ars ludi

art of the game, roleplaying game theory from the brain of ben robbins

Archive for the ‘game theory’


It’s Not A Movie

A man in a trenchcoat stands before a grave. He hears tires squealing and runs to catch a glimpse of the car before it disappears down the cemetery lane. As the rain falls softly, the camera pans back and shows a single rose newly laid on the grave…

Here’s a GM Tip you’ve heard before: Look at books or movies to get ideas for your games. Sounds good right? Well yes and no. You can steal some ideas, but movies or books are not good guides for how to create games.

Actors & Audience

In movies there are actors and then there is the audience. The audience can be completely in the dark about what is going on, but they have faith that as the story unfolds it will all make sense. Why is the man in the graveyard? Why is he interested in who’s in the car? Does he know them? Is he afraid of them? Did he leave the rose or did someone else? We (the audience) don’t know yet, but that’s okay because he (the actor) does know, and we can sit back and munch popcorn until the answer is revealed.

In a game the players are both the actors and the audience. In order to play they need to make decisions, and to make decisions they need information.

GM: So you’re going into this warehouse…
Player: Why am I going into a warehouse?
GM: You’re investigating a case. You’re following a lead.
Player: What case?
GM: It’s not important, it’s just setting the scene.
Player: Do I expect trouble? Is this the same day as that fight at the bar? What part of town is this?
GM: …

Is this information the character should know? Yes. It’s only the player who’s in the dark.*

Cut to new scene

Movies hide a lot of information. They gloss over the details that connect the scenes or that bring characters from A to B. How did the detectives figure out where to find the suspect? Does it matter? The movie skips that part and cuts right to them kicking in his door. We (the audience) assume that some kind of clever investigation went on off-screen.

But players (as actors) demand that information. They need to know how they went from A to B. Even if it’s as trivial as “a snitch tells you where the guy lives,” the players need to know so they understand the basis for what they are doing. If you don’t tell them they’ll back up and ask you.

Forgetting to include this kind of “connective tissue” to make transitions work is a common design flaw. How do the heroes find the warehouse? How do they know the heist is part of the crime spree, not an isolated incident? Why will the heroes go back to Doc Mercury’s lab the next day?

These details are trivial but critical. When they’re there you barely notice it, but when they’re missing it can stop the game in its tracks.

Did I mention the script?

Then there’s the obvious problem: a movie or book is scripted. Actors always do exactly what the writer or director wants. Games aren’t. The players can do whatever they want.

Player choice is what makes it a game, not a story. Building a scenario that can deal with player free will is one of the most critical parts of design. It’s not about what will happen, it’s about what might happen or if you’re lucky what probably will happen.

In movies the actors don’t stop and raise unexpected questions. They don’t get confused, misunderstand elements of the plot, or just take the bit in their teeth and make a hard left for the sheer fun of it.

Even if your players did want to follow your “script” they can’t because they don’t know what it is. They can try, but sometimes their guesses of what they “should be” doing are more unpredictable than when they try to rebel.

Footnotes

* As the GM it is forbidden to interfere with the flow of information between the character and the player. You can never say “yes, your character knew that all along, but I didn’t tell you.”** You can mess with the character’s mind all you want, you can introduce amnesia or flashbacks or whatever, but if it’s happening in the character’s conscious mind, whether it’s real or delusional, the player is privy to it.

** Well okay, you can, and it can be a lot of fun. But that’s experimental stuff and it doesn’t always work. You should never do it without knowing you’re taking a risk.

Choosing New Games: the Character Sheet Test

When I’m struggling to decide whether a new game system is worth trying out, there are lots of different things that can influence my decision. But when in doubt, I find I fall back on the character sheet test:

1) Open the book
2) Flip through it until you find a character write-up
3) Read

If your eyes start to bleed, you feel a faint nausea or dizziness, or you just get distracted and start thinking about more interesting things like getting flu shots or doing your laundry, then the game has failed the character sheet test. It is not the game for you.

On the other hand if the character sheet seems vaguely interesting, comprehensible, or if it arouses excitement or even a faint sense of curiosity, then the system is probably one that’s worth your time to try.

Don’t think about it too hard. Just ask yourself whether you like the way the character stat blocks look. Your brain will take care of the rest, consciously or not.

There is nothing scientific about this test, nor should there be, because the kind of game I like may be quite different from the kind of game you like. Do you love long lists of skills, three sub-flavors of dexterity, numbers in the triple digits? Great, than that’s the game that will speak to you. Prefer minimalist stats, prose stats, characteristics described as animals and colors? Rock on.

Games Have Two Parts

A roleplaying game really has just two parts: the way characters are defined and the mechanic for resolving actions.

