RPGing and imagination: a fundamental point

@clearstream, I think preference for task resolution is usually paired with preference for simulationism. In such an approach we don't want successful lock-picking roll to lead to finding the papers in the trash bin next to the safe, as the character's lock-picking skill measures their ability to open safes, but not their ability to randomly find plot-related items due sheer luck. In this sort of play interacting with the objective fictional reality is also an important aspect of the game, so we need to take that reality into account when resolving outcomes.
Yes, that could well be. And perhaps you see then that a playful purpose of simulationism extends a different meaning context than say dramatic narrativism. So that a choice of method of deciding as a group what happens next that might be ideal for dramatic narrativism, could be unideal for simulationism.

Not because of anything dysfunctional with the methods in isolation - both are readily implemented at the table - but with reference to the wider context. The differing creative purposes.

This is apposite because understanding task resolution isn't so much about differentiating it from conflict resolution, as understanding the forms it takes in light of its playful purposes. If it makes no difference, why don't all games use the same method?
 

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Sorry, it kind of sounded like you were saying your way was the 'better one'. Glad to see I was wrong.


Then I think you are mistaken, but let's walk through the logic.
Your original post talked about a player hiding intentions. How does a player hide intentions? He can't provide no intention. He has to provide you with an alternate one of his intentions! That's how he hides an intention. Thus, it is about multiple intentions.
For example: my action is to sneak across the courtyard and check out the castle door.

My stated intention is to make sure there's no guards, that the door is unlocked (or unlock-able), and that there's nothing out there to catch us off guard.

My unstated intention is to deliver a coded knock on the castle door, alerting the guards inside to hide the incriminating evidence we're there to find.
 

Yes, that could well be. And perhaps you see then that a playful purpose of simulationism extends a different meaning context than say dramatic narrativism. So that a choice of method of deciding as a group what happens next that might be ideal for dramatic narrativism, could be unideal for simulationism.

Not because of anything dysfunctional with the methods in isolation - both are readily implemented at the table - but with reference to the wider context. The differing creative purposes.
I think I agree with all this.
This is apposite because understanding task resolution isn't so much about differentiating it from conflict resolution, as understanding the forms it takes in light of its playful purposes. If it makes no difference, why don't all games use the same method?
A few thoughts here.
You are presupposing there’s a difference - I agree.

You are presupposing that difference is found in the ‘method’ and that one method is conflict resolution and the other is task resolution.

I propose that the method is not the main differentiator here, but instead the kinds of action declarations the games allow. The fundamentals for all resolutions are the same - you succeed, you achieve your intent.

Now there are differences in resolution, how is success determined, etc. but those differences aren’t what task and conflict resolution hinge on. But they do yield important play differences.
 

I think I agree with all this.

A few thoughts here.
You are presupposing there’s a difference - I agree.

You are presupposing that difference is found in the ‘method’ and that one method is conflict resolution and the other is task resolution.

I propose that the method is not the main differentiator here, but instead the kinds of action declarations the games allow. The fundamentals for all resolutions are the same - you succeed, you achieve your intent.

Now there are differences in resolution, how is success determined, etc. but those differences aren’t what task and conflict resolution hinge on. But they do yield important play differences.
Yes, so you could put it in terms of - what am I allowed to intend? That fits some reframings describe upthread. Generally what I've called parsimonious, immediate, and cognisant of the information state.

Picture that the inputs to resolution are split into performance + intent. Resolution outputs effect, that is change to game state.

With conflict resolution effect must satisfy intent. The only permissible change to game state must relate to input intent.​
With task resolution effect must satisfy some other criterion. Such as, permissible changes to game state can't contradict prep, or must abide by internal laws of the game world, or whatever. There can be multiple criteria.​

It can't be about two sets of permitted action declarations, because you can feed identical action declarations into those two heuristics and get different outputs. With TR output effect might satisfy intent, but that's by the by... it's not necessarily considered. With CR output effect might satisfy the internal laws of game world, but again that's by the by.

CR can finesse its legitimation glitches by applying fiction-first. TR can fix its misalignment with intent glitches by declaring effects up front.

There's symmetry in the above: one crowns intent, the other context, and one finesses itself by locking down performance, the other effect.
 
