Well, I am officially 1/3 of my way into my dice mechanics series of posts and given that I started the series on ... um ... February 18, 2023, that's going great! Life happens. Anyway, I am doing a brief interlude because something has stuck with me that explains why I am doing the dice mechanics posts. Specifically, @loverdrive had a post some time ago stating that while she adored Blades in the Dark ("BiTD"), she didn't find that it was much of a game. While it was on a different subject matter, this feeling is what drove me to start the posts on dice mechanics- not specifically about BiTD, but about why we use dice in general, and what the different use of dice mean in different games means and why the use of dice and the different ways we use dice are so important to the "feel" of a game. It's something that I've been grappling with recently as I've been alternating between various D&D editions and a number of rules-lite bespoke games that I've been making for one-shots. So before making the second post on dice mechanics (or, perhaps, further procrastinating on that subject) I thought I'd address the origins of the series. FUN!
Given the excess of verbiage that is to follow, I thought I'd nutshell it up here- over time, I've learned that there is a certain game-y feel that I appreciate, and that an over-reliance on best practices when GMing for story-telling results in a different feel- no matter how good the results and no matter how well-intentioned those best practices might be.
1. What I Learned from Tarot Card Reading.
If, at the close of business each evening, I myself can understand what I've written, I feel the day hasn't been totally wasted.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I was given a set of tarot cards. And being a pre-college Snarf, I thought it would be cool to, you know, use them! So I read the little booklet that came with the deck, and I went to the library and did some further research on how to read and interpret the cards - this was very pre-internet. And when I had a decent idea of how it was supposed to work, I got some of my friends together and did a reading for them.
And it went well! I mean ... really well. Like, too well. Everyone was all like, "Oh, Snarf, you must have some mystic super occult powers." Which I do! But ... not those powers. And I thought it was maybe just a fluke, or random luck, so I did another, and it also went really, really well. And given the total success of this, I realized I had to investigate this further, because either this whole cartomancy thing was real and I was just coming into my own occult mystic powers, or something else was going on.
Of course, the answer was obvious. I thought I was just following the rules for interpreting the cards, but the rules themselves had so much play in them that they allowed me to interpret the cards in all sorts of ways. And the readings were all people I knew- so of course I was going to pick interpretations that matched them. Combine that with what I realized later were some unknowing "cold reading" techniques (reading body language, leading people to conclusions) and I realized that even though I thought I was just following the rules, what I was really doing was making this a fun (and occult-y and accurate) event for my friends, even without meaning too. And, of course, my doing that, combined with the presentation (ya gotta have candles, right?) led the people who were getting the readings to fill in even more gaps- I remember that afterwards, they credited my readings with things I didn't even remember saying.
It was all fun and highjinx, of course, and after the second reading I did and some reflection on the matter, I put the cards up for good. After all, you don't want to get a reputation as "You know, the person who reads everyone's fortune." Plus I didn't really see a future as fortune teller. But what does all of the have to do with the price of oil on spot market?
While an extreme example, I always remember it for the simple reason that humans interpret rules. I could have had the exact same cards for two different people, and I would have had completely different readings. I would have been applying the rules, of course, but I would have done so in order to apply it to the person. To make it make sense. Perhaps to build a sense of drama, and make sure that it was fun for the person hearing it. In a certain way, I was going to interpret those rules, for that person, to tell an effective story.
2. That's Not a Sport, That's a Game! The Problem With Definitions.
No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious.
If you've been alive in the last, oh, decade, you've probably heard some variation of, "Is a hot dog a sandwich?" This is just the prominent example of everyone's favorite (or for some of us, least-favorite) game- arguing about definitions. Is a tomato a fruit (and is ketchup therefore jam)? Is cereal a soup? Is fruit salad a salad?
On the one hand, these can be "fun" debates, if you're that kind of person ... yeah, you know who you are. All of these debates can be important. Language is imprecise, and those imprecisions (and misunderstandings) are why we have judges and attorneys- what is a chicken (in contract? it depends). Is a cow a motor vehicle for purposes of automobile insurance (it's not, because a cow doesn't have wheels)? Is a tomato a vegetable or fruit for purposes of tariffs (it's a vegetable). Is a burrito a sandwich (no, not to a New Jersey Judge). And so on.
