D&D General Supposing D&D is gamist, what does that mean?

clearstream

(He, Him)
Well, I kinda follow the deontological perspective on this one. Cheating entails a fundamentally self-contradictory viewpoint: it means to benefit from the rules, while simultaneously consciously disobeying them. Or, as G.K. Chesterton put it, "Thieves respect property. They merely wish the property to become their property that they may more perfectly respect it." (The Man Who Was Thursday, ch. 4) To cheat is to simultaneously will that the rules bind, and also will that they not bind.
Huizinga's view was that cheating shattered the circle of play. However, one can easily construct counter-cases, such as cheating that goes unnoticed, or is only noticed later, or when the accusation is later found to be erroneous, and so on. A related behaviour is griefing. The griefer does not accept that the rules necessarily apply to them, or they seek to employ the rules for purposes they are not intended for.

A normal view is that a cheater accepts the goal of the game (steps into the magic circle, grasps the challenges etc) but they do not accept that they must follow all of the rules. A cheater generally hopes to do well, so they are a sincere participant in a play but not a sincere participant in the normative expectation that they will follow the rules. They're able to pick and choose among the rules - following those that suit their goals, disapplying others.

I'm not sure how one could accidentally follow a rule one is aware of, nor how much relevance there is to following a rule one is ignorant of. Again, with interpretation, it seems rather silly to me to do any amount of "interpretation" on something one thinks is a mere suggestion, a cobweb, an airy aspiration. What value is there to sitting down and hashing out the merit of something that has no normative force? And if it has normative force, then it binds. "Following a rule conditionally" simply means following the same rule but with specified conditions (or, if you prefer, following a very similar rule that differs only in having additional exceptions.) I'm not even sure I understand what "following a sufficiency of rules" means, to be honest.
The questions are of what counts as a genuine instance of rule following? That they can be asked at all tells us that it is not as simple as - all rules are binding. The binding force of rules is never located in the rule. Again consider

Rule 1. Agree with @clearstream!
Rule 2. Agree to rule 1.

Are those rules? How can they be rules if you do not accept them as binding on you? If you do accept them as binding on you, where is the agreement with me that they ought to secure? I willingly accept both of them, and count them binding on me.

Does that not contradict your statement, then, that you follow rules initially in order to discover what their consequences might be? How can one follow rules because of enjoyment one has not yet witnessed? That, to me, says that you follow the rules because they are things to be followed, and then upon review decide whether following them will be worthwhile going forward.
One way this is done through what I call prospective play. It is a skill that game designers exercise regularly: i.e. the ability to picture what play might arise from some rule(s) without having to sit down and play the game.

It is also done through descriptions and testimonials. Sometimes that amounts to - "Try this, it's fun". If I trust the speaker, I might accept that putting the given rules in force for myself will lead to fun (or whatever other experience we share an interest in.)

I mean, I'm not saying these are the only thing we have no choice but to obey, namely, physical laws (though it's worth noting how many games IRL do in fact invoke physical laws as part of play...) The rules of a game are obviously still a choice. But I very much grant your earlier best-practices example of accepting the rules without knowing whether they will be beneficial, because modifying rules requires some amount of experience or expertise first (humans are imperfect abstract reasoners, much to my chagrin!) Once we have that expertise--which can only be obtained by first being (willingly) bound by the rules--we can then challenge that binding, asking whether it is worthwhile to do so (whether because the rule may be faulty, or because the purpose may be faulty).
Yes, we willingly put the rules in force for ourselves. Consider the case of getting a rule wrong, say when learning a game for the first time? My group got the TB2 trait rule slightly wrong when we used it, not realising some uses gave two checks instead of one. Thus we did not bind ourselves to the intended rule. We also ignored some of the rules governing using Nature in our first couple of sessions. It was up to us which rules we chose to put in force for ourselves.

I still kinda am saying that though. "DM decides" means being unbridled by rules. The players are, of course, so bridled--by the DM's will. But what bridle does the DM bear? She is the one holding the reins, sitting in the driver's seat. What could possibly constrain her? The only "constraints" on a DM in such a position are the limits of good taste, which are not, never have been, and never will be "rules" in the way a game has rules (particularly since breaking them or cheating on them is incredibly rampant!)
Notice the urge to put in some kind of brake here: those are the tacit or exogenous rules (aka ethos or principles) that have sufficient deontic force to bridle. Coupled with the interest in all concerned - including DM - to have the experience that enforcing the rules constitutes. When you talk about normative expectations, being normative, they apply to DM as much as others.
 
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Thomas Shey

Legend
Whether we want to call it competition or not that drive to earn each other's esteem for skilled play is central to pretty much any cooperative endeavor that is fundamentally about achievement or testing ourselves. You see this in the military, in professional (and amateur) sports, in effective raiding guilds in World of Warcraft, in most board gaming groups, etc. I think too many people associate competition with toxic behavior to the point where the value of the sort of comradery building internal competition that makes this stuff worthwhile is undervalued.

