking about class size:
"My perfect number is 18 [students in a classroom]. That's enough bodies in a room that no one person needs to feel vulnerable, but everyone can feel important. 18 divides handily into groups of 2 or 3 or 6, all varying degrees of intimacy in and of themselves. With 18 students, I can always get to each one of them when I need to. 24 is my second favourite number. The extra six bodies make it even more likely that there will be a dissident among them, a rebel or two to challenge the status quo. But the trade off with 24 is that it verges on having the energetic mass of an audience instead of a team. Add six more of them to hit 30 bodies and we've weakened the energetic connections so far that even the most charismatic of teachers can't maintain the 'magic' all the time. And what about the other direction? Drop down six from the typical 18 bodies and we have the Last Supper, and that's the problem. 12 is small enough to fit around the holiday dinner table - too intimate for many high schoolers to protect their autonomy on the days when they need to, and too easily dominated by the bombast or bully - either of whom could be the teacher herself. By the time we shrink to six bodies, there is no place to hide at all, and not enough diversity in thought or experience to add the richness that can come from numbers."
In context, Gladwell is discussing that class sizes have been statistically proven (read the book before you disagree) to have no influence whatsoever on a student's ability to succeed in school, whereas of course teachers have preferences that have much to do with what teachers want. I want to use the passage, however, to highlight those two things that I've put into bold. The situation that bullies dominate, and where the players lack enough diversity in experience.
Sunday I included an excerpt from the book about emergent behaviour that I don't think I'm going to expand. I'm don't feel that I am required to go through and point out sentences that people feel were not important enough to read or assimilate in order to understand the point - I put the sentence there and I assume the reader will read IT as well as all the other sentences in the passage.
The sentence I refer to is this: "To produce synthesis of this kind requires a vast number of interactions . . ." Vast. As in, more than the reader can comprehend. Since I had several people, good and bad, express a misunderstanding about what the word vast means, who feel that 'emergent behaviour' can result from the dialogue of players around the table, I thought perhaps I would try to give a little better explanation here. For the book itself, it doesn't specifically matter. The passage is there to convey information to people who are somewhat 'up' on the mathematics. For those people who are not 'up,' the passage can sit in the corner like an old shoe until the day the reader comes back to it again with greater understanding.
Look at the passage from teachers again. Six children are not enough to produce diversity. There's a number of reasons for this. First, if there are only six, they are probably very homogeneous in upbringing and culture. Remember, it took 24 for it to be likely that there's a 'rebel' in the group. Six children also have a lot of power to influence or dominate each other, as there's no place to escape. This means that the bully in 12 children is 665,280 times as powerful among only six. I can prove that mathematically. Among 12 students (factorial 12!) the number of possible connections between those students is 479,001,600. Among six students (factorial 6!) the number of possible connections is only 720. Don't pretend that this isn't the case. This is a reality of permutations, like God not being able to make a triangle with three sides that add up to anything other than 180 degrees. [Alexis is wrong in parts here]
The amount of influence that a strong child - or adult - has among a group of six people is incredible compared to the amount of power that same individual has in a larger classroom. This means that among six children, or the five players of your game + you, if there is one person who's personality is even a little bit stronger than the others, the others are going to follow that strong personality. That is something you need to be accept.
This also means that, regarding 'emergent behaviour' is concerned, the large proportion of individual, unique moments - far, far too many of the possible random elements - are going to be skewed by that individual pushing or pulling everyone else in one direction. There won't be enough kinetic energy in the system, there will be too many interactions that will produce null effects, and a critical mass of aberrant behaviour won't be reached. Not remotely in your dreams. If you think otherwise, you're not reading the above with a clear head, you don't understand enough about math or people, and you really ought to finish your education before weighing in.
Now let's look at numbers. Let's start with the most popular example of all time where it comes to talking about the vastness of numbers and the likelihood of emergent behaviour. Let's talk about cards.
You have a deck of 52 cards. From this deck, in a truly random fashion, you decide to draw two cards. Let's say, you get first get an 8 of clubs and then a 3 of diamonds. You put the cards back. You shuffle the deck. The deck is truly shuffled. The deck exists in a universe where there are no flaws on the cards that would make any one card physically different from another card. What are your chances of once again drawing an 8 of clubs and a 3 of diamonds in the same order?
The answer: 52! (The exclamation point is not there for emphasis. The '!' indicates 52 factorial). [Turns out, Alexis has his head up his ass for a lot of this post's math. Please disregard, and see the comment from Giordanisti below]
In ordinary numbers, 52! = 8.0658175 x 10 to the 67th power. How many is that? Well, in round figures, if you wrote each possible combination in very small print onto a hydrogen atom (assuming that were possible), then you would have to write the possibilities on enough hydrogen atoms to make a small galaxy.
And now we are talking about numbers vast enough to produce emergent behaviour. Humans interacting with each other just doesn't amount to beans. If all the atoms of all the objects and persons at the gaming table could break apart and interact with each other, then yes, we would have enough big numbers. But that's not what's happening.
The dice, on the other hand, like cards, are producing incomprehensibly vast random associations without our having any awareness that this happening - because numbers as big as these are just beyond our ability to cope. That is why, thankfully, we have math to cope for us.
I continue to be astounded by people who think that math isn't important. Or that math is the last thing that should be used to describe or explain something, or that somehow the power of the will can be used to prove that math isn't the master of all things. Even as I write this post, there are wholly ignorant readers who are shaking their heads, thinking that I've somehow pulled a fast one, or invented a straw man, because they're damned resistant against any idea that mere numbers could control everything they do or see. They sit here on this internet and spit on the math and spreadsheets I make for my world and yet they just don't get it.
They sit on the internet.
The internet.
And pooh pooh math.
That is an amazing demonstration of sheer stupidity.
I'm going to end this post with a favourite quote from Robert A. Heinlein, that appeared in Time Enough for Love:
"Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best, he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear his shoes, bathe, and not make messes in the house."
UPDATE:
It occurs to me just now, a few hours after writing the above post, that there is a way of demonstrating this difference between player personalities and their effects upon possible behaviours as compared to the dice.
Try an experiment. Sit down with your players and have them fight out a combat where no dice are thrown. Instead, tell your players that each round, they should just "go with their gut" on whether or not they hit. Then, when it comes around to the monster's turn, as the DM the reader should do the same.
Having done it once, whatever the result, set everything back to the start and have the players do it again. Take note of any differences. Try it a third time. Now a fourth. How long will it be before you start to see that things are becoming very boring and silly and repetitive, as certain players either predictably change things up or predictably go with the same decisions as before.
Now, have the combat with dice. Then have the combat again, with dice. Take note of any difference. Take particular note of how the DICE, and the players reacting to the dice, force unpredictable behaviours from your players.
This is the difference. This is why player decisions do not produce emergent behaviour, whereas the dice do.
"My perfect number is 18 [students in a classroom]. That's enough bodies in a room that no one person needs to feel vulnerable, but everyone can feel important. 18 divides handily into groups of 2 or 3 or 6, all varying degrees of intimacy in and of themselves. With 18 students, I can always get to each one of them when I need to. 24 is my second favourite number. The extra six bodies make it even more likely that there will be a dissident among them, a rebel or two to challenge the status quo. But the trade off with 24 is that it verges on having the energetic mass of an audience instead of a team. Add six more of them to hit 30 bodies and we've weakened the energetic connections so far that even the most charismatic of teachers can't maintain the 'magic' all the time. And what about the other direction? Drop down six from the typical 18 bodies and we have the Last Supper, and that's the problem. 12 is small enough to fit around the holiday dinner table - too intimate for many high schoolers to protect their autonomy on the days when they need to, and too easily dominated by the bombast or bully - either of whom could be the teacher herself. By the time we shrink to six bodies, there is no place to hide at all, and not enough diversity in thought or experience to add the richness that can come from numbers."
