Being in the Main the Mouth of Olde House Rules

Tuesday, April 7, 2026

The Myth of Death as Stakes...

It's been said, especially in old-school circles, that character death is essential to the pulse-pounding stakes good adventures depend upon. Combat means nothing without danger, which means nothing if not the threat of death and dismemberment. Victory is all the sweeter if we can delay the inevitable end. Normally, this truth bears no further explanation except that imaginary death lacks the same sting, undermining the whole death-as-stakes paradigm essential to the experience. Reincarnation is a fresh character away...

Roll 3d6, in order, and we're back in the game. Unless, of course, we grow attached to our characters and inevitably struggle with the demise of a beloved persona. The game just isn't the same starting from scratch, especially when so much of our enjoyment stems from one particular character. In this sense, the loss is palpable. It's the same friends playing the same game but approached from an altogether different perspective it takes time to acclimate to, especially in a longer campaign. In this sense, the stakes are absolutely there. 


But it's still imaginary death, and I suspect most of us would welcome a reroll every 75 years or whenever the end inevitably comes. Short of euthanizing a player when their character succumbs to death (not a serious suggestion), the threat is pretty much toothless in any real sense, caveats notwithstanding. Lethal, old-school settings trivialize death, preventing the narrative attachments needed for high-stakes violence, whereas story-driven games prone to 19-page backstories skew towards survival, blunting death's influence...

All of which means that death as stakes is sort of a myth. Or put another way, it only works where roleplaying elements are the strongest and survivability (to the point of genuine attachment developed over continuous sessions) is allowed to happen. Things are valuable when they're rare, and death the most impactful when cherished characters face danger, however imaginary. Not surprisingly, it's the strategic players able to cheat death the longest who raise their own stakes, with survival casting mortality's unwelcome shadow.

8 comments:

  1. To quote the late theologian Professor James P Carse* from his (oft-misquoted in gaming) work Finite and Infinite Games the purpose of an infinite game is to continue play (a finite game is where the purpose is to win). This truly does apply to RPGs. Ideally you generally want to play with the same character, but this is not always possible. But play in an RPG can always continue with the next character.

    One of the advantages (in my mind) with running a long time-base campaign is that immortality does actually become a theme in the game. When players have a limited opportunity to adventure (usually because they have other duties that consume their time), time passes a lot faster and characters actively age in game. [It also allows the players to see the actual results of their play, especially when it comes to building, rather than destroying stuff. For example, a castle being finished in ten years becomes a possibility that players might actually see.]

    Being a fantasy game some players took fantastical methods of achieving immortality IMG. One player became a vampire (despite the downsides of this transformation), while another succeeded in becoming a lich. Some achieved immortality through other means (such as alchemy or an addiction to potions of immortality). Some even managed to get a polite note from the Judges of the Dead that they had been excused their exit interview (the only really safe way to achieve immortality, since whilst the bureaucracy of the Underworld is incredibly slow and convoluted, it does eventually notice when someone has missed their appointment). Some even attempted to become legends whose accomplishments echoed down through later history. Also a lot of my in game cultures practiced ancestor worship, which is why/how wights exist in my game (heroes enshrined in tombs for later need). Although no player took that route themselves. [Necromancy does not need to be "evil."]

    But the method chosen to achieve immortality by most of the players was actually to have a family that would be their personal legacy in the future and keep their memory alive. Going to the Halls of the Dead without being remembered was often an ill-fate. [Players could and did reincarnate within their family line (if they wished) to continue this legacy. And yes the rules with reincarnation were flexible, allowing someone to reincarnate decades before they died.]

    * Given the theme of the OP I shall also hasten to also mention his Death and Existence, which is an analysis of the role of Death in many of the major religions and cultures of the world. An interesting read if you are really into world-building.

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    1. Great thoughts as always! You raise some excellent points...

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  2. I find this confused and uncompelling. I'm not sure I understand the claim that the threat of a loss of e.g. 25,000 XP and the accompanying abilities, along with a period of drastically reduced survival chances and, depending on how rapacious one's fellow players are, all of one's cool loot, is "toothless", and any attempt to place the narrative loss as *subsequent* to and *separate* from the game loss is placing the cart before the horse. I'm not sure I understand the idea that one can't recreate a beloved narrative character from the bones up under a different name if sufficiently attached. What exactly are your assumptions here?

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    1. My point is that character death is largely toothless UNLESS the character has been around long enough for the player to become attached. This can be for narrative reasons, but also for the accumulated levels and/or treasure(s) that inevitably come with time. I thought this was obvious given the nature of the game, although you've provided an excellent example of why it's so. Otherwise, character deaths are imaginary, which lacks the gravity of the real thing, and the ability to recreate a beloved narrative from scratch (something you took pains to point out) renders death toothless. It appears we agree...

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    2. As proven in the TV show Community, "I can name this pencil Steve, and you'll all feel the weight of emotional pain when I break him in half right in front of you."

      Joel McHale does, and the study group gasps in horror.

      Basically, there should be enough immersion to identify with and attach oneself to a new PC by the end of his first session.

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  3. "Short of euthanizing a player when their character succumbs to death (not a serious suggestion), the threat is pretty much toothless in any real sense, caveats notwithstanding."

    Only in Canada...
    ;)

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