Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Where I Stand
If you want to know all the reasons I'm wrong about a sandbox campaign, you should first read this, and then you should read this. I include these links in the interest of providing fair and equal consideration to all sides of this debate.
You may have some trouble understanding what's written there. Except for the stream of statements that I'm wrong, I did.
Here's the thing about definitions. If something is not defined, it is very hard to argue about it. My sincerest desire where it comes to understanding something begins with having that thing defined, and in a manner absolutely clear to everyone involved. I am less concerned about who is, and who is not, hurt by the definition or by the labels that definition provides than I am that everyone understands what word means what thing.
The links above provide an alternate definition for a sandbox. It isn't very clearly defined. It seems to be very convenient for the author's self-aggrandizement. Extrapolated, it would seem to allow virtually any action to be interpreted in any manner that the author might wish. As a definition, it simply isn't one.
It is, however, a very emotional appeal towards a label dearly wished for, for reasons that should seem clear:
Sandboxes have more credibility than railroads.
The gentle reader will take note. This argument has been going on a long time, and in that time a definite connotation has been obtained for the two words themselves. Regardless of what they mean, everyone has more or less come to accept that a "sandbox" campaign is "good," while a "railroad" campaign is "bad."
This is in some ways an achievement.
It is not, however, indicative of a general desire to surrender the railroading of players. No, far from it. The connotation has only encouraged a desire to stop being identified as railroaders.
To this end, any amount of bullshit is acceptable. To this end, justifications and obfuscations, appeals to emotion, the need to repeatedly define one's world as alive or vibrant (actually the same thing, but still, nuance & nuance), etcetera.
I am fine with this. No one wants the railroad label. But please, dear gentle reader, take note. It remains the case that IF you attempt a definition, and if that definition clearly delineates a certain number of people as being part of the connotatively undesirable camp, there will always arise a minority who will suddenly, earnestly, argue that they are NOT of that camp, that they are bitter about being thrown into that camp, and that clearly the definition is wrong by virtue of this utter certainty that they have.
This will happen in every case, even if you make no mention of any person by name.
Which demonstrates, of course, the hateful connotation of the word in question. Railroader.
"I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not ..."
And so on.
Well, here's where I stand. I am concerned about my players. I am anxious not to use my power as a DM to make my players feel beholden to me. I seek to control my natural, human tendencies to see an opportunity to guide my players and to resist - to the best of my abilities - that opportunity. I am human and I often fail. However, I know that to take any step to guide, ordain, channel or restrict a player's free and total agency is a wrongdoing. Not only in the game of D&D, but in any social situation. Expecting other people to play my game, or to play the game my way, or to use my position to manipulate their play in any way, ever, is wrong.
Even if I do this with the best of intentions. Even if I do this expecting that they will have a good time. Manipulation is wrong. Period. I will eschew it to the best of my ability in every game I manage.
I am sorry that others feel that certain expectations of what a DM is or what authorities a DM is granted gives them leave to act in any other way.
You may have some trouble understanding what's written there. Except for the stream of statements that I'm wrong, I did.
Here's the thing about definitions. If something is not defined, it is very hard to argue about it. My sincerest desire where it comes to understanding something begins with having that thing defined, and in a manner absolutely clear to everyone involved. I am less concerned about who is, and who is not, hurt by the definition or by the labels that definition provides than I am that everyone understands what word means what thing.
The links above provide an alternate definition for a sandbox. It isn't very clearly defined. It seems to be very convenient for the author's self-aggrandizement. Extrapolated, it would seem to allow virtually any action to be interpreted in any manner that the author might wish. As a definition, it simply isn't one.
It is, however, a very emotional appeal towards a label dearly wished for, for reasons that should seem clear:
Sandboxes have more credibility than railroads.
The gentle reader will take note. This argument has been going on a long time, and in that time a definite connotation has been obtained for the two words themselves. Regardless of what they mean, everyone has more or less come to accept that a "sandbox" campaign is "good," while a "railroad" campaign is "bad."
This is in some ways an achievement.
It is not, however, indicative of a general desire to surrender the railroading of players. No, far from it. The connotation has only encouraged a desire to stop being identified as railroaders.
To this end, any amount of bullshit is acceptable. To this end, justifications and obfuscations, appeals to emotion, the need to repeatedly define one's world as alive or vibrant (actually the same thing, but still, nuance & nuance), etcetera.
I am fine with this. No one wants the railroad label. But please, dear gentle reader, take note. It remains the case that IF you attempt a definition, and if that definition clearly delineates a certain number of people as being part of the connotatively undesirable camp, there will always arise a minority who will suddenly, earnestly, argue that they are NOT of that camp, that they are bitter about being thrown into that camp, and that clearly the definition is wrong by virtue of this utter certainty that they have.
This will happen in every case, even if you make no mention of any person by name.
Which demonstrates, of course, the hateful connotation of the word in question. Railroader.
"I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not ..."
And so on.
Well, here's where I stand. I am concerned about my players. I am anxious not to use my power as a DM to make my players feel beholden to me. I seek to control my natural, human tendencies to see an opportunity to guide my players and to resist - to the best of my abilities - that opportunity. I am human and I often fail. However, I know that to take any step to guide, ordain, channel or restrict a player's free and total agency is a wrongdoing. Not only in the game of D&D, but in any social situation. Expecting other people to play my game, or to play the game my way, or to use my position to manipulate their play in any way, ever, is wrong.
Even if I do this with the best of intentions. Even if I do this expecting that they will have a good time. Manipulation is wrong. Period. I will eschew it to the best of my ability in every game I manage.
I am sorry that others feel that certain expectations of what a DM is or what authorities a DM is granted gives them leave to act in any other way.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Definitions
I don't know how many are familiar with this picture. Certainly, reading the blog, you know the part of the image in the bottom right. The painting's name is The Adoration of the Magi ... and you can find more material written on it than that which briefly occurs on the wikipedia page. I want to say that I love Botticelli - because he's a marvelous artist, yes, but also because of his appearance in this picture. The Virgin and Child are clearly the center of interest, and most of the people in the picture are enamoured with the site. There are three people looking elsewhere - at you - and the expression on Botticelli's self-portrait is priceless. It says to me, "Are you buying this shit?"
And that is me where most of D&D is concerned. All weekend long I had an argument with ravencrowking on the last post, who feels I've got my head up my ass (my words, he's much more polite than that). At the same time, Yagami has been fighting the same fight on this thread here, though I suppose from the other side, defending his world and the post I wrote last Wednesday. I think overall he's doing a better job of it.