In context, Gladwell is discussing that class sizes have been statistically proven (read the book before you disagree) to have no influence whatsoever on a student's ability to succeed in school, whereas of course teachers have preferences that have much to do with what teachers want. I want to use the passage, however, to highlight those two things that I've put into bold. The situation that bullies dominate, and where the players lack enough diversity in experience.
Sunday I included an excerpt from the book about emergent behaviour that I don't think I'm going to expand. I'm don't feel that I am required to go through and point out sentences that people feel were not important enough to read or assimilate in order to understand the point - I put the sentence there and I assume the reader will read IT as well as all the other sentences in the passage.
The sentence I refer to is this: "To produce synthesis of this kind requires a vast number of interactions . . ." Vast. As in, more than the reader can comprehend. Since I had several people, good and bad, express a misunderstanding about what the word vast means, who feel that 'emergent behaviour' can result from the dialogue of players around the table, I thought perhaps I would try to give a little better explanation here. For the book itself, it doesn't specifically matter. The passage is there to convey information to people who are somewhat 'up' on the mathematics. For those people who are not 'up,' the passage can sit in the corner like an old shoe until the day the reader comes back to it again with greater understanding.
Look at the passage from teachers again. Six children are not enough to produce diversity. There's a number of reasons for this. First, if there are only six, they are probably very homogeneous in upbringing and culture. Remember, it took 24 for it to be likely that there's a 'rebel' in the group. Six children also have a lot of power to influence or dominate each other, as there's no place to escape. This means that the bully in 12 children is 665,280 times as powerful among only six. I can prove that mathematically. Among 12 students (factorial 12!) the number of possible connections between those students is 479,001,600. Among six students (factorial 6!) the number of possible connections is only 720. Don't pretend that this isn't the case. This is a reality of permutations, like God not being able to make a triangle with three sides that add up to anything other than 180 degrees. [Alexis is wrong in parts here]
The amount of influence that a strong child - or adult - has among a group of six people is incredible compared to the amount of power that same individual has in a larger classroom. This means that among six children, or the five players of your game + you, if there is one person who's personality is even a little bit stronger than the others, the others are going to follow that strong personality. That is something you need to be accept.
This also means that, regarding 'emergent behaviour' is concerned, the large proportion of individual, unique moments - far, far too many of the possible random elements - are going to be skewed by that individual pushing or pulling everyone else in one direction. There won't be enough kinetic energy in the system, there will be too many interactions that will produce null effects, and a critical mass of aberrant behaviour won't be reached. Not remotely in your dreams. If you think otherwise, you're not reading the above with a clear head, you don't understand enough about math or people, and you really ought to finish your education before weighing in.
Now let's look at numbers. Let's start with the most popular example of all time where it comes to talking about the vastness of numbers and the likelihood of emergent behaviour. Let's talk about cards.
You have a deck of 52 cards. From this deck, in a truly random fashion, you decide to draw two cards. Let's say, you get first get an 8 of clubs and then a 3 of diamonds. You put the cards back. You shuffle the deck. The deck is truly shuffled. The deck exists in a universe where there are no flaws on the cards that would make any one card physically different from another card. What are your chances of once again drawing an 8 of clubs and a 3 of diamonds in the same order?
The answer: 52! (The exclamation point is not there for emphasis. The '!' indicates 52 factorial). [Turns out, Alexis has his head up his ass for a lot of this post's math. Please disregard, and see the comment from Giordanisti below]
In ordinary numbers, 52! = 8.0658175 x 10 to the 67th power. How many is that? Well, in round figures, if you wrote each possible combination in very small print onto a hydrogen atom (assuming that were possible), then you would have to write the possibilities on enough hydrogen atoms to make a small galaxy.
And now we are talking about numbers vast enough to produce emergent behaviour. Humans interacting with each other just doesn't amount to beans. If all the atoms of all the objects and persons at the gaming table could break apart and interact with each other, then yes, we would have enough big numbers. But that's not what's happening.
The dice, on the other hand, like cards, are producing incomprehensibly vast random associations without our having any awareness that this happening - because numbers as big as these are just beyond our ability to cope. That is why, thankfully, we have math to cope for us.
I continue to be astounded by people who think that math isn't important. Or that math is the last thing that should be used to describe or explain something, or that somehow the power of the will can be used to prove that math isn't the master of all things. Even as I write this post, there are wholly ignorant readers who are shaking their heads, thinking that I've somehow pulled a fast one, or invented a straw man, because they're damned resistant against any idea that mere numbers could control everything they do or see. They sit here on this internet and spit on the math and spreadsheets I make for my world and yet they just don't get it.
They sit on the internet.
The internet.
And pooh pooh math.
That is an amazing demonstration of sheer stupidity.
I'm going to end this post with a favourite quote from Robert A. Heinlein, that appeared in Time Enough for Love:
"Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best, he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear his shoes, bathe, and not make messes in the house."
UPDATE:
It occurs to me just now, a few hours after writing the above post, that there is a way of demonstrating this difference between player personalities and their effects upon possible behaviours as compared to the dice.
Try an experiment. Sit down with your players and have them fight out a combat where no dice are thrown. Instead, tell your players that each round, they should just "go with their gut" on whether or not they hit. Then, when it comes around to the monster's turn, as the DM the reader should do the same.
Having done it once, whatever the result, set everything back to the start and have the players do it again. Take note of any differences. Try it a third time. Now a fourth. How long will it be before you start to see that things are becoming very boring and silly and repetitive, as certain players either predictably change things up or predictably go with the same decisions as before.
Now, have the combat with dice. Then have the combat again, with dice. Take note of any difference. Take particular note of how the DICE, and the players reacting to the dice, force unpredictable behaviours from your players.
This is the difference. This is why player decisions do not produce emergent behaviour, whereas the dice do.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Come On In; the Taoism is Fine
I must be doing something right.
I've had a spate of negative comments of late, suggesting that people who are both threatened and unhappy need to express themselves somehow to me. I particularly enjoyed the fellow who felt he needed to prove - at length - how he was able to achieve emergent behaviour at his gaming table without needing to roll dice. Good on you, brother. Way to buck the current of reality.
It is 54 days since I felt compelled to get angry at anyone online (restrained myself from showing it on the blog, however), and 92 days since actually losing my temper at anyone in the comments field. That is 13 weeks and a day. A quarter of a year +1. I've written a few rants since then, but nothing that I've gotten actually angry about . . . and I haven't attacked anyone in that spirit since March 9th. So let's appreciate that a little.
Naturally, since I've stopped chasing people away, more and more are turning up to comment here. But the rules I established continue to be in force, and they will be forever. Once, I used to let comments through so I could argue with them, but those days are gone.
I have noted that my reputation for deleting people "who disagree with me" has increased, even as my online persona has considerably cooled down. I wish to note that the raw hatred that I detect in comments hasn't diminished at all, particularly from people who claim the purpose of their hatred is due to how unreasonable I am about letting people speak freely. I am pleased to say that it doesn't bother me as much as it did three months ago. I believe I've turned a corner. I feel very good about the content on the blog, very good about the length and thought people are putting into the comments that are printed, and encouraged about my chances of doing well this next year.