That's fair. I think the problem with "competition" for that is that its too associated with there not only being winners, but losers, which is at least part of the toxic behavior you're referring to. But even over and above that, it sets the gamist as being mostly about what he's doing relative to other players, which is often not the case. I'm heavily gamist, but I frankly don't care what the other players are doing as long as they're not grandstanding and/or excessively (and the qualifier is important since I'm not a pure gamist) dragging down the success of the group.
 

EzekielRaiden

Follower of the Way
I kinda lost the track of what the point of the semantics debate regarding the word 'rule' was... To me it is clear the there always necessarily isn't a clear distinction between a principle, advice convention and literal rule, at least not in practice. Hell, like half the stuff regarding how UK is governed is just conventions, and not written laws, doesn't make much difference in practice. (Granted, I wouldn't necessarily use UK as an example of a well functioning country, but reasons for that likely lie elsewhere. Sorry to any Brits.) A lot of games kinda work in the same way.
You will be unsurprised to know that I find it utterly terrifying that the United Kingdom does not actually have a constitution,* and (moreover) I find its legal doctrine of Parliamentary Sovereignty to be one of the scariest possible powers one could give a government. Parliament can, literally at any time and for any reason, pass any law it wants, even laws that cannot be fulfilled or that directly contradict other laws. There are no limits on what Parliament is allowed to do; it is truly, absolutely supreme. There's just a lot of decorum involved in persuading them to not use that power in ways it could be used.

As for the point about the debate on rules: I am, very much, alleging that a game built genuinely around unlimited "DM says" does not, truly, have a "system" in any sense. It has players who submit to the will of an absolute dictator. They may be a benevolent dictator, a Cincinnatus, or they may be a despotic one, a Nero. But they are nonetheless a dictator with absolute power (within the play-space) and zero limitations.

*People like to say it has an "uncodified constitution." That literally just means "we have a lot of old laws that would upset people if we got rid of them," again a decorum issue. All systems depend on decorum to some degree; the UK has chosen to make decorum decide what things are part of their constitution in the first place.
 

EzekielRaiden

Follower of the Way
Huizinga's view was that cheating shattered the circle of play. However, one can easily construct counter-cases, such as cheating that goes unnoticed, or is only noticed later, or when the accusation is later found to be erroneous, and so on. A related behaviour is griefing. The griefer does not accept that the rules necessarily apply to them, or they seek to employ the rules for purposes they are not intended for.
As someone who had to deal with a friend who had been rampantly cheating in purely casual games for many years, only to finally admit to doing so: yeah, I absolutely hold with the "it shatters the circle of play" position. (This was probably the final nail in the coffin of our friendship, which had been waning for several years.) That it goes unnoticed does not mean the circle is not so shattered; it just means the participants are not aware yet. I mean, for goodness' sake, that's literally identical to saying, "It's only illegal if you don't get caught." I sincerely hope we agree that that statement is both ethically and rationally bankrupt! As for griefing, I don't generally see the former (the only thing that that might apply to is something like social conventions, which again I see as rather distinct from rules proper). The latter absolutely, but exploiting a rule for benefit (or, I suppose, for another's detriment) is orthogonal to whether or not the rules are supposed to be binding.

A normal view is that a cheater accepts the goal of the game (steps into the magic circle, grasps the challenges etc) but they do not accept that they must follow all of the rules. A cheater generally hopes to do well, so they are a sincere participant in a play but not a sincere participant in the normative expectation that they will follow the rules. They're able to pick and choose among the rules - following those that suit their goals, disapplying others.
With cheating, it looks like the player is not accepting the goal of the game, not in fact ACTUALLY "stepping into the magic circle," but rather giving the appearance that they have done so. This allows them to manipulate the contents of the circle, while being unbound by that circle--they have, in effect, broken the border, the circle is no longer closed. As you say, "not a sincere participant."

The questions are of what counts as a genuine instance of rule following? That they can be asked at all tells us that it is not as simple as - all rules are binding. The binding force of rules is never located in the rule. Again consider

Rule 1. Agree with @clearstream!
Rule 2. Agree to rule 1.

Are those rules? How can they be rules if you do not accept them as binding on you? If you do accept them as binding on you, where is the agreement with me that they ought to secure?
I mean, I don't actually see the second rule as being anything at all, because "agree with clearstream" already has agreement in it. Either the norm is binding, in which case you have agreed that it is a rule, or the norm is not binding, in which case it is (at most) a suggestion.

If we actually had to have structures like what you're talking about here (and what you've said before), literally all rules ever would be an infinite chain: "Rule 3. Agree to rule 2. Rule 4. Agree to rule 3. Rule 5...." etc. That is pretty clearly absurd.

One way this is done through what I call prospective play. It is a skill that game designers exercise regularly: i.e. the ability to picture what play might arise from some rule(s) without having to sit down and play the game.