On the other hand, Wittgenstein resolved a lot of these issues. All of which is to say that for purposes of inter-personal communication, the important thing is not some purely definitional concept, as there will always be edge cases. Instead, it's that there is a resemblance- in other words, even without a definition, we can still use a word, and just as importantly, it would be impossible to define terms (such as "sandwich" or "game") in such a way as to come up that you capture the commonality of all that is encompassed by the term.
All of which is great, especially when you want to tune out one of the innumerable debates on enworld that have devolved into definitional debates.
But, in addition, it's helpful when examining some other issues, like ... what is a game? Strangely, there is a good collection on this exact subject!
Wittgenstein on Games.
But why go through all of this? Well, when I read what loverdrive wrote, and I searched my feelings about what was lacking in the "game department" (as Vader would say, I KNOW THEM TO BE TRUE), I wanted to make sure that I articulated an important point. A lot of times, people engage in these definitional debates in order to exclude things, or to make things (and people) feel less than. "Oh, that thing you're doing? That's not a real game." Or you might hear it in a different way, "Yeah, that's not a sport, that's just a game." And that type of exclusionary language provokes a natural defensiveness- "Of course this is a game!" Or, "What are you talking about, tiddlywinks is a sport!" So when examining these issues, it's not about defining what is, or isn't, a game. It's about trying to tease out why some TTRPGs are like venison - a lot more "gamey" to me. And while the comment that got me thinking about this was about BiTD (and I agree with it), this extends to a number of other games, especially the rules-lite games that I've been making.
3. How Diceless Games Provide Contrast.
I suffered under the false belief that social engagements, if sufficiently far in the future, would never materialize.
A short while ago, while thinking about this subject, I wrote a remembrance and appreciation of Everway, a diceless TTRPG that was the first original TTRPG made by WoTC. Of course, this was preceded by the Amber Diceless RPG. These games, and others, provided rules for resolution without using dice, and as I have explained before, incorporating various techniques I learned while running these systems has been invaluable in my overall growth as a GM in terms of best practices for running games.
I wanted to reiterate something that was mentioned in that remembrance of Everway. The reviewer at Dragon Magazine, Rick Swan, stated the following:
In my regular AD&D sessions, I never use dice or charts, nor do I allow my players to use them. The same goes at my convention appearances- no dice at my tables. In 10 years, I've yet to have a single player abandon ship. Everway codifies the freeform style favored by me and (I suspect) thousands of other referees.
Part of me is quoting that just because I enjoy reminding people of the diversity of ways that people play D&D in the community- after all, there is a vast difference between the rules as written and games as played. But more importantly, it gets to the heart of the matter. It is entirely possible to play TTRPGs without dice, provided you have a good GM. In fact, many people say that the problem with Everway is that Johnathan Tweet, the creator of the game, wasn't around to run the games for all the people playing it. And what does it mean to be a good GM? Well, it means that you are invested in the game. In the people playing. In the overall narrative stakes. And that you interpret the rules in a manner that allows you to tell an effective collaborative story with the people that are playing.
The thing is- that can be a lot of fun, with a certain group, and in a certain way. There are people that love that, and prefer that. But it's definitely different. Since this is a D&D thread, I'll use a D&D example- it's a lot like the old-school way of handling social interactions, or parts of the exploration pillar. The GM might be adjudicating declarations and actions, but there are no dice rolls. And these games, by making more explicit how this "diceless" adjudication works, allows GMs and players to be more comfortable with the method- in essence, by making more explicit many of the "best practices" or "heuristics" that people were previously using. So for someone like Rick Swan, a game like Everway was just codifying what he was already doing in AD&D as a freeform exercise.
4. Is this essay like a box of crayons in a kindergarten classroom, without a point?
The most dangerous of all people are the old, for it no longer matters to them what is going to happen to the world.
So why go through all of that? I love designing and running the rules-lite one shots I have been doing. But they have that same "feel" in many ways that I noticed when I was trying BiTD- they lack a certain something, that, for lack of a better term, I would call gaminess. And it's the same feel that I have when running diceless games. In saying this, I am not being exclusionary or saying that they aren't games, just like I wouldn't say that what Rick Swan ran wasn't AD&D. Instead, it's that same idea that you idea that you can erect rules around storytelling, but it's still storytelling. And like tarot cards, even when you have list examples of rules, you still get to interpret them, and the interpretation matters. It doesn't make things better than, or worse than, but different in feel- and that difference can be profoundly appealing, or off-putting to people.