I have been thinking of the problem of filming a D&D session, and I believe the solution would be to approach filmmakers on campus at the local university and let them solve my problems for me, in exchange for whatever would make them happy. They've done quite a lot of this, and I think if I let them pick the space and arrange things in a way that would please them, I might get some good footage.
I begin rehearsals today for playing the Dungeon Master in the Dead Alewives' D&D sketch ("dungeons and dragons . . . satan's game . . ."), which I'm performing on stage for the July 3rd fundraiser. I promise there will be video.
I'm a bit leary about making this confession, but it has to be acknowledged at some point, so here it goes. For about six weeks I have been writing on a schedule of about 1,700+ words a day. Yesterday I passed 73,000 words. The third draft should, therefore, be finished on or before June the 29th. There will still need to be some editing, mostly in the hands of another person, but I should be able to put together a mock-up prior to the fundraiser for showing around. The final copy should be completed and ready for sale on July the 11th. The cover art has been finalized and I should be able to show that around the 16th of June. I definitely feel like I'm on the downhill now. There were some times at the end of April, the beginning of May when I wasn't sleeping and stress was at a peak.
For those people who are interested, I should be able to start playing D&D intermittently, on and off line, after July 5th. Gawd, do I want to get back to it.
A last message for those who just absolutely hate me. I just don't know what I can do for you. On the whole, it would seem that anything I did to reach out to you would demand I be untrue to myself, my family, those supporting me and people who actually like what I write. This seems a lot of unnecessary inconvenience for people that I like just so that one lone person in the world that I don't can have things their way. I hope you understand. It's just not in the cards for you. I know that anything good that happens to me just grinds your palate, but no matter how much I think on the matter, I can't think of a way to help you. I hope you're able to figure out some way that you can go on, finding your own way. I know that you've certainly proved to me that you're a worthy person that deserves consideration, consolation and plenty of love. I wish you the very best.
I've had a spate of negative comments of late, suggesting that people who are both threatened and unhappy need to express themselves somehow to me. I particularly enjoyed the fellow who felt he needed to prove - at length - how he was able to achieve emergent behaviour at his gaming table without needing to roll dice. Good on you, brother. Way to buck the current of reality.
It is 54 days since I felt compelled to get angry at anyone online (restrained myself from showing it on the blog, however), and 92 days since actually losing my temper at anyone in the comments field. That is 13 weeks and a day. A quarter of a year +1. I've written a few rants since then, but nothing that I've gotten actually angry about . . . and I haven't attacked anyone in that spirit since March 9th. So let's appreciate that a little.
Naturally, since I've stopped chasing people away, more and more are turning up to comment here. But the rules I established continue to be in force, and they will be forever. Once, I used to let comments through so I could argue with them, but those days are gone.
I have noted that my reputation for deleting people "who disagree with me" has increased, even as my online persona has considerably cooled down. I wish to note that the raw hatred that I detect in comments hasn't diminished at all, particularly from people who claim the purpose of their hatred is due to how unreasonable I am about letting people speak freely. I am pleased to say that it doesn't bother me as much as it did three months ago. I believe I've turned a corner. I feel very good about the content on the blog, very good about the length and thought people are putting into the comments that are printed, and encouraged about my chances of doing well this next year.
I have been thinking of the problem of filming a D&D session, and I believe the solution would be to approach filmmakers on campus at the local university and let them solve my problems for me, in exchange for whatever would make them happy. They've done quite a lot of this, and I think if I let them pick the space and arrange things in a way that would please them, I might get some good footage.
I begin rehearsals today for playing the Dungeon Master in the Dead Alewives' D&D sketch ("dungeons and dragons . . . satan's game . . ."), which I'm performing on stage for the July 3rd fundraiser. I promise there will be video.
I'm a bit leary about making this confession, but it has to be acknowledged at some point, so here it goes. For about six weeks I have been writing on a schedule of about 1,700+ words a day. Yesterday I passed 73,000 words. The third draft should, therefore, be finished on or before June the 29th. There will still need to be some editing, mostly in the hands of another person, but I should be able to put together a mock-up prior to the fundraiser for showing around. The final copy should be completed and ready for sale on July the 11th. The cover art has been finalized and I should be able to show that around the 16th of June. I definitely feel like I'm on the downhill now. There were some times at the end of April, the beginning of May when I wasn't sleeping and stress was at a peak.
For those people who are interested, I should be able to start playing D&D intermittently, on and off line, after July 5th. Gawd, do I want to get back to it.
A last message for those who just absolutely hate me. I just don't know what I can do for you. On the whole, it would seem that anything I did to reach out to you would demand I be untrue to myself, my family, those supporting me and people who actually like what I write. This seems a lot of unnecessary inconvenience for people that I like just so that one lone person in the world that I don't can have things their way. I hope you understand. It's just not in the cards for you. I know that anything good that happens to me just grinds your palate, but no matter how much I think on the matter, I can't think of a way to help you. I hope you're able to figure out some way that you can go on, finding your own way. I know that you've certainly proved to me that you're a worthy person that deserves consideration, consolation and plenty of love. I wish you the very best.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
One Last Excerpt
Now and then, as I am writing, I find myself needing to augment some small element in the text, which leads to a larger thought that needs explanation. Here is one that I found myself having to detail after several hours of research.
From How to Run: an Advanced Guide to Managing Role-playing Games, part IV, 3rd draft:
"Behind what the party sees, behind the facade of the landscape, the faces of the residents, the rolling of the dice and the words I speak, there are the bare bones and sinews of the campaign’s structure. This is the true composition of the world, for the setting is not managed by drawn images and touchie-feelie wish fulfillment, but by numbers, lists, tables, programs, algorithms, files and rules. All of these – save one - act as tools or information systems that enable me to produce the semblance of chaos out of simplicity, with varying degrees of calculated randomness. The rules stand apart from these other elements, for within chaos the rules provide order."
(section removed)
"I should now return to the ‘semblance of chaos’ that I casually tossed forward. My world includes hundreds of small, simple and easy to use tables that serve to determine success at combat, skill, knowledge, interaction and survival, or which insert random elements such as whom the party meets, what the weather may be like, what details may be hidden temporarily from the players, what hazards may exist and so on. Each random roll upon these tables produces potential for connectivity with other similar rolls, that, strung together, produces unexpected permutations reflecting complexity. To enhance the value of these simple strings, I have algorithms which concatenate the little events into moments of greater complexity, which may manifest itself at any time during the sessions. Therefore, even though the actual tables may be simple, and though the moment-by-moment rolls upon those tables during the game can be performed in a linear fashion, one after another, the overall effect within the campaign is to produce synthesis, in which larger events – coupled with here and now interpretation of the data, as described in the section on presentation – develop as aggregates for the campaign as a whole. With enough die rolls, upon enough tables, a complex system emerges, from both chaos (unexpected die rolls) and detectable patterns. This is in fact called ‘emergent behaviour,’ and is believed to be the manner in which non-intelligent atoms combine to form complex systems that are able to think.
"To produce synthesis of this kind requires a vast number of interactions – but die rolls upon die rolls do produce such numbers. While many of the results will be irrelevant, or negligible in relation to the whole picture, or certain results may produce null effects, there is a point at which a critical mass is reached, where emergence occurs. I believe that role-playing compels our attention because we are witnesses to this process of emergence – a process that is happening all the time during the actual game. That is utterly fascinating to us. We cannot help but look."
