Support for Situation Generation

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been recuperating from having a laparoscopic cholecystectomy (surgery to remove one’s gallbladder) and that’s given me a bit of free time to mull over some roleplaying stuff again.

Not to mention the fact that the operation worked a treat and, though I’ve been feeling a bit tender, I’m finally getting back to my old self. The restricted diet, discomfort and painful, sleepless nights from the last six months are a thing of the past and I’m not missing my gallbladder, even slightly. Yay!

Anyway, a discussion with Bill White over at Consensus Games has led to the following thoughts, which seemed worth posting about here.

Cycle of Situation Generation and Resolution

In practice, a roleplaying game consists of a series of imaginary situations/scenes, each of which players are expected to react to and resolve (in some fashion) before moving on to the next.

Hence games are a repeating cycle of:
Pretty much without exception, RPGs provide extensive support to Situation Resolution, through mechanics that determine success or failure of imagined actions and/or arbitrate conflicts. However, aside from pre-scripted adventure modules and guidelines such as “threaten PC beliefs”, it’s largely down to the participants (typically the GM)  to come up with interesting situations which advance the fiction.

This is usually done through a combination of preparation and improvisation, both of which have their problems; either railroading or the GMs version of writer’s block.
So, given that Situation Generation and Situation Resolution are both fundamental to play, why is all the mechanical support focused on Situation Resolution? And do effective ways to support Situation Generation actually exist?

I have some thoughts on why Situation Resolution gets all the attention but I think I’ll save those for another post as I want to focus on the second question, ”Do effective ways to support Situation Generation exist?”

Well, certainly for me, I’ve realised that a major appeal of Bill White’s oracular approach to RPGs is that the techniques he employs do in fact support situation generation during play. In these games the participants aren’t asked to decide “what happens next?” they’re asked to interpret the cards, which is easier somehow. Switching the focus to reading the cards prompts the imagination, encourages collaboration  and works surprisingly well considering there’s no overall ’architect’ guiding the story. As Bill himself says:

People’s minds naturally want to impute meaning to patterns: random noise plus human perception equals deep significance.

Another approach, which has been employed in some games, is to mechanize aspects of GM play to the point where opposition to the PCs can be played to the hilt (within the limits of the rules) e.g. something like, if a PC blows a certain roll the GM is entitled to threaten the PC’s relationships or property, or to place them at a disadvantage but cannot actual do them any physical harm.

With this technique the players and GM “advocate” for their respective characters and situations are generated as a consequence of the conflicts arising between them. Once again there is a subtle shift of focus as the GM is being asked not “What happens next?” but “What’s your next move?”

For the time being these are the only techniques I have in mind but I’m wondering if there are others? And, if so, how effective they are? I’ll be giving it some more thought and will probably expand on this post at a later time.

Certainly I’ll be continuing to look out for oracular mechanics since, as anyone reading this blog will know, they are of great interest to me. 

Anyway, any thoughts or comments are most welcome. Thanks for dropping by.

The Advocacy Model

Over at my good friend Tommi Brander’s blog, Cogito, ergo ludo, there’s a really interesting conversation between Tommi and Eero Tuovinen in the comments to this post. It’s about the advocacy model, which  Eero explains as follows:

In a game that is set up for advocacy the idea is basically that while one player might be the GM, the majority of the players run their own characters, often created by them just like in any old roleplaying game. These players have two jobs in the advocacy model: a) to express an interesting, sympathetic character and b) to utilize the rules mechanics to enforce the character’s will on the setting. To say the same thing slightly differently: the player creates a protagonist (a sympathetic viewpoint character) and makes sure that the character strives in the game for his own benefit. The important bit of the advocacy model is that we find two things: the first is that a properly designed game (for this purpose, understand; there are other things you can do with roleplaying) will not require the players to take on any other responsibilities. The second is that the primary source of enjoyment in an advocacy game actually comes from the very fact that the players have no other responsibilities but to advocate for their characters.

The reason for why I’m constantly dragging advocacy up as a concept nowadays is that I’ve been encountering a lot of storytelling games that I haven’t been entirely happy with for the very reasons identified by the advocacy model. An alternative method for creating a highly dramatic game, you see, is to expect the players to take a high degree of responsibility for the dramatic outcomes of the game; this is typical of games that include verbiage about how the players should feel responsible for the fun of the game and thus regulate their characters to not make difficult choices that “ruin” the story. The point of the advocacy model is that we don’t need to make this sacrifice if we want story: it’s possible to both get an exciting story and advocate for your character fully.

