Ovinomancer
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A typo.
D&D General Supposing D&D is gamist, what does that mean?
- Thread starter clearstream
- Start date
I thought I might have a crack at responding to the OP.
I also think that, when we discuss techniques, we have not to talk about not only mechanics but also principles/expectations on various participants, allocations of authority over the fiction that flow from those principles/expectations, etc.
And even when we focus on mechanics, we have not only action resolution mechanics but also PC build mechanics and mechanics that govern setting generation (eg Traveller has a fair bit of this) or situation generation (wandering monster checks are this). Sometimes only the first is noted and the other two are neglected.
Maybe there's more that could be said about win/lose, challenge, and competition in gamist play, but I think that's a good start: we have the real-world step-on-up level, which may or may not involve competition (contrast, eg, D&D tables where players show off their builds - low competition at the step-on-up level - with tables where they compete to have the highest-level PC - high competition at the step-on-up level); and the in-fiction challenge level, which also may or may not involve competition (contrast, eg, D&D tables where the players have their PCs cooperate to beat the GM's encounters, with ones where the PCs compete with one another to grab the best magic items).
Note Edwards' comparison of, and contrast drawn between, gamist play and the sort of play that Edwards calls characters-face-problems-simuationism (a type of high-concept simulationism). In contemporary D&D play, the line between these two orientations/approaches is (I think) a pretty fine one. As Edward says, it depends on whether or not there is a performance measure (typically informal) for play. If I see a poster complain about 5e D&D being on "easy mode", I think that person does have such a performance measure, and so has a gamist orientation even though most of their techniques are probably the same as a simulatioinst-inclined 5e RPGer who just enjoys working through the adventure path and finding out what happens to their PC.
I also think some of the standard sorts of discussions one sees around D&D play reveal the thinness of this line. For instance, the typical occurrence of combat challenges in D&D adventures reflects its gamist orientation. But typically the overarching "story" needs the PCs to succeed at those challenges - hence discussions around fudging, milestone levelling, whether or not to start new PCs at 1st level, etc. There is a bit of a clash here between the gamism and the characters-face-problems-simulationism, because the standard techniques for making the "story" work - ie for satisfying the simulationist imperative - tend to undercut the integrity of the measurement of performance, ie the gamist imperative.
It wouldn't be too rash a generalisation to say that various forms of this tension have dominated the D&D "meta" since the early-to-mid 1980s.
As per some of my recent posts, I think that it is quite helpful to separate techniques from goals/creative priorities/creative agendas.
I also think that, when we discuss techniques, we have not to talk about not only mechanics but also principles/expectations on various participants, allocations of authority over the fiction that flow from those principles/expectations, etc.
And even when we focus on mechanics, we have not only action resolution mechanics but also PC build mechanics and mechanics that govern setting generation (eg Traveller has a fair bit of this) or situation generation (wandering monster checks are this). Sometimes only the first is noted and the other two are neglected.
On this point, Edwards has the following to say:
Gamism . . . operates at two levels: the real, social people and the imaginative, in-game situation.
Competition is best understood as a productive add-on to Gamist play. Such play is fundamentally cooperative, but may include competition. That's not a contradiction: I'm using exactly the same logic as might be found at the poker and basketball games. You can't compete, socially, without an agreed-upon venue. If the cooperation's details are acceptable to everyone, then the competition within it can be quite fierce. . . .
So what is all this competition business about? It concerns conflict of interest. If person A's performance is only maximized by driving down another's performance, then competition is present. In Gamist play, this is not required - but it is very often part of the picture. Competition gives both Step On Up and Challenge a whole new feel - a bite.
How does conflict of interest relate to Step On Up and to Challenge? The crucial answer is that it may be present twice, independently, within the two-level structure.
- The players, armed with their understanding of the game and their strategic acumen, have to Step On Up. Step On Up requires strategizing, guts, and performance from the real people in the real world. This is the inherent "meaning" or agenda of Gamist play . . .
Gamist play, socially speaking, demands performance with risk, conducted and perceived by the people at the table. What's actually at risk can vary - for this level, though, it must be a social, real-people thing, usually a minor amount of recognition or esteem. The commitment to, or willingness to accept this risk is the key - it's analogous to committing to the sincerity of The Dream for Simulationist play. This is the whole core of the essay, that such a commitment is fun and perfectly viable for role-playing, just as it's viable for nearly any other sphere of human activity.