Here's what I've learned: 1) people think dungeons are necessary to the game; 2) people feel they have "to play a more active role than just being the manager of a sandbox" (as stated by a fellow with the unfortunate name of 'snot-elemental' ... obviously he's proud of his creativity); and 3) people don't have a fucking clue what a 'sandbox' is.
The argument has been drifting around long enough that there's now plenty of effort to argue that neither the railroaded nor the sandbox game actually exist - a good example of that kind of thinking to be found here (sorry JD). And that's only natural. The lines blur, people redefine the terms to fit their conceptions of either narrative or sandbox, until the definitions grow bloated and ill-defined, and then anyone can call their campaign anything they want, throwing all the terms around at random to describe this or that momentary event.
We've seen this done culturally a thousand times. Redefinitions of republicanism, democracy, libertarianism and so on abound. Whenever someone wants to create a new controversy, it always begins with a hugely vague re-definition: the rape debate was a sensational example of that, where rape was alternately defined as anytime a man had sex with a woman, or anytime a woman didn't definitively use the word "yes," or even any time that a man thought about a woman. Other favorites for ridiculously redefined concepts include science, religion, literature, 'small-business' and so on and so forth.
When you feel pressured by a word that describes you in away you do not like, redefine that word. Don't change your behavior. Redefine the word. And watching that happen over and over, we're all standing there at some point watching a mass crowd fawn over the new concept, thinking, "wow, are they really buying this shit?"
And the shit I'm not buying at the moment is that the sandbox is the narrative is the sandbox is the narrative. I am not buying the argument that at this moment in the campaign, I'm playing in a sandbox, and at this moment in the campaign, I'm being railroaded. And neither exist.
It's all terribly convenient naval-gazing.
The whole issue comes down to a question of causality, "the relation between an event and a second event, where the second event is understood to be the consequence of the first."
Where the cause begins with the player making a statement, "I wish to do this," then it is a sandbox. It is a sandbox even if there's a cave and a dungeon below that cave, that at every point the party agrees to keep going further. It is still a sandbox if the party goes into the cave and the door of the cave snaps shut, locking the party inside. That's not railroading, because the party made the decision to enter the cave. And if the dungeon has walls and and rooms and a final big bad that has to be gotten over before the exit can be found again, that's still a sandbox, because the cause of being in the cave is still the player.
But if the DM continues to make it impossible for the players to leave the cave for session after session; if the DM uses that justification to rule the players, then the DM is a fucktard. Intrinsic in the sandbox is a stipulation that the players should be allowed further opportunities to consent. That if the door snaps shut, and they fight their way for three hours, then the trap should end in a reasonable amount of time, preferably that game night, so that the players can decide again, to leave the cave or dungeon, or to go deeper. Over and over they should be allowed to either pull away, or venture forward.
The game ceases to be a sandbox when the DM denies this. And the game never was a sandbox when, from out of the blue, the DM deliberately places the party in a position where they must do something because the DM has "prepared" an adventure, or has "created a story" where something must be obtained, returned, fixed, enhanced, stopped or otherwise altered in order to satisfy the requirements of the DM's story.
If the DM has conceived of a series of events - any series of events - which have not been directly brought into play by virtue of the players initiating action, then that game is NOT a sandbox, it is a railroad. If the DM has been anything except the "manager of the sandbox" ... if the DM has determined that a given set of events ought to occur because that DM wishes to be creative, or wishes to act as a "player" of the game, because that DM wants to insert his or her own ideas, then that game is NOT a sandbox.
It does not matter how good these ideas are, or how original, or what the DM's motivations are; it does not matter if those motivations are for the good of the game, or the party, or for the purpose of presenting something really interesting - it is still NOT a sandbox. It is NOT a sandbox because the DM is creating events, and not responding to player actions.
The DM's role is to interpret the player's decisions, to place the logical obstacles between the player and the player's goals, and to describe the world and the inhabitants of that world to the player. Any other action is a deliberate misuse of the DM's power, to selfishly direct other persons, friends and families, to enact out the DM's fantasies in a situation where the DM has all the power and the players have none.
It must be understood that the DM at no time, in the game, can "lose." No die roll, no game structure, no counterbalance exists to the DM's authority or the DM's will - so the DM must manage his or her own power by denying it 100% in every possible instance. Anything else is an abuse of that power.
The referee does not stand in the huddle and make plays. The referee does not bet on the game. The referee cannot, must not, ever, have any stake in the play or deliberation of the game, not even to the point where the referee might want it to be a really good game. Referees are expected, universally, to have neither an emotional nor an intellectual stake in any game which they ejudicate, because it is universally understood that that would ruin the game.
A DM who creates his or her own story; or who takes either intellectual or emotional action to ensure for the sake of that story, or the presentation of that story, or the presentation of any series of events, an action which is not a reaction directly resulting from the player's action, is a BAD DM. He or she has been corrupted by the power of their position and that should be made clear to them.
This is not negotiable.
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Player's Piece
Roger the GS has posted a set of reviews for contestants of the One Page Dungeon Contest. I presume its Roger's contest - I don't see any other links. I'm not a regular reader of Roger's site, so I'm not up on the rules or how that contest works.
I've looked over most of the entries listed there and I admit, there is a considerable amount of creativity there. I should reach out and say well done; they are a fine set of puzzles. I feel certain I could not match their inventiveness.
Thankfully, I don't have to ... because I play Dungeons and Dragons. And D&D is not puzzle solving. It is not maze-solving.
This isn't going to be a rant. I have no desire to disparage the efforts of the participants on Roger's site. But I cannot help but point out that the principles behind the 'contest' per se represent one of the saddest elements in the gaming community ... the idea that somehow, competing with one another in an activity which is primarily done solo - on your own table, by yourself, in so-called preparation for the game - is a part of the game. It is not. It is no more a part of the game than the fellow who is picked from the crowd to attempt a three-point shot from the corner, or all the people playing baseball pools this summer, or the guy who this fall will paint himself green for Green Bay. These are all fun things; we do them because they are fun. And the make the audience experience interesting. But it must be noted that while they reflect the game, that's as far as it goes. The game is played by the participants, not the fellow in the stands, not the people at the office, and not the audience.
Very often the audience does not know this. But make no mistake: the players do.
Two days ago I posted a 'module' that shatters the illusion that the DM ought to control the events of the game. In the light of that, I would be amiss not to point out that one page dungeons created out of the game's context are useless compliments to the game. IF the players needed to enter a particular dungeon, and IF that dungeon is tailor-made to match the ongoing game according to the events of the game that have occurred up to that time, then yes, said dungeon has a purpose. Just as the problem is not that 3-pointers aren't part of the game, it is that 3-pointers thrown by audience members in half-time aren't part of the game.