To bring it back to D&D, you see this essential debate carried out in numerous ways; the use of dice and/or ability checks in the social or exploration parts of the game. Whether or not to "fudge" dice rolls. The use of railroading and illusionism. The boundaries of GM and player authority. In many ways, these are conversations about how much "game" you want in your D&D, and how willing you are to allow the dice to dictate results, as opposed to having the dice simply inform the narration.
And in thinking about these issues, I realized that one of the things that we don't really talk about is the dice. So I'll get to the second essay. At some point. Promise. Maybe.
Given the excess of verbiage that is to follow, I thought I'd nutshell it up here- over time, I've learned that there is a certain game-y feel that I appreciate, and that an over-reliance on best practices when GMing for story-telling results in a different feel- no matter how good the results and no matter how well-intentioned those best practices might be.
1. What I Learned from Tarot Card Reading.
If, at the close of business each evening, I myself can understand what I've written, I feel the day hasn't been totally wasted.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I was given a set of tarot cards. And being a pre-college Snarf, I thought it would be cool to, you know, use them! So I read the little booklet that came with the deck, and I went to the library and did some further research on how to read and interpret the cards - this was very pre-internet. And when I had a decent idea of how it was supposed to work, I got some of my friends together and did a reading for them.
And it went well! I mean ... really well. Like, too well. Everyone was all like, "Oh, Snarf, you must have some mystic super occult powers." Which I do! But ... not those powers. And I thought it was maybe just a fluke, or random luck, so I did another, and it also went really, really well. And given the total success of this, I realized I had to investigate this further, because either this whole cartomancy thing was real and I was just coming into my own occult mystic powers, or something else was going on.
Of course, the answer was obvious. I thought I was just following the rules for interpreting the cards, but the rules themselves had so much play in them that they allowed me to interpret the cards in all sorts of ways. And the readings were all people I knew- so of course I was going to pick interpretations that matched them. Combine that with what I realized later were some unknowing "cold reading" techniques (reading body language, leading people to conclusions) and I realized that even though I thought I was just following the rules, what I was really doing was making this a fun (and occult-y and accurate) event for my friends, even without meaning too. And, of course, my doing that, combined with the presentation (ya gotta have candles, right?) led the people who were getting the readings to fill in even more gaps- I remember that afterwards, they credited my readings with things I didn't even remember saying.
It was all fun and highjinx, of course, and after the second reading I did and some reflection on the matter, I put the cards up for good. After all, you don't want to get a reputation as "You know, the person who reads everyone's fortune." Plus I didn't really see a future as fortune teller. But what does all of the have to do with the price of oil on spot market?
While an extreme example, I always remember it for the simple reason that humans interpret rules. I could have had the exact same cards for two different people, and I would have had completely different readings. I would have been applying the rules, of course, but I would have done so in order to apply it to the person. To make it make sense. Perhaps to build a sense of drama, and make sure that it was fun for the person hearing it. In a certain way, I was going to interpret those rules, for that person, to tell an effective story.
2. That's Not a Sport, That's a Game! The Problem With Definitions.
No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious.
If you've been alive in the last, oh, decade, you've probably heard some variation of, "Is a hot dog a sandwich?" This is just the prominent example of everyone's favorite (or for some of us, least-favorite) game- arguing about definitions. Is a tomato a fruit (and is ketchup therefore jam)? Is cereal a soup? Is fruit salad a salad?
On the one hand, these can be "fun" debates, if you're that kind of person ... yeah, you know who you are. All of these debates can be important. Language is imprecise, and those imprecisions (and misunderstandings) are why we have judges and attorneys- what is a chicken (in contract? it depends). Is a cow a motor vehicle for purposes of automobile insurance (it's not, because a cow doesn't have wheels)? Is a tomato a vegetable or fruit for purposes of tariffs (it's a vegetable). Is a burrito a sandwich (no, not to a New Jersey Judge). And so on.
On the other hand, Wittgenstein resolved a lot of these issues. All of which is to say that for purposes of inter-personal communication, the important thing is not some purely definitional concept, as there will always be edge cases. Instead, it's that there is a resemblance- in other words, even without a definition, we can still use a word, and just as importantly, it would be impossible to define terms (such as "sandwich" or "game") in such a way as to come up that you capture the commonality of all that is encompassed by the term.
All of which is great, especially when you want to tune out one of the innumerable debates on enworld that have devolved into definitional debates.

