Every role-playing game has at its core some kind of cognate of what the game is while it's being played. Within each system there's room for many different types of game, and sometimes the same character sheets, books, and DM can change games without cracking a different core rulebook.
This image screams Traveller.
Often, elements of the game, either mechanical or conceptual, distract from the core of the game. I ran into this in my own Traveller campaign in which I used GURPS for action resolution. The mechanical diversity allowed in the character creation rules for GURPS, when combined with my player's inexperience with the setting, led to character concepts that were at odds with the goals of the game and with each other. The high level of detail in GURPS combat, which I thought would lend itself to an understanding of the deadliness of combat and how dangerous guns were, instead led to players neglecting to understand the combat system entirely. Mechanically, I wasn't provided with a good way of constructing challenges like rough landings, asteroid sweeps, and so on, and without flavorful mechanics to inspire characters to place themselves in the world, we were eventually playing a very generic 'It's sci-fi and we have a ship' game. After the fact, I learned how very distant the mechanics can be from the game's core spirit.
What is Traveller? Is likely to be another essay of mine. Suffice it to say, Traveller is a game about adventurers that travel between planets, usually in the hustle to make enough money for their next meal. The Empress Marava, and the Spinward Marches are the core of traveller. The yawning chasm in capability between a character in battledress and one without isn't. The glaring lack of acknowledgement of the digital revolution in its canon isn't. (Traveller's technology base is more like Cowboy Bebop or Firefly than Star Trek or Shadowrun.)
Roleplaying is a vast canvas of cooperative storytelling, usually of an ascent to greatness. Within that canvas, though, the several great genres exist as what others would call Metagames: the core spirit of what it means to be playing Shadowun, Pathfinder, or Dungeons and Dragons. I propose that The sort of tropes & mcguffins that make up the bread and butter of these games isn't the metagame, it's the game itself. After all, the first rule at the front of all the Codices of Mechanical Resolution is (or should be) 'Take or leave any rules as you see fit among your group to achieve a fun experience.' Implicit in Rule Zero (which I think players have some claim to as well) is "have fun in this genre."
The important thing to point out is that 'genre' is the shared zeitgeist at your table of that you're playing. When you're thinking about introducing an action into the game, as the player or the DM, think about how it will be fun, for everyone. Think of how it fits into the Genre, and think of how it expands your table's current genre through evolutionary increment (Macgyver's agility between action, intrigue, drama, and after-school-special, while remaining true to concept, might be an inspiration in this respect). Invite your fellow PC's into the action (and don't waste a half hour on a scouting trip as the rogue). As the DM, invite PCs to take part in politicking (if that's part of your game) by attaching PCs to ethnic or social groupings, and then place PCs in positions as heralds and tribunes for those groups.
Talking about the action is not the action. Just like boring dialogue about what to do next can be replaced in a TV show to a cut to the beginning of the plan, keeping the audience in the dark, (and in suspense) so it is that you can suck up the game time talking, rather than acting.
The 'players plan their attack' time, I find, goes better when I simply say "I'm getting a coffee guys, when I come back in ten we'll cut to your assault on the keep.' This tends to be fun, as you can reward players with good plans by leaving the monsters hapless. It also seems that whenever I'm at the table, I just slow it down, the same way that an off-camera player or a split party would.
Of course, the GM is the usual culprit for this kind of time wasting that isn't actually part of the game. The long history lecture, the exposition through dialogue (rather than action or, better, adventure), the boring NPC bantering on about details of the world only the DM cares about... Are also Not Core to the Game. There are also mechanical challenges that aren't core to the spirit of the game--covered in more detail in part II.
(for now, recall how tiresome it is to wade through the masses of level 1 undead and orcs that many DMs fill BBEG's castles with for realism; also recall how the PCs are total badasses and the DM had full discretion to accurately roleplay the chumps and have them stone scared by the arrival of the Teleport Commando Action Force (TCAF).
While we don't have the luxury of a cutting room, all of these scenes would be cut from a tight television or film script. Why? Because they didn't bring the ratings up; they weren't core to the game (err...show). I'm not saying go all out here--but notice how the Temporal Cold War plot in Enterprise is introduced through Daniels, when he places Archer in an uncomfortable prisoner's dilemma. In that (surprisingly good for Star Trek's worst outing) episode, the exposition was also the action as Archer was left conflicted over which unknown faction to trust.
Traveller. It's like this. I think...
The core of D&D is adventure, challenge, adversity, exploration, achievement, and (occasionally) heroism. Your table may include Intrigue, bloodsport, and heistiness, adding some or all to the core of the game. So for the love of the game, try to minimize the time spent at the table doing things that aren't part of the core ideals of the genre. And if you're taking a compositional risk in trying to broaden the palette, find a way include everyone and be ready to retreat from your ambitions if it doesn't go over well. I've seen at least one long-running campaign go to the tubes because the DM was pushing Diablo-style action alongside a highly political plot that went over the heads of every last player. I've also inadvertently indulged half-hour scouting trips on the part of the rogue while the rest of the party sat in boredom.