"Behind what the party sees, behind the facade of the landscape, the faces of the residents, the rolling of the dice and the words I speak, there are the bare bones and sinews of the campaign’s structure. This is the true composition of the world, for the setting is not managed by drawn images and touchie-feelie wish fulfillment, but by numbers, lists, tables, programs, algorithms, files and rules. All of these – save one - act as tools or information systems that enable me to produce the semblance of chaos out of simplicity, with varying degrees of calculated randomness. The rules stand apart from these other elements, for within chaos the rules provide order."
(section removed)
"I should now return to the ‘semblance of chaos’ that I casually tossed forward. My world includes hundreds of small, simple and easy to use tables that serve to determine success at combat, skill, knowledge, interaction and survival, or which insert random elements such as whom the party meets, what the weather may be like, what details may be hidden temporarily from the players, what hazards may exist and so on. Each random roll upon these tables produces potential for connectivity with other similar rolls, that, strung together, produces unexpected permutations reflecting complexity. To enhance the value of these simple strings, I have algorithms which concatenate the little events into moments of greater complexity, which may manifest itself at any time during the sessions. Therefore, even though the actual tables may be simple, and though the moment-by-moment rolls upon those tables during the game can be performed in a linear fashion, one after another, the overall effect within the campaign is to produce synthesis, in which larger events – coupled with here and now interpretation of the data, as described in the section on presentation – develop as aggregates for the campaign as a whole. With enough die rolls, upon enough tables, a complex system emerges, from both chaos (unexpected die rolls) and detectable patterns. This is in fact called ‘emergent behaviour,’ and is believed to be the manner in which non-intelligent atoms combine to form complex systems that are able to think.
"To produce synthesis of this kind requires a vast number of interactions – but die rolls upon die rolls do produce such numbers. While many of the results will be irrelevant, or negligible in relation to the whole picture, or certain results may produce null effects, there is a point at which a critical mass is reached, where emergence occurs. I believe that role-playing compels our attention because we are witnesses to this process of emergence – a process that is happening all the time during the actual game. That is utterly fascinating to us. We cannot help but look."
Saturday, June 7, 2014
The Online Party Gets a Shot in the Arm
This morning I woke up to find someone shouting at me to quit D&D if I hated it that much. Ha. You write one bit of satire . . .
Okay, while hating D&D, I decided I would squeeze out a little time from my book to produce this - took about 10 hours:
Well. I have a lot to say about this map. Hold onto your socks.
Starting with what it is. This is the head of the Sea of Azov in the eastern Ukraine, just up a bit and to the right of all that stuff you've been reading about the Crimea. Whereas most of my maps have 20-mile hexes (you can find a version of this area in that scale among other political maps of the area right here), here the hexes are six miles across. The map is only a third completed. The green line up the center indicates which part is done and which part I only have notes for. The grey areas in the undone section show where there should be more hills.
The rough edges of the map are such because this map has been randomly generated from the information provided by the 20-mile map. Every hex has been determined by an excel random generator, which can be downloaded here. The major rivers were determined from the larger map, and the minor 'creeks' were included from what on the previous map would look like 'empty' hexes. The hills were hand-made, in three versions and then duplicated to get a nice feel for topography. Some areas of the unfinished map have had the hills included, and if the reader looks close, they'll see that there is an unusual, rougher group of hills that stretch from Kamut in the top centre to Sulin on the middle right. These are the Donets Hills, the area iof which is today one of the heaviest industrialized areas on earth (usually referred to as the 'Donetsk Basin' or 'Donbas'). The hills produce every kind of mineral one could want, as well as ridiculous amounts of coal and iron. Russia lost this area when the Ukraine went independent. Imagine losing the Ruhr Basin, or Silesia, or the American Rust Belt. It's like that.
Prior to 1676, however, these were just hills. In my world they are populated by a race of half-dwarves, half-orcs called 'Dworkin.' Yes, that is an intentional slur for those who get it.
The numbers in the undone section are for reworking later on; the reader can see that in addition to numbers in the complete section, there are hammers, slices of bread (food) and coins, just as Civilization IV. These were also drawn from me, from screenshots. Why not steal. For those not familiar, the loaf of bread shown in the heavily civilized area stands for five food.
Things get pretty busy at the top left, don't they?
The online party has been patiently waiting in the orange hex south of Rosk, two hexes up from the Sea of Azov, center of the map. They are in this region to establish a mission. They are very, very interested in this map right now.
The numbers for the hexes indicate the level of civilization/cultivation. The lower the number, the more civilized it is. A '7' is a mostly empty hex (as opposed to the completely empty hexes, that have no numbers). The most developed hex on the map is a '2.' The numbers, and to some degree the topography, determines how much food, hammers (labour) or coin the hex produces:
Empty hexes have no production. Most of these are dry steppe, but the green hexes around the delta are marshlands (some cultivated, the dark hexes not). In vegetation they would resemble short grass plains, where animals could be grazed, but not indefinitely, so that herds would have to be moved from hex to hex.
7: These are dry steppe with a good water source, streams or groundwater that produces areas of good soil or richer grazing. These areas produce 1 food. If there are also hills in the hex, an additional hammer is added. If on the coast, an additional coin.
6: The orange indicates steppe mixed with patches of open woods, where the deciduous trees grow singly or in small patches. The soil is better, some trees produce fruit and there's wood for burning. All six point areas have 2 food and 1 hammer. If there is a large river, then add a coin (creeks do not add coins). If there's a coast, add a coin. If there's a town, add a coin. Previous bonuses also apply, and that is a rule that goes forward as the number goes down.
5: Like six, these are open woods and steppe, but there's more water and trees are more abundant. All 5 point areas have 3 food and 2 hammers. If there's a town, add 1 hammer.
4: These are areas of mixed open woods and cropland that have been irrigated or where there are abundant wells, where the soil is rich or where intensive herding is possible. Luxury crops can be grown. All 4 point areas have 4 food, 2 hammers and 1 coin. If on the coast, then add 1 food from intensive fishing.
3: These are areas more intensively cultivated for luxury goods, plantations or fibre crops for textiles. All 3 point areas produce 4 food, 2 hammers and 2 coin. If on a large river, add 1 food for expanded irrigation.
2: These areas are pure cropland. The land is extraordinarily productive. 2 point areas produce 5 food, 2 hammers and 3 coin.
The towns that are shown on the map are not ALL the towns that exist here. Shown towns are those that unusually affect the results. Most hexes that are 5 or less have villages or sizable towns of one or two thousand - but that is not actually to be determined until producing the 2-mile hexes that are developed from this map, later on.
So, it is easy to quickly add the total amount of bread, hammers and coins, if a person wanted to assess the power and strength of the kingdom, say, or determine how many soldiers there ought to be, or how fast the region could gear for war. I'm more interested in the various details that come to light. That isolated 4 hex, for instance, about the center of the map. Who dwells there? Who's family built the land, who uses that base to control the scattered hammers in the hills to the south? Is that not an adventure?
And what of that vast, empty area to the west. There are open spaces 35 miles across. Is there a copper dragon that nests in the hills? Why does the river have no farms upon it? The land must be rocky, broken, filled with carnivores or perhaps criminals, who plunder the isolated hamlets for their food and the efforts of their labour.
What of that little town on the shore of the Azov, a little peninsula poking into the sea, with its trade (one coin), 1/9th of all the coin (see this explanation) that is made in the area around Rosk. Who controls that trade? What is it? Can it be grabbed? Or expanded?