It is also done through descriptions and testimonials. Sometimes that amounts to - "Try this, it's fun". If I trust the speaker, I might accept that putting the given rules in force for myself will lead to fun (or whatever other experience we share an interest in.)
Then my argument there is close kin to my "I don't really buy that people are that consistent" one: people in general struggle with abstract reasoning. Remember how people read the 3e Monk and thought "holy CRAP, this class is LOADED with features, it's so broken!!!" And then a few years later, after we'd built up that expertise, the actual understanding came out: "holy crap, this class is loaded with useless and contradictory features...it's so broken..."

Or, to use the example of a DM horror story I once heard: there was a group that had a DM skeptical about 4e, but willing to run it. However, he refused to run it vanilla to start with. He immediately tinkered with a whole bunch of the rules. He eliminated Healing Surges, for example, and let all healing powers that depended on them be used indefinitely, because surges were obviously dumb. (This was but one major change, I just don't remember the rest.) The end result? Incredibly grindy, pointless combats because no HP costs ever mattered and characters were always full health without any real attrition or cost. This DM thus wrote off 4e entirely as a busted, pointless system solely centered on getting incredibly powerful immediately and never ever facing loss or hardship.

At some point, somebody had to willingly accept the binding of the rules to find out whether they were worth playing. Outsourcing that effort to someone else doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It just means you took advantage of their efforts, assuming you trust their judgment. Someone had to get the expertise first.

Yes, we willingly put the rules in force for ourselves. Consider the case of getting a rule wrong, say when learning a game for the first time? My group got the TB2 trait rule slightly wrong when we used it, not realising some uses gave two checks instead of one. Thus we did not bind ourselves to the intended rule. We also ignored some of the rules governing using Nature in our first couple of sessions. It was up to us which rules we chose to put in force for ourselves.
You still bound yourself to a rule. It just turned out the rule you bound yourself to was not the rule you were "supposed" to. Either way, you bound yourself to rules. It doesn't matter to me whether they're the "official" rules or not.

Notice the urge to put in some kind of brake here: those are the tacit or exogenous rules (aka ethos or principles) that have sufficient deontic force to bridle. Coupled with the interest in all concerned - including DM - to have the experience that enforcing the rules constitutes. When you talk about normative expectations, being normative, they apply to DM as much as others.
Doesn't being "exogenous" make them not rules? Ethos, principle, best practice...these are all suggestions. They may be very carefully-crafted suggestions. It may be that the design was built specifically around assuming them. None of that makes them rules.
 

pemerton

Legend
What does color refer to?
From the opening of chapter one of Edwards' first essay setting out his ideas:

When a person engages in role-playing, or prepares to do so, he or she relies on imagining and utilizing the following: Character, System, Setting, Situation, and Color.
  • Character: a fictional person or entity.
  • System: a means by which in-game events are determined to occur.
  • Setting: where the character is, in the broadest sense (including history as well as location).
  • Situation: a problem or circumstance faced by the character.
  • Color: any details or illustrations or nuances that provide atmosphere.

Just about everything else that Edwards says about RPGing deploys these concepts, and the idea that RPG play is all about the relationships between these phenomena.

pemerton said:
The reason that high concept sim and that purist-for-system sim are both sim is because both focus on heightening exploration as the main priority of play. That's it.
Then, as I have said before, I see this as a fault built on reifying a union of distinct ideas arising from a quirk of the language we use, rather than the actual character of the things involved. Like someone saying that, because I would the same verb in the phrases "I love ice cream," "I love my boyfriend," "I love my homeland," and "I love the design of 13th Age," these things must all fundamentally be the same in some core sense, whereas "I enjoy long walks among the trees" must be fundamentally different because it doesn't.
This is just wrong.

Edwards defines exploration. I quoted the definition in a post that replied to you:
In a subsequent essay, he explains that

Obviously the thing to do is to get as clear an understanding of "Exploration" as possible. It's our jargon term for imagining, "dreaming" if you will, about made-up characters in made-up situations. It's central to all role-playing, but in Simulationist play, it's the top priority. . . . unlike Narrativist and Gamist priorities which are defined by an interpersonal out-of-game agenda, Simulationist play prioritizes the in-game functions and imagined events.​

The essence of purist-for-system sim is to heighten the imaging about how events arise from one another in the fiction. Because system is used by Edwards to label "a means by which in-game events are determined to occur", he calls RPGing that prioritises that sort of imagining "purist for system".