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Why do you need to disagree about most trivial things? If we accept GM prep about safes existing and PC action of looking in the safe to be axioms then certain logical conclusions follow from that.
If only you could have been around to tell Baker that before his initially abstract designs influenced the concrete designs of what would become your favorite games.

<snip>

The vehicle didn’t design itself. Someone had to have an abstract idea of what they were trying to achieve first.

<snip>

Logical derivations are not speculation.
So one set of things I'm disagreeing with this this, namely, the claim that heuristics for play, and empirically-informed characterisations of that play and those heuristics, are axioms from which logical deductions can be made.

The two of you are relying on suppressed premises that are false in the RPGs you are purporting to speak about. Actual play, or even close reading of the rulebooks, might reveal this to you. Purely abstract thinking won't, because you keep re-importing the premises and disagreeing with my various attempts - by explanation, by reference to designer blogs, by posting rules extracts, by working through imagined or actual examples of play - to reveal this.

"Logical derivations" that rest primarily on suppressed or un-questioned premises that experience and observation have refuted - and would refute again, if the one engaged in the derivation actually had that experience or made those observations - is nothing but speculation.

And this is the reason that I used the example of technical invention: because this discussion about methods of inquiry is one that is well-known in history and philosophy of science. Your position seems to me to be close to those who want to assert that science is purely deductive, without paying attention to the question of where would the premises come from. Kepler's great contribution to knowledge, for instance, is not in geometry but in astronomy - based not on logical deduction from the studies of the orbits of Mars, but on developing, in response to the, a new conception of planetary motion that didn't take the circular character of that motion as an unquestionable premise.

Likewise, only science-fiction writers conceive of vehicles in the abstract. James Watt (for instance) was familiar with a variety of (stationary) steam engines, and their problems (including leakage of steam), and he tested and re-tested and iterated his own designs. Much as @Campbell describes for the "indie" RPG designers not far upthread: they were not sitting around pontificating, they were designing and playing games, finding out what did and didn't work, and on that basis developed more general conceptions of what is possible in RPGing.

Not very exact because it is a low myth game.
You keep fastening on this and thereby miss my point.

You asserted that conflict resolution requires "no myth" so that the GM is free to introduce the appropriate backstory at the moment of resolution, so as to preserve the connection between success at the task and what is at stake. And that is what I disagreed with, and continue to disagree with. Conflict resolution, of the DitV sort, is quite compatible with the GM having established, as part of their prep, where the title deeds are.

The DitV advice on town prep starts on p 112:

Before you start in earnest, there are three things you’ll want to be sure to get out of the process: some NPCs with a claim to the PCs’ time, some NPCs who can’t ignore the PCs’ arrival, and some NPCs who’ve done harm, but for reasons anybody could understand. In the following procedure I talk about whether the town “seems grabby enough” and whether there are “enough NPCs to keep the PCs busy” — those three things are what I’m talking about.

It can also be very useful to bring a secular authority figure into play, a person who represents the Territorial Authority in some fashion. Since the needs of the Territorial Authority are different from the needs of the Faith, you can thereby introduce a person who a) has legitimate reason to be involved in the situation, but b) is working at cross-purposes to the Dogs.​

The next couple of pages take the GM through the process of thinking up problems in the town, advising the GM at each step to write a paragraph. Then they conclude (p 114) by instructing the GM to answer the following three questions:

What does each named person want from the Dogs? Write a sentence or two for each.

What do the demons want in general? What do they want from the Dogs? What might they do? Write a paragraph.

If the Dogs never came, what would happen - that is, what’s the next step up the “what’s wrong” ladder? Write a sentence or two.​

Nothing in those instructions precludes the GM coming up with the idea of the sinners' meeting hall, which has been inherited by the young innocent, but with the will and title deeds hidden in the mayor's safe to make sure the property does not have to be given over to that heir.

And such a set-up could nevertheless be resolved in DitV, using its conflict resolution method.