Random dungeons are useless. A specific dungeon designed for a specific instance, where both players and DM know why its there and how it fits in the campaign, are useful.
For some, it's almost impossible to see that distinction. The certainty that someday will be the right day to use this dungeon is a pervasive, even addictive justification to DM solo-produced, solo-conceived dungeons until doomsday. But such dungeons demand shoehorning the players into the DM's headspace, and do not recognize the need for the DM to apply their dungeon-making skills to the player's headspace.
Again, a difficult distinction. Difficult primarily because it just seems wrong, somehow, not to view the dungeon - or any adventure - as a work of art to be hung on the wall of the campaign, where it can be recognized as a work of art. In fact, it may be said, the DM's creation of the adventure is the 'point' ... the game is the applause.
I think that's terrible. And I think contests to make puzzles are festivals to celebrate DMs while subtly discarding the value and importance of the player. Continued aggrandizement towards DMs and not players has long been a sickness within the community, and will not end until players stop applauding and start demanding a piece of the action.
I've looked over most of the entries listed there and I admit, there is a considerable amount of creativity there. I should reach out and say well done; they are a fine set of puzzles. I feel certain I could not match their inventiveness.
Thankfully, I don't have to ... because I play Dungeons and Dragons. And D&D is not puzzle solving. It is not maze-solving.
This isn't going to be a rant. I have no desire to disparage the efforts of the participants on Roger's site. But I cannot help but point out that the principles behind the 'contest' per se represent one of the saddest elements in the gaming community ... the idea that somehow, competing with one another in an activity which is primarily done solo - on your own table, by yourself, in so-called preparation for the game - is a part of the game. It is not. It is no more a part of the game than the fellow who is picked from the crowd to attempt a three-point shot from the corner, or all the people playing baseball pools this summer, or the guy who this fall will paint himself green for Green Bay. These are all fun things; we do them because they are fun. And the make the audience experience interesting. But it must be noted that while they reflect the game, that's as far as it goes. The game is played by the participants, not the fellow in the stands, not the people at the office, and not the audience.
Very often the audience does not know this. But make no mistake: the players do.
Two days ago I posted a 'module' that shatters the illusion that the DM ought to control the events of the game. In the light of that, I would be amiss not to point out that one page dungeons created out of the game's context are useless compliments to the game. IF the players needed to enter a particular dungeon, and IF that dungeon is tailor-made to match the ongoing game according to the events of the game that have occurred up to that time, then yes, said dungeon has a purpose. Just as the problem is not that 3-pointers aren't part of the game, it is that 3-pointers thrown by audience members in half-time aren't part of the game.
Random dungeons are useless. A specific dungeon designed for a specific instance, where both players and DM know why its there and how it fits in the campaign, are useful.
For some, it's almost impossible to see that distinction. The certainty that someday will be the right day to use this dungeon is a pervasive, even addictive justification to DM solo-produced, solo-conceived dungeons until doomsday. But such dungeons demand shoehorning the players into the DM's headspace, and do not recognize the need for the DM to apply their dungeon-making skills to the player's headspace.
Again, a difficult distinction. Difficult primarily because it just seems wrong, somehow, not to view the dungeon - or any adventure - as a work of art to be hung on the wall of the campaign, where it can be recognized as a work of art. In fact, it may be said, the DM's creation of the adventure is the 'point' ... the game is the applause.
I think that's terrible. And I think contests to make puzzles are festivals to celebrate DMs while subtly discarding the value and importance of the player. Continued aggrandizement towards DMs and not players has long been a sickness within the community, and will not end until players stop applauding and start demanding a piece of the action.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
John Romer's Testament
Just a general potpourri today, I suppose.
Something I've wanted to do is put up a series of posts highlighting what I consider to be the best documentaries, mostly on any subject. I prefer docs very heavy on content and thought, which do more than inform, they challenge ... and the very best presume you have at least some knowledge already of what's presented.
Below are two screen shots from John Romer's Testament, the whole series of which can be seen on youtube. It's a seven-episode series on the development of sacred Judeo-Christian texts. John Romer is an archeologist and designer; he's done four excellent documentaries, of which Testament is undoubtedly the best. I'll be highlighting all four ... but since I've decided to watch them all again, I'll post here when I'm done each.
Those paying attention will note that Hagia Sofia is also the wallpaper behind this blog.
Something I've wanted to do is put up a series of posts highlighting what I consider to be the best documentaries, mostly on any subject. I prefer docs very heavy on content and thought, which do more than inform, they challenge ... and the very best presume you have at least some knowledge already of what's presented.
Below are two screen shots from John Romer's Testament, the whole series of which can be seen on youtube. It's a seven-episode series on the development of sacred Judeo-Christian texts. John Romer is an archeologist and designer; he's done four excellent documentaries, of which Testament is undoubtedly the best. I'll be highlighting all four ... but since I've decided to watch them all again, I'll post here when I'm done each.
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| John Romer inside Hagia Sophia |
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| A shot of Hagia Sofia's dome, 107 ft. across (between the circle of windows) |
Those paying attention will note that Hagia Sofia is also the wallpaper behind this blog.
Eastern Europe - Political
For no reason at all, except that I finished it Tuesday, my most recent map:
They don't harness many comments, but I can't help wanting to post these maps once they're made.
.jpg) |
| Brandenburg (upper left pink); Bohemia (middle left purple); Habsburg Empire (middle left orange); Venice (bottom left violet); Ottoman Empire (lower yellow); Transylvania (middle right brown); Hungary (center blue); Poland (upper green); plus lesser states. The many channels in the Pripyet marshes can be seen upper right. The Danube river flows through the lower half. The top of the Adriatic Sea shows in the bottom left corner. |
They don't harness many comments, but I can't help wanting to post these maps once they're made.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The Opening Module
UPDATE: This post has been updated and included in the recently released book, How to Play a Character & Other Essays, available for purchase from the Lulu marketplace.
My blog passed half a million page views yesterday, so thank you everyone. In appreciation, I'd like to offer you this 'module.'
This is for all the DMs who claim that when they've tried to run a sandbox campaign, they've had players sitting around without anything to do. This is for those DMs who are unhappy because they have to create hooks to get people interested, or paint road signs, or club their parties over the head to get them going. This is for those DM's who use that as proof positive that sandboxes simply don't work, no matter how good an idea they are.
The next time your players are sitting around without anything to do, say this to them:
"Gentlemen ... Ladies ... May I say that I recognize that things may seem uncertain and unclear for the moment, but might I suggest a few things to start you thinking in a positive direction.