It is also possible to heighten the imaging of character, situation or setting. He explains why he calls this "high concept":

In cinema, "High Concept" refers to any film idea that can be pitched in a very limited amount of time; the usual method uses references to other films. Sometimes, although not necessarily, it's presented as a combination: "Jaws meets Good Will Hunting," or that sort of thing. I'm adopting it to role-playing without much modification, although emphasizing that the source references can come from any medium and also that the two-title combo isn't always employed.​
The key word is "genre," which in this case refers to a certain combination of the five elements as well as an unstated Theme. How do they get to this goal? All rely heavily on inspiration or kewlness as the big motivator, to get the content processed via art, prose style, and more. "Story," in this context, refers to the sequence of events that provide a payoff in terms of recognizing and enjoying the genre during play.​

As Edwards goes on to say, "The formula starts with one of Character, Situation, or Setting, with lots of Color, then the other two (Character, Situation, or Setting, whichever weren't in first place), with System being last in priority." Upthread I explained why, and why it is significant, that system comes last. Without repeating that, I'll just note that we can see the phenomenon exemplified in 5e D&D: "rulings not rules" is a deprioritisation of system, relative to the other elements that are being imagined.

There is no equivocation or confusion here. "Exploration" is a technical term. It's meaning is set out. The different ways it can be prioritised are identified and analysed. And a host of recurring phenomena in RPG play are explained. The fact that RQ players get "put out" by being shown to have something in common with CoC players (both prioritise a certain sort of imagining over the more metagame agendas that characterise narrativist and gamist play) is a weirdness that tells us nothing about the explanatory power of the analysis. (Some people get put out that humans are taxonomically located with other primates - "Do you take after the monkey on your grandmother or grandfather's side?" - but that doesn't tell us anything about the explanatory power of the taxonomic theory.)

Man, at least from the essays I've read thus far, I never got any sense of this! It very very much read like Sim is a monolithic thing that is fundamentally united with minor, perhaps even irrelevant details, not a vast category containing multitudes that could conflict internally. Same with the other creative agendas. This is...really really getting into territory of "why on earth did Edwards use the terms he used if this isn't what he meant?"
It seems to me that you're responsible for your own reading. But if you read an essay with sub-headings like "The diversity of Simulationist game design[/url]" and with observations like "In play, these [purist-for-system] games offer a lot of diversity because both the character-to-player relationship and the GM-to-outcomes relationship are fully customizable" and "Character generation text and methods are extremely diverse within each GNS mode", yet reach the conclusion that the author views simulationist play as a "monolithic thing", then that's on you. I don't think the author was concealing the fact that he sees it very differently.

when it's pretty clear how negative Edwards thinks "incoherent" game design is, to the point that he seems to struggle to speak positively about "hybrids" etc. even when outright trying to do so, it doesn't seem like much of a leap (or, indeed, a leap at all) to see incoherence as being the defining reason why these things separate from each other.
I really think you are projecting here, or reading in something that is not there.

Here is Edwards's absolutely glowing review of The Riddle of Steel. Here is his discussion of it in the "right to dream" essay:

The Riddle of Steel is a successful hybrid because its primary Narrativist emphasis is so mechanically influential and integrated with the reward system, that it cannot be ignored or subverted. Even so, it's interesting to observe the consistent Simulationist reading of TROS' text, rife with suggestions for repair of "obviously" inappropriate elements, by people who have not played the game.​

I see no sign of any struggle.

Here is Edwards's talking about incoherence in the same essay:

As far as I can tell, Simulationist game design runs into a lot of potential trouble when it includes secondary hybridization with the other modes of play. Gamist or Narrativist features as supportive elements introduce the thin end of the metagame-agenda wedge. The usual result is to defend against the "creeping Gamism" with rules-bloat, or to encourage negatively-extreme deception or authority in the GM in order to preserve an intended set of plot events, which is to say, railroading. In other words, a baseline Simulationist focus is easily subverted, leading to incoherence.​

This is not an evaluation. It's a diagnosis. It's an explanation of why we have endless threads about fudging in the context of D&D, but none about fudging in the context of Apocalypse World. It's an explanation of why the complex PC gen process in RQ, or even moreso RM, which leads to a high-concept-style attachment to the character, can be an awkward fit with the brutal process-sim resolution of those games, also leading to pressure to fudge crit results.

He elaborates in the context of particular high-concept-oriented RPGs:

[M]ost incoherent game designs are partly or even primarily High Concept Simulationist as well, with AD&D2 and Vampire (first edition) as the best-known examples. . .​
AD&D2, Vampire, and Legend of the Five Rings are especially good examples of incoherent design that ends up screwing the Simulationist. You have Gamist character creation, with Narrativist rhetoric (especially in Vampire). You have High Concept Simulationist resolution, which is to say, easily subverted by Gamism because universal consistency is de-emphasized. And finally, you have sternly-worded "story" play-context, which in practice becomes game-author-to-GM co-conspiracy. The net result is a fairly committed Simulationist GM presiding over a bunch of players tending toward more agenda-based play of different kinds.​
What happens? All the wedges widen, and the unfortunate thing is that the more everyone likes the basic, fun interest of the topic ("genre") at hand, the worse the rift becomes.​
  • The aggravated Narrativist leaves the play situation after butting heads with the GM over the "story." Arguably, the early White Wolf games in general are responsible for what amounted to a mass exodus of Narrativist-oriented role-players from the hobby in the mid-1990s.
  • The Gamist runs rampant, moving from sportsmanlike challenge/competition (as would be found in a coherent Gamist design) to "break the system" vs.-game, vs.-GM challenge/competition. The group typically either dissolves or evicts the Gamist player . . .
  • The Simulationist, whether GM or player, fights a losing battle against the Gamist, often feeling betrayed and desperate. . . .
Champions, especially second and third editions, presented a fascinating case of this same phenomenon for a game design that could functionally Drift in any of the three directions (in all cases requiring severe rules-interpretation and "fixing"). Thus Champions play could be observed in all three modes, all of which were emphatically incompatible and socially segregated.​