The mechanic for resolving actions is usually something like “roll a die and add X” or “roll a handful of dice and count successes” or “roll a pile of dice and group them into a pyramid of matching primes.” Most games have one unified core mechanic, unlike the good old days when there were separate systems for every single thing you did (roll percentile dice to bend bars/lift gates!).

The method for defining characters is something like “three physical attributes and three mental attributes, each with a number between 3 and 18, and a profession ranked in class levels” or “a zodiac sign, one dominant elements, two minor elements, a favorite color and a patron god.” Class-based, skill-based, point-buy, prose, whatever.

When you do the character sheet test, you are getting a glimpse at the character definition system. Even if you don’t understand all the terms, you are getting an idea of what the system thinks is important or unimportant and how much detail it thinks it needs to define a person.

What’s that you say? You think examining the core resolution mechanic is a much better test of whether or not you’ll like a game? You really want to know if you’re going to roll a bunch of dice or just one + X?

The first critical step in gaming is relating to your character, your duly-elected representative and looking glass into the fictional world. If the character definition system doesn’t sit well with you, if it doesn’t click with your mindset, you’re going to have a harder time getting into your character. It can be even worse if you’re the GM, because even though the characters aren’t your looking glass, you have to write up and handle a ton of them.

The two parts are actually surprisingly independent of each other. Pick your favorite core mechanic and you can probably graft it on to your favorite character definition system without much fuss. It sounds crazy, but try it and see. Play your next D&D game using dice pools or play Dogs in the Vineyard with a d20. It’ll be a different game (of course) but it works.

Rules Influence Style

When I was 19 I got in an argument with an older and (as it turned out) wiser gamer. He was talking about using Bushido to run a samurai game, and I was saying how I didn't like having to learn a new system for every different kind of game. If wanted to play a samurai game, I argued, I would just use D&D. Swords are swords, right?

Possible & Probable

Game rules influence the style of play in some obvious and some subtle ways. Many players (and GMs) may not even consciously recognize when the rules are guiding their choices.

The big obvious case is that game rules decide what is possible — they are the physics of the imaginary world. Can your elf fly? No, so don't even try. But rules also decide what is probable. When the rules set the difficulty of tasks, they are really setting the flavor of the game world. Can my cyberpunk street samurai spring over the taxi as it races towards him? In one system it may be an easy task, in another foolishly difficult. That difficulty sets the genre, whether you intended it to or not.

Figuring odds is something gamers are generally quite good at. Some players will do things “because their character would” no matter how bad the odds (bless them), but on a tactical level, players deciding on their next move generally try to pick something that is likely to succeed. In the long run they will wind up doing things the system has weighed as more probable. A gun game that gives cover a strong bonus encourages players to seek cover. If dodging is more effective, players will do that instead.

The first big hit comes in character creation before play even starts. How many times have you come up with an interesting character concept only to discover that if you built it in the rules, it would be completely ineffective? (paladin/bard, I'm looking at you). It's stage 2 of Making the Party.

Boredom & Confusion

Even if something is permitted by the rules and is effective in the rule system, the rules might make it boring to play out, effectively discouraging players (and GMs) from doing it.

Why aren't there more duels in D&D? Lots of people walking around with swords, but not a lot of actual duels even in aristocratic-style settings. Why? D&D rules are geared towards small group combat, not individual combat. Defense is basically static, so both sides just take turns whomping each other. Not a very interesting duel simulator, so who wants to do it?

Rules can also discourage particular activities by being excessively complex or confusing. I want to get in a starship dogfight, but the chase rules are twenty pages long and badly organized. Umm, maybe we'll just skip to the boarding action.

“Tired of the rules limiting your character?”

So, what can you do with this newfound wisdom? Well first off, don't argue with old wargamers when you're 19. No seriously, those grognards can channel the wisdom of the ages and lay it down like cannon fire.

Before you start worrying about the rules, think about what genre or style you want. Just kick back and imagine an ideal action sequence in your game. Is it “the hero hang-drops from the fire escape, twisting his ankle as he lands hard in the grimy alley, then scrambles to throw himself into an alcove as headlights bear down on him” or is it “the hero springs off the fire escape, landing on the racing car in a three point crouch that dents the roof, his katana swept behind him”? If you have a clear idea of what style you want in your head, it will be easier for you to detect when the rules are pushing you left or right.

Now that you have a clear picture, you can pick a rule system that matches your goals. No, d20 is not the answer to everything. But what about if you are using a system that mostly works? Adjust the difficulty level for tasks you want to encourage. Want more shields, less two-weapon fighting? Increase the shield bonus. Want more leaping and acrobatics? Give everybody a blanket “wire fu” bonus when they make those big jumps and flips.