This is the basis for my claim, that there is no inherent conflict between GM prep and conflict resolution. And conflict resolution does not depend, as you have asserted, upon the GM being free to manipulate the fiction so as to ensure that a goal is achieved if the task is successful. (In fact, based on my experience, I think looseness of fiction is more important for (i) framing, and (ii) narration of failure consequences, than it is for ensuring the connection between success-of-task and attainment-of-goal.)

you have decided that you need to fight my observation that conflict resolution works better in a low myth environment. I find this curious, as in the past you have made yourself many examples of conflict resolution that rely on low myth.
I am disagreeing with your assertion because it is wrong, and is misleading as to the topic at hand.

"Low myth" (and now "no myth" and "low myth" are the same thing?) - what I have just referred to as "looseness of fiction" - is often important for framing, and for narration of failure consequences. What I am contesting is your assertion that it is important for narration of consequences on a success. It can be in some contexts, but there are RPGs where it is not. Ron Edwards made this point almost twenty years ago:

A lot of people have mistakenly interpreted the word "Narrativist" for "making it up as we go." Neither this nor anything like it is definitional for Narrativist play, but it is indeed an important issue for role-playing of any kind. . . .

I'm not saying that improvisation is better or more Narrativist than non-improvisational play. . . .

In designing a Setting-heavy Narrativist rules-set, I strongly suggest following the full-disclosure lead of HeroQuest and abandoning the metaplot "revelation" approach immediately.​

That last sentence is obviously related to the principle of actively revealing the town in play.

One of the earliest RPGs to use conflict resolution in a thorough-going fashion is Prince Valiant. That game's rulebook includes a collection of scenarios; and when I bought it, it shipped with a second book consisting purely of scenarios (the Episode Book). These scenarios are prep that includes information about who is where, who did what, etc. The Blue Cloak, for instance (on p 22 of the Episode Book), turns on the fact of a murder. It's possible to run a RPG where facts like that are the product of resolution rather than part of their framing (eg I've run Cthulhu Dark in this fashion, and have linked to an actual play report upthread); but the Blue Cloak is not an example of this.

The scenario begins with the PCs, as they journey on their errantry, meeting a blue-cloaked figure at nightfall. He is "seeking their aid in apprehending the bandits who robbed him." Once he has led the PCs to the bandit's camp, he vanishes. And when the PCs meet the bandits,

The Adventurers also notice the bandit leader wearing a blue cloak with a silver clasp identical to Kallo the Merchant’s, though his is spattered with dark stains - the merchant’s blood.​

If the bandits are confronted and defeated,

They admit to murdering Kallo and that he is buried in a shallow grave near the camp.​

The key backstory is established as part of prep, and yet this scenario can be resolved using conflict resolution. Here's an actual play report:
Sir Justin "the Gentle", so named because of his deads at the Abbey of St Sigobert, was gifted a fine silvered dagger that had been blessed at that shrine.

<snip>

The PCs decided that saving even a single soul is an important thing, and so decided to take the wise woman to the Abbey of St Sigobert before going to fight Saxons. As they were getting close to Warwick, and travelling in the dark still looking for a place sheltered enough to camp without a tent, they came across a weary old man in a blue cloak. (The scenario in the Episode Book is called The Blue Cloak.) A merchant, he had been set upon by bandits who had taken his mule and his goods. He knew the game trail they had travelled down, and asked the PCs to help him. Being noble knights, of course they agreed to do so! As they travelled through the woods and down the trail, he asked about their families - learning that one was the son-in-law of the Duke of York ("What an honour to be aided by such a noble knight"), and that the other was returning to Warwick to woo the Lady Violette - and told them of his own daughter and son-in-law living in Warwick. Then, as they could hear the lusty singing of the bandits at their camp, he asked the PCs to go on without him as he was too weary to continue. The PCs were a little suspicious (as were their players) but opposed checks of his fellowship vs their Presences (even with bonus dice for suspicion) confirmed his sincerity.

The PCs approached the camp, and Sir Gerran drew his sword and called on the bandits to surrender. Their leader - wearing a very similar blue cloak to that of the merchant - was cowed, as was one other, but the third threw a clay bottle at Sir Gerran (to no effect) and then charged him sword drawn (and gaining a bonus die for knowing the lie of the land in the darkness), only to be knocked almost senseless with a single blow, resulting in his surrender also ("When I insulted you, it was the wine talking!").