In case it's not clear what Edwards has in mind, here are a couple of simple illustrations: the subversion of resolution that Edwards refers to, arising due to a lack of universal consistency in resolution, is exemplified by, eg, a spell like fireball that was originally intended to be useful in small-unit combat being used to burn down whole navies or villages; or a spell like charm person, originally designed to be useful against ogres and enemy wizards in dungeon exploration, being used to control the monarch or the mob boss. Both Rolemaster (purist-for-system but echoing many D&D tropes) and D&D (high concept in its post-dungeoneering form) display this issue. The problem doesn't arise in (say) Marvel Heroic RP, or 4e adjudicated using skill challenges, precisely because of the universal consistency in resolution. (Of course, those systems generate complaints from RPGers who favour purist-for-system-simulationism, because the universal consistency in resolution prioritises metagame structures for generating the fiction over "internal cause is king".)

Now, have you ever encountered a "story"-oriented Dungeon Master (and I'm using that phrase in its strict, D&D-oriented sense) complaining about "powergamers" or "optimisers" who are a problem? I've seen heaps of that, in the context of 2nd ed AD&D, 3E and 5e (look at the standard solution to the GWM/SS issue: "don't play with powergamers"). Edwards is explaining how and why the game design produces that outcome: you have PC build rules (gambling in AD&D 2nd ed, plus spell load-outs and usage; intricate combos selected from endless lists in 3E, and to a lesser extent in 5e) that are highly attractive for and encouraging of gamist priorities, attached to a system that - in its overall text - encourages an "experience the story with a touch of characterisation" gamism. And you have characters-face-problem high-concept simulationism as the basic mode of play suggested by the text, but also the issues with fireball and charm person I described in the previous paragraph, which permit gamist-inclined players to subvert the simulationist story expectation and just go straight for the win! (Less egregious examples, but also mostly driven by the spell system, include using teleport or similar magic to subvert journey-oriented "story"; using protection magic to subvert weather or similar environmental challenge-oriented "story"; using tiny hut to subvert it's-risky-to-camp-oriented "story".)

This is what Edwards means when he described D&D in its post-dungeoneering mode as incoherent: it exhibits the phenomena, and similar ones, that I've just been describing.

Of course a lot of people think it is a virtue of D&D, or similarly-designed RPGs, that it has something to offer those who love gamism and something to offer those who love "story", and that a GM can try and pull that off in the same session at the same table. Those people, so far from disagreeing with Edwards about incoherence, are agreeing with him: they are exploiting the very features of the system that he has identified under the label "incoherence", and they are deploying the technique of game-author-to-GM co-conspiracy ("GM empowerment", "ruling not rules") that he identifies as the way to try and make the situation work: to try and keep the "story" on track, to try and make the "setting" verisimilitudinous, despite the presence of charm person and fireball and teleport and tiny hut and all the rest.

But none of this discussion of incoherence, and why simulationist play and simulationist-oriented RPG designs are especially vulnerable to it, puts any pressure on the taxonomic classification of both purist-for-system and high concept as different modes of simulationism. It reinforces the explanatory power of the taxonomy!

This reads, to me, like some logical pedantry (not that I have much room to complain about pedantry in others, but still.) That is, if we have defined system so broadly, then literally all activities are now an RPG system. Some are just awful stinkers.
I suspect that, by "system", @Manbearcat means much the same as what Edwards does: the means by which in-game events are determined to occur. Every RPG has a system, in so far as every RPG involves (among other things) establishing that events have occurred in the shared fiction.

To say that some are stinkers, and some are not, is to move from analysis to preference.

To say that some are not well-suited to certain play goals is to stick to analysis. Think about how social interaction is often resolved in D&D and similar play: the players say what their PCs say, the GM says what the NPC says, and this goes back and forth until someone says something that brings the situation to a conclusion. We might add that the player may be bound (informally, at least) by an expectation that they will play their character consistently (alignment and personality descriptors can play a role in establishing or reinforcing those expectations); and the GM may be bound by an expectation to stick to some descriptors that they have written down in their notes, or made up in their head, about how this NPC will behave.