Wittgenstein on Games.
But why go through all of this? Well, when I read what loverdrive wrote, and I searched my feelings about what was lacking in the "game department" (as Vader would say, I KNOW THEM TO BE TRUE), I wanted to make sure that I articulated an important point. A lot of times, people engage in these definitional debates in order to exclude things, or to make things (and people) feel less than. "Oh, that thing you're doing? That's not a real game." Or you might hear it in a different way, "Yeah, that's not a sport, that's just a game." And that type of exclusionary language provokes a natural defensiveness- "Of course this is a game!" Or, "What are you talking about, tiddlywinks is a sport!" So when examining these issues, it's not about defining what is, or isn't, a game. It's about trying to tease out why some TTRPGs are like venison - a lot more "gamey" to me. And while the comment that got me thinking about this was about BiTD (and I agree with it), this extends to a number of other games, especially the rules-lite games that I've been making.
3. How Diceless Games Provide Contrast.
I suffered under the false belief that social engagements, if sufficiently far in the future, would never materialize.
A short while ago, while thinking about this subject, I wrote a remembrance and appreciation of Everway, a diceless TTRPG that was the first original TTRPG made by WoTC. Of course, this was preceded by the Amber Diceless RPG. These games, and others, provided rules for resolution without using dice, and as I have explained before, incorporating various techniques I learned while running these systems has been invaluable in my overall growth as a GM in terms of best practices for running games.
I wanted to reiterate something that was mentioned in that remembrance of Everway. The reviewer at Dragon Magazine, Rick Swan, stated the following:
In my regular AD&D sessions, I never use dice or charts, nor do I allow my players to use them. The same goes at my convention appearances- no dice at my tables. In 10 years, I've yet to have a single player abandon ship. Everway codifies the freeform style favored by me and (I suspect) thousands of other referees.
Part of me is quoting that just because I enjoy reminding people of the diversity of ways that people play D&D in the community- after all, there is a vast difference between the rules as written and games as played. But more importantly, it gets to the heart of the matter. It is entirely possible to play TTRPGs without dice, provided you have a good GM. In fact, many people say that the problem with Everway is that Johnathan Tweet, the creator of the game, wasn't around to run the games for all the people playing it. And what does it mean to be a good GM? Well, it means that you are invested in the game. In the people playing. In the overall narrative stakes. And that you interpret the rules in a manner that allows you to tell an effective collaborative story with the people that are playing.
The thing is- that can be a lot of fun, with a certain group, and in a certain way. There are people that love that, and prefer that. But it's definitely different. Since this is a D&D thread, I'll use a D&D example- it's a lot like the old-school way of handling social interactions, or parts of the exploration pillar. The GM might be adjudicating declarations and actions, but there are no dice rolls. And these games, by making more explicit how this "diceless" adjudication works, allows GMs and players to be more comfortable with the method- in essence, by making more explicit many of the "best practices" or "heuristics" that people were previously using. So for someone like Rick Swan, a game like Everway was just codifying what he was already doing in AD&D as a freeform exercise.
4. Is this essay like a box of crayons in a kindergarten classroom, without a point?
The most dangerous of all people are the old, for it no longer matters to them what is going to happen to the world.
So why go through all of that? I love designing and running the rules-lite one shots I have been doing. But they have that same "feel" in many ways that I noticed when I was trying BiTD- they lack a certain something, that, for lack of a better term, I would call gaminess. And it's the same feel that I have when running diceless games. In saying this, I am not being exclusionary or saying that they aren't games, just like I wouldn't say that what Rick Swan ran wasn't AD&D. Instead, it's that same idea that you idea that you can erect rules around storytelling, but it's still storytelling. And like tarot cards, even when you have list examples of rules, you still get to interpret them, and the interpretation matters. It doesn't make things better than, or worse than, but different in feel- and that difference can be profoundly appealing, or off-putting to people.
To bring it back to D&D, you see this essential debate carried out in numerous ways; the use of dice and/or ability checks in the social or exploration parts of the game. Whether or not to "fudge" dice rolls. The use of railroading and illusionism. The boundaries of GM and player authority. In many ways, these are conversations about how much "game" you want in your D&D, and how willing you are to allow the dice to dictate results, as opposed to having the dice simply inform the narration.
And in thinking about these issues, I realized that one of the things that we don't really talk about is the dice. So I'll get to the second essay. At some point. Promise. Maybe.