This makes a lot of sense to me.

RPG Theory Journey – Part VII

I’ve been swamped with work over the last couple of months so haven’t been around much but I’m hoping to get back to my RPG theory journey again now. I’m starting with a diagram of play that brings together ideas from my previous two posts - Adding to the Fiction and RPG Theory Journey – Part VI 

RPG Theory Journey – Part VI

Anchors revisited

I’m going to go over my thoughts on ‘anchors’ a bit more, as I feel their role is somewhat fundamental to my evolving model of play. In particular I’m going to try and explain why I see them as non-diegetic, since this has already raised some debate.

‘Shared’ fantasy isn’t really shared

Right, first thing’s first. The basis for a lot of what I’m saying is that, though the idea of shared fantasy is at the heart of roleplaying, the fantasy itself (even the Shared-Imaginary-Space fantasy) isn’t really shared. In reality the imaginings of the individual participants are distinct diegeses existing entirely in their own minds.

Roleplaying succeeds in creating the illusion of shared fantasy through processes of play that align these individual imaginings so that they resemble one another sufficiently for participants to believe that they are interacting inside one shared fantasy (perhaps that should read ‘make-believe that they are interacting inside one shared fantasy’)

Fantasy alignment through ‘anchors’

Alignment of individual fantasies is achieved by establishing/ communicating what has happened or how things appear so that everyone’s imaginings can be made to resemble one another. Each stipulation about the fantasy is an anchor that draws the imaginings of individual participants together along a similar course. The more anchors there are, the closer together the threads of fiction are brought. Also different anchors have different weights of influence, some being more tightly defined and others more open to individual interpretation. ‘A large rock’ for example is a fairly loose description. Additional information is required to establish whether it can be lifted or used to hide behind.

So why are anchors non-diegetic?  

In a nutshell my assertion is that anchors are non-diegetic because the anchor itself and the effect the anchor has on individual participants’ imaginings are quite different things. The anchor is non-diegetic; in fact even the influence the anchor exerts is non-diegetic. Only the consequences of that influence (the imaginings that are created in the diegeses as a result of the anchor being established) are diegetic.

Note that the effect the anchors have on the paths of the two players’ fiction threads  in the diagram above is similar but not the same.

Minotaur or Minosaur?

A few years ago I participated in a game in which one of the characters was Shaaaarghraio, a large and powerful Minotaur; he lumbered around hitting things with his great-axe a lot. These statements about Shaaaarghraio are anchors (stipulations of what he is like that establish how we should imagine him). As a result we are able to build a similar minds-eye picture of him (typically that shown on the left of the diagram below.)

However, when presented with the exact same anchors, the effect of their influence on the imaginings of someone else I know was entirely different. For some reason known only to them their brain conjured up the image that Shaaaarghraio was kind of like a dinosaur and the idea appealed to them so much that it stuck. In their mind that’s what he was.

Anchors are language

Anchors are language. We speak to one another or write things down and they allow us to communicate our thoughts. If I tell you that I am imagining a ’sword’ you understand what I mean by a ’sword’ and you can imagine one also. The image in your mind isn’t an image of the sword I’m imagining as I’m not sending you the image that’s in my mind. Instead I’m using a kind of association shorthand and sending you a symbol (the word ’sword’), which hopefully represents something similar to us both.

When your brain receives that symbol, you interpret it and select a sword (or at least what you understand a ’sword’ to be) from the set of imaginary swords available in your mind. That’s what you imagine. If I so choose I could then provide additional information so you can adjust your imaginary sword to bring our imaginings closer together.

The point being that the sword I’m imagining, the word (symbol) ’sword’ and the sword you’re imagining are all different things. And the relationship between the imaginary swords and the word ’sword’ is the same as the relationship between an anchor and whatever it’s describing in the diegesis. The effect in the diegesis is diegetic but the anchor and the influence it has on the diegesis are external, parts of a non-diegetic mechanism designed to convey information to the diegesis.

Does that make sense? 

So what?

At the moment there isn’t really a ’so what’, I’m merely exploring ways of thinking about what goes on during roleplay. Hopefully at various points along the line this will elicit useful discussion. If not, it will certainly give my simple brain a workout.

As always any comments or observations are most welcome.

