Confirm or Deny: D&D4e would be going strong had it not been titled D&D

[Zak S]

In my mind "low stakes exploration" is generally a function of the type of game or playstyle (a lot of gamist / Gygaxian skilled play elements), or the PCs are bunch of "rootless vagabonds" / murderhobos.

Every "treasured snowflake leveled-up PC" in my game started life as a rootless vagabond murderhobo in a Gygaxian skilled-play game.

A loved, invested-in, 3-dimensional PC is just a murderhobo that survived long enough to become that thing.
and they are loved all the more because they could so easily have died so many times.

Including this guy: http://dndwithpornstars.blogspot.com/2015/04/players-refuse-to-die.html

 

[innerdude]

I'm not sure I've seen this exactly.

I don't think I'm describing the same thing as you did - so I guess the immediate answer to your question is "no" - but I can say that the 4e mechanics have allowed the players to express their characters in a meaningful way while nevertheless ensuring a type of integration into the party dynamic, even though that is not the innate disposition of the character.

Something I enjoy - and I don't know if this is a feature of Savage Worlds play or not - is when the fiction pushes the players to play their PCs against mechanical type. For instance, the player of the dwarf is so passionate about something, and frustrated with how the other players are having their PCs engage a situation, that he comes in and makes the Diplomacy check to try and push things his way; or, in a combat, the sorcerer finds himself having to hold the front line. This is not necessarily where heroism comes to the fore, but it can lead to narrow and exciting successes, or to meaningful failures - meaningful because the player really put his/her PC on the line for a reason, and even if it didn't work out quite as desired something interesting happened in the fiction as a result.

What was interesting about it, was I'd NEVER seen a rogue character in 3e---in nearly 10 years of playing the system---end up being a true "hero" of the campaign simply by doing all the rogue-y stuff that the mechanics said he should be doing. At first I think the player tried to create a character based on that old 3e standard----if you want to play the aloof anti-hero, make a rogue, because the rogue is never the hero, he's just the guy who does some useful stuff occasionally, then stands in the background. At first it felt like the player was trying to play his character the way you'd play a D&D rogue......yet the rules and his role in the fiction were pushing him in different directions.

Once he caught on and his mental paradigm shifted, the player loved every minute of it.

As far as having the fiction push the player against mechanical type---I don't know that I'd attribute that necessarily to system. I think that would be more of a function of strong scene framing and player recognition of stakes. I know with Savage Worlds, the free-form character design definitely pushes characters into interesting fictional positions.

What is probably similar between the two systems is that 4e and Savage Worlds both assume a broad level of competency in multiple areas. This makes it easier, I think, for a player to feel willing to attempt more things where it's "sub optimal" for the character, but cool in the fiction. Even though a character isn't great at something, they don't feel they're playing completely against the "heroic vibe" to have a character attempt something that's not generally their bailiwick---because there's still a chance for success, and as you say the intrinsic rewards in playing that way are fun.

 

[pemerton]

The fact that the game can come to an end is why it's such a great stake.

And, no, I don't think any other stake is as interesting in a game (not in dramatic fiction, a whole other form) as not getting to play the game anymore (or at least not gettng to play it in the same way). I challenge you to ame one.

<snip>

A character being blind or mad or not getting to do what they want right away is a more interesting RESULT, but a less interesting STAKE--since all of those things are still fun and still playing.

The point of death is it creates the greatest fear in the game: fear of the fun going away.

I think this all might depend a bit (maybe a lot) on player expectations and table practices.

In my case, I play with a regular group. Some of the friendships in the group go back to high school; in my case, the shortest time I've known any group member is over 20 years. So there is no danger of the game coming to an end in any literal sense, nor of the fun going away.

No, not to the PC, to the PLAYER.

Death means that you have to stop playing the game with a given character -- i.e. stop playing the game the way you've been playing for hours or weeks or months or even years.

So it's a genuine (not imagined) loss for the player.

The people who say "I can think of many things that are more interesting than death" --well, so can everyone. The question is does the player consider that consequence so severe as a stake that they are forced to stop playing make a new PC (death) or they want to stop playing and make a new PC (the humiliations or defeats you describe).

If they aren't, then they're just problems that keep the game interesting (like any ogre or evil mage).