I look at the empty low hills everywhere, or the sections of empty hexes around the higher Donets Hills, and I see dungeons, monsters and opportunities.
I love the random generation that made this. I love the ideas it puts in my head. I love that a player can look at this and see immediately where they might go, and what small areas influence the overall picture just by being 'different.' Look at this description of the lands on the map that I wrote 9 months ago, and tell me the random system didn't generate perfectly for my needs.
Sorry, no, I don't actually want to quit D&D.
Okay, while hating D&D, I decided I would squeeze out a little time from my book to produce this - took about 10 hours:
 |
| Updated June 9, 2014 |
Well. I have a lot to say about this map. Hold onto your socks.
Starting with what it is. This is the head of the Sea of Azov in the eastern Ukraine, just up a bit and to the right of all that stuff you've been reading about the Crimea. Whereas most of my maps have 20-mile hexes (you can find a version of this area in that scale among other political maps of the area right here), here the hexes are six miles across. The map is only a third completed. The green line up the center indicates which part is done and which part I only have notes for. The grey areas in the undone section show where there should be more hills.
The rough edges of the map are such because this map has been randomly generated from the information provided by the 20-mile map. Every hex has been determined by an excel random generator, which can be downloaded here. The major rivers were determined from the larger map, and the minor 'creeks' were included from what on the previous map would look like 'empty' hexes. The hills were hand-made, in three versions and then duplicated to get a nice feel for topography. Some areas of the unfinished map have had the hills included, and if the reader looks close, they'll see that there is an unusual, rougher group of hills that stretch from Kamut in the top centre to Sulin on the middle right. These are the Donets Hills, the area iof which is today one of the heaviest industrialized areas on earth (usually referred to as the 'Donetsk Basin' or 'Donbas'). The hills produce every kind of mineral one could want, as well as ridiculous amounts of coal and iron. Russia lost this area when the Ukraine went independent. Imagine losing the Ruhr Basin, or Silesia, or the American Rust Belt. It's like that.
Prior to 1676, however, these were just hills. In my world they are populated by a race of half-dwarves, half-orcs called 'Dworkin.' Yes, that is an intentional slur for those who get it.
The numbers in the undone section are for reworking later on; the reader can see that in addition to numbers in the complete section, there are hammers, slices of bread (food) and coins, just as Civilization IV. These were also drawn from me, from screenshots. Why not steal. For those not familiar, the loaf of bread shown in the heavily civilized area stands for five food.
Things get pretty busy at the top left, don't they?
The online party has been patiently waiting in the orange hex south of Rosk, two hexes up from the Sea of Azov, center of the map. They are in this region to establish a mission. They are very, very interested in this map right now.
The numbers for the hexes indicate the level of civilization/cultivation. The lower the number, the more civilized it is. A '7' is a mostly empty hex (as opposed to the completely empty hexes, that have no numbers). The most developed hex on the map is a '2.' The numbers, and to some degree the topography, determines how much food, hammers (labour) or coin the hex produces:
Empty hexes have no production. Most of these are dry steppe, but the green hexes around the delta are marshlands (some cultivated, the dark hexes not). In vegetation they would resemble short grass plains, where animals could be grazed, but not indefinitely, so that herds would have to be moved from hex to hex.
7: These are dry steppe with a good water source, streams or groundwater that produces areas of good soil or richer grazing. These areas produce 1 food. If there are also hills in the hex, an additional hammer is added. If on the coast, an additional coin.
6: The orange indicates steppe mixed with patches of open woods, where the deciduous trees grow singly or in small patches. The soil is better, some trees produce fruit and there's wood for burning. All six point areas have 2 food and 1 hammer. If there is a large river, then add a coin (creeks do not add coins). If there's a coast, add a coin. If there's a town, add a coin. Previous bonuses also apply, and that is a rule that goes forward as the number goes down.
5: Like six, these are open woods and steppe, but there's more water and trees are more abundant. All 5 point areas have 3 food and 2 hammers. If there's a town, add 1 hammer.
4: These are areas of mixed open woods and cropland that have been irrigated or where there are abundant wells, where the soil is rich or where intensive herding is possible. Luxury crops can be grown. All 4 point areas have 4 food, 2 hammers and 1 coin. If on the coast, then add 1 food from intensive fishing.
3: These are areas more intensively cultivated for luxury goods, plantations or fibre crops for textiles. All 3 point areas produce 4 food, 2 hammers and 2 coin. If on a large river, add 1 food for expanded irrigation.
2: These areas are pure cropland. The land is extraordinarily productive. 2 point areas produce 5 food, 2 hammers and 3 coin.
The towns that are shown on the map are not ALL the towns that exist here. Shown towns are those that unusually affect the results. Most hexes that are 5 or less have villages or sizable towns of one or two thousand - but that is not actually to be determined until producing the 2-mile hexes that are developed from this map, later on.
So, it is easy to quickly add the total amount of bread, hammers and coins, if a person wanted to assess the power and strength of the kingdom, say, or determine how many soldiers there ought to be, or how fast the region could gear for war. I'm more interested in the various details that come to light. That isolated 4 hex, for instance, about the center of the map. Who dwells there? Who's family built the land, who uses that base to control the scattered hammers in the hills to the south? Is that not an adventure?
And what of that vast, empty area to the west. There are open spaces 35 miles across. Is there a copper dragon that nests in the hills? Why does the river have no farms upon it? The land must be rocky, broken, filled with carnivores or perhaps criminals, who plunder the isolated hamlets for their food and the efforts of their labour.
What of that little town on the shore of the Azov, a little peninsula poking into the sea, with its trade (one coin), 1/9th of all the coin (see this explanation) that is made in the area around Rosk. Who controls that trade? What is it? Can it be grabbed? Or expanded?
I look at the empty low hills everywhere, or the sections of empty hexes around the higher Donets Hills, and I see dungeons, monsters and opportunities.
I love the random generation that made this. I love the ideas it puts in my head. I love that a player can look at this and see immediately where they might go, and what small areas influence the overall picture just by being 'different.' Look at this description of the lands on the map that I wrote 9 months ago, and tell me the random system didn't generate perfectly for my needs.
Sorry, no, I don't actually want to quit D&D.
Friday, June 6, 2014
No One is Helping You
So there are people who think about quitting role-playing, and there are people who are frustrated with their game. There are people who know something is wrong, but don't know what to do about it. A part of me thinks I should write this post to softly pat the reader on the hand, say sympathetic things, only to lead the reader right out the door. "Yes, that's right. You probably aren't suited to run this game. It's not easy, and you have things to do with your life that will probably be more wholesome and helpful to society at large. Don't feel bad. Just put your books in your closet, and remember that from time to time you can glance through them and remember how silly you were when you were young. That's fine. Now go find a box big enough for everything. No, don't sell them on eBay. Don't purge. Purging never works. If you sell it all, you'll just feel compelled to buy it again. Better that you should keep it, so you know where it is, and it can remind you how truly deluded you were to waste so much time with it. Good. Now seal the box. Put it somewhere dry. Someday, maybe your kids will play it. When they're really young. Before they grow up and make the smart choice, like you have. That's it. Don't you feel better?"
There. Will that do? Does that help heal the pain?