The wise woman and old man, who had been waiting up the trail with the merchant, then arrived at the camp to say that the merchant had (literally) disappeared! Which caused some confusion, but they decided to sleep on it. The next morning, in the daylight, they could see that the brooch holding the bandit leader's cloak closed was identical to that which the merchant had worn. Sir Justin suggested he no doubt had multiples of his favourite cloak and fitting, but Sir Morgath had a different idea - "When you left the merchant you robbed, was he dead?" His presence roll was a poor one, and the bandits answers that the merchant fell from his mule and hit his head and died, and that they had buried him and had intended to place a cross on his grave first thing in the morning. Sir Morgath doubted this - "You didn't give him a proper burial - his ghost came to us last night!" - and I allowed a second presence check with a bonus but it still failed, and the bandits simply muttered protestations of innocence under their breaths.

Sir Justin received a vision from St Sigobert, and by plunging his dagger into the ground at the head of the grave was able to sanctify the ground. A cross was then placed there, and the group returned to Warwick with their bandit prisoners and returned the merchant's goods to his daughter.
One interesting feature of the Episodes in the Episode Book - which I have commented on more than once before - is that some are not well-conceived for conflict-resolution play, because they depend upon the GM breaking the connection between success/failure and win/lose in just the way Vincent Baker describes. The most egregious in this respect is Mark Rein-Hagen's "A Prodigal Son - in Chains" (pp 60-62), which contains such directions as "They [the PCs] need to capture and question Quink the hunchback and find out who he worked for" and "At this point you want Bryce to win over the Adventurers with his nobility of spirit despite his physical shortcomings" and "The Adventurers must now scour the forest to find Quink" and "Whatever happened, you need to have things end up with Bryce’s father, the duke, dead."

This is similar to a CoC scenario, or many TSR and WotC modules for D&D (including but by no means limited to Dead Gods). It is not compatible with conflict resolution.

One recurring instruction in Vincent Baker's rulebooks is this:

DitV, p 124: don’t have an answer already in mind. GMing Dogs is a different thing from playing it. Your job as the GM is to present an interesting social situation and provoke the players into judging it. You don’t want to hobble their judgments by arguing with them about what’s right and wrong, nor by creating situations where right and wrong are obvious. You want to hear your players’ opinions, not to present your own.

DitV, pp 137-8: Don’t play “the story.” The choices you present to the PCs have to be real choices, which means that you can’t possibly know already which way they’ll choose. You can’t have plot points in mind beforehand, things like “gotta get the PCs up to that old cabin so they can witness Brother Ezekiel murdering Sister Abigail...” No. What if the PCs reconcile Brother Ezekiel and Sister Abigail? . . . You can’t have a hero and a villain among your NPCs. It’s the PCs’ choices that make them so.

DitV, p 143: DO NOT have a solution in mind. If you have a solution in mind, the game rules are going to mess you up bad. . . . Your job is to present the situation and then escalate it. The players’ job is to pronounce judgment and follow through. The solution is born of the two in action.

Apocalypse World, p 107: DO NOT pre-plan a storyline, and I’m not [mess]ing around . . .

Apocalypse World, p 124: Before the 1st session . . . Daydream some apocalyptic imagery, but DO NOT commit yourself to any storyline or particular characters.​

Preparing situations without preparing story, without stipulating heroes and villains, is one part of the use of conflict resolution in a context of GM prep of the relevant backstory.
 

As per my post 984 upthread, conflict resolution is not something that just gets glommed onto RPG play with nothing else being changed.

For instance, it requires that there be genuine stakes, which connect in some fashion to the unfolding fiction, and which everyone at the table has reason to care about.

It also requires that we separate those stakes from the actions that the players are having their PCs perform, so that we get a contrast between intent and task.

In @Lanefan's example, of sneaking across the castle courtyard and checking out the door, does success mean that the PC is undetected? Is it possible, in the play of the game, for the player to succeed on their Stealth check and yet be observed by a scrying wizard, or even by a non-guard peeking through an upstairs window?

If the answer to these questions is no - and from @Lanefan's past reports of his play I am pretty confident that, at his table, the answer is "no" - then we do not have conflict resolution, and there is little point (as far as I can see) in trying to parse the declared action into a task and an intent. Drawing this distinction is significant (again, as far as I can see) only in a context where success at the task is binding in relation to the intent also.