For the love of the game, don't do these things. Find ways to avert them. I'm proud to say that I've played impulsive characters that got themselves killed demonstrating how tiresome sitting in a council room can be.
PS, I'll likely end up being called a Heretic for suggesting that Rule Zero is at all the province of the players. Rest Assured, I'll upset my timetable set down in "A change in the Weather" to include an exploration of this prospect.
Every system of pen & paper roleplaying that I've encountered has more than a few mechanics for resolving more than a few things. Through an extended example, I'm going to leverage how we need to love the game more than the rules. While this example uses events in a novel/film to leverage its points, the basic differences between PnP RPGing and other forms of storytelling are readily apparent, the most crucial being the cooperative and spontaneous elements therein.
Take the example of Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas tracking the hobbits and Uruk-Hai. Under D&D 3.5X You can, for example, make thirty-six successive constitution checks for 'hustling' to check their fatigue, and have Legolas make a stream of dreary DC10 checks to aid Aragorn's tracking, and possibly even suggest that Gimli's minor clerical magic delivered in the form of humor gives them some resistance to exhaustion.
Rolling the number of dice required to do this would take at least 15 minutes. It's clear that if the characters decide to take this course of action, they want to see it come to some sort of progress in the plot--and as the DM, you aren't doing anyone favors by belaboring this exercise. In any form of storytelling, Plot-Points don't come during Montages (Samurai Jack's agility with the technique notwithstanding). The plot point to resolve here is singular, or so it would seem--Do the Three reach the Hobbits before Isengard?
In this case, the rules are getting in the way of the game. The game, the tone of the story that has come before, dictates that within ten minutes, everyone at this table would like to know what happens next. Five minutes would be better. Two would be best.
If you were the DM, you could say that Whatever comes Next could be that a Nazgul in the skies spots the three on their epic jog and that they must take refuge in a canyon, losing the trail, or that they happen upon the Rohirrim before their battle, or whatever strikes your fancy, guided by the player's level of success. The action of the trek, however, lays between your gaming group and Whatever Comes Next and the mechanic as written in the rules is standing in the way of the game.
GNS--Something I'll say segregates us too much in another post
Here I will be accused of being anti-simulationist, and that the progressive difficulty of manifold CON checks for fatigue gives believability and realism to this journey. But I say hogwash. If five people are at a table to play a roleplaying game, they certainly don't want to roll d20's for a half hour with varying descriptions of (you get tired and have to slow down) or (your progress is good this hour). They want to get to the decisive moment--the one where dice rolling and roleplaying can turn the story in any direction. And the burden lies now on the DM to get the story past that point.
I'm touching upon many operational terms here in this first essay that aren't well articulated in the other literature on Gamemastering--"Decisive Moment" and a "Mechanic/Game" oppositional axis--terms which I'll bring to light as we continue this journey--but I want first to hook you into this idea of Mindfulness.
Let's return to the Grey Company in the wilds of Eriador. As the DM, you have reached a point in the story where you need to maintain suspension of disbelief by allowing dice rolls and mechanical resolution to guide the outcome of the epic jog. Your players are excited by the twist of the captured hobbits.
You have a moment. You can typically always have about 30 seconds to figure out a mechanic, and it's conventional that if one takes ten seconds to flip through a book it's acceptable. You have time to think. Thinking for a moment is much more efficient than pressing go on an inefficient mechanic or an unfun encounter--much like a speaker will sound far more persuasive without intersplices of 'um' and 'hmm.'
Let us now go deep. Let us now go into your mind, and walk through the choices you have before you on how you could resolve this problem. (note that the choices are spread across a continuum of more>less>no dice.)
A) Use the mechanic as-is
B) Make Something up using the nuts & bolts of the system before you.
C) Gloss it over; they reach the hobbits.
Choice A will waste time at the gaming table and likely disengage all but the most straight-edged of your players (the parallel essay, Time is Precious, will address why this is a cardinal sin). Choice B will allow everyone to feel that there's a chance of their actions succeeding and that their strategies for helping can affect the outcome. Choice C will diminish the cooperative element of the game, as it will be left entirely up to you how the trek pans out. B seems to be the best choice here, because of the successful uncertainty over how the effort of the Grey Company's trek will pan out.
