I was with you all the way up until that paragraph. It is true that some kinds of challenge or sim or seeking out moral themes do not mix well. But you can get a very good game out of mixing any two, with a small dose of the third. One of the reasons that 4E works well for us is because you can mix challenge and bangs. Not all bangs have to be central to what most people mean by seeking out moral themes.
[snip further good stuff not essential to context of this post]
Okay, what was being responded to, here, was that I said "I am convinced that you can only do one of the "core foci"
really well at any one time". It might be worth my explaining a bit more what I mean by that and why I think it.
A good deal of what I think about 'story' in roleplaying games has its roots in a book called (appropriately enough) "Story", by Robert McKee. Something he says in this book (and I am going to summarise and paraphrase
wildly, here), is that
a story is what happens when someone wants something but can't get it. Unpacking this a little, the "wants something" has to be a real, burning need (called a "dramatic need") and not just a vague inclination to add it to their wishlist, and the "can't get it" has to be an out-of-the-ordinary escalation of inability - it might almost seem like a planned or deliberate denial.
I have long found this to be an excellent guideline for building a story, both in roleplaying games and elsewhere. As an exercise for the reader, try this:
1. Imagine a character - as ordinary or extraordinary a person as you like - who decides they want a cigarette. And, naturally, I don't just mean that they think
"oh, I could use a cigarette right now", I mean that they determine that
they want a cigarette - and they want it now!
2. Imagine them doing something to meet that need by the simplest, most obvious route possible. Reaching into their pocket for their packet of Marlboro, for instance.
3. Think of a reason why doing this doesn't work. Maybe the packet is empty, or maybe it's just not in their pocket.
4. Imagine them doing the
next most obvious thing to get a cigarette.
5. Imagine why
that doesn't work.
6. Repeat steps 4 and 5 until you get a story. (Last time I did this with friends, using this exact starting point, we ended up with a murder-mystery.)
Now, the point of all that for this post was that roleplaying stories, if they are made collaboratively, tend to work the same way. Players come up with dramatic needs for their characters (or the game setup gives them such needs, or the GM provides "plot hooks" - a generally poor way to proceed, frankly). The players describe their characters setting out in (usually) the most straightforward way to fulfill those needs - and the GM tells them why that doesn't work. Rinse, repeat, until you get a story (or die trying...).
All that is fine and good - except that this makes the 'story' an emergent property. No-one can know how it will proceed, as the control is split between the non-GM players and the GM. So, in the meantime, everyone focusses on the things the characters do to fulfill their needs, and the things that stop them. The nature of these 'obstacles' or 'hurdles' - which is affected by the nature of the dramatic need(s) - defines the nature of the game in actual play.
So, let's examine a few types of obstacle.
First is the simple physical or practical hurdle. Something challenging but not overpowering or insuperable, that invites the protagonist to tackle the obstacle using skill, wits and chutzpah. The classic dungeon adventure is almost made for this type of obstacle; each "room" contains an "encounter" obstacle that can be tackled with tactics, sword and spell, and there really isn't any alternative option if you want (read "need") to get the treasure that lies beyond. The dramatic tension in this sort of challenge comes from the need to work within the terms of the challenge - which might be defined by a game system or a set of social and societal mores, as examples - to overcome the hurdle and get what you want.
Secondly there is a moral or ethical obstacle. The goal is in easy reach, if you simply sacrifice the halfling child to get it. Oh, that's a problem? This is an interesting type of obstacle, because it often represents a plot twist, which is to say basically an invitation for the protagonist(s) to change their dramatic need. Maybe what they really
meant they needed was not simply "the treasure", but "the treasure obtained without killing any innocents"... The dramatic tension here comes from whether or not the protagonist(s) will succeed in keeping to their ideals in the face of temptation (or other "friction") - and whether, in the end, their ideals seem worth sticking to.
Thirdly (and finally??) there is the insurmountable obstacle. This doesn't really have to be totally insoluble, but the key is that it pushes the protagonist(s) to explore outside their "known territory" - to "boldly go" where no character has gone before and look for an alternative route to get what they want (or "need"). This last one works best when you make a small conceptual jump. Stop thinking of these three types of obstacle from the point of view of the
characters - and think of them as obstacles posed to the
players. Now think of this last one making the
player explore their character's personality more, or explore the workings of an alien world more, or explore the ramifications of their character's situation more. The dramatic tension, here, lies in the simple workings of curiosity. What will the players find when they "go beyond the boundaries"? It is, honestly, the lightest in touch when it comes to dramatic tension - but sometimes this can be a good thing.
These, I think, describe the three "modes" of play. "Gamism" is the first - a simple challenge to the tactical ability and balls of the players to overcome simple practical obstacles in the game world. "Narrativism" is the second - a challenge to the players' own moral or ethical compass (as expressed through their current character, which is a piece or reflection of themselves rather than literally "them"), inviting testing of ethical assuptions and reflection on ones ideals. And "Simulationism" is the third - an impetus to explore the setting, character and situation portrayed in the game to add to it in such a way that their character's (evolving) dramatic need can be met.
Now, back to what you said about mixing these modes or foci in one game. I think that is possible, but consider the consequences. If you start with the first type of obstacle - easy to do in D&D 4E - and then add in a 'bang' to challenge the characters' dramatic need(s) in some way, it's possible that the new dramatic need they fix upon will be a purely practical, physical one. In that case, it seems to me that you have kind-of-flirted with Narrativism - offered the players an invitation to it, even - but not really switched. Alternatively, the players might settle on a moral/ethical or otherwise philosophical dramatic need. A fully Narrativist game would be honed to hammer away until this was achieved (and then go on to resolve it); but a game like D&D seems to me to just become irrelevant at this point in terms of its core systems and mechanics. Once a philosophical dramatic need is revealed or settled upon, practical or physical challenges simply become distractions, perhaps best handled with a simple die roll or even arbitrary fiat - rather than things worthy of time consuming adjudication.
Then consider the third type of obstacle. Almost by definition, this involves setting up hurdles that are not amenable to the spells and powers of the D&D system. These types of obstacle demand a system that simply models the game setting and is infinitely extensible - preferably via induction, coupled perhaps with imagination - to describe new facets of the world. Certainly, this approach could be "bolted on" to any system, but I would then ask what is the point of the original system? There comes a point where "Rule 0" and "Page 42" becomes a system unto itself, and "we're not in Kansas any more" as far as game system is concerned. Once the invitation is out there to step beyond the boundaries, a game that relies on the boundaries, that feeds off the restrictions created by the system to generate its core tension and thus generate fun, is blown. Part of the fun of a "dungeon" is the restrictions posed by the tunnels and walls; take away the walls, and you just have a hole full of monsters and treasure - a very different game indeed. I think the same is true of the game system as a whole - the dungeon is a metaphore for the game, if you like.
So, while I am sure that any type of game can be mixed with any other, and can be played using any game system, I think that doing any of the styles
really well required a sole focus and a supportive system.
That's not to say, even so, that an introductory phase might not be accomplished with one focus before switching to another - but switching too many times is likely to be disruptive, even so, and it may well be worth considering switching system at the twist point.