- The in-game characters, armed with their skills, priorities, and so on, have to face a Challenge, which is to say, a specific Situation in the imaginary game-world. Challenge is about the strategizing, guts, and performance of the characters in this imaginary game-world.
For the characters, it's a risky situation in the game-world; in addition to that all-important risk, it can be as fabulous, elaborate, and thematic as any other sort of role-playing. Challenge is merely plain old Situation - it only gets a new name because of the necessary attention it must receive in Gamist play. Strategizing in and among the Challenge is the material, or arena, for whatever brand of Step On Up is operating. . . .
Competition is best understood as a productive add-on to Gamist play. Such play is fundamentally cooperative, but may include competition. That's not a contradiction: I'm using exactly the same logic as might be found at the poker and basketball games. You can't compete, socially, without an agreed-upon venue. If the cooperation's details are acceptable to everyone, then the competition within it can be quite fierce. . . .
So what is all this competition business about? It concerns conflict of interest. If person A's performance is only maximized by driving down another's performance, then competition is present. In Gamist play, this is not required - but it is very often part of the picture. Competition gives both Step On Up and Challenge a whole new feel - a bite.
How does conflict of interest relate to Step On Up and to Challenge? The crucial answer is that it may be present twice, independently, within the two-level structure.
- Competition at the Step On Up level = conflict of interest regarding players' performance and impact on the game-world.
- Competition at the Challenge level = conflict of interest among characters' priorities (survival, resource accumulation, whatever) in the game-world.
- High competition in Step On Up plus low competition in Challenge = entirely team-based play, party style against a shared Challenge, but with value placed on some other metric of winning among the real people, such as levelling-up faster, having the best stuff, having one's player-characters be killed less often, getting more Victory Points, or some such thing. Most Tunnels & Trolls play is like this.
- Low competition in Step On Up plus high competition in Challenge = characters are constantly scheming on one another or perhaps openly trying to kill or outdo another but the players aren't especially competing, because consequences to the player are low per unit win/loss. Kobolds Ate My Baby and the related game, Ninja Burger, play this way.
- High competition in both levels = moving toward the Hard Core (see below), including strong rules-manipulation, often observed in variants of Dungeons & Dragons as well in much LARP play. A risky way to play, but plenty of fun if you have a well-designed system like Rune.
- Low competition in both levels = strong focus on Step On Up and Challenge but with little need for conflict-of-interest. Quite a bit of D&D based on story-heavy published scenarios plays this way. It shares some features with "characters face problem" Simulationist play, with the addition of a performance metric of some kind. Some T&T play Drifted this way as well, judging by many Sorcerer's Apprentice articles.
Maybe there's more that could be said about win/lose, challenge, and competition in gamist play, but I think that's a good start: we have the real-world step-on-up level, which may or may not involve competition (contrast, eg, D&D tables where players show off their builds - low competition at the step-on-up level - with tables where they compete to have the highest-level PC - high competition at the step-on-up level); and the in-fiction challenge level, which also may or may not involve competition (contrast, eg, D&D tables where the players have their PCs cooperate to beat the GM's encounters, with ones where the PCs compete with one another to grab the best magic items).
Well, I don't know about "we", but when I say that D&D is "gamist" I mean what Edwards means: that much D&D play has a step-on-up aspect to it, and that the game has mechanical components (eg a la carte PC building with many interacting elements; resource management requirements) that allow that step-on-up aspect to be pursued by the game participants. It also brings cultural/"meta" expectations that the players will have their PCs confront and try and overcome the problems the GM puts in front of them.
Note Edwards' comparison of, and contrast drawn between, gamist play and the sort of play that Edwards calls characters-face-problems-simuationism (a type of high-concept simulationism). In contemporary D&D play, the line between these two orientations/approaches is (I think) a pretty fine one. As Edward says, it depends on whether or not there is a performance measure (typically informal) for play. If I see a poster complain about 5e D&D being on "easy mode", I think that person does have such a performance measure, and so has a gamist orientation even though most of their techniques are probably the same as a simulatioinst-inclined 5e RPGer who just enjoys working through the adventure path and finding out what happens to their PC.
