Aligns with group's goals can easily be replaced with aligns with character's goals.
I’m concerned with both sets of goals.
Have you found any examples in this thread where the other side is not concerned with plausibility in their games?
Read what I actually wrote before asking a loaded question. Every system has creative goals and priorities. I place plausibility first. Other systems place their priorities first before plausibility.
The emphasis is plausibility first, discretion second. My recommendation is to roll half the time and choose the other half based on what’s most fun or engaging within the set of plausible outcomes, fun that aligns with the group’s goals, not an imposed narrative.
Clocks are used in indie games, typically our games (yours and mine and others with similar styles) have more "Clocks" in motion. I tend to think that is as a result of having prepared more content as opposed to games where the content is predominantly generated at the table.
I don’t find clocks to be a useful aid for tracking what’s going on in my campaigns. Due to the ripple effects of interconnected events from different groups, I rely on notes and a combined timeline of projected developments.
In the same way some people like to structure their replies (and write things down) than speak off the cuff and that is fine.
What you're missing is that very little of what happens during my sessions is procedural in the sense you're describing. The session unfolds from first-person roleplay. There’s no need for an "intent and task" mechanic like in Burning Wheel. The players show intent by roleplaying their characters. Tasks arise naturally from what they describe their characters doing, including combat.
This post describes an example.
To expand on it further:
The group arrives at Gold Keep.
They crest the ridge and see the town about a half mile away. I describe the scene.
As they get closer, they can see buildings like the inn and shops, so I add labels to the map.
Sometimes they split up to do different things, I handle this round-robin style and can manage up to three or four subgroups before it bogs things down.
In this case, they all head to the castle. At the gate, Erdan (an elven merchant-adventurer) asks to meet the Constable, Sir Jerome Blackhawk. The group is polite and looks respectable aside from the tribal priest from the steppes. No roll needed, they're let into the Great Hall.
Five minutes later in-game, the Chancellor arrives. I roleplay him in first person. He asks the party their business. Erdan reveals he’s an elf, which carries high status in some human realms, and explains his concerns about hill giant activity. I call for a persuasion check, but only to see if he rolls a natural 1. He doesn't, so they’re shown to Sir Jerome’s study.
In-character, they lay out a proposal to deal with the giants. It aligns with the NPC’s goals, so no roll needed. Sir Jerome agrees. They’re offered supplies, decline, rest overnight, and head out in the morning. All of this handled in first person roleplaying.
They scout, find Yonk’s lair, kill a warg patrol, hide the bodies, then decide to approach the Elves of Silverdim to request help. The elves refuse, they’re refugees rebuilding from the fall of Silverwood and have no desire to provoke the giants. They also pay Yonk’s fee themselves for peace.
Still, the players learn a lot: local politics, hill giant culture, and elven attitudes, all from first person roleplaying and interacting with NPCs.
They return to Gold Keep. Josh didn’t mention in his post that the party chose not to involve Gold Keep’s military due to high likely casualties. Instead, they plan a small-team disruption campaign. With an assassin, monk, rogue-style merchant, and tribal druid/cleric, they feel confident.
The next game day, they leave Gold Keep. I roll encounters like always. Then the events Josh described unfold.
At that point, the party realizes their actions will ripple far beyond Gold Keep, so they wrap up and continue on to Castle Westguard, following their original mission.
What I understand from this is that you plan for what the players care about between sessions while Pemerton finds a way to make that happen immediately at the table during play. That is merely a timing difference.
In the same way some people like to structure their replies (and write things down) than speak off the cuff and that is fine.
I can say very often enough I have used ideas or become inspired by ideas by the general chatter of players thinking out aloud and conversing at the table and we make the magic happen with all the necessary bells and whistles of setting plausibility etc. That is not leadership to me. And neither is leadership asking questions between or after sessions as opposed to during play which is what Pemerton does.
I honestly think we are using the word Leadership in an attempt to needlessly differentiate us from them on this issue.
You say using the term leadership is “needless.” I disagree. It’s not just a label. Refereeing a long-running campaign where the world is persistent and consequences matter takes actual leadership. I’m not talking about ego or table dominance. I mean the responsibility to maintain continuity, ensure fairness, and uphold the internal logic of the setting. When players know their actions have real consequences, because the world doesn’t bend to spotlight them, they trust the game more. That trust has to be earned, and that’s part of the referee’s leadership.
The idea that the difference between my playstyle and Pemerton’s is just a matter of timing misses the point. It flattens a structural difference into a superficial one. In my campaigns, the world is in motion. It doesn’t sit idle waiting for a dramatic beat. I’m not listening for what the players might want to see happen and then slotting it in. I’m adjudicating how a world with its own agendas and timelines reacts to what the players choose to do. That’s not just a difference in pacing. That’s a difference in how player agency functions.
As for player chatter during sessions: sure, I’ve drawn inspiration from it. But I don’t treat that as a cue to give them what they want. If it aligns with what’s already in motion, great. If it doesn’t, the world doesn’t change to accommodate it. That’s part of the discipline of running a Living World. You’re not just building forward, you’re maintaining consistency backward. When I talk to players between or after sessions, it helps me flesh out the elements they care about at the level of detail they expect, if and when they choose to engage with those elements. That’s not improvisation in service of narrative, it’s prep in service of agency.
And yes, I improvise. But your framing ignores how I actually run things and tries to pull everything back toward a framework you’re more comfortable with. My improvisation is bounded by world logic, not driven by theme, character arcs, or narrative tension. I’m not asking myself “What would make a compelling story here?” or “What will challenge the character emotionally?” I’m asking, “What happens next based on everything that came before?” That’s not a stylistic difference. That’s a procedural one.
Wrapping this up, I’m disappointed in this kind of response. If you conflated how Powered by the Apocalypse procedures, of which Moves are a part, with how Burning Wheel handles Intent and Task, the reaction would be annoyance, maybe even anger, and the conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. This is no different.
I’ve said, other said, repeatedly, that Pemerton’s techniques and philosophy make sense given what he values in RPGs. But he cannot conceive of a universe where my Living World sandbox, and the versions shared by others here, are equally valid approaches grounded in different assumptions. And now you’re defending that dismissiveness, that quiet gatekeeping, that subtle effort to diminish how we play.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This kind of rhetorical narrowing is exactly what we’ve seen before, from Edwards, Baker, and others who’ve made it clear that only one kind of play counts in their eyes. It’s frustrating to see that dynamic repeated here.