<snip>

Unless a stake is severe in a way that makes play less fun should it come to pass (and therefore provoke or require abandonment of the PC), it won't provoke as much true fear as death. And true fear is what many players want.

If you take as a premise that the only (or most) exciting thing in RPGing is finding out whether or not you get to keep going without frustration, then what you say follows.

But that premise is not universally true. Particularly because the "less fun" is not, at least in my case, a very apt description.

PC death changes the player's mechanical vehicle for engaging the game. But this may or may not be a loss, depending on table conventions for brining in a new PC. I've played in games where it was mechanically advantageous for a PC to die, because new PCs came in at the same or very similar level but could have their build optimised for the current level and ingame situation, rather than wearing the vicissitudes of organic development over the course of play.

In many cases, the main consequence of PC death is frustration: time lost generating a new PC (and perhaps missing out on getting to play for minutes or hours); elements of the fiction left dangling and unexplored; the player's vision of the broad parameters within which the game would unfold being thwarted. But there will not be "less fun" in any real sense: the friendships will endure and new sessions will be played.

Is fear of frustration a great stake? Not really, in my personal approach to RPGing. Be frustrated for a brief period does not evoke fear in the people I RPG with. We're not afraid of being frustrated; just a bit annoyed by the prospect in the context of what is, for us, a leisure activity.

There is no comparison, for me at least, to heats in competitions. The game (as I run it, and as I prefer to approach it when I'm a player) is not a competition to see who is best, or who can last the longest without experiencing frustration. As [MENTION=6790260]EzekielRaiden[/MENTION] pointed out upthread, the "prize" for winning is simply getting to keep going (ie non-frustration), not any sort of proof that you are the best.

The stakes that I prefer to focus on in RPGing are stakes within the fiction, in which the players have an emotional investment. (Upthread you rejected the comparison to dramatic fiction. I don't. I find that the emotional pull of RPGing, which distinguishes it from other forms of gameplay, is precisely that it gives rise to a fiction in which the participants have an emotional investment. They care about the characters, their circumstances, the future of their world.)

From this point of view, PC death has a certain meaning or significance in the fiction, but so do many other things. Any number of changes to the fiction can engage the emotions of the players, and hence constitute things that are at stake in making a choice.

Something that I find interesting and complex is the interplay between fictional stakes and mechanical consequences for the player: players can care sufficiently about an outcome in the fiction - wishing it to be one thing rather than another - that they are prepared to sacrifice mechanical capabilities, and thereby reduce the extent of their ability, as players, to make moves within the game, in order to achieve that outcome. In my 4e game that has mostly taken the form of sacrificing magic items to achieve particular outcomes (eg here), but in a recent session it meant the player permanently giving up his PC's (then) best daily power, plus his racial encounter power.

If the measure of intensity of stakes is how much emotional weight or force a choice has, or how big a willingness to commit it is understood by everyone at the table to demonstrate, these are some of the situations that, for me, clearly demonstrate such intensity.

there is no such thing as a low-stakes fight, a low-stakes hallway, a low-stakes door-opening in my campaign.

I would generally say the same thing of my game, but it is likely I would mean something different by it. My goal (not always achieved, because I'm not the best GM I could be) is that every choice the players make should engage the fiction in which they are emotionally invested (beyond the mere survival of their PCs).

Because 4e is a game in which, ultimately, the deepest conflicts will be resolved by violence, combat examples are easy to give: I linked to one above.

Here are three non-combat examples that add to the power-sacrifice example I linked to above: a dinner-party in which the PCs had to withstand and (in the end) thwart their nemesis without embarrassing their ally, the baron, to whom the nemesis was an advisor; the interrogation of a captured prisoner, which - due to the way that player choices about where their PCs were and what they did interacted with the pressure I had been creating in the unfolding situation - meant that they all wanted her dead, but found themselves obliged to insist to the baron that she not be executed but be imprisoned instead (because the fighter/cleric woudn't break a promise that had been made in his name, and the other PCs weren't prepared to cross the fighter/cleric's sense of honour); and the resurrection of the dead PC wizard, whose rebirth was permitted by the gods on condition that he be accompanied by an imp who would report back on his doings to the archdevil Levistus and the god-general Bane.