Adding to the Fiction

Following on from the end of my previous post, I wanted to record a few of the thoughts I’d had on the process (ritual) of adding to the fiction. I see it as going something like this:

1. Conception

One of the participants thinks of something they wish to have added to the shared fantasy e.g. I think my character is going to go to the tavern. At this point it’s kind of a protean diegetic element; a thought in the mind of an individual that is not yet part of any of the fantasies.

2. Invocation

The individual with the idea calls upon his fellow participants to accept the statement into the shared fantasy.

This stage of the process is often implied rather than explicit e.g. my character is going to the tavern … any objections? (the ‘any objections?’ not actually being spoken). Typically participants are familiar with the rules and understand what authority they have. They know what they are entitled to say without contradiction and don’t have to ask. Though occasionally another participant will still intervene and challenge the statement.

Also, some invocations take the form of a statement of intent and a request for resolution/arbitration e.g. my character is going to pick the lock would be likely to require a skill check.

3. Arbitration

An arbitration occurs to determine the outcome.

This may be a die roll, a contest, a negotiation or merely an imperceptable pause while everyone accepts that the player has the authority to introduce the statement into the shared fantasy. The outcome may be acceptance of the statement as it stands, a change to the statement or outright rejection of it.

4. Inclusion

The outcome is accepted and each of the individual participants (including the instigator) incorporates their interpretation of the outcome into their own fantasies.

RPG Theory Journey – Part V

Definition of roleplaying revisited 

As a result of the ongoing discussion I’ve been having with Tommi Brander I’ve once again amended my definition of roleplaying. It now reads:

Roleplaying: A game in which participants control imaginary characters within a shared fantasy

For those who haven’t been following the discussion, my reason for replacing ‘coherent fantasy’ with ’shared fantasy’ is that ‘coherent’ means ‘having no contradictions’ whereas ’shared’ merely means ‘jointly owned’. This change acknowledges the fact that numerous contradictions exist within the fantasy as a whole (e.g. one player can think that a character’s eyes are brown and another that they are blue)

Arguably, ’shared’ may not be the best term to use either but, given that the overall fantasy is a composite of similar fictions owned by the individual participants, it seems suitable enough for me.

I also like the fact that this definition remains accessible and doesn’t sacrifice clarity for precision, which was the case with my intermediate attempts. Once again thanks to Tommi for his good advice on this.

Hopefully this will be the final version; though if anyone wants to raise any further issues they are more than welcome to do so.

Where next?

Next I shall be turning the focus of my RPG Theory Journey towards the processes of play, in particular the creation and alignment of the participants’ individual fantasies.

For the time being the analogy I find easiest to consider has the imaginings of individual participants represented as coloured threads and shared facts (statements about the fiction that are either agreed or communicated into the group consensus) as anchor points that draw these threads together.

In the diagram below each of the different coloured threads represents the imaginings of an individual participant and the anchors/’shared facts’ serve to keep these individual imaginings moving together from left-to-right across the page.

Obviously if there were no anchors (shared elements such as scene descriptors, character intentions and action outcomes) the individual participants’ imaginings would be free to go off in all directions. It is only as a result of their unifying influence that the participants are able to interact as though they were experiencing a common fantasy.

Consequently governing how shared facts are established and who has authority over them is a large part of play.

For example, in many roleplaying games a participant has authority over the actions of their own character and can freely introduce character actions to establish intent within the shared fantasy. However the participant may not dictate the outcomes of these actions, which must be established through arbitration e.g. a die roll to determine success or failure. 

Anchors – Process or Fantasy? 

One thing that Tommi’s questions have led me to consider at some length is, where do these ‘anchors’ fit in my model of roleplay? The fact that they:

1. are typically communicated as part of narration and;
2. form the backbone of the fantasy

points to them being diegetic. However, after much thought, I would assert that they are elements of the process and thus non-diegetic. In fact all game description and narration is process, since fantasy is entirely in the minds of the participants. Description is a means of communicating information from one person’s fantasy to another or for establishing ’shared facts’ that will enter into all of the participants’ imaginings.   

As always, I welcome any thoughts anyone has on this.

RPG Theory Journey – Part IV

Thanks primarily to Tommi Brander’s insightful observations and advice, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this last week. Consequently my simple model of roleplaying has evolved somewhat (see below).

I’ve changed some of the names, hopefully to improve clarity, and now have working definitions of roleplaying and each of the model components:

Roleplaying: A game in which participants control imaginary characters within a coherent fantasy.