You know, there are people who are destroying their brain cells playing a game where they chase a little leather-and-rubber bladder back and forth over the grass. It's true, some are paid a lot of money, a very small number, who end up putting that money towards hookers and ex-wives, or businesses that fail, because CTE catches up, until the participants are homeless, or in jail, or dead from overdose. Thankfully, no one thinks the game that causes this is silly - even though there are hundreds of thousands of participants of the game suffering from CTE who never got paid to play. That little bladder, and keeping it away from the other team, and getting it across a little line, matters. Don't you question that. The whole education system is founded upon little balls being pushed across little lines, hit with sticks, poked through a hole and so on - and without those things, all education and learning everywhere would collapse and chaos would ensue.
So when you're wondering about being the one that plays those silly role-playing games, remember that you're not as important as people who bear up the entire educational framework in the country on the fundamentals of sacrificing the health and welfare of young boys. If you're a lucky parent, and your boy is 5'11" by grade 10, and weighs almost 200 pounds, then know that your boy's later stupidity in life is worth what he's doing for nerds like us who play this silly role-play. CTE: Keeping America in Books.
No? That doesn't help with your perspective? Hm.
Does it help to know that while your role-playing game isn't working, and while it is really very boring, and you don't know how to fix it, that there are others who are in the same boat as you - except that instead of role-playing, they've chosen to endlessly debate sexual politics? Yes! They sit around in rooms, they repeat the same words over and over again, they look at each other with this complete incomprehension that says, "Why don't people who are not like us get this?" Then they say the same words all over again, knowing that IF we sit around in rooms, in groups, and say these words again, to people who agree with us completely, we'll be ready for the next time the other side comes out to meet us at University-funded events, where we will both stand up and repeat the exact same arguments everyone made the last time this event was funded. No one will change their minds, no one will have anything new to say, both sides will be very mean and petty and cruel and dismissive, until ultimately three hours will have gone by without anything valuable having been accomplished. Then both camps will retreat to their lairs, to practice for the next event.
Does role-playing seem less silly now? No? Still want to quit because you can't figure out what to do?
Don't be shocked. No one is helping you. Here you have a game that is keeping hundreds of thousands of kids off drugs and safe from gang violence, that inspires learning, that builds relationships and creativity, that influences the game industry making $80 billion annually, not to mention the publishing industry, that teaches management skills, negotiating skills, teaching and learning skills and computer skills . . . and no one anywhere cares, except that it's a little weird, it's a little goofy, and most people aren't sure exactly what goes on. But don't worry about the total lack of interest by anyone with a post-graduate degree; we ourselves choose to make our number one priority in self-made media the satirization of the hobby. If we ARE going to write something, or depict something, then by gawd, we're going to make it funny. Because it just is.
No one is helping you. No one thinks, despite the influence, design or value of the game, or even the psychological proofs that role-playing our troubles is healthy and demonstrative of our will to improve ourselves, that it is worth discussing. Or examining. Or writing about academically. There's only one group in the world that wants to 'officially' write anything about it, and that seems to be a group of dweebs whose whole education seems to rest upon writing code and taking 1st and 2nd year business courses.
No one is helping you. You're forced to do this shit on your own because you're alone in this. You're in the cold. You're not important enough. You're not worth the time. You're weird. You're misguided. You should be doing more important things.
No one is helping you.
So yes, quit. Why not?
There. Will that do? Does that help heal the pain?
You know, there are people who are destroying their brain cells playing a game where they chase a little leather-and-rubber bladder back and forth over the grass. It's true, some are paid a lot of money, a very small number, who end up putting that money towards hookers and ex-wives, or businesses that fail, because CTE catches up, until the participants are homeless, or in jail, or dead from overdose. Thankfully, no one thinks the game that causes this is silly - even though there are hundreds of thousands of participants of the game suffering from CTE who never got paid to play. That little bladder, and keeping it away from the other team, and getting it across a little line, matters. Don't you question that. The whole education system is founded upon little balls being pushed across little lines, hit with sticks, poked through a hole and so on - and without those things, all education and learning everywhere would collapse and chaos would ensue.
So when you're wondering about being the one that plays those silly role-playing games, remember that you're not as important as people who bear up the entire educational framework in the country on the fundamentals of sacrificing the health and welfare of young boys. If you're a lucky parent, and your boy is 5'11" by grade 10, and weighs almost 200 pounds, then know that your boy's later stupidity in life is worth what he's doing for nerds like us who play this silly role-play. CTE: Keeping America in Books.
No? That doesn't help with your perspective? Hm.
Does it help to know that while your role-playing game isn't working, and while it is really very boring, and you don't know how to fix it, that there are others who are in the same boat as you - except that instead of role-playing, they've chosen to endlessly debate sexual politics? Yes! They sit around in rooms, they repeat the same words over and over again, they look at each other with this complete incomprehension that says, "Why don't people who are not like us get this?" Then they say the same words all over again, knowing that IF we sit around in rooms, in groups, and say these words again, to people who agree with us completely, we'll be ready for the next time the other side comes out to meet us at University-funded events, where we will both stand up and repeat the exact same arguments everyone made the last time this event was funded. No one will change their minds, no one will have anything new to say, both sides will be very mean and petty and cruel and dismissive, until ultimately three hours will have gone by without anything valuable having been accomplished. Then both camps will retreat to their lairs, to practice for the next event.
Does role-playing seem less silly now? No? Still want to quit because you can't figure out what to do?
Don't be shocked. No one is helping you. Here you have a game that is keeping hundreds of thousands of kids off drugs and safe from gang violence, that inspires learning, that builds relationships and creativity, that influences the game industry making $80 billion annually, not to mention the publishing industry, that teaches management skills, negotiating skills, teaching and learning skills and computer skills . . . and no one anywhere cares, except that it's a little weird, it's a little goofy, and most people aren't sure exactly what goes on. But don't worry about the total lack of interest by anyone with a post-graduate degree; we ourselves choose to make our number one priority in self-made media the satirization of the hobby. If we ARE going to write something, or depict something, then by gawd, we're going to make it funny. Because it just is.
No one is helping you. No one thinks, despite the influence, design or value of the game, or even the psychological proofs that role-playing our troubles is healthy and demonstrative of our will to improve ourselves, that it is worth discussing. Or examining. Or writing about academically. There's only one group in the world that wants to 'officially' write anything about it, and that seems to be a group of dweebs whose whole education seems to rest upon writing code and taking 1st and 2nd year business courses.
No one is helping you. You're forced to do this shit on your own because you're alone in this. You're in the cold. You're not important enough. You're not worth the time. You're weird. You're misguided. You should be doing more important things.
No one is helping you.
So yes, quit. Why not?
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Quit
Before I left for work today, in the time I usually sit and contemplate before getting on with it, I had to listen to a diatribe from my partner. She has been looking into a D&D group that participates Wednesday nights with an eye to joining them, because lately I'm not running and she's feeling the pinch. Unfortunately for her, she has - for the first time - gotten a close look at the 'other half.'
She began running in my world in 2004, after two years of our being together. Like most people, she hadn't heard of D&D. We met in the period when I wasn't running a campaign, but when I was working very hard to solve the 'trade problem,' as I called it, a mental and experimental exercise I had worked on for several years. When I did begin to run again, she joined in, a bit unsure about whether she would like this 'thing,' as she still calls it.
Ten years later, and hungry for the thing, she went out looking for other people to play with, and found them. It's a group that I've mentioned from time to time, that have recently moved from 4e to D&D Next (being one of those groups that play-tested the game, so they are not waiting for the 'release'). She had watched three times before last night, getting the feel for it, and last night she decided to jump in.
There was something else that was special about last night. Having made friends, my partner was really anxious to sell tickets for the fundraiser in June, and to show my book around to see what people thought. It was a great opportunity, she thought.