Most importantly, tell the players you are putting these changes in effect so they'll be on the same page you are. If you all agree on the style you are going for, it makes it easier for them to recognize when the rules are pushing them away from the intended style. During play they can literally say “well I was going to pick up a bat and hit him because that does more damage, but this is supposed to be a martial arts game — should we just assume the bat is nerfed or are our martial arts too weak?” And then you can fix it together and still play the game you intended.

Bottling GM Skills

I just released Evil Genius #1: World Domination, and it occurs to me that I come up with much (much) more ars ludi material while working on games for publication than I do while working on games that I'm just going to run.

It makes perfect sense really: as a GM you may do all sorts of things that make a game good, but those bits of GM Craft only become crystal clear when you try to explain them to someone else (or watch other GMs make mistakes, even if they are mistakes you make too, which is why run club is so educational).

When I ran the original games that eventually became Lame Mage releases, I threw in situations like Action Shticks all the time, but it was only when I tried to prepare those same games for other GMs to run that I recognized the concept of Action Shticks as something that needed to be explained and written down so that other GMs could do the same thing. Likewise with Revelations, Give Them Details, the whole Anatomy of an Action Scene structure, and just about every GM Craft tip in a Lame Mage adventure.

It's all in the reflexes…

There's another dirty secret of GM advice, and that's that during the game, in the heat of the moment, you are not going to remember any advice someone told you, or that you read somewhere. You are not going to stop the game to flip through the adventure and find the sage advice that I wrote for you. The game is real time, and more often than not you will react in real time, make a call, and continue to run the game, for better or worse.

Afterwards there will be lots of time to analyze what happened, think about what went wrong, post questions on the boards about how you should have handled the situation, and generally weep. But that's no guarantee you won't make the same mistake again, because GM'ing is a reflex action. You can stop and think about some things, but the critical parts tend to happen very fast. The words that come out of your mouth, the ideas that spill off the top of your head, they are the game that happens, not all the notes and preparation of the game you intended.

So if that's the case, what's the point of all this GM Craft stuff? Why am I even writing all this? Well in the long run, you can absorb, reflect and alter your style, but it is more like changing your personality than just remembering some tips (because your personality is your gaming style, whether you're a player or GM). You may not eliminate those moments where you forgot everything you learned or planned to do, but you may reduce them.

Also, elements like Action Shticks, Revelations (all the Anatomy of an Action Scene components) are intentionally built into the structure of the adventure so you don't have to look after them — they look after you. If you write them in when you design the adventure (and I do), they reinforce a good game during play even if your reflexes betray you from time to time.

Computer Games vs Tabletop Games: Learning Curve

Why is it easier to get someone to try a computer game than a tabletop game? And by tabletop games we're including them all, board games on up to RPGs. Ignore the fact that you need a group of people (in the same place, at the same time) to play a tabletop game, and ignore the fact that tabletop games require social energy.

Computer games enforce their own rules, so participants can try the game without expending energy to learn or enforce the rules. You might play a computer game badly because you haven't figured out the best strategies, but it's impossible for you to actually break the rules and not play the game right. Unless it's a bug (or subject to odd MMORPG social rules) anything you can do in a computer game is technically legal.

In tabletop games, rules are accidentally broken all the time. You play a few rounds before someone notices that you've been doing the movement rules wrong, and that's after you all sat down and read the rules two or three times before starting. And because there is no omniscient arbiter (the computer), tabletop games grind to a halt when people disagree about what the rules mean.

Even after years of experience with a game, tabletop gamers have to watch and think to make sure no one is unintentionally breaking the rules, and that takes effort.

The Second AI

Problems with video games can highlight what is right with tabletop role playing games and vice versa.

When a player goes up against a computer opponent in a game, that opponent is controlled by an AI. The AI is supposed to simulate the tactics and decisions a real opponent would make. The orcs might be smart, the orcs might be dumb — it depends on how the AI is set and also based on how well it is programmed. If there are multiple opponents, there can be more than one AI, but each AI is basically subjective — it controls creatures in the game world.

What's missing is the Second AI, the AI that controls the game itself, the AI that tries to make sure the player is having fun. The enemy AI's aren't supposed to do that — they're supposed to try and win, not cut the player a break.

So what would this Second AI do? Moderate random events within the world of the video game, swinging them for or against the player to maximize the fun. Increase the challenge when the game is too easy, or foil the enemies a bit if the player is having too hard a time.

This idea probably sounds familiar, because even though it is non-existent in video games (as far as I know), it's ingrained in tabletop roleplaying, because that's what the GM does.

footnote: “Second” AI might not be the best term, since in computer games there could be any number of AIs running the adversaries. It's really a Gamemaster AI or Game AI.