I also think some of the standard sorts of discussions one sees around D&D play reveal the thinness of this line. For instance, the typical occurrence of combat challenges in D&D adventures reflects its gamist orientation. But typically the overarching "story" needs the PCs to succeed at those challenges - hence discussions around fudging, milestone levelling, whether or not to start new PCs at 1st level, etc. There is a bit of a clash here between the gamism and the characters-face-problems-simulationism, because the standard techniques for making the "story" work - ie for satisfying the simulationist imperative - tend to undercut the integrity of the measurement of performance, ie the gamist imperative.
It wouldn't be too rash a generalisation to say that various forms of this tension have dominated the D&D "meta" since the early-to-mid 1980s.
I was just trying to explain my perspective on the subject. But just assume that I can't possibly comprehend different concepts instead of just accepting that I don't find things like GNS theory useful. If you do, have fun.
Well, what I'm assuming is that you play D&D basically the same way that was typical among 2nd ed AD&D players in the early to mid 90s. And that you've not got much if any experience in playing a RPG that works in a fundamentally different way, like (say) Apocalypse World, or Burning Wheel, or even RuneQuest.
That's not a criticism: no one is under an obligation to play any particular RPGs.
But it does mean that you saying you don't find GNS useful is a bit like me saying I don't find auto-repair manuals useful. I mean, that's true - I don't own a car, and even if I did wouldn't be able to repair it - and so I personally don't have any use for auto-repair manuals. But that doesn't mean I think they're not useful in some objective sense. I assume they're pretty handy for people who actually want to know how to operate and repair cars!
If you want to understand patterns in RPGing, why certain RPGs recurrently generate certain problems, why D&D is always generating conversations about fudging and railroading whereas that is a non-issue for Apocalypse World, etc - well, an analytical and explanatory framework like the one Edwards sets out becomes pretty handy.
If it comes in handy for you, that's great. I read up a bit, I don't find it useful . It's okay for different people to not find something useful that works for you.
Campbell
Relaxed Intensity
Does anyone disagree that D&D play is mostly oriented on cooperatively overcoming challenges? That most of its mechanical tools are provided to help players work together to overcome challenges? Is it really that contentious? Is this really about not liking the way this is framed?
Does anyone disagree that there are roleplaying games that are not oriented around overcoming challenges as a group?
Does anyone disagree that there are roleplaying games that are not oriented around overcoming challenges as a group?
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As to whether dnd is gamist or simulationist, or fits in any other categorical box (story before, story after, etc), I don't know. But I do find the "so what?" part of your question interesting. Let's say that dnd is gamist, how and why is that understanding useful? And to whom?
Some potential candidates...
Players: Millions of people play dnd 5e, and I'm not sure more than a small fraction of them are involved in online discussions, let alone interested in really analyzing their play. Even if they do, I'm not confident that they would identify "competition" or "overcoming challenges" as what primarily draws them to the game. I don't think game design theory is relevant or useful for the average dnd player, especially if they mostly just play dnd.
DMs: These terms might be useful to some DMs in figuring out not only what they enjoy in the game but what their players enjoy. And it might be helpful as they making rulings. Is the point of a ruling to ensure fair play? Be reasonable with regard to some understanding of human(oid) capabilities or real-world physics (accurate or not)? Or should they go for "rule of cool"? Still, it is unclear if Forge theory is the most practical guide to these sorts of questions. Something like Robin Laws' player types, or any number of youtube videos about prep, pacing, etc would be more useful
*note to the above, I do think versions of "story now" ideas are useful if playing a game like Blades in the Dark. But, the GM sections of those books are more immediately useful in giving advice on how to play those specific games.