"To begin with, I have chosen to make you utterly free persons. You owe no responsibility, no fealty, no loyalty, to any given person anywhere in my world. You are completely and utterly apart from the heirarchical structure, no force or entity knows anything of your existence, you have a completely clean slate from which to start.
"You may do, therefore, anything you wish. If you wish to participate in a hack and slash campaign, then after all remember that this is D&D. You know where the monsters are - you do not need me to tell you. The monsters are in the wilderness, they are in the mountains and hills, they are at the bottoms of lakes and lagoons, they are in caves and at the bottoms of ravines, they are in the sewers of the largest cities ... and well you know, where there are monsters, there will be treasure.
"If you prefer to play something more 'civilized,' let me remind you there is an entire world of crime open to you. Become murderers, become arsonists, become racketeers or smugglers, examine for yourselves all the dark arts of flouting the law and living fast on your feet for fun and profit! Or if that seems immoral and undesirable, consider the possibilities to be found in catching criminals. Bounty hunters are always in short supply and the act takes courage and inventiveness.
"Then again, perhaps collecting other things strikes your imaginations better - rare objects, books, art, magic items, what have you. Create a library, create a zoo, travel the world wide gathering together all you need to make it the greatest ever. If you seem in short supply of ideas, there are always mages aching to make your acquaintance, to pay you hard coin for things they know they need and know where to find.
"Or travel for its own sake. If this part of the world isn't your cup of tea, strike out for warmer seas, or jungles, or deserts, or polar climes. There are always wandering monsters, always people needing brave souls to defend their villages, always opportunities for meeting strangers and making them either friends or piles of meat. It is up to you.
"Together, your party represents something rare and wonderful in the world. Imaginative, ambitious persons, completely loyal to one another, ready to unite in a single cause, ready to break the spine of any enemy, bring down the evil house of any ruling family, raise edifices of grandeur, raise a religion of your choosing, unleash hell upon earth or raze the power structure to the ground. All you need do is decide upon your course of action, raise wealth however satisfies you, take it upon yourselves to apply that wealth to your goals and succeed beyond your wildest dreams.
"I'm prepared to run any sort of game you wish. Talk among yourselves. Ask any questions, I shall do my best to answer them. Take your time deciding. Come to an agreement. I will be in the kitchen getting myself a cup of coffee."
My blog passed half a million page views yesterday, so thank you everyone. In appreciation, I'd like to offer you this 'module.'
This is for all the DMs who claim that when they've tried to run a sandbox campaign, they've had players sitting around without anything to do. This is for those DMs who are unhappy because they have to create hooks to get people interested, or paint road signs, or club their parties over the head to get them going. This is for those DM's who use that as proof positive that sandboxes simply don't work, no matter how good an idea they are.
The next time your players are sitting around without anything to do, say this to them:
"Gentlemen ... Ladies ... May I say that I recognize that things may seem uncertain and unclear for the moment, but might I suggest a few things to start you thinking in a positive direction.
"To begin with, I have chosen to make you utterly free persons. You owe no responsibility, no fealty, no loyalty, to any given person anywhere in my world. You are completely and utterly apart from the heirarchical structure, no force or entity knows anything of your existence, you have a completely clean slate from which to start.
"You may do, therefore, anything you wish. If you wish to participate in a hack and slash campaign, then after all remember that this is D&D. You know where the monsters are - you do not need me to tell you. The monsters are in the wilderness, they are in the mountains and hills, they are at the bottoms of lakes and lagoons, they are in caves and at the bottoms of ravines, they are in the sewers of the largest cities ... and well you know, where there are monsters, there will be treasure.
"If you prefer to play something more 'civilized,' let me remind you there is an entire world of crime open to you. Become murderers, become arsonists, become racketeers or smugglers, examine for yourselves all the dark arts of flouting the law and living fast on your feet for fun and profit! Or if that seems immoral and undesirable, consider the possibilities to be found in catching criminals. Bounty hunters are always in short supply and the act takes courage and inventiveness.
"Then again, perhaps collecting other things strikes your imaginations better - rare objects, books, art, magic items, what have you. Create a library, create a zoo, travel the world wide gathering together all you need to make it the greatest ever. If you seem in short supply of ideas, there are always mages aching to make your acquaintance, to pay you hard coin for things they know they need and know where to find.
"Or travel for its own sake. If this part of the world isn't your cup of tea, strike out for warmer seas, or jungles, or deserts, or polar climes. There are always wandering monsters, always people needing brave souls to defend their villages, always opportunities for meeting strangers and making them either friends or piles of meat. It is up to you.
"Together, your party represents something rare and wonderful in the world. Imaginative, ambitious persons, completely loyal to one another, ready to unite in a single cause, ready to break the spine of any enemy, bring down the evil house of any ruling family, raise edifices of grandeur, raise a religion of your choosing, unleash hell upon earth or raze the power structure to the ground. All you need do is decide upon your course of action, raise wealth however satisfies you, take it upon yourselves to apply that wealth to your goals and succeed beyond your wildest dreams.
"I'm prepared to run any sort of game you wish. Talk among yourselves. Ask any questions, I shall do my best to answer them. Take your time deciding. Come to an agreement. I will be in the kitchen getting myself a cup of coffee."
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Weeds
Yesterday my partner Tamara commented after reading the sandbox post, "What you're really trying to say is that D&D can be whatever anyone wants, no matter who they are. It can allow anyone to do anything." When I agreed, she added, "They don't get that, do they?"
No, I think for the most part, they don't.
Which would mean, I presume, that it's not important. Or perhaps that it isn't complicated. Or maybe that I shouldn't put any thought into it.
All three of those possible meanings piss me off.
No, I think for the most part, they don't.
If the sandbox thing gets under my skin as a sort of diminuative description of a game that is far more complicated and varied than that sandbox, then something that really digs into my spine is this eternal declaration, "It's only a game!"
Which would mean, I presume, that it's not important. Or perhaps that it isn't complicated. Or maybe that I shouldn't put any thought into it.
Right off the top, surely we can at least agree the game is complicated. Even the original crappy
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| Simple Simon stuff |
rulebook, the White Box, is five or six times as much text as it took to describe RISK. And the three original volumes of AD&D contained more text than the gawddamned LSAT. Since there have been hundreds of books, and hundreds of different associated roleplaying games, all of which have contributed in some small part to the fundamentals of the way the game is both played and conceived. I think it has to be acknowledged that being fully aware of all the rules of this game is not exactly something someone does rolling out of bed.
Not important? Let's see, there are an estimated 20 million people who have played the game, according to Darren Waters of BBC News; more than a billion dollars has been spent on the game. It has spawned movies, a huge publishing industry, and influenced the creative minds of vast numbers who have gone on to inculcate the ideas spawned in the game into countless video games. Even where people do not play D&D, the effect of the game's popularity has been enormous.
