Some time ago, I promised to occasionally post some nerdy and/or life observations up. There isn't going to be a game this week. My recovery from a surgery last week has actually been incredible and better than I expected, but I still could use some R&R. But R&R doesn't (and shouldn't especially when recovering from surgery) mean doing nothing, so here's a post.
First, to my players, who are also loyal readers, a reader Pitfiend pointed out that I had been running daylight wrong in the Strahd encounter. Specifically, it isn't actual sunlight, just really bright light. Sadly, as much as I hate to say it, I reviewed the spell and even the errata, and Pitfiend was right. So, sorry, kids, but next time it won't be as effective. I've even mulled it over a bit to break down some of the power-level implications, and ultimately I do have to say that daylight is slightly under-powered for a third level spell, but still useful. Plus, reviewing the party's other capabilities at the time it merely hastened rather than guaranteed the vampire spawn's demise. Specifically, the alternate method would have involved focusing fire while Tathora spammed sacred flame to shut down their regeneration, or relied on guiding bolt, which also shuts down their regeneration and would set the rogues up for a sneak attack. Strahd's strategy was a little different-I made his parting shot more powerful than it might otherwise have been.
On the subject of spells, something I've been neglecting to mention is that Cugel used major image to conjure images of Strahd to try and convince the druids in the winery to stand down. So far I've been running it as an ineffective tactic. I've gone back and reviewed the spell, and, from conversations with Alec, I think I have a better idea of his play style and intentions. In short, if daylight will be less effective, major image should grow in effectiveness.
Another observation I failed to make as I was writing the last post, was that Hilary, the youngest player, actually asked a rules question. She asked about rules for finding food and water. Her willingness to ask the question is a good sign: she's interested in learning about the game and how it works. This is a good sign that a player is, in drug dealer terms, hooked. I hope my answer didn't go too far over her head. I told her yes, they were there, but the setting and story weren't conducive to using them. Barovia isn't exactly super fertile, but neither is it terribly barren, so foraging (something the PCs are assumed to do as they travel anyway in this edition, provided they aren't travelling too fast) isn't a problem. Further, they haven't ever spent longer than a few hours away from some form of civilization, so they could easily stock up on food. Last, but not least, few horror stories stop to have the characters look for food and water, so why should this game, a horror story, stop for that?
Mulling this over got me thinking on arm chair game design and game design philosophy. Anyone who knows me that not only am I nerd, I'm a nerd about nerdery. I've read Shannon Applecline's Designers & Dragons and David M. Ewalt's Of Dice and Men. At game conventions I'll attend the game designer's round tables and workshops to get inside the heads of people who actually make rules. So, on to game and rules stuff.
The important thing about D&D and table-top role-playing overall, is that the game's are, to put it in fancy terms, non-zero sum games. In simplest terms, it means that the game doesn't have a winner or loser, and often the best option is cooperation rather than competition. People have written reams on why this is so important, so I'll skip to my next point. Since D&D is non-zero sum, it astounds me how often in early D&D, and even among veteran players, there is still a notion of competition between the DM and the players. But there is a reason for it.
In the mists of D&D prehistory, were table-top strategy games where players used miniatures to reenact famous real battles. In the 60s and 70s, as fantasy and sci-fi began to receive a little more legitimacy in pop-culture and even culture in general, these began to include fictional battles. The original D&D rules were based on a rule set Gary Gygax wrote called Chainmail designed to reenact these sorts of fantasy battles with miniatures. So it was born in a crucible of zero-sum gaming, and it leads to one of the first axes of game design: gamist.
A gamist game's rules are not shy about what they are: a, well, game. Concepts such as balance are important. Specifically, balance between PC types and making sure that the scenario the party is tackling is balanced against the PCs capabilities. As such the greatest chunk of the rules is devoted to the cool stuff PCs and NPCs can do, and how they acquire more cool stuff. One of the dirtiest little secrets of table-top gaming is that most games are gamist. There's nothing really inherently wrong with that. When I analyze my own reasons for coming to the gaming table, and I'm being honest with myself, power fantasy is definitely on the list.
However, as table-top role-playing grew, new philosophies started to enter the arena. Tunnels and Trolls is often credited with being the second ever table-top RPG, and it was designed by Arizona's own Ken St. Andre. It used highly streamlined rules and generally focused on how things were described with words rather than with mechanics. This is an example of new philosophy embedded in D&D: couldn't the DM and players focus on creating a fun story rather than solving a miniature's battle in dungeon form? This is narrativist gaming, and you'll find a regaling on it in virtually every "What is a Role-Playing Game" sub-header for in virtually every role-playing book ever written. The philosophy has been around for literally forever in table-top game terms, but is only recently starting to become ascendant with the success of titles like FATE and Fiasco (both of which are great games that I highly recommend playing and would hope to run again some time). The nice thing about narrativist ideas, however, is that they're often system neutral, or at least easily adaptable to any system. Some, like Gumshoe's philosophy that the players shouldn't have to roll dice or spend resources to advance the plot adapt easily. Others, like rotating GM or GM-less play, are harder to adapt without a group willing to give it a try--and often needing a more finite scenario design to set the communications parameters.
There was another design philosophy that grew out of D&D, but was already embedded in wargaming, but D&D provided a platform to flourish. People began to make full-fledged fantasy worlds of their own in the wake of D&D, and they often shared these worlds with other players. Some just put whatever they thought was cool in the setting and called it a day. Others created detailed histories, weather, and trade patterns. As they tried to model their fictional world as realistically as possible, they sought to adapt the rules to suit. This is simulationist gaming. They tend to be math and rules heavy, and even more of a niche audience than even narrativist games. They were more popular in the early eighties and have petered out since the nineties, when computer games reached the point where providing hyper-realistic simulation was possible, leaving the math to be done by the computers instead of the players.
One important thing to note: most games aren't really purely one or the other. They exist on a continuum. The d20 system, 3rd and 3.5 Edition D&D, existed very much along the gamist and simulationist end of the spectrum. Fourth edition, however, dropped all simulationist pretense and introduced a lot of elements that were more narrativist (specifically the Skill Challenge). This is probably why it was so base-breaking. (Aside from the edition change rendering quite a lot of material obsolete--gamers had put a lot of money into D&D at that point). Fifth edition has moved back towards simulationist a little bit, but has introduced even more narrativist elements (personality traits and Inspiration).
When I look at my ever slowly evolving tastes in gaming, I notice that I was once a gamist. I still am, a little. As I admitted before, power fantasy is on the list of "why I come to the gaming table," but it no longer is the top one. In fact, that whole "do stuff, gather xp and treasure from doing stuff," has begun to feel like a chore. Video games that focus on it, like WoW and Diablo, no longer appeal to me like they did. Playing Fiasco at my birthday, getting together with friends and creating our very own impromptu Coen Brothers movie from semi-randomly chosen elements, was the height of fun. I've found the top of that gaming table list is now "Being with friends" and "Telling an awesome story together." In short, I'm now more of a narrativist. I don't think I've ever been a simulationist in any stripe.
It's food for any gamer's thought really. I know many readers will probably shrug and say, "I come to have fun." But I'm talking about breaking down what fun looks like for you. And with table-top role-playing, where options are almost literally limitless, its important to find out what "Fun" looks like.
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