Constituent elements of roleplaying:

Players: the individuals participating in play

Process: the formal or informal rules and processes that constitute game-play, which govern how the fantasy (incl. characters, places, situations and events) is created and how coherence is maintained – non-diegetic elements of play

Fantasy: all imaginary content (characters, places, situations and events), whether part of the group consensus or imagined by individual participants – diegetic elements of play

I’ve also recognised (again thanks to Tommi) that roleplaying doesn’t occur in a vacuum and that there are External Influences such as GM modules, source material and genre canon that, though outside the game, affect the creation of the in-game fantasy.

As always comments on this and where it is going are most welcome, nothing here is sacrosanct.

RPG Theory Journey – Part III

I’m bouncing around with my thoughts rather but my intent with this series of posts is primarily to brainstorm, so I guess that’s OK. I just hope as a result it’s not too disjointed for anyone reading. Please do chip in with any thoughts or questions as I go along.

Anyway continuing on, as shown in the diagram below, it seems fairly intuitive to me to think of the constituent elements of roleplaying as being kind of layered, with I guess complete immersion in the roleplaying experience at the centre and Out-Of-Game chatter on the periphery. Thus the Players and social aspects that surround the game are farthest from the centre, they encase the Game system and processes of play, and the Story itself (the fictitious sequence of events and experiences being created) is in the middle.

The player experience is a combination of interactions with elements on all three levels; other players, the game processes and the story that is being produced collaboratively. Governed by the rules of play (or perhaps ignoring them) the players both contribute to and perceive their own interpretation of the shared story that is being created. Their imagination is stimulated, possibly the game rules (as well as presumably facilitating play) provide an intellectual challenge (e.g. game tactics) and the activity is a social one so they can bond with or compete against other players. All-in-all a fairly wide range of experiential needs are catered for.

RPG Theory Journey – Part II

Story, the product of play. 

The first thing to note is that my use of the word ’Story’ to describe the product of play is merely a convenient title for something that is actually quite difficult to pin down.

I’m put in mind of a poem by John Godfrey Saxe entitled Blind Men and the Elephant in which a goup of blind men encounter an elephant and each one perceives it quite differently from the other. The first man feels the elephant’s sturdy side and thinks it like a wall, the second feels its tusk and thinks it like a spear, the third feels its trunk and thinks it like a serpent … and so on. Each of the men has his own perception of what the elephant is and each of them is partly right, but none of them see the whole thing. 

Like the elephant in the poem, roleplaying is many things to many people and in its widest sense the product of play is simply a group experience that presumably provides some pay-off (reason to play) for the individual participants. Each member of the group perceives that experience independently and ‘play’ may well represent something quite different to them than their colleagues, although there will be some overlap.

This phenomenon exists both across the game experience as a whole and within the unfolding narrative, where the same description of James Bond say might well be imagined quite differently by each of the members of the group:

There is no intrinsic harm in this but there must be sufficient accord between players so that discrepancies in perception do not produce clashes in understanding as the events unfold.

One of the functions of  the Game system is to manage this by providing means to determine what is ‘fact’, normally through game rules that prevent or settle disputes… but that’s another topic.

RPG Theory Journey: back to basics

There’s an oft used military axiom that says ”It’s not the plan that is important, it’s the planning” and anyone who’s ever seen a road movie will know that the journey is at least as important as the destination - I feel that there ought to be an ancient Taoist saying along these lines but I’m not aware of a specific quotation. Anyway, it seems like pretty good advice to me and so I thought I’d try and apply it to RPG theory by going back to the basics and looking afresh at things rather than just taking what others have said as canon.

If there’s anyone reading who fancies tagging along your comments are very welcome. I’d be more than grateful for any input – agreement, disagreement, observations, questions or links to similar discussions.

I’m going to start with a statement that I made in a post I wrote a few months back which basically theorised that the constituent elements of roleplay were Players (the participants), the Game (the system of play) and Story (the product of play). I can’t imagine this is very original as it seems kind of obvious but I don’t remember anyone actually stating this specifically.

Anyway, that’s the initial model I’m starting from…

Players play the Game and a Story unfolds. 

I can see that this is an over-simplified representation of play but it’s useful to start with something to talk around.

Now the first thing I find myself thinking about is Story (the product of play). What is it exactly? Is it the only product of play? Does it exist in its own right or is it a figment of the player’s imaginations?

I’m going to have a bit of a think about this and then make it the topic for discussion in my next post.