This is a system for resolving social interaction. It is relatively well-suited for some high concept sim play: it will give you exploration of character, and perhaps exploration of situation, or even of setting if the NPC is really just a vehicle whereby the setting expresses itself (like a knight of Cormyr or a cleric of a particular god or a reeve of a village). It is not especially ideal for purist-for-system play, as this sort of thing doesn't really let us explore, in loving detail and immersion, the process whereby things unfold in the fiction. It may work for gamist play, if the GM is giving clues through their play of the NPC and the players are essentially solving a puzzle. It is pretty hopeless, I think, for most "story now" play, because it does not allow for open-ended resolution driven by players' thematic/evaluative priorities: there is never a point at which the situation is forced to resolve one way or the other in relation to whatever it is that is at stake.

I guess I need to go diving in the "provisional glossary" again to get all these underlying terms defined because I thought I understood them (due to them being natural language stuff...) and am now seeing that no, it's turtles terms of art all the way down. Never, ever assume you know what a GNS term means on sight. Because it probably diverges, sometimes a lot!
I don't think the provisional glossary is particularly helpful. You can't really learn what a car is by reading dictionaries. It will be tricky to do so even reading encyclopaedias. You need to actually see one in action: then it becomes clear.

Edwards is basing his analysis primarily on the actual experience and observation of the play of RPGs, and how that relates to the rules and designs set out in RPG texts. The way to understand what he's talking about is to engage with play and with texts. Look closely at moments of play - your own, or others' that you encounter - and consider how decisions are being made. How is the shared fiction being established at any given moment? What element is being prioritised - system? character? setting? situation? How do these relate.

You can get a fair way considering stock examples: how often have you read complaints about the player of the thief trying to pickpocket the king, the mayor, a random person when the GM was just setting the scene? The GM is typically trying to focus on setting, probably as part of the lead-in to a rather constrained situation which is absolutely indifferent to any particularities of character (eg the king as quest-giver). The player, on the other hand, is focused on character ("my guy is a CN thief!") and is trying to immediately establish situation ("my CN thief has an opportunity to pick a pocket") and doesn't really give a toss about fidelity to setting ("no one would try and pick the king's pocket, it's lese majeste and will see you exiled, imprisoned or executed").

The analysis isn't hard or mysterious, but it does require a certain honesty about what is going on in play.
 

pemerton

Legend
You will be unsurprised to know that I find it utterly terrifying that the United Kingdom does not actually have a constitution
This statement is just false. It has one of the oldest constitutions in the world. When people in Europe in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries wanted constitutional government, the United Kingdom was the typical model they had in mind.

I find its legal doctrine of Parliamentary Sovereignty to be one of the scariest possible powers one could give a government. Parliament can, literally at any time and for any reason, pass any law it wants, even laws that cannot be fulfilled or that directly contradict other laws. There are no limits on what Parliament is allowed to do; it is truly, absolutely supreme.
Here, you state probably the most important element of the UK constitution. You find it scary. So did the Stuart kings!, whose overthrow was given legal expression in terms of the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty. So did the nineteenth century Tories, who had to endure the Reform Acts because they were enacted by a sovereign parliament. So did the twenty-first century Tories, whose attempt to enact Brexit by executive fiat was struck down by the British courts because it was an attempt to overturn the laws that had been enacted by a sovereign parliament.

There are things to be said for and against the sovereignty of parliament; this board probably isn't the place to say many of them. But I think one needs to appreciate the actual historical ramifications of the doctrine.

People like to say it has an "uncodified constitution." That literally just means "we have a lot of old laws that would upset people if we got rid of them," again a decorum issue. All systems depend on decorum to some degree; the UK has chosen to make decorum decide what things are part of their constitution in the first place.
What, other than (what you call) "decorum", makes the US Constitution binding. It's not as if the constitution has a police and army to give it effect. Abraham Lincoln had to use an actual army to enforce it in the nineteenth century, and so did a number of presidents in the twentieth.

Or, if you prefer to frame it as "the sovereignty of the Supreme Court", some account is needed of why this is superior to the sovereignty of parliament. Those accounts are available - see eg everyone who disagrees with Jeremy Waldron. But misdescribing the UK constitution as resting in some unique fashion on "decorum" won't do the job.
 

pemerton

Legend
In a game like AW a GM can still choose to not agree to any rule, running the game how they like. If the players enjoy it, perhaps they'll go along. The group are still relying on a mixture of the deontic consequences of tacit principles, and the worth they see in what is constituted by and guided toward by the AW rules.

In a game like 5e a DM is expressly empowered to apply, reinterpret, modify, or disapply any rule. If the players don't enjoy it, perhaps they'll move on. The group are still relying on a mixture of the deontic consequences of tacit principles, and the worth they see in what is constituted by and guided toward by the 5e rules.
The conventional meaning of "deontic" is "pertaining to duties". I'm not sure what you mean by "deontic consequences". Do you mean that people won't like it if you break the rules? But that doesn't seem consistent with asserting that people are free to ignore the rules.