These were all episodes that generated strong emotional responses from the players (raised voice, disagreement over what choices should be made, lengthy periods of deliberation, etc). But in no case was PC death at stake (in the third case, the PC was already dead, and the question was whether the player would bring in a new PC or rather continue to play the same PC, but with that PC importantly changed both mechanically and within the fiction).

For me, personally, that is what I am looking for in an RPG.

 

[pemerton]

I think we may be running into an issue of what "death" means in a game.

There are games where a player death means sitting out for a while waiting for a time to bring in a new character. And losing narrative continuity because of the loss of the history tied up with the character.

These are the things that contribute to the frustration that I mention in my post just upthread.

As I said, I don't find that fear of frustration makes for very engaging RPGing.

 

[pemerton]

This thread from last year, which I recently necro-ed, has some discussion of running classic Gygaxian dungeon crawls that seems relevant to this discussion of PC death as a stake.

A high degree of proficiency in GMing this style and in playing this style provides a rewarding experience for both sides of the table. A low degree of proficiency in GMing results in poorly conveyed information, loss of player agency and skill as arbiter of outcomes, and/or pear-shaped crawling dynamics (such as poorly considered rewards inflating PC potency for the rest of crawl). A low degree of PC proficiency can result in early TPK and/or indecision that stalls the game due to the high stakes.

Rereading this particular post reminded me of some things Luke Crane said about running Moldvay Basic.

<snip>

t's a hard game to run. Not because of prep or rules mastery, but because of the role of the GM as impartial conveyer of really bad news. Since the exploration side of the game is cross between Telephone and Pictionary, I must sit impassive as the players make bad decisions. I want them to win. I want them to solve the puzzles, but if I interfere, I render the whole exercise pointless.​

<snip>

During some of the darker moments of the game, when curses flew and lives ended, my players turned to me and said, "Don't worry; don't feel badly. It's not you. It's the game."​

Running tight dungeon crawls requires an awful lot of skill with a very focused set of techniques. You don't want the players to lose, but your responsibility is to faithfully render the opposition and carry on the necessaries of play procedures with the primary objective always at the forefront; the authenticity of player success (by the mix of their own merits and the objective fall of the dice) is paramount.

[MENTION=6696971]Manbearcat[/MENTION], this is part of why I suck at running classic D&D dungeon crawls. I can't tolerate the Telephone/Pictionary aspect that Luke Crane describes: I want to get involved and tell my players what is really going on! But in this sort of game, that just ruins the whole thing.

Elaborating on that last self-quote:

When I GM I'm not interested in being, and perhaps not capable of being, a dispassionate observer who impassively delivers really bad news. I poke and prod and cajole my players - sometimes using NPCs, often just using my own voice as referee. I constantly remind them of what is at stake in the fiction relevant to their (and their PCs') avowed goals, their previously demonstrated conceptions of their PCs, etc.

The aim is for them to maximally feel the emotional weight and dramatic stakes of the fiction that they are helping to shape.

Fear is not the pre-eminent emotion that is in play. I'm not sure if there is a single, pre-eminent emotion, but if I had to conjecture that there is, and label it, I would say that it is commitment - or maybe, rather, that is the salient disposition, and pride in accomplishment or shame at culpably failing to honour commitments are the corresponding emotions.

Of course the pride and shame are vicarious, resulting from identification with the fiction; part of the function of my involvement as GM is to help establish and reinforce that identification.

 

[Bedrockgames]

I don't GM as a dispassionate observer, I simply try to be fair. The aim for me isn't to kill the PCs, it is to be honest with my rolls and with the roles I play in the game (setting, NPCs, monsters, etc).

I think there are just some fundamental differences here in how people play the game. That's fine. Nothing wrong with variety. I tend to lean more toward the immersion side, with an emphasis on players seeing things through their character's eyes, acting through their character and influencing the world and events through their character. For me I am not there to tell a story, but to play a world and play interesting NPCs. My approach takes 1 part exploration, 1 part situational adventure/character driven adventure and 1 part compromise (i.e. find out what my players like in terms of playstyle and try to work with that). The last bit is really important, because while we can hash out a consistent and clear vision of ideal play online, ultimately these are games we play with real people and real people often have different ideas about how an RPG should go.

 

[pemerton]

I am not there to tell a story

Nor am I. I am there to encourage the players care about and engage the fiction. (A lot of this is about presenting them with fiction that is engaging to them.)