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| Evidence of something that lacks importance |
Or is it that I'm just thinking too much. D&D is a children's game (I don't see any children in the crowd there, but they do tend to shortness) and therefore it's wasted effort to apply adult thinking to something that's just supposed to be 'fun.'
Really. Like the lack of thinking that goes into, I don't know, chess maybe? Where uncounted millions of dollars have been invested in simply producing a better automated chess opponent? Or perhaps we're talking about the total lack of thought that has been applied to other "children's games" like baseball, monopoly, the aforementioned RISK and the recent Settlers of Catan. I'm sure there aren't groups of people sitting around bitching on the Catan boards about people inventing new strategies and posting them. Is that because Catan is so much more complicated than D&D?
 |
| Just look at the rule book on this sucker |
Maybe its none of those things. Maybe saying "It's just a game" means something else. Maybe what it really means is, "I'm such a fucking dumbass, that's the first thing I say when I feel stupid. Which is most of the fucking time."
Generally, the phrase, "It's only a game," seems aimed at avoiding the ideal named by Tamara at the outset - that perhaps not everyone should do what they can do, or that they shouldn't try to make the game "more than it is." That seems to be about as dumb as the first declaration. What the fuck is the game that it can't be more than that? Who decides what the game is? Gygax or Arneson? Lorraine fucking Williams? You? Me?
You know, really ... seriously ... fuck that. This game - any roleplaying game - can be all that it wants to be, because there are no limits on imagination. There are no limits on what freedoms or opportunities players can seize while applying their imaginations to a setting that is without question limitless. Trying to impose limits, either through stupidity, or the ridiculousness of philosophical certainty - or cynicism, if that's what it is - is a pointless, wasted effort. Yet it is an effort practiced by so many people - for the love of kobalds in green trunks, SO MANY PEOPLE - that one must begin to wonder what the motivation is for attempting to kill everyone else's motivation?
Yagami, who posts here, likes to argue that people who hate work hate workers. And I've argued that people who hate thinking hate thinkers. Perhaps its really that those who are hopelessly, bitterly, resentfully unimaginitive hate imagination, in anyone ... and are passionately driven to destroy the smallest little growth of it whenever that imagination dares to raise its little head.
It's frightening to think what sort of parents these people would make. It is sad to think what sort of parents these people have had. The course of the world goes on its way, and we have to expect that even the most dispossessed, chronically dishwater-minded obstinate stale hacks are going to float into Dungeons and Dragons like so much sewage dumped from every other useful occupation, where they can pollute our gaming space on the way to the next misery they can impart to whatever group they next happen to latch onto. The wasted and used-up must so often grow weary and tired of the vapid perspective they attach to everything they see that they must systematically work their way through dozens of hobbies - and hobby communities - in their lifetime. They enter, grow weary within minutes of lackluster examination of the local passion, deride that passion mercilessly for their own benefit, then crawl away after their fruitless familiar tune becomes a bit too familiar ... so that they can go through that process once again to the next hapless crowd.
Which is why it is SO important to divide between those who clearly produce nothing but fetid air, and those who are diligently working and striving to create something. The various creators need not agree, but at least they are all creating, the very thing that makes life matter. These other voices, who create nothing, who advance nothing new and who risk nothing, only exist to strangle to death things that might grow. These other voices are weeds.
Let's not confuse them with vitality.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Lego D&D
It happens that I wrote 4,000 words on my newest book on the weekend, all of it on the preparation done by gamers ... so if I tend to wax excessively on the present topic, please understand that I'm training myself not to sweep over subjects, but to get down to the nub of them.
I have been thinking that the 'sandbox' is actually a fairly poor metaphor for freestyle roleplaying. Obviously it's very popular, and more or less understood by a wide audience, but as I contemplate what the sandbox is, and my memories of sandboxes, I'm finding on the whole that the equivalency is more than disappointing.
There were plenty of sandboxes around when I was growing up. The Holts next door had one and the Lukas's on the other side of us had one. The Nikoforuks down the street had one as well. I played in them all, and I can remember each of them; one had a child's seat that went all around, one had boards that were breaking loose, and one was strong will high walls. Since I grew up in an era were parks had sandboxes, and where elementary schools often had them - and even outdoor drive-in restaurants would feature them somewhere on the lot - I played in a lot of different sandboxes growing up. Seems to me, though, that there were a lot of limitations.
Sandboxes are great for digging holes, or making roads for cars, or using plastic molds to make shapes ... but on the whole they are pretty limited. Being in a dry climate, most of the sandboxes would dry up in the summer months, so that you had to add water - and when you have kids adding water to a sandbox, the goal always seems to be to make mud, to add too much water and make a mess of it.
The sand, too, never seemed to be good for much. Any master of sand sculpture will tell you that no two sands are alike, and so they travel to those perfect sand beaches in the world where you can make sculptures that are twenty feet high. The sandbox of your average child just doesn't contain that kind of sand. And none of us were master sculptors, anyway. My favorite 'sandbox' was a beach - Sylvan Lake Beach, where there was tons of nice, sticky sand all along the waterline. We did not just make sandcastles, we burrowed canals through the sand which filled with water, we piled up mountains as high as our chests and it was all made more interesting by the fact that there were hundreds of kids along the mile-long beach all doing the same thing. I made many friends for just one day with enthusiastic fellow sand engineers.
No matter how nice the sand is, though, no matter how enthusiastic you are, or imaginative you are, sand is transitory. It doesn't last. And that is why sandboxes ceased to be anything we were interested in after the third grade (though I did play in the sand at the beach, making larger and larger things, until I was doing it with my daughter in my 30s).
I don't like that my D&D is being compared to something the next storm rises up and washes away. Or something that crumbles to dust after two weeks of a dry July. I suppose my world is transitory on some level, but since I've been running the same world now since 1982, I think its a hell of a lot less transitory than than a sandbox. I think it demeans the game to compare it with something that, fundamentally, lost our interest by the age of ten, was limited in scope and ultimately doesn't describe something more permanent.
It's fruitless to imagine that I could change the metaphor, now that its buried in the consciousness of so many people ... but I'd like to advance one of my own. There was a sphere of play - included in the title of this post - which really does come much, much closer to D&D as a constructivist, imaginary, all consuming pursuit ... and one which in fact has resulted in a huge permanent location where millions of people go to play. I'm talking about Lego.