Game publishers: Would knowing that your game is "gamist" help in marketing and selling it? Possibly, though this seems a bit dicey (so to speak), as you would be assuming that the "creative agendas" as understood by the forge are actually how people self-conceptualize their interest in various games. That said, I think that communicating that your game is pbta or fitd is important and useful for those kinds of games
Game designers: Here is where it seems that knowledge of different game design theories would be most useful. Certainly we see that designers like Vincent Baker, John Harper, Avery Alder among others are quite clear in articulating how the Forge influenced their games, even if some of them have moved on from it. However, I wonder if designers who make "trad" games like dnd actively think about about terms like gamism? Like, does Jermey Crawford aim to make dnd more gamist when he designs a rules supplement? I know Mike Mearls sought to bring in principles from various games, especially from the OSR but also from Fate. Matt Colville I think has mentioned the forge here and there, I think once when he said that 4e was gamist. Do Kobold Press or Monte Cook games think about these things? Chaosium?
So in sum, to return to that six cultures of play framework, I think that people playing, selling, and designing "storygames" are the ones who seem to most consciously identify with at least some aspect of GNS theory, and thus have the most to gain in using it to understand what they want in their games (more narrativist or story-now principles) and what they don't want (less gamism, simulationism, etc). This makes total sense if we consider that the roots of these games are in that movement.
On the other hand, DnD players, publishers, and designers (who in that six cultures framework might fall into classic, trad, neo-trad, OC, or osr) have comparatively less to gain from understanding forge designt heory, as it might not tell them much that is meaningful about what they want and don't want in their games (especially when compared to less abstract alternatives). This also makes sense, as those styles either preceded the forge, or were uninterested in it, or actively opposed in the case of some OSR people.
As a footnote, GNS and other Forge theoretical terms are quite well developed and interlinked. This means that it is difficult to provide a complete alternative framework, because questioning one part of it (the characterization of "gamism," for example) seems to sort of mean questioning all of it. So it's hard to participate just a little bit in the Discourse; you're either in all the way or find yourself unable to make any claims whatsoever. Not all Theory, in any field, is like this; theory can be open and modular, as it were, or more of a closed circuit. But that's a subject for another day.
Manbearcat
Legend
Oofta, you routinely have responses like this to comments like pemerton’s above.
When I see these responses from you (to comments like pemerton’s), I don’t know what you expect the takeaway for bystanders or engaged commenters to be?
What is the next phase of the conversation you believe this type of comment is initiating?
The end of conversation?
Bridging to something else that will provide some kind of insight into the lead post or the topic that the exchange is over?
Or are these fairly routine statement you expressing your sense that your autobiographical testimony needs to be levied as a datapoint? Like in this case, “someone has to stand up for the ‘I don’t find it useful’ voting bloc?”
I just don’t know what to do with these posts (how to process them or how to respond to them if I feel so inclined) when I read them.
clearstream
(He, Him)
Excellent post, albeit stopping just short of the key question - in what ways is gamism appealing or valuable?
If D&D is gamist, how does that contribute to its success? What are the advantages of gamism? How is being gamist important and valuable to D&D players?
EzekielRaiden
Follower of the Way
From the recent statements made, it would seem my values are "low competition gamism" (at both the "step on up" level and the "challenge" level; I consider it pretty rude to "compete" for the best magic items, as an example), some amount of "high concept simulation" (because I kinda do see D&D as a fantasy action hero movie where the players are the main cast), and (inventing my own terms) "what kind of hero are you? How will the world note your passing?" narrative.
This last bit is part of why I would consider it an abject failure if my players felt they were merely going through the motions in a fantasy novel I had already written. There would be no answer to those questions, other than one I had stuffed into their mouths. I would consider myself unfit to DM. That's how serious I feel answering those questions is. I play a role in setting up some of the opposition and information that exists, but so do the players. I have told them in advance that there are certain answers to those questions that would push things outside my comfort zone—namely, "I am not a hero at all, but a villain" and "the world will respond with fear and loathing at the evil I have wrought"—but otherwise I want them to answer those questions without me interfering. At absolute most, my role is to surprise the players with versions or aspects of questions like those, that they had never previously considered. Questions like how one deals with religion, with politics. "Moral" challenges like deeply-held convictions suddenly opposed by emotional intuitions, or unquestioned self-conceptions suddenly faced with revealed (or overlooked) contradictory evidence. Because those challenges, those questions, force the player to do something that cannot, even in principle, be done by looking over a character sheet or invoking a clever mechanical contrivance. They force the player to decide what their character truly cares about, where their values lie, what is in fact true about them whether or not they knew it before that moment.