 

[Zak S]

So there is no danger of the game coming to an end in any literal sense, nor of the fun going away.

You miss my point: you lose that character (which is a way of playing the game) not the whole game. This is still a significant loss.

I've played in games where it was mechanically advantageous for a PC to die, because new PCs came in at the same or very similar level but could have their build optimised for the current level and ingame situation, rather than wearing the vicissitudes of organic development over the course of play.

If that's all they care about then they're not terribly attached to the PC to begin with.

I'd also suggest this is a bad practice if it discourages a playstyle you like.

In many cases, the main consequence of PC death is frustration: time lost generating a new PC (and perhaps missing out on getting to play for minutes or hours); elements of the fiction left dangling and unexplored; the player's vision of the broad parameters within which the game would unfold being thwarted. But there will not be "less fun" in any real sense: the friendships will endure and new sessions will be played.

I don't understand: Frustration is quite literally less fun. Not zero fun, But less fun. Or at least: it is frustration, which is a genuine punishment.

Still a great stake: Do this right or suffer frustration. Again: just like Mario.

Is fear of frustration a great stake? Not really, in my personal approach to RPGing. Be frustrated for a brief period does not evoke fear in the people I RPG with. We're not afraid of being frustrated; just a bit annoyed by the prospect in the context of what is, for us, a leisure activity.

If you do not like frustration and frustration is something you'd actively seek to avoid
then we have the requisite motivating emotion--if you don't want to call it "fear" call it something else. But point is it's a great reason to check for traps before you open a door.

Unless you're saying your players have no foresight and can't see that coming and so the possibility of death and the resulting frustration cannot affect them.

There is no comparison, for me at least, to heats in competitions. The game (as I run it, and as I prefer to approach it when I'm a player) is not a competition to see who is best, or who can last the longest without experiencing frustration.

That's irrelevant, since frustration is still by nature undesirable.

The stakes that I prefer to focus on in RPGing are stakes within the fiction, in which the players have an emotional investment.

You just said frustration is annoying. You thus have an automatic investment in avoiding it. Unless you meant "characters" not "players".

For me, personally, that is what I am looking for in an RPG.

I don't doubt that--just the words you're using to describe it.

You can say "I am interested in playing a game where nondeath things are at stake in big moments" (makes sense) without saying "Death isn't a stake for me because I don't fear death I just want to avoid it because it creates frustration and even though I seek to avoid frustration I refuse to call that aversion 'fear'" which is confusing and begs a lot of questions.


I mean: if you want to see how things play out by setting up certain story situations: great, that's your game.

It doesn't affect the fact that death is a thing players generally seek to avoid and that it is precisely because it's frustrating or boring or scary or some other negative word and that's precisely why it is a great motivator at many tables that are not your own.

 

[pemerton]

If that's all they care about then they're not terribly attached to the PC to begin with.

I'd also suggest this is a bad practice if it discourages a playstyle you like.

The second sentence is true, yes.

The first sentence is also true, but it points to something that I think is quite important, namely, the nature of the player's attachment to the PC.

If that attachment is to the PC primarily as a vehicle for participating in the game, then your contention that fear of losing that vehicle is a great stake, perhaps the greatest, is plausible. I think this is how a classic module like Tomb of Horrors or White Plume Mountain is meant to be run.

But if the player's attachment to the PC is more like the attachment to a character in a dramatic fiction - a type of vicarious emotional identification - then there is no reason to think that PC death is anything special as a stake, any more than thinking that in dramatic fiction generally death of the protagonist is the most gripping or engaging scenario that can be presented.

You can say "I am interested in playing a game where nondeath things are at stake in big moments" (makes sense) without saying "Death isn't a stake for me because I don't fear death I just want to avoid it because it creates frustration and even though I seek to avoid frustration I refuse to call that aversion 'fear'" which is confusing and begs a lot of questions.

<snip>

It doesn't affect the fact that death is a thing players generally seek to avoid and that it is precisely because it's frustrating or boring or scary or some other negative word and that's precisely why it is a great motivator at many tables that are not your own.

Where did I dispute that death is a great stake at some tables? All I did was deny that it is an especially or distinctively great stake at mine - and explain why.