Then she found out what D&D players are really like. Thus the diatribe this morning.
"Why are D&D players so arrogant? Why do they spend so much of their time making jokes? You'd think they'd want to play the game! And all this stupid blather about +1 this and I used this bonus and +1 that and swung to hit the creature and missed and OMG what the fuck is wrong with these people?" . . . or words to that effect.
I'm pretty inured, but of course half the things she said are things right out of this blog (which she doesn't always read), along with things I've more or less known since the beginning. Role-players are staggeringly, conscientiously, capaciously - and some would say endearingly - resistant to change. Which is a bit funny, since my partner's stubbornness is one of the things that I love deeply about her, however much it can exhaust me.
There are a number of reasons for this, some that role-players are well aware of, and others that simply don't attach themselves to thought. Many role-players began their lives growing up on the outside of things. Being on the 'outside' was infuriating . . . and once they found the game, and got on the inside of something for the first time in their lives, they can be very protective of that inside. Once inside, many role-players adopt an attitude that says everyone else can fucking sit on the outside now. Most don't know they're doing that. Most would be upset that they do that, as they remember very clearly just how much they hated being outside. But turnaround is human nature.
As to the jokes, well . . . I've thought about this a lot. I've written about this a lot. Having listened to my partner this morning, however, I've had a slight breakthrough. See, as one might expect, and without letting it go to my head (she's my partner, after all, and unaccountably biased), she kept saying, "It's not like your game." Let's not compare, however, as that's not the point here. The point is that I believe that the constant humour my partner witnessed, the general feeling of it, comes from the game being awfully boring.
The jokes really aren't that good. That is part of the reason why role-playing videos are so dismal. People make little comments, half-rated jibes, players chuckle grimly and so goes the innane tedium that possesses so many of the games. As I've said before, it doesn't happen with chess, bridge, go, poker, etc. Nor does it happen with spectators at hockey games, football games or freakin' NASCAR. Sit in the stands at NASCAR, watching what I consider the most boring spectacle mankind has managed to create, and count the number of lame jokes that are made. Because those people who have paid to get in are very interested in what is going on. Boring for me. Not at all boring for the enthusiasts.
I'm of the opinion that table-top role-players are the only participants that are bored with their own enthusiasm. It is the only possible explanation. The game as played by most everyone is so dry, so dull, so agonizingly lacking in pace that the participants themselves feel compelled to interest themselves any way they can. They can't wait for the DM to pedantically describe another hallway, or for one of the players to go around searching everything, one . . . more . . . time. They have to make a pained comment. They have to break the monotony. OMG, they have to. This game is so motherf'king boring.
I worry. I worry because one of the important sections of my book is how to deal with stress. I experience an immense amount of stress as I'm playing. Within a half-hour I am often pouring sweat. Things are moving very fast, with everyone invested, and it's a lot to handle. So I talk for quite awhile about what stress it, what it does to people, effects and so on, and how to handle it and even make it work for you.
Then I see something like this and it's like the title of yesterday's blog post: what the hell am I on about? Seriously. Here's a screenshot from the link I just posted:
I swear, I did not have to cherry pick this shot. I picked a random point in the video and took the image. This is from 1:00:23.
Look at these guys. The one in green is talking, and four of them have their heads down, completely self-possessed in whatever the hell they're doing. Run the video from this point and you'll see, they don't lift their heads. And the guy in black on the left, who at least looks like he's listening? He's actually digging in his backpack for something.
I wish I could express with words how truly un-engaged these guys sound. They sit with extraordinary lethargy, except when they rise and leave the table without comment or a word, since plainly nothing is going on, while their voices are so sluggish I swear it is as though the sound were playing at 9/10ths speed.
But I don't want to single out these guys. These guys are normal.
Admit it. D&D bores the shit out of you. You should really stop playing. Honest. You're getting old enough now, you have money, you can afford now be doing things you actually enjoyed doing. These people around you aren't that great - you could have way better friends if you just stopped playing this silly die-driven game.
When this Saturday comes around, and one of your so-called friends asks you to come around to role-play, just make an excuse. Say that you have to help your mom move, or that you've got to go to a symposium or something. Make something up. When they say that really sucks, and that they feel bad, you just role-play yourself right the fuck out of that conversation. Say it to yourself: jeez what a bunch of fucking losers.
You are SO better off without them.
She began running in my world in 2004, after two years of our being together. Like most people, she hadn't heard of D&D. We met in the period when I wasn't running a campaign, but when I was working very hard to solve the 'trade problem,' as I called it, a mental and experimental exercise I had worked on for several years. When I did begin to run again, she joined in, a bit unsure about whether she would like this 'thing,' as she still calls it.
Ten years later, and hungry for the thing, she went out looking for other people to play with, and found them. It's a group that I've mentioned from time to time, that have recently moved from 4e to D&D Next (being one of those groups that play-tested the game, so they are not waiting for the 'release'). She had watched three times before last night, getting the feel for it, and last night she decided to jump in.
There was something else that was special about last night. Having made friends, my partner was really anxious to sell tickets for the fundraiser in June, and to show my book around to see what people thought. It was a great opportunity, she thought.
Then she found out what D&D players are really like. Thus the diatribe this morning.
"Why are D&D players so arrogant? Why do they spend so much of their time making jokes? You'd think they'd want to play the game! And all this stupid blather about +1 this and I used this bonus and +1 that and swung to hit the creature and missed and OMG what the fuck is wrong with these people?" . . . or words to that effect.
I'm pretty inured, but of course half the things she said are things right out of this blog (which she doesn't always read), along with things I've more or less known since the beginning. Role-players are staggeringly, conscientiously, capaciously - and some would say endearingly - resistant to change. Which is a bit funny, since my partner's stubbornness is one of the things that I love deeply about her, however much it can exhaust me.
There are a number of reasons for this, some that role-players are well aware of, and others that simply don't attach themselves to thought. Many role-players began their lives growing up on the outside of things. Being on the 'outside' was infuriating . . . and once they found the game, and got on the inside of something for the first time in their lives, they can be very protective of that inside. Once inside, many role-players adopt an attitude that says everyone else can fucking sit on the outside now. Most don't know they're doing that. Most would be upset that they do that, as they remember very clearly just how much they hated being outside. But turnaround is human nature.
As to the jokes, well . . . I've thought about this a lot. I've written about this a lot. Having listened to my partner this morning, however, I've had a slight breakthrough. See, as one might expect, and without letting it go to my head (she's my partner, after all, and unaccountably biased), she kept saying, "It's not like your game." Let's not compare, however, as that's not the point here. The point is that I believe that the constant humour my partner witnessed, the general feeling of it, comes from the game being awfully boring.
The jokes really aren't that good. That is part of the reason why role-playing videos are so dismal. People make little comments, half-rated jibes, players chuckle grimly and so goes the innane tedium that possesses so many of the games. As I've said before, it doesn't happen with chess, bridge, go, poker, etc. Nor does it happen with spectators at hockey games, football games or freakin' NASCAR. Sit in the stands at NASCAR, watching what I consider the most boring spectacle mankind has managed to create, and count the number of lame jokes that are made. Because those people who have paid to get in are very interested in what is going on. Boring for me. Not at all boring for the enthusiasts.
I'm of the opinion that table-top role-players are the only participants that are bored with their own enthusiasm. It is the only possible explanation. The game as played by most everyone is so dry, so dull, so agonizingly lacking in pace that the participants themselves feel compelled to interest themselves any way they can. They can't wait for the DM to pedantically describe another hallway, or for one of the players to go around searching everything, one . . . more . . . time. They have to make a pained comment. They have to break the monotony. OMG, they have to. This game is so motherf'king boring.