For my money, Lego is a far better representative format than the sandbox. To begin with, it is far more accessible to people with little or no skill. It is far more adaptable, imaginatively flexible and profound than what sand can provide. You can do anything with it. It can stand for anything. It never gets boring. I could play with Lego now. And it is as permanent as I want to be.
I have no fear of sounding like a Lego commercial. Never in history has there ever been a product where one can more honestly say you'd have to be a fucking moron to hate Lego. Perhaps that hatred might be an early way to identify serial killers in society, or other people who should be put to death quickly.
We used to play Lego in a friend's basement. His parents were - shall we say - excessive in their willingness to purchase blocks and everything else. Except where Legoland is concerned, I have never seen so much Lego, not before or since. What a heavenly place that was, the entire basement, wall to wall, ping pong table and floor, covered in Lego.
If we must talk about a game where the imagination is free, where what's required is the ability for the players to construct and develop the process of gaming as much as the DM, then surely we want to invest those players in a tool more comprehensive, no? And what is more comprehensive than Lego?
Well, the computer I suppose. This is fairly comprehensive - and I do believe that we won't truly free ourselves from tiny-thinking D&D until we ditch the paper and the pencil and embrace the computer like every other element of the world has. It's here, people. Get used to it.
Is the computer really the best metaphor, though? Perhaps ... and feel free to quibble if you must ... perhaps the best metaphor is life itself. The process of life. The complete and utter freedom to stand up, declare you're for or against something, and then pursue that decision to the best of your ability. That is really all we're trying to offer players who are not on rails. The freedom to live a life. To 'lego' the restrictions on what people can do.
But I suppose I made that point last week, didn't I? Meh, so what. It's a point that needs to be made often.
There were plenty of sandboxes around when I was growing up. The Holts next door had one and the Lukas's on the other side of us had one. The Nikoforuks down the street had one as well. I played in them all, and I can remember each of them; one had a child's seat that went all around, one had boards that were breaking loose, and one was strong will high walls. Since I grew up in an era were parks had sandboxes, and where elementary schools often had them - and even outdoor drive-in restaurants would feature them somewhere on the lot - I played in a lot of different sandboxes growing up. Seems to me, though, that there were a lot of limitations.
Sandboxes are great for digging holes, or making roads for cars, or using plastic molds to make shapes ... but on the whole they are pretty limited. Being in a dry climate, most of the sandboxes would dry up in the summer months, so that you had to add water - and when you have kids adding water to a sandbox, the goal always seems to be to make mud, to add too much water and make a mess of it.
The sand, too, never seemed to be good for much. Any master of sand sculpture will tell you that no two sands are alike, and so they travel to those perfect sand beaches in the world where you can make sculptures that are twenty feet high. The sandbox of your average child just doesn't contain that kind of sand. And none of us were master sculptors, anyway. My favorite 'sandbox' was a beach - Sylvan Lake Beach, where there was tons of nice, sticky sand all along the waterline. We did not just make sandcastles, we burrowed canals through the sand which filled with water, we piled up mountains as high as our chests and it was all made more interesting by the fact that there were hundreds of kids along the mile-long beach all doing the same thing. I made many friends for just one day with enthusiastic fellow sand engineers.
No matter how nice the sand is, though, no matter how enthusiastic you are, or imaginative you are, sand is transitory. It doesn't last. And that is why sandboxes ceased to be anything we were interested in after the third grade (though I did play in the sand at the beach, making larger and larger things, until I was doing it with my daughter in my 30s).
I don't like that my D&D is being compared to something the next storm rises up and washes away. Or something that crumbles to dust after two weeks of a dry July. I suppose my world is transitory on some level, but since I've been running the same world now since 1982, I think its a hell of a lot less transitory than than a sandbox. I think it demeans the game to compare it with something that, fundamentally, lost our interest by the age of ten, was limited in scope and ultimately doesn't describe something more permanent.
It's fruitless to imagine that I could change the metaphor, now that its buried in the consciousness of so many people ... but I'd like to advance one of my own. There was a sphere of play - included in the title of this post - which really does come much, much closer to D&D as a constructivist, imaginary, all consuming pursuit ... and one which in fact has resulted in a huge permanent location where millions of people go to play. I'm talking about Lego.
For my money, Lego is a far better representative format than the sandbox. To begin with, it is far more accessible to people with little or no skill. It is far more adaptable, imaginatively flexible and profound than what sand can provide. You can do anything with it. It can stand for anything. It never gets boring. I could play with Lego now. And it is as permanent as I want to be.
I have no fear of sounding like a Lego commercial. Never in history has there ever been a product where one can more honestly say you'd have to be a fucking moron to hate Lego. Perhaps that hatred might be an early way to identify serial killers in society, or other people who should be put to death quickly.
We used to play Lego in a friend's basement. His parents were - shall we say - excessive in their willingness to purchase blocks and everything else. Except where Legoland is concerned, I have never seen so much Lego, not before or since. What a heavenly place that was, the entire basement, wall to wall, ping pong table and floor, covered in Lego.
If we must talk about a game where the imagination is free, where what's required is the ability for the players to construct and develop the process of gaming as much as the DM, then surely we want to invest those players in a tool more comprehensive, no? And what is more comprehensive than Lego?
Well, the computer I suppose. This is fairly comprehensive - and I do believe that we won't truly free ourselves from tiny-thinking D&D until we ditch the paper and the pencil and embrace the computer like every other element of the world has. It's here, people. Get used to it.
Is the computer really the best metaphor, though? Perhaps ... and feel free to quibble if you must ... perhaps the best metaphor is life itself. The process of life. The complete and utter freedom to stand up, declare you're for or against something, and then pursue that decision to the best of your ability. That is really all we're trying to offer players who are not on rails. The freedom to live a life. To 'lego' the restrictions on what people can do.
But I suppose I made that point last week, didn't I? Meh, so what. It's a point that needs to be made often.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Trade Video, Part 1
If the last one was death for some people, this will be ten times worse. This video was made for an exclusive, small but very loyal readership of this blog, who are interested in this sort of thing.
I'm choked that I've made at least one error while describing the process, simply because it is complicated, and requires focus to manage all the details. I screwed up on one point, 9:33 in, where I forget to adjust the positive/negative. Ah well. It's not like I rehearsed.
This, at least, should show to what extent I'm willing to go for this business.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsARHn6bFGU&feature=youtu.be
Well, you could do it with pencil and paper ... but, it's going to take longer than you have to live.
I'm choked that I've made at least one error while describing the process, simply because it is complicated, and requires focus to manage all the details. I screwed up on one point, 9:33 in, where I forget to adjust the positive/negative. Ah well. It's not like I rehearsed.