This is why I say I value both gamism and narrative, but (generally) on different layers or aspects of the experience. I love teamwork strategy, a group coming together to be more than the sum of its parts in order to overcome a challenge that would have been impossible without teamwork, and to then share the spoils in an equitable and group-oriented way (e.g. "oh, I just got a new sword, so you can have these new boots if you want 'em.") This sort of fills the midpoint of play enjoyment: moments of spice and excitement at loosely regular intervals, as opposed to the bedrock steady stream of enjoyment from just pretending to be a consistent other person besides myself.
I also love being put in, or putting my players in, situations where the player must make a decision about what matters to them, where the player has to pause for a moment and genuinely ask, "Who am I?" "What do I want?" "Who do I serve, and who do I trust?" (Anyone who gets this reference wins one internet.) It's legitimately thrilling to see someone come to a startling realization about their world and thus choose to change who they are, or galvanize their commitment to a cause, or discover that they have come to trust someone they once hated, or be caught by surprise at their own righteous indignation at a foe, or that they truly MUST do something even if they find it deeply disquieting because their moral self-appraisal will not let them choose otherwise. (All of these have happened in my game, and have been epic moments, ones that I hope my players will cherish long after the campaign comes to an end.)
On the road to getting these things—the steady stream of RP, the tension and release of combat challenge, and the poignant or thrilling moments of introspection and moral quandary—it is super damn cool if you can make sure the world is maximally self-consistent and well-grounded in its rules and processes. It's not necessary, but getting to that point is really nice polish when you can pull it off.
This last bit is part of why I would consider it an abject failure if my players felt they were merely going through the motions in a fantasy novel I had already written. There would be no answer to those questions, other than one I had stuffed into their mouths. I would consider myself unfit to DM. That's how serious I feel answering those questions is. I play a role in setting up some of the opposition and information that exists, but so do the players. I have told them in advance that there are certain answers to those questions that would push things outside my comfort zone—namely, "I am not a hero at all, but a villain" and "the world will respond with fear and loathing at the evil I have wrought"—but otherwise I want them to answer those questions without me interfering. At absolute most, my role is to surprise the players with versions or aspects of questions like those, that they had never previously considered. Questions like how one deals with religion, with politics. "Moral" challenges like deeply-held convictions suddenly opposed by emotional intuitions, or unquestioned self-conceptions suddenly faced with revealed (or overlooked) contradictory evidence. Because those challenges, those questions, force the player to do something that cannot, even in principle, be done by looking over a character sheet or invoking a clever mechanical contrivance. They force the player to decide what their character truly cares about, where their values lie, what is in fact true about them whether or not they knew it before that moment.
This is why I say I value both gamism and narrative, but (generally) on different layers or aspects of the experience. I love teamwork strategy, a group coming together to be more than the sum of its parts in order to overcome a challenge that would have been impossible without teamwork, and to then share the spoils in an equitable and group-oriented way (e.g. "oh, I just got a new sword, so you can have these new boots if you want 'em.") This sort of fills the midpoint of play enjoyment: moments of spice and excitement at loosely regular intervals, as opposed to the bedrock steady stream of enjoyment from just pretending to be a consistent other person besides myself.
I also love being put in, or putting my players in, situations where the player must make a decision about what matters to them, where the player has to pause for a moment and genuinely ask, "Who am I?" "What do I want?" "Who do I serve, and who do I trust?" (Anyone who gets this reference wins one internet.) It's legitimately thrilling to see someone come to a startling realization about their world and thus choose to change who they are, or galvanize their commitment to a cause, or discover that they have come to trust someone they once hated, or be caught by surprise at their own righteous indignation at a foe, or that they truly MUST do something even if they find it deeply disquieting because their moral self-appraisal will not let them choose otherwise. (All of these have happened in my game, and have been epic moments, ones that I hope my players will cherish long after the campaign comes to an end.)
On the road to getting these things—the steady stream of RP, the tension and release of combat challenge, and the poignant or thrilling moments of introspection and moral quandary—it is super damn cool if you can make sure the world is maximally self-consistent and well-grounded in its rules and processes. It's not necessary, but getting to that point is really nice polish when you can pull it off.
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