******************
To build on Lanefan's example:

Suppose that the GM's notes include that there is a magical scrying glyph, or Magic Mouth, or similar, that the PC will trigger if they do what the player is planning to have them do. How does a conflict resolution approach incorporate this?

The details would depend on the particular system. In Torchbearer 2e, the most natural way to incorporate this that occurs to me as I am typing is narrating it to the player in response to their action declaration, and building it into the difficulty of the Obstacle. And now the player also has a pretty good idea of what the twist will be if their check fails!

The Torchbearer approach works because the player has resources to try harder when the Obstacle turns out to be higher than they hoped (fate, persona, traits, wises for re-rolls, etc). In a system without such resources, it wouldn't work. Apocalypse World doesn't have such resources, but nor does it have variable difficulties: so in AW the incorporation of the concealed warning device would be different. In a check for Acting Under Fire, it could inform the result on a 7 to 9, or on a 6-. And if the check succeeds on a 10+, the GM could narrate the character narrowly avoiding triggering the device, thus setting things up (via a soft move) for some possible consequences down the track, should a hard move be enlivened.

**************************************
I’ll add this thought. Maybe what you are getting at is more around the ‘try’. That is when you try to do something to try and accomplish something, then it doesn’t particularly matter what you are trying to accomplish, because you could try to accomplish anything as that part will have no impact on what fictionally happens. It still matters what you try to do though.

Which brings me to this-
i kind of feel like we are having a philosophical discussion about intentional action.

I flip a light switch and the lights turn on. Was my action to flip a light switch or to turn on the lights or to flip the light switch and turn on the lights. Was my intent to flip the light switch or to turn on the lights or to flip the light switch and turn on the lights,

Until this is nailed down I don’t think there’s a clear difference between intentional actions and intents of actions. Which when applied to the reasoning above would show intent that does matter to the resolution, being found within what you’ve called the action.

Thus, while I understand what you are getting at, I cannot agree till actions, intentions and intentional actions all get defined a bit more clearly.
I believe your example, of turning on the light, is taken from Donald Davidson via this post of mine, or some other post where I have mentioned the same passage:
The function of players in RPGing is often described as deciding what their PCs do. But this can be quite ambiguous.

A classic article on the analysis of actions (Donald Davidson, "Actions, Reasons, and Causes" (1963)) gives the following example:

I flip the switch, turn on the light, and illuminate the room. Unbeknownst to me I also alert a prowler to the fact that I am home. Here I need not have done four things, but only one, of which four descriptions have been given.​

In RPGing, I think it's a big deal who gets to decide what descriptions of the PCs' actions are true, and how.

For instance, suppose that my ability to decide what descriptions are true of my PC's actions is confined to very "thin" descriptions focused on the character's bodily movements, like I attack the orc with my sword or I wink at the maiden. Playing that game will produce a very different experience from one in which I can decide that the following description is true of my PC's actions: I kill the orc with my sword or I soften the heart of the maiden with a wink.

The same point can be made in relation to success on checks: if succeeding at a check makes a description such as I find what I was looking for in the safe true, that game will produce a different experience from one in which it makes true only a description such as I open the safe, with the description of my action in terms of I find X in the safe remaining something for someone else - eg the GM - to decide.

This example shows how it is possible (i) for it to be true that the players choose what their PCs do - under a certain, fairly thin or confined sort of description - and (ii) for there to be fudge-free checks and yet (iii) for it also to be the case that the GM decides everything significant that happens - ie it is the GM who gets to establish the richer, wider, consequence-laden descriptions of what the PCs do.

I think that a failure to recognise this point makes a lot of discussions of railroading, "player agency" less productive or insightful than they might be.
Davidson thinks that your action was all those things, although you may have intended it under some but not other descriptions.

Whether or not Davidson is correct, thankfully we do not need to solve such fundamental problems in the philosophy of action in order to design and play RPGs that use conflict resolution rather than task resolution. I assert this quite confidently, because it is at least arguable that there are unresolved fundamental philosophical problems in this field, but the RPG work has already been done!
 

I think I agree with all this.

A few thoughts here.
You are presupposing there’s a difference - I agree.

You are presupposing that difference is found in the ‘method’ and that one method is conflict resolution and the other is task resolution.