Phase 2: What are the important questions that it might be fun to answer with a resolution using dice ? (if you wanted the Nazgul to appear, or for the Rohirrim to meet the Grey Co. before the scene of the battle, the lead-in is entirely off-camera--and thus up to you by fiat. (Random encounter tables can be an inspiration here--and provide for turns in the story that your players wouldn't normally expect from you--but that's a topic for another post)
When does the party intercept the Uruk-Hai? Before or after the battle with the Rohirrim? (notice this subsumes all tracking checks...if they lose the trail, the answer is late or never)
In what condition does the Grey Company reach What Comes Next? (Since the story before has established that self-reliance is a theme in The Two Towers, we can conclude it's unlikely that deus ex machina will occur so early)
Phase 3: How can we answer the question? We know that the existing rules are cumbersome. Mechanically, we know that it's a test of endurance--and likely also one of will (to keep going through blisters and hunger.)
Brainstorm something that tests these things. We know we are rolling too many dice as is; would fewer dice, or even one die per player work better? Endurance and will are two things we need to test...(and it makes sense that charactersthat have invested more energy in being good at these two things should have a higher degree/chance of success) HEY! there's something called a Fortitude Save, and a Will Save in this game. Now here's where we can get unconventional.
Here's an option:
Dumb, but production this good in player imagination mean you're ok.
Have the players roll a fortitude save. Then subtract each player's result from 30 or 40; that's how many damage they've got on their sheet when they reach What comes next. You could say that players that took 10 or more damage are fatigued, and those that took 20 hp are exhausted. This rewards players with high HP, drains healing resources, and rewards thoughtfulness if anyone remembered to memorize something like restoration.
The propensity to falter and slow down the party seems like a test of will. You could have them all make a will save; if they mostly save high, they get there early, if they mostly save low, they're late. If they end up late, perhaps allow a junction if they're doing poorly: "Gimli's ankle will be sprained by the end of the day, and his quips are becoming less humorous and more desperate as he excuses falling behind..."
Then, if Aragorn's player were to say, "I'll carry him" you could have him make a strength check (i'd recommend climb as it's STR-based and improves with level), and apply similar damage/fatigue from the first check, or maybe STR damage from soreness.
That's all. I'll edit with more ideas, and perhaps chime it with your own ideas of how to expedite this 'fistful of dice' moment (which are to be avoided, explained in principle in part 1). You can add pivot points (another essay) and a second batch of die rolling/saves to modulate this (climbing a cliff, avoiding a stampede of aurochs, etc.)
End Phase: Now that you've gotten all that time from eliminating the part where the Rules got in the way of the game, you might have time for a twist! Perhaps the party comes to a ravine that would take more time to cross, but there's a chance they might be able to jump across or balance on an ill-secured log...
PS: I'll point out that with this kind of resolution we can count this as an encounter, and give folks some xp.
When I last wrote here on the prospects of convening a group together to the end of Pen and Paper Roleplaying, how it was nearly a lost art, I was forlorn. The armies of WoW stood at our gates, put fire to our fields, our kingdom at its knees. Mass Effect was a more readily known word than Traveller or Shadowrun in the halls of Gen Con. Yet the Success of the film Drive speaks to a love for earlier eras, and for a kind of storytelling that wasn't in such a frantic rush. Success can be had in refreshing and updating the classic, while honoring the patience and grace of a passed era. And the music is AWESOME. (See Left).
So I've changed and revised my tune since then. I say we should embrace the idea that technology has passed us by. Don't mistake me for one of those OSR fellows that would see us all jump into a deep, dark lake of nostalgia. Nay, I suggest that the whole practice of P&P gaming, in all forms, is as retro as the B-52's were in 1981. And the most retro among them is the pen and paper roleplaying game. And it's got a lot going for it--interaction, the opportunity to make friends, positive reinforcement of hygiene, and the opportunity to be part of a story--one that can take unexpected turns that television, or even novels, would flinch from...let alone the increasingly formulaic and boring mileu that passes for Videogame 'storytelling.' After all, don't we love Shakespeare? Isn't it a given that If you can sit through five acts of slowroll storytelling, that there's something to be said for roleplaying? The answer is yes. But like Shakepeare, like Drive, we can't merely stand on the laurels of Brando and Brannagh or a Steven Seagal film from 1990--We've got to do better and put on some good-nay great pieces of work. This propensity for unearthing the Little Keep on the Borderlands every five years isn't honoring our forebears. We've got to get fresh with it.
You're going to ask yourself, 'I'm just a DM,' or 'I'm just a Diehard Wizard, Thief, or Fighter,' you're going to say, "What can I do for the love of the game?" My answer is, Do better. All the sound and fury in the Internet has distracted us from what can make us better at our craft. All it takes is a little mindfulness, the echoing of a few mantras when you can manage it: "For the love of the game," "Show, don't tell," and "Time is precious." Prepare for posts following that bode the beginning Of Game Journal J's Prophecy (and the dawn of a new blog to come:)