On the issue of language; it's not just terminology. It's about meaningful difference in human emotions. In particular, apprehension of possible frustration is not the same emotional state as fear.

Fear can be a genuinely exhilarating emotion - hence, for instance, the appeal of roller coasters. But apprehension of potential annoyance or frustrating is not exhilarating for many people, and is often just itself a source of annoyance. For instance, few people are exhilarated by having to fill in a complex form (say, the documentation involved in buying a house or applying for a bank loan) because they know there's a chance they'll get it wrong and have to do it again.

That's not thrilling fear, it's just annoying risks of tedium.

I don't understand: Frustration is quite literally less fun. Not zero fun, But less fun. Or at least: it is frustration, which is a genuine punishment.

Still a great stake: Do this right or suffer frustration. Again: just like Mario.

If you do not like frustration and frustration is something you'd actively seek to avoid
then we have the requisite motivating emotion--if you don't want to call it "fear" call it something else. But point is it's a great reason to check for traps before you open a door.

Unless you're saying your players have no foresight and can't see that coming and so the possibility of death and the resulting frustration cannot affect them.

<snip>

You just said frustration is annoying. You thus have an automatic investment in avoiding it.

Of course the players have an investment in avoiding frustration. That doesn't make it a great stake for play, though. I mean, they also have an investment in avoiding me pouring Coke over their character sheets, or in their dice containers, or over their heads, but it wouldn't improve my game to make that a possible consequence for certain outcomes of action resolution.

That's part of why I think it's helpful to distinguish fear from other emotions, like aversion to annoying things.

There are contexts in which pouring Coke over someone else's head could well be a good stake in game play - say, if you're playing some sort of game at the beach, and so there is no annoying element to the Coke pouring (the waves will quickly wash it away) and hence only the thrill of fear is left (it would be enhanced by having the Coke be very chilled relative to the water).

Whether the threat of character death (eg via trapped doors) is a source of thrilling fear (and hence a good stake) or merely the annoying apprehension of a risk of frustration, depends on the context and purposes of play at a given table. Which is what I said upthread.

 

[Zak S]

The second sentence is true, yes.

The first sentence is also true, but it points to something that I think is quite important, namely, the nature of the player's attachment to the PC.

If that attachment is to the PC primarily as a vehicle for participating in the game, then your contention that fear of losing that vehicle is a great stake, perhaps the greatest, is plausible. I think this is how a classic module like Tomb of Horrors or White Plume Mountain is meant to be run.

But if the player's attachment to the PC is more like the attachment to a character in a dramatic fiction - a type of vicarious emotional identification - then there is no reason to think that PC death is anything special as a stake, any more than thinking that in dramatic fiction generally death of the protagonist is the most gripping or engaging scenario that can be presented.

Where did I dispute that death is a great stake at some tables? All I did was deny that it is an especially or distinctively great stake at mine - and explain why.

On the issue of language; it's not just terminology. It's about meaningful difference in human emotions. In particular, apprehension of possible frustration is not the same emotional state as fear.

Fear can be a genuinely exhilarating emotion - hence, for instance, the appeal of roller coasters. But apprehension of potential annoyance or frustrating is not exhilarating for many people, and is often just itself a source of annoyance. For instance, few people are exhilarated by having to fill in a complex form (say, the documentation involved in buying a house or applying for a bank loan) because they know there's a chance they'll get it wrong and have to do it again.

That's not thrilling fear, it's just annoying risks of tedium.

Of course the players have an investment in avoiding frustration. That doesn't make it a great stake for play, though. I mean, they also have an investment in avoiding me pouring Coke over their character sheets, or in their dice containers, or over their heads, but it wouldn't improve my game to make that a possible consequence for certain outcomes of action resolution.

That's part of why I think it's helpful to distinguish fear from other emotions, like aversion to annoying things.

There are contexts in which pouring Coke over someone else's head could well be a good stake in game play - say, if you're playing some sort of game at the beach, and so there is no annoying element to the Coke pouring (the waves will quickly wash it away) and hence only the thrill of fear is left (it would be enhanced by having the Coke be very chilled relative to the water).

Whether the threat of character death (eg via trapped doors) is a source of thrilling fear (and hence a good stake) or merely the annoying apprehension of a risk of frustration, depends on the context and purposes of play at a given table. Which is what I said upthread.

Fair enough.