Tuesday, March 13, 2012

A change in the weather



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:)

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