Also: I don't see how, in a game like AW, a GM can choose not to agree to any rule. For instance, a GM who doesn't follow the rule "if you do it, you do it" probably isn't playing AW any more. That rule is constitutive of AW as a game.

There is some tolerance here: "touch move" probably isn't constitutive of chess, though perhaps is constitutive of competition chess; children play chess although they don't know or use the "en passant" rule; etc. Vincent Baker has a whole discussion, in the AW rulebook, of custom moves and of using the system beyond the apocalyptic setting. But none of that touches on the centrality of "if you do it, you do it".

5e D&D is a bit less clear about what rules are constitutive of it, but certain key features of PC build and action resolution are candidates. Putting 3d6 or 2d10 in place of 1d20 might be within the tolerances, though it will change the play a fair bit. But substituting the 20-ish point spread with a d4 while keeping everything else intact wouldn't really count as 5e D&D any more, I don't think. Or dropping the idea that PC build is based on choosing from lists of bundles of mechanical features with associated colours (say in favour of free descriptors).

Of course any rule-governed social activity requires the participants to buy into the rules in some fashion or other, but that's not a distinctive property of RPGs and I don't see that it's even especially interesting in the RPG context.
 

clearstream

(He, Him)
As someone who had to deal with a friend who had been rampantly cheating in purely casual games for many years, only to finally admit to doing so: yeah, I absolutely hold with the "it shatters the circle of play" position. (This was probably the final nail in the coffin of our friendship, which had been waning for several years.) That it goes unnoticed does not mean the circle is not so shattered; it just means the participants are not aware yet. I mean, for goodness' sake, that's literally identical to saying, "It's only illegal if you don't get caught." I sincerely hope we agree that that statement is both ethically and rationally bankrupt! As for griefing, I don't generally see the former (the only thing that that might apply to is something like social conventions, which again I see as rather distinct from rules proper). The latter absolutely, but exploiting a rule for benefit (or, I suppose, for another's detriment) is orthogonal to whether or not the rules are supposed to be binding.

Sorry, I misled you on Huizinga there. Here is the relevant section from Homo Ludens. He's thinking about a number of different behaviours to do with trespassing against the rules (not solely cheating):
The player who trespasses against the rules or ignores them is a "spoil-sport". The spoil-sport is not the same as the false player, the cheat; for the latter pretends to be playing the game and, on the face of it, still acknowledges the magic circle. It is curious to note how much more lenient society is to the cheat than to the spoil-sport. This is because the spoil-sport shatters the play-world itself. By withdrawing from the game he reveals the relativity and fragility of the play-world in which he had temporarily shut himself with others. He robs play of its illusion-a pregnant word which means literally "in-plai' (from inlusio, illudere or inludere) . Therefore he must be cast out, for he threatens the existence of the play-community. The figure of the spoil-sport is most apparent in boys' games. The little community does not enquire whether the spoil-sport is guilty of defection because he dares not enter into the game or because he is not allowed to. Rather, it does not recognize "not being allowed" and calls it "not daring". For it, the problem of obedience and conscience is no more than fear of punishment. The spoil-sport breaks the magic world, therefgre 12 HOMO LUDENS he is a coward and must be ejected. In the world of high seriousness, too, the cheat and the hypocrite have always had an easier time of it than the spoil-sports, here called apostates, heretics, innovators, prophets, conscientious objectors, etc. It sometimes happens, however, that the spoil-sports in their turn make a new community with rules of its own. The outlaw, the revolutionary, the cabbalist or member of a secret society, indeed heretics of all kinds are of a highly associative if not sociable disposition, and a certain element of play is prominent in all their doings.

Cheating has been a subject of ongong debate. Here from Salen and Zimmerman:
Does cheating destroy a game? The unexpected paradox of cheating is that, as Huizinga points out, the cheater is still in some way playing the game. The cheater breaks rules, but only to further the act of winning. So while the cheater sheds enough of the lusory attitude to disrespect the authority of the rules, the cheater still has faith in the sanctioned conflict of the game: being the victor still has meaning to the cheater. This may seem like bizarre behavior. What is the point of hanging onto the authority of the quantifiable outcome when the proscribed steps for getting there are thrown out the window?

It turns out that the cheater is only one step removed from the dedicated player. It is possible to sympathize with a cheat, for he or she too has a passion for winning. A cheater craves winning, but too much, committing crimes in order to attain the object of desire. Of course, the motivations for cheating are many. Cheating might grow from a desire to beat the game system itself, to show up other players, or to reap rewards of glory external to the game. But no matter what the psychological motivation for cheating, all cheating behavior shares a particular set of formal relationships to rules, goals, and the magic circle. The spoil-sport is the category of player furthest from the standard player. As game designer Mark Prensky explains, "What spoils a game is not so much the cheater who accepts the rules but doesn't play by them (we can deal with him or her), but the nihilist who denies them altogether." The cheater breaks the rules but remains within the space of play.