This, at least, should show to what extent I'm willing to go for this business.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsARHn6bFGU&feature=youtu.be
Well, you could do it with pencil and paper ... but, it's going to take longer than you have to live.
Friday, April 26, 2013
The Good Old Days
Having resolved to write a book about dungeon mastering, I have been contemplating for some months now about the legitimacy of becoming, and remaining, a dungeon master. Rather that discussing here how one does it, or for what motivations, I'd like to discuss the core idea of who is entitled, and who is not, to run a gaming group.
I would expect the gentle reader to bristle at the word 'entitled' ... the reply I would expect, voiced loudly, is "ANYONE!" But then, that assumes anyone with friends willing to participate, or the 'opportunity' to play. If, by chance, there are no players, there is no gaming group.
By default, and largely because of the need to sell product, I believe the gaming community has presumed that the final arbiter on what makes a game - and who defines D&D - must be, without question, the dungeon master. Gygax and crowd were dungeon masters. Dungeon masters create adventures. They know what will happen, what is happening, what ought to happen during the game. They do all the work ... and to those who do the work goes the respect, indeed, the humble gratitude of mere players who need only sit down and play. If there are no dungeon masters, there are no games - and the various foundations of commercial product know very well who it is that buys their shit. Players buy dice, they may buy a book or two ... but it is the DM, or the would-be DM, who enters and drops $500 in an afternoon.
And so the community has operated on this loose ideal that IF you're prepared to draw the dungeon map, and IF you're prepared to spend the money, and IF you have the space and IF you're willing to present a world in that space, THEN you are one of the elite, the dungeon master, the most important person at the table.
I can feel the bristling again, as I've very carefully written that so that it rubs in just the wrong way. Still, whatever your egalitarian indignation, it is impossible to present a world as a DM and not feel the gentle waft of adulation that arises from your long-time, appreciative players. Nor is it difficult to recognize the stiff, okay-motherfucker-prove-you've-got-what-it-takes from the occasional new, experienced player that steps up to try your world. The latter comes from having a lot of DMs preen and strut their shit like it doesn't stink, where you recognize that a DM having a few sycophantic admirers doesn't prove a quality game.
Have enough people suck up to your grandiosity and that shit will go right to your head ... and I have sat in on more than a few games where the DM was one amazingly pompous bastard, nevertheless with players whose mouths were surgically attached to that DM's anus (this is physically impressive where the number of players rises to more than three). The circumstance has made me - I must admit - physically ill. Nevertheless, we've all seen it ... except, I suppose, for that substantial portion of the community that is actively living it. I don't imagine they're the least bit aware.
All I'm saying is that, while the community pretends that its one big happy family, that every DM is of course a dreamboat and that no one could ever possibly be exploiting this power position for their personal emotional sense of superiority, the fact remains that there are many, many DMs who ARE. Exploiting their players, that is. Mercilessly.
We are meant to ignore this. The commercial elements aren't interested in discussing it, the convention atmosphere isn't interested in curtailing it (as is obvious to anyone with a brain who's been to a convention) and we are absolutely NOT to discuss it in any public forum, ever. We are to pretend that ALL players are exactly equal, that none have been duped into playing with DMs who actually know jack about fresh, exciting or imaginative ways of presenting the game, and that everyone who has reliable, loyal players has clearly earned them through being such a remarkable, spectacular DM.
Please, please, please pay no attention to anything we have come to know about psychology in the last century, behind that curtain there. Pay no attention to the fundamentals of dependency, or the social need for approval, or what we've learned about bullying or how group dynamics have been proven to favor the loudest, most aggressive person in the room. None of that is relevant to gaming, none of it has anything to do with a DM railroading his or her players, or those players piping up to say they "like railroading," or anything else about how the game MUST have a story or how players MUST be controlled to keep the game from descending into chaos and ceasing to be "fun." None of the people who play in a roleplaying game are subject to the forces, the pushes and pulls, of biochemical response, nor mental abuse, nor emotional manipulation ... because once a person begins to play a character, they are magically exempt from all the influences of every day social interaction.
Because, as we all know, the only way to do anything, ever, is the OLD way, because it is the only way. And we know that because all the people who have spent all their lives investing in that way just happen to know more than we do. It isn't because they're old and lazy and can't be bothered to change anything about themselves. It isn't because they're just barely bright enough to do what they've been doing for thirty years, and that a new way of playing a game is a blatant threat to their security or their stuffy pomposity.
Yes, that's right, the reason "we" don't want things to change is because they SHOULDN'T, ever, at least not as long as I, a DM for 30 years, am alive. And I don't say that because I have my head up my own ass and it's warm and comfortable in here. I say that because, well, I'm just older than you are. And you should respect your elders and stop trying to change things. Because I said so.
So let's have that straight. Everyone who wants to treat players like shit has a right to, and if the players had any problem with that, they'd say something, because there are no psychological forces that exist to make people accept a situation they think can't be changed. The game is about a story because that's the way it fucking IS, so fuck off. And DMs ought never to create anything except for module-like adventures, because I don't and I've never had to, and my players LIKE it that way.
So there.
I would expect the gentle reader to bristle at the word 'entitled' ... the reply I would expect, voiced loudly, is "ANYONE!" But then, that assumes anyone with friends willing to participate, or the 'opportunity' to play. If, by chance, there are no players, there is no gaming group.
By default, and largely because of the need to sell product, I believe the gaming community has presumed that the final arbiter on what makes a game - and who defines D&D - must be, without question, the dungeon master. Gygax and crowd were dungeon masters. Dungeon masters create adventures. They know what will happen, what is happening, what ought to happen during the game. They do all the work ... and to those who do the work goes the respect, indeed, the humble gratitude of mere players who need only sit down and play. If there are no dungeon masters, there are no games - and the various foundations of commercial product know very well who it is that buys their shit. Players buy dice, they may buy a book or two ... but it is the DM, or the would-be DM, who enters and drops $500 in an afternoon.
And so the community has operated on this loose ideal that IF you're prepared to draw the dungeon map, and IF you're prepared to spend the money, and IF you have the space and IF you're willing to present a world in that space, THEN you are one of the elite, the dungeon master, the most important person at the table.
I can feel the bristling again, as I've very carefully written that so that it rubs in just the wrong way. Still, whatever your egalitarian indignation, it is impossible to present a world as a DM and not feel the gentle waft of adulation that arises from your long-time, appreciative players. Nor is it difficult to recognize the stiff, okay-motherfucker-prove-you've-got-what-it-takes from the occasional new, experienced player that steps up to try your world. The latter comes from having a lot of DMs preen and strut their shit like it doesn't stink, where you recognize that a DM having a few sycophantic admirers doesn't prove a quality game.
