@pemerton You objected to my use of the word “dishonest.” I’m not accusing you of lying in bad faith. I’m describing how your rhetorical approach consistently reframes or redirects the conversation away from the distinction I’ve been trying to discuss. That’s what I referred to as a dishonest technique. You are being rhetorically dishonest, not lying about facts. If that offends, so be it, but I stand by my analysis.
For those who want to review the post I am responding too, it’s available
here..
Returning to the issue.
You wrote
The mechanics determine the outcome before all of the fiction is established.
That statement confirms the very distinction I’ve been making. In Torchbearer, the mechanics resolve a situation before the relevant circumstances have been established. That’s not a minor implementation detail, it reflects a fundamental difference in what drives the unfolding of events at the table.
One of the underlying assumptions in this discussion seems to be that if two systems use similar mechanical structures—say, random tables or pre-circumstance resolution, then they must produce similar play experiences. But I don’t think that holds. The context, intent, and structure surrounding those mechanics matter just as much as the dice or procedures themselves. Torchbearer may use mechanics that resemble early D&D, but it puts them to very different use, and produces a correspondingly different kind of game.
In World in Motion play, circumstances exist prior to resolution. There’s a timeline, factions with goals, NPCs acting independently, and a geography that exists whether the players go there or not. When I roll, it’s not to create a threat from whole cloth, it’s to determine whether a threat that’s already moving in the world intersects with the party.
You’ve pointed to surprise rolls, attack rolls, wandering monster checks, and Rolemaster’s stealth/evasion mechanics as evidence that Torchbearer's approach is nothing new. I suspect you’ll continue to press that point. But that line of reasoning misses the heart of the issue.
Yes, traditional D&D makes use of random procedures. But those rolls are grounded in specific in-game circumstances. A surprise roll assumes two groups are already present. A wandering monster check presumes monsters exist in the area—the table reflects what’s likely to be nearby. Even when random tables are used to determine which threat emerges, they operate within a frame already defined by the setting. The randomness determines which element enters, not whether anything exists to begin with.
To highlight the distinction, let's compare two tools: one from
Torchbearer 2e, and one from my
How to Make a Fantasy Sandbox. Both address in-town encounters, but from very different philosophies.
In Torchbearer 2e, town is not a neutral setting, it is framed as hostile, alienating, and oppressive to adventurers. This tone is made explicit in the Scholar’s Guide:
“It’s hard to imagine how anyone could live here for long. Town is noisy, crowded and, worst of all, expensive. Still, it’s not without benefits. It’s a safe haven and a place to sharpen steel and draw up new plans, but it’s no place for the likes of us. Without title, letters of recommendation or enough lucre to drown in, we’re treated little better than chattel.”
This isn’t just flavor text. It’s reinforced procedurally through the “At the Gates” sequence, where town events are rolled from a table based on the type of settlement (Bustling Metropolis, Dwarven Halls, Religious Bastion, etc.). These events help tell a predetermined kind of story, one where town is inherently unfriendly and the adventurer's life is always precarious.
This is a fiction-first, story-shaped framework, and it works well for what Torchbearer is trying to do. But it is not neutral. It’s already decided the tone and the thematic arc, regardless of where on the map the party actually is.
In contrast, my Travel system in How to Make a Fantasy Sandbox is designed to handle movement, by land, water, or through a city. It doesn’t assume anything about the type of story being told. It doesn’t prescribe a theme. Its sole purpose is to help the referee determine what happens when characters move through a living setting.
Within towns and cities, travel generates broad encounter prompts: “An unexpected meeting,” “A buried past,” “A place to shop.” These aren’t abstract narrative beats, they’re events that arise from walking through a specific place. The encounter’s actual content depends on the circumstances on the map and the location’s established features.
To quote directly from my text:
Trust your judgment
The circumstances of encounters vary. These rules rely on you looking at where the party is on the map and making a considered judgment on the nature of the encounter.
Two factors are critical to make this work well:
- Know the setting, even if only in general terms. This makes the encounter feel organic.
- Imagine the situation as if you were there, witnessing it. This helps you tailor the encounter to where the party is on the map.
That last point—“where the party is on the map”—is the crux of the difference.
In Torchbearer, the outcome is predetermined in structure. Town will always feel like a cold and dehumanizing place, no matter where you are. In my approach, the town might feel that way, or it might not. It depends on the campaign, the setting, the factions, and the history leading up to that moment.
In short, Torchbearer cares about depicting a theme. I care about depicting a world. That’s the distinction, and that’s why adjudication based on circumstance, not abstraction, matters with World in Motion.
While I’m only quoting a portion of your post here, I’ve read the rest carefully and have addressed the broader themes, especially your framing of these procedures as equivalent to early D&D mechanics, and your continued position that this is simply a matter of technique rather than adjudication structure.
You're welcome to argue that these differences don't matter to you. But downplaying them, or redefining them as mere variations in technique, doesn’t address the actual argument: that these structures produce fundamentally different play experiences.