The normal view as I understand it is that the "cheat breaks the rules but remains within the space of play. What I outlined was in no way an approbation of cheating, rather I wanted to draw your attention to three thought-experiments that I have found helpful to gain insight on this behaviour
  1. A game is enjoyed by all and concludes to great satisfaction
  2. An observer however, then describes that Addy cheated - harming those feelings of enjoyment and satisfaction
  3. Some time later, proof emerges that Addy did not in fact cheat
I won't offer any specific conclusion, as I found this useful just to reflect on. And contrast too, with the massively inept player, so that Addy did indeed break the rules but without intent to cheat.

With cheating, it looks like the player is not accepting the goal of the game, not in fact ACTUALLY "stepping into the magic circle," but rather giving the appearance that they have done so. This allows them to manipulate the contents of the circle, while being unbound by that circle--they have, in effect, broken the border, the circle is no longer closed. As you say, "not a sincere participant."
In other commentary, it is emphasised further that the cheater must be a sincere participant. Too sincere, in some cases: suspending a rule interfering with their fulfilment of game purposes (such as when oriented to strongly toward Score - Achievement.) In any case, the cheat (and the massively inept player) are both able to put some rules in force for themselves, and not others, while others in the same circle (i.e. playing in the same game session) continue to hold those same rules binding upon themselves.

I mean, I don't actually see the second rule as being anything at all, because "agree with clearstream" already has agreement in it. Either the norm is binding, in which case you have agreed that it is a rule, or the norm is not binding, in which case it is (at most) a suggestion.

If we actually had to have structures like what you're talking about here (and what you've said before), literally all rules ever would be an infinite chain: "Rule 3. Agree to rule 2. Rule 4. Agree to rule 3. Rule 5...." etc. That is pretty clearly absurd.
Yes, precisely. The infinite regress is clearly absurd, and must be broken by something other than a rule that leads to agreement.

Doesn't being "exogenous" make them not rules? Ethos, principle, best practice...these are all suggestions. They may be very carefully-crafted suggestions. It may be that the design was built specifically around assuming them. None of that makes them rules.
It is Bjork and Holopainen who suggest they ought be called exogenous rules. Because of the regress you noticed above, I agree with you that it is wrong to call them "rules" at all. Principles or ethos are both better. There's pretty extensive discourse on the preconditions for rule acceptance and play. Where we may continue to disagree is that I say that these (largely unwritten) principles or ethos underpin our decisions about the rules we put in force for ourselves.

In my suggestion about "rules" on the threshold of the circle, I should be clearer that I am thinking about rules (and not principles or ethos).
 

clearstream

(He, Him)
The conventional meaning of "deontic" is "pertaining to duties". I'm not sure what you mean by "deontic consequences". Do you mean that people won't like it if you break the rules? But that doesn't seem consistent with asserting that people are free to ignore the rules.
Right! And I do not assert that. I say that people are not free to ignore rules because of both the deontic consequences of their principles or ethos, and the expectations or desires they have as to what will be constituted.

EDIT So that in the absence of those factors, it would be a free for all in every game! Rule 0 can let a DM off every rule, but not off their principles or ethos. Nor off their desire to enjoy the play constituted by the rules.

Also: I don't see how, in a game like AW, a GM can choose not to agree to any rule. For instance, a GM who doesn't follow the rule "if you do it, you do it" probably isn't playing AW any more. That rule is constitutive of AW as a game.
So a rule as you grasp and uphold it can be constitutive of the game that you expect or desire AW to be. AW is capable of remaining a game under many other variations. Is it the same game? that hair has been split a great many times in the wider discourse! The strictest possible view is to say that every instance of play of AW must be grasped a-priori to be a different game, because we cannot be sure of identical-in-every-respect grasping of and upholding of every rule.

There is some tolerance here: "touch move" probably isn't constitutive of chess, though perhaps is constitutive of competition chess; children play chess although they don't know or use the "en passant" rule; etc. Vincent Baker has a whole discussion, in the AW rulebook, of custom moves and of using the system beyond the apocalyptic setting. But none of that touches on the centrality of "if you do it, you do it".
The terrific advance made in the last decade or so has been the realisation that it is possible and powerful to spell out principles in the game text. So that works hard to try and prevent players going off-piste. In the past, I have been accused of playing AW incorrectly. For that to be possible, it must be true that those principles weren't powerful enough to prevent other factors leading me to grasp and uphold the rules in the wrong way. The possibility of incorrect play, serves as a reminder that correct play is not guaranteed.
 

Campbell

Relaxed Intensity
@clearstream

Your commentary fundamentally treats the 5e text demonstrably different than it treats the Apocalypse World text. I fail to see how players in 5e could not just as easily ignore the text (insisting on using a mechanic as written or telling the DM we aren't doing that) as an MC in Apocalypse World could ignore the things you always say (including what the rules demand).
 

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