Have enough people suck up to your grandiosity and that shit will go right to your head ... and I have sat in on more than a few games where the DM was one amazingly pompous bastard, nevertheless with players whose mouths were surgically attached to that DM's anus (this is physically impressive where the number of players rises to more than three). The circumstance has made me - I must admit - physically ill. Nevertheless, we've all seen it ... except, I suppose, for that substantial portion of the community that is actively living it. I don't imagine they're the least bit aware.
All I'm saying is that, while the community pretends that its one big happy family, that every DM is of course a dreamboat and that no one could ever possibly be exploiting this power position for their personal emotional sense of superiority, the fact remains that there are many, many DMs who ARE. Exploiting their players, that is. Mercilessly.
We are meant to ignore this. The commercial elements aren't interested in discussing it, the convention atmosphere isn't interested in curtailing it (as is obvious to anyone with a brain who's been to a convention) and we are absolutely NOT to discuss it in any public forum, ever. We are to pretend that ALL players are exactly equal, that none have been duped into playing with DMs who actually know jack about fresh, exciting or imaginative ways of presenting the game, and that everyone who has reliable, loyal players has clearly earned them through being such a remarkable, spectacular DM.
Please, please, please pay no attention to anything we have come to know about psychology in the last century, behind that curtain there. Pay no attention to the fundamentals of dependency, or the social need for approval, or what we've learned about bullying or how group dynamics have been proven to favor the loudest, most aggressive person in the room. None of that is relevant to gaming, none of it has anything to do with a DM railroading his or her players, or those players piping up to say they "like railroading," or anything else about how the game MUST have a story or how players MUST be controlled to keep the game from descending into chaos and ceasing to be "fun." None of the people who play in a roleplaying game are subject to the forces, the pushes and pulls, of biochemical response, nor mental abuse, nor emotional manipulation ... because once a person begins to play a character, they are magically exempt from all the influences of every day social interaction.
Because, as we all know, the only way to do anything, ever, is the OLD way, because it is the only way. And we know that because all the people who have spent all their lives investing in that way just happen to know more than we do. It isn't because they're old and lazy and can't be bothered to change anything about themselves. It isn't because they're just barely bright enough to do what they've been doing for thirty years, and that a new way of playing a game is a blatant threat to their security or their stuffy pomposity.
Yes, that's right, the reason "we" don't want things to change is because they SHOULDN'T, ever, at least not as long as I, a DM for 30 years, am alive. And I don't say that because I have my head up my own ass and it's warm and comfortable in here. I say that because, well, I'm just older than you are. And you should respect your elders and stop trying to change things. Because I said so.
So let's have that straight. Everyone who wants to treat players like shit has a right to, and if the players had any problem with that, they'd say something, because there are no psychological forces that exist to make people accept a situation they think can't be changed. The game is about a story because that's the way it fucking IS, so fuck off. And DMs ought never to create anything except for module-like adventures, because I don't and I've never had to, and my players LIKE it that way.
So there.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Libertarianism's Gold Standard
Found my name referenced on this page and so I read through it. It proports to be a frank, querying discussion of experience points, but as usual, it winds up being a sort of hen session where DM's quibble about how much to give and in particular what player behavior should be rewarded.
I don't suppose most people see what the problem is there.
Apparently, one of the responsibilities a DM has is to make sure that the player ain't gettin' too much experience for doing whatever the player wants with his or her money. I think most gentle readers are familiar with this idea - that experience points should be rewarded according to what the player spends their money on, and NOT upon the actual total of money gained.
When I first heard this - from James Raggi, I think - my first reaction was, "Gee, that sounds like a good idea." If you look really, really hard through the first year of this blog, you'll find an example of me saying that. (Tell me when you find it - I couldn't myself, but I know the sucker's there).
Then I had a fridge logic moment and never actually implemented the idea. Why? Because who gives a fuck how much experience the players get?
Here's a very simple matter, that won't take a lot of words ... but what's wrong with the players going up levels, exactly? I mean, at whatever freaking rate you choose to give them coin for. If you don't want them going up levels quickly, DON'T make up bullshit rules about what they can do with their money which gets your experience point sign off ... just give them less fucking coin. How hard is that? Or is it that you want them to be rich, you just don't want them to be powerful. Or some other ad hoc ideal you have for what a player should or shouldn't be, according to the great Economic Policy Rules you've invented to stop what you think is your player's moral turpitude?
In case you're not clear on the concept, moral turpitude is "conduct that is considered contrary to community standards of justice, honesty or good morals." And that seems to be all this "experience points for the RIGHT manner of spending" seems to be about. FORCING behavioral standards upon players in order that they excel according to bullshit reasons pulled straight from the DM's ass.
Give them their goddamn gold when they kill the monster. Then get out of their face, Mrs. Grundy. Let them excel according to their standards, as far as they like.
You may be the DM, but their money is none of your fucking business.
(and this is as libertarian as you're ever likely to hear me get)
I don't suppose most people see what the problem is there.
Apparently, one of the responsibilities a DM has is to make sure that the player ain't gettin' too much experience for doing whatever the player wants with his or her money. I think most gentle readers are familiar with this idea - that experience points should be rewarded according to what the player spends their money on, and NOT upon the actual total of money gained.
When I first heard this - from James Raggi, I think - my first reaction was, "Gee, that sounds like a good idea." If you look really, really hard through the first year of this blog, you'll find an example of me saying that. (Tell me when you find it - I couldn't myself, but I know the sucker's there).
Then I had a fridge logic moment and never actually implemented the idea. Why? Because who gives a fuck how much experience the players get?
Here's a very simple matter, that won't take a lot of words ... but what's wrong with the players going up levels, exactly? I mean, at whatever freaking rate you choose to give them coin for. If you don't want them going up levels quickly, DON'T make up bullshit rules about what they can do with their money which gets your experience point sign off ... just give them less fucking coin. How hard is that? Or is it that you want them to be rich, you just don't want them to be powerful. Or some other ad hoc ideal you have for what a player should or shouldn't be, according to the great Economic Policy Rules you've invented to stop what you think is your player's moral turpitude?
In case you're not clear on the concept, moral turpitude is "conduct that is considered contrary to community standards of justice, honesty or good morals." And that seems to be all this "experience points for the RIGHT manner of spending" seems to be about. FORCING behavioral standards upon players in order that they excel according to bullshit reasons pulled straight from the DM's ass.
Give them their goddamn gold when they kill the monster. Then get out of their face, Mrs. Grundy. Let them excel according to their standards, as far as they like.
You may be the DM, but their money is none of your fucking business.
(and this is as libertarian as you're ever likely to hear me get)
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