We're back from a much-needed break - and maybe we go to a monthly format
again. But until then, we do have a little something to start the week...
So, getting to it, we stumbled upon this old article on the Hill
Cantons blog and were immediately reminded of what a kindred spirit M.A.R. Barker was. Not only did he imagine the weirdly exotic
world of Tekumel (which should have been more than enough to secure his place in gaming
history), but he also seemed to have the "right" ideas about how gaming should be
approached. I
mean, if we're gonna look at a game; any game, under the pretense of
adventure, then story matters. Even if it's just the story created when
people get together and make decisions in the heat of whatever battle they've stumble into....
The party flees an approaching band of orcs and finds their
escape cut off by a collapsed tunnel.
Now this is a tactical problem. But
it still implies story. Why are the characters underground? What are the orcs doing there? And how did the two parties find themselves
at odds? And, more importantly, how do
they get themselves out of it?
At this point, we haven't invoked rule one and really, we shouldn't have
to. If gaming is a participatory social exercise,
then the narrative, meaning what happens in the course of an emerging story, is
what matters most. Rules are needed. But only stories are fun.
 |
| In Tekumel, the setting (and story) overshadowed the system, which is how it should be... |
Rules are great (and admittedly, rather necessary). But I, for one, could never entertain myself
just by toying with game mechanics. The rules
always need to map to characters and
events. And story isn't just something
built into the background. Story can also be
forward looking - and really should. In the above example,
the characters might hide themselves among the fallen rocks or simply surrender
to the orcs and hope to reason with their leaders or successfully escape once a
suitable opening reveals itself. Both
make for a great story, but both are
only fun when we understand them as a story
about characters.
And with that in mind, we're convinced that rules (and dice)
are only necessary owing (and ultimately reducible) to the following core principles:
(1) Special powers and abilities necessarily modify outcomes
and operate under certain conditions and/or with specified (and generally,
quantifiable) effects.
(2) While some actions are always successful and
others doomed to fail, many can go either way, and
rolling dice creates excitement because an action might succeed, perhaps by the barest of margins. That is, dice emulate risk and uncertainty.
(3) Moreover, the element of risk and uncertainty is more convincing (and seems more objectively fair) when even the referee doesn't know the outcome in advance!
So let's imagine a hypothetical game where everyone is
just a person capable of a general
range of actions. Dice are minimized and
the "challenge" lies in thinking up a suitable strategy in the first
place. Melee is easy. Roll 4 or better on 1d6 or suffer 1-3 hits based on the target's size and/or power (10 hits is fatal). Success
kills the enemy and failure forces another
round with the potential for even greater injury.
Non-combat actions, in all their variety, are easier still. Just roll 4 or better. If the characters and story are interesting (and if the players get caught up in events), they'll have a blast despite the
lack of rules because, ultimately, we don't play to tinker with dice. We play to become legends!
Of course, precedent would eventually kick in, certain
rulings codified, and additional rules developed to account for the stuff of
the setting, and at this point, the above becomes a proper game, complete with
detailed charts, tables, and source books.
But our hypothetical game simultaneously reveals not only the hobby's
biggest strength, but also its inherently self-limiting nature. Because ultimately, all we need to know is
that success is either yes, no, or maybe - and then have 'em roll for the maybe part! Everything else is just the story...