I worry. I worry because one of the important sections of my book is how to deal with stress. I experience an immense amount of stress as I'm playing. Within a half-hour I am often pouring sweat. Things are moving very fast, with everyone invested, and it's a lot to handle. So I talk for quite awhile about what stress it, what it does to people, effects and so on, and how to handle it and even make it work for you.
Then I see something like this and it's like the title of yesterday's blog post: what the hell am I on about? Seriously. Here's a screenshot from the link I just posted:
I swear, I did not have to cherry pick this shot. I picked a random point in the video and took the image. This is from 1:00:23.
Look at these guys. The one in green is talking, and four of them have their heads down, completely self-possessed in whatever the hell they're doing. Run the video from this point and you'll see, they don't lift their heads. And the guy in black on the left, who at least looks like he's listening? He's actually digging in his backpack for something.
I wish I could express with words how truly un-engaged these guys sound. They sit with extraordinary lethargy, except when they rise and leave the table without comment or a word, since plainly nothing is going on, while their voices are so sluggish I swear it is as though the sound were playing at 9/10ths speed.
But I don't want to single out these guys. These guys are normal.
Admit it. D&D bores the shit out of you. You should really stop playing. Honest. You're getting old enough now, you have money, you can afford now be doing things you actually enjoyed doing. These people around you aren't that great - you could have way better friends if you just stopped playing this silly die-driven game.
When this Saturday comes around, and one of your so-called friends asks you to come around to role-play, just make an excuse. Say that you have to help your mom move, or that you've got to go to a symposium or something. Make something up. When they say that really sucks, and that they feel bad, you just role-play yourself right the fuck out of that conversation. Say it to yourself: jeez what a bunch of fucking losers.
You are SO better off without them.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
What Is He On About?
As I near the end, I find myself thinking about what I'll be able to do once I get done with the big book - namely, running again.
I have some unfinished projects that are in a sorry state. The idea for sage tables came at an unfortunate time, there are spells to rework, the wiki to update and so on. But the project I find myself thinking about today is the Hex Groups Chooser. I'm going to need that in somewhat better shape so that I can generate the area where the online party has landed, on the coast of modern Eastern Ukraine.
I haven't written about this for awhile, so I know that there are some who have no idea what I'm talking about. If you're interested, I suggest you read some of the following links: these posts on hex generation and hex generation 2.0; these posts on 'never too much economics'; and this terrifying video; that should keep the reader busy for several days at least. Meanwhile, I'll get on with my thinking.
My problem with the Chooser above came as I moved from less inhabited 'groups' to those that were more civilized. While trying to devise a system that would, simultaneously, determine what was in the hex, the food production of the hex and the potential manufacturing power of the hex, at the same time as working out the effects of those things on happiness or health, I think I went a bridge too far. It got increasingly hard to keep it all in my head, as well as in a workable spreadsheet, as I got into the 5th group, and as a result I stopped working on the system altogether. Basically, to get some distance on it.
I think what I needed to do was work on it one conception at a time. First and foremost, I need to figure out what is in the hex, regardless of the effects of that thing upon other things. It is tempting to suppose that if you have evidence that there's a type of food, it is easy to determine how many people that food will support, and then in what sort of collective those people live, thus determining communications with other collectives, protection, heirarchy and so on, but in fact these things begin to stack up until there's too many what if's to account for. I believe that by generating the existence of things based only on the infrastructure to begin with, leaving the effects of those creations for later, I should be able to get a macrovision for what's going on once I have generated, say, a full province.
So, I'll be simplifying the Chooser in the first incarnation, so that I can generate all the things that exist, right up to the most sophisticated of civilization - universities, hospitals, palaces and the like. I doubt if anyone will mind; I doubt that anyone has tried to use that Chooser on the wiki. Heck, I wonder how many people even understand right now what I'm talking about.
Sometimes, I feel like I am this person in a vast, empty landscape. I can see the rest of humanity as a tiny little point in the distance, and for reasons I can't explain I find that very encouraging. Of course, it might mean that I'm nuts.
As I've said before, I have to appreciate the world building systemics that went into Civ IV. I still haven't seen Civ 5. I'm not even sure I want to. For the most part I've stopped playing the game - that aspect holds little interest for me now. I simply like the health-happiness-food-hammers-coin framework in which to build upon, partly because it manages to work so well into my own reference-product-trade-hex founded world.
These are just a few thoughts. I'm too scattered now to really get gritty and start working out details - if I did, that would pitch most of the day and I've really got to keep my eye focused on the priority project. But I felt encouraged to write something, just for my own sake, to keep my head in the game a bit.
I have some unfinished projects that are in a sorry state. The idea for sage tables came at an unfortunate time, there are spells to rework, the wiki to update and so on. But the project I find myself thinking about today is the Hex Groups Chooser. I'm going to need that in somewhat better shape so that I can generate the area where the online party has landed, on the coast of modern Eastern Ukraine.
I haven't written about this for awhile, so I know that there are some who have no idea what I'm talking about. If you're interested, I suggest you read some of the following links: these posts on hex generation and hex generation 2.0; these posts on 'never too much economics'; and this terrifying video; that should keep the reader busy for several days at least. Meanwhile, I'll get on with my thinking.
My problem with the Chooser above came as I moved from less inhabited 'groups' to those that were more civilized. While trying to devise a system that would, simultaneously, determine what was in the hex, the food production of the hex and the potential manufacturing power of the hex, at the same time as working out the effects of those things on happiness or health, I think I went a bridge too far. It got increasingly hard to keep it all in my head, as well as in a workable spreadsheet, as I got into the 5th group, and as a result I stopped working on the system altogether. Basically, to get some distance on it.
I think what I needed to do was work on it one conception at a time. First and foremost, I need to figure out what is in the hex, regardless of the effects of that thing upon other things. It is tempting to suppose that if you have evidence that there's a type of food, it is easy to determine how many people that food will support, and then in what sort of collective those people live, thus determining communications with other collectives, protection, heirarchy and so on, but in fact these things begin to stack up until there's too many what if's to account for. I believe that by generating the existence of things based only on the infrastructure to begin with, leaving the effects of those creations for later, I should be able to get a macrovision for what's going on once I have generated, say, a full province.
So, I'll be simplifying the Chooser in the first incarnation, so that I can generate all the things that exist, right up to the most sophisticated of civilization - universities, hospitals, palaces and the like. I doubt if anyone will mind; I doubt that anyone has tried to use that Chooser on the wiki. Heck, I wonder how many people even understand right now what I'm talking about.
Sometimes, I feel like I am this person in a vast, empty landscape. I can see the rest of humanity as a tiny little point in the distance, and for reasons I can't explain I find that very encouraging. Of course, it might mean that I'm nuts.
As I've said before, I have to appreciate the world building systemics that went into Civ IV. I still haven't seen Civ 5. I'm not even sure I want to. For the most part I've stopped playing the game - that aspect holds little interest for me now. I simply like the health-happiness-food-hammers-coin framework in which to build upon, partly because it manages to work so well into my own reference-product-trade-hex founded world.
These are just a few thoughts. I'm too scattered now to really get gritty and start working out details - if I did, that would pitch most of the day and I've really got to keep my eye focused on the priority project. But I felt encouraged to write something, just for my own sake, to keep my head in the game a bit.
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