I propose that the method is not the main differentiator here, but instead the kinds of action declarations the games allow. The fundamentals for all resolutions are the same - you succeed, you achieve your intent.

Now there are differences in resolution, how is success determined, etc. but those differences aren’t what task and conflict resolution hinge on. But they do yield important play differences.
I think this is key as well, and it's why I keep coming back to scope; it's clear that intent in task resolution is often encoded by the available actions. Climbing somethingg or searching an area have pre-specified mechanical outcomes that do not yield to a player hoping to achieve something else. You can climb at X speed, even if your goal is to get to the top of the wall faster.

Players are thus expected to set broader goals, and to want things both tactically at the level of a given action, and strategically at the level of many actions (and possibly accounting for several actors). Half the time they express intent through their choice of actions, instead of directly stating it. Gameplay is a medium for expression, which is can lead to surface level weird design directions: you may want actions players cannot fail to achieve, you may want actions that aren't guaranteed to have any effect on the game state and you almost certainly want actions that only produce information, locking down the board state to a known place to inform future actions.

Mostly I think we lose a lot of insight into what's happening by focusing on a single act of resolution.
 
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@pemerton

So now looseness of fiction is important for framing and narration of failure in conflict resolution system, but not for success? I don't recall my claim being about success in particular, but just games using conflict resolution as a whole. In any case, I don't see why it would matter for failure but not for success.

I also notice that you avoided answering my question about the reason characters cannot listen at random doors in DitV.
 

I don't see why it would matter for failure but not for success.
Because failure frequently requires introducing some complication that thwarts the intent. In Apocalypse World this is a hard move. In Torchbearer this is a twist.

Sometimes those complications can be derived from prep: see eg Baker's example of the cobblestones, or my example just upthread of the warning device/sigil. But often something new needs to be introduced, like @Manbearcat's famous gorge. (Narrated in response to a failure on a Nature (?) check in a skill challenge, where - at least as I recall it - the intent of the check was to escape on horseback.)

Whereas if prep is doing it's job, then success will typically be connected to the prep, as per my example of The Blue Cloak. Here's another example, from AW p 121:

When a player’s character opens her brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, for instance, the rules might tell you to reveal something interesting. Something interesting? Look to your fronts: Joe’s Girl has joined the water cult, I’ll bet they didn’t know that. So say that, and
of course say it according to the principles. Maybe “deep under the brain-howling, you come to hear … is it chanting? A list of people’s names, chanted over and over by a hundred subliminal voices. ‘Tum Tum … Gnarly … Fleece … Lala … Forner … Joe’s Girl … Shan …’” (Player: “wait, Joe’s Girl? [Hell's bells].”)​

If success is mostly also being narrated via improvisation, then the prep has perhaps turned out to be of little worth?

I also notice that you avoided answering my question about the reason characters cannot listen at random doors in DitV.
There's no reason why they can't, although personally that strikes me as a rather uninteresting way to approach the game. Like, neither in real life nor in the fiction I'm familiar with do magistrates and detectives and charismatic law-enforcers spend much of their time listening at random doors.

Listening at random doors is a D&D thing, because in dungeon play, it is one canonical method for provoking the GM to reveal information. But in DitV, the GM is actively revealing the town in play. So what happens if a player has their PC listen at a random door? The answer is found on pp 138-9 of the rulebook:

If nothing’s at stake, say yes to the players, whatever they’re doing. Just plain go along with them. If they ask for information, give it to them. If they have their characters go somewhere, they’re there. If they want it, it’s theirs.

Sooner or later - sooner, because your town’s pregnant with crisis - they’ll have their characters do something that someone else won’t like. Bang! Something’s at stake. Launch the conflict and roll the dice. . . .

The PCs arrive in town. I have someone meet them. They ask how things are going. The person says that, well, things are going okay, mostly. The PCs say, “mostly?”

And I’m like “uh oh. They’re going to figure out what’s wrong in the town! Better stonewall. Poker face: on!” And then I’m like “wait a sec. I want them to figure out what’s wrong in the town. In fact, I want to show them what’s wrong! Otherwise they’ll wander around waiting for me to drop them a clue, I’ll have my dumb poker face on, and we’ll be bored stupid the whole evening.”

So instead of having the NPC say “oh no, I meant that things are going just fine, and I shut up now,” I have the NPC launch into his or her tirade. “Things are awful! This person’s sleeping with this other person not with me, they murdered the schoolteacher, blood pours down the meeting house walls every night!”​

The GM frames the PCs (and thereby the players) into some or other conflict that will generate interesting play.
 

Because failure frequently requires introducing some complication that thwarts the intent. In Apocalypse World this is a hard move. In Torchbearer this is a twist.

Sometimes those complications can be derived from prep: see eg Baker's example of the cobblestones, or my example just upthread of the warning device/sigil. But often something new needs to be introduced, like @Manbearcat's famous gorge. (Narrated in response to a failure on a Nature (?) check in a skill challenge, where - at least as I recall it - the intent of the check was to escape on horseback.)

Whereas if prep is doing it's job, then success will typically be connected to the prep, as per my example of The Blue Cloak. Here's another example, from AW p 121:

When a player’s character opens her brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, for instance, the rules might tell you to reveal something interesting. Something interesting? Look to your fronts: Joe’s Girl has joined the water cult, I’ll bet they didn’t know that. So say that, and​
of course say it according to the principles. Maybe “deep under the brain-howling, you come to hear … is it chanting? A list of people’s names, chanted over and over by a hundred subliminal voices. ‘Tum Tum … Gnarly … Fleece … Lala … Forner … Joe’s Girl … Shan …’” (Player: “wait, Joe’s Girl? [Hell's bells].”)​

If success is mostly also being narrated via improvisation, then the prep has perhaps turned out to be of little worth?
I am not sure I see the difference. We of course can come up with examples of situations where either the success of failure can be derived from prep. This will happen occasionally, maybe even often. If the GM frames things towards their prep, which seems sensible, this likelihood rises. But this does not remove the possibility of rigid prep coming in conflict with the player's intent.

In any case, you now seem to be agreeing with my overall point that loose and malleable fictional reality is a logical partner for conflict resolution.

There's no reason why they can't, although personally that strikes me as a rather uninteresting way to approach the game. Like, neither in real life nor in the fiction I'm familiar with do magistrates and detectives and charismatic law-enforcers spend much of their time listening at random doors.
Well I'm sure detectives do. But yes, I fully realise this is not in the focus of the play, but it is a sort of thing that might occur in midst of butting into people's business whilst being a judgemental religious jerk with questionable firearm safety etiquette, or whatever it is you're supposed to do in this game.

(Seriously, I have the PDF open and I have glanced it, and this really is not the sort of game I have even least bit of interest in playing.
And not because of the mechanics.)

Listening at random doors is a D&D thing, because in dungeon play, it is one canonical method for provoking the GM to reveal information. But in DitV, the GM is actively revealing the town in play. So what happens if a player has their PC listen at a random door? The answer is found on pp 138-9 of the rulebook:

If nothing’s at stake, say yes to the players, whatever they’re doing. Just plain go along with them. If they ask for information, give it to them. If they have their characters go somewhere, they’re there. If they want it, it’s theirs.​
Sooner or later - sooner, because your town’s pregnant with crisis - they’ll have their characters do something that someone else won’t like. Bang! Something’s at stake. Launch the conflict and roll the dice. . . .​
The PCs arrive in town. I have someone meet them. They ask how things are going. The person says that, well, things are going okay, mostly. The PCs say, “mostly?”​
And I’m like “uh oh. They’re going to figure out what’s wrong in the town! Better stonewall. Poker face: on!” And then I’m like “wait a sec. I want them to figure out what’s wrong in the town. In fact, I want to show them what’s wrong! Otherwise they’ll wander around waiting for me to drop them a clue, I’ll have my dumb poker face on, and we’ll be bored stupid the whole evening.”​
So instead of having the NPC say “oh no, I meant that things are going just fine, and I shut up now,” I have the NPC launch into his or her tirade. “Things are awful! This person’s sleeping with this other person not with me, they murdered the schoolteacher, blood pours down the meeting house walls every night!”​

The GM frames the PCs (and thereby the players) into some or other conflict that will generate interesting play.

Right. So it actually isn't any sort of failure like you previously claimed. Just something you move past if it is not important to get to the actual meat of the game.
 
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