it's not that narrative mechanics "aren't engaging," but they're engaging in a very different and, generally, much more "cerebral"/"slow-burn" kind of way. It's hard to have impactful ethical choices without sufficient buildup. In games specifically built for "Narrative" play, this issue (if I'm understanding things correctly) is handled by, more or less, keeping everything focused "in the now," hence the "Story Now" label, and thus provides impact via keeping up the ongoing tension of the current moment. You're always under threat, or pushed to make a snap decision and have to live with the results, etc., which creates tension. Giving distributed narrative power, again if I'm understanding this correctly, is what makes sure the players aren't just feeling constantly tense with no ability to respond; they are subject to tension, but they have tools to respond to that tension.
On the last sentence: I don't know what you have in mind by
giving distributed narrative power. But AD&D, as set out in Gygax's rulebooks, purports to distribute the power to change the content of the fiction across the participants. For instance, to give a very specific example: the player of a paladin whose PC reaches 4th level can call for a warhorse, making it part of the fiction that a warhorse (or, as per the DMG, the dream/vision of a warhorse) turns up. To give a more general example: the player of a MU, by casting a Tenser's Floating Disc spell, can make it part of the fiction that there is a floating disc under the PC's control that has such-and-such carrying capacity. And to give an utterly generic example: the player of any PC can, in circumstances where the GM has declared that there is a goblin in close proximity, can declare "I attack the goblin" and then, with a lucky series of rolls, make it part of the content of the fiction that the goblin is dead.
Conversely, an approach to RPG play in which players cannot change the content of the shared fiction seems degenerate, or at least borderline so, because what are the players doing then? All they seem to be doing is making suggestions to the GM, who actually authors the fiction. In which case how are the other participants playing a game at all?
What distinguishes "narrativist" or "story now" play is not any particular technique (see my post not far upthread mentioning "vanilla" narrativism) but
the goal of play. Which is, broadly, to push players to declare actions for their PCs that exemplify, or articulate, some or other "point". In much the same way that many (but not all) stories (film, literature, theatre) have a "point". The GM's job is to open up the space for that to take place, generally by following signals sent by the players that provide information about what sort of "point" is interesting or salient to them. This might be done by giving the players control over some component of the shared fiction - eg a player who authors a family member into the shared fiction might be signalling that one "point" that is interesting to them is
familial obligations. But it can be done other ways too: players can send signals via their action declarations, or just by saying stuff out-of-character.
I don't think narrativist play needs slow build up anymore than any other sort of play. Eg when I GMed a session of Wuthering Heights, the conflict was there pretty much from the start. The idea of using a "kicker" to start play - a typical narrativist technique - the player is (via their PC) propelled into protagonism, and again the choice and conflict may emerge relatively immediately.
Key to successful narrativist play, in my view, is neither distinctive technique, nor slow build, but
not invalidating the choices the players make. And the typical approaches that (to use Edwards's phrase) reinforce simulationism and that therefore (to build on my own phrase) invalidate player choices, are rife in D&D play (and other RPGing too): alignment ("no evil PCs", "if your PC becomes evil they become a NPC"), treating gods as NPCs controlled by the player ("you're free to do whatever you want as a cleric or paladin, but I the GM will decide how your god reacts"), defeat if certain choices are made ("it's your fault if you split the party"), combinations of these techniques ("players can declare whatever actions they want, but the living breathing world will respond - eg by guards in undefeatable numbers turning up and running the PCs out of town"), etc.
Discussion of narrativist D&D, including narrativist 5e, has to talk about abandoning that suite of GM-side approaches - all of which are about reinforcing a preconception of what the "point" is - and looking for new ones. As
@Campbell has mentioned, in this thread and many others, it also has to talk about abandoning player-side approaches that similarly reinforce such pre-conceptions (eg "my character would never do that").
Narrativism, again if I have understood it, can also be parsed as challenging things, but in an extremely different sense: challenging a person to make a decision, to fall on one side or another (or to fall away, having refused to decide, etc.) These are challenges to the values and beliefs of the character and/or player. But such challenges cannot be bested, generally speaking; one does not speak of having defeated anything by choosing to go with one's gut even when the evidence says otherwise, or the like. Instead, these are challenges that are simply responded to. One responds in some way (including the option of not responding, sometimes).
For a player to make a "point" via the play of their PC, there has to be the context for a point to be made. That can be framed as a challenge, but it can easily have a different "look" from typical D&D play. Does the player have their PC help their family member, or rescue the village from goblins? That's a decision that has to be made, and it may not be an easy one and hence is in that sense a challenge, but it's not the sort of challenge that is typically found in a D&D module - ie an obstacle to be overcome by the PC (or a group of PCs) which might earn XP.
This sort of example also can remind us of how many typical approaches to D&D shut down narrativist play, by reinforcing simulationism or (maybe a bit less typically) gamism. Eg the player, helping the family member rather than rescuing the village, doesn't earn XP. Or suffers alignment change which debilitates the player's play of their character. Or loses access to equipment which is (in D&D) often a crucial player-side resource. Or, etc.
To me, it seems that the real "challenge" of narrativist play is the same as the "challenge" of writing a story, or an essay, or a blog post; or of drawing a picture or making a film: some people might think that what you've written or drawn or filmed is silly or pointless or shallow or irresponsible or childish or sentimental or . . . There are innumerable ways in which, having set out to make a "point", or to respond to a "point", or to springboard off or reflect on a "point" someone else has made, one can fail or misfire or look like a fool.
Here's Edwards again:
The second, larger question is much like the Gamist one: why role-play for this purpose? Why this venue, and not some more widely-recognized medium like writing comics or novels or screenplays? Addressing Premise can be done in dozens, perhaps hundreds, of artistic media. To play Narrativist, you must be seizing role-playing, seeing some essential feature in the medium itself, which demands that Premise be addressed in this way for you and not another. What is that feature? If you can't see one, then maybe, just maybe, you are slumming in this hobby because you're afraid you can't hack it in a commercial artistic environment. Maybe you even hang with a primarily-Simulationist group, with the minimal levels of satisfaction to be gained among them, because it's safe there.
But let's say you do answer that question, and hold your head up as a Narrativist role-playing practitioner, addresser of Premise. Fine - now you have to ask yourself whether you can handle artistic rejection. That's right, no one might be interested in you. This is exactly what all aspiring directors, screenwriters, novelists, and other practitioners of narrative artistry face. In which case, you'll have to decide whether it's because your worthy vision is unappreciated and should seek new collaborators, or because your vision is simply lacking. It's not an easy thing to deal with.
But let's say that's all resolved too, and you are holding the brass ring: successful and fulfilling Narrativist play with a great bunch of fellow participants, fine and exciting content from your and the others' work, and the sense of worthy artistry. Now for the final conundrum: what will you sacrifice to sustain it? Maybe your spouse is tired of the time you spend on this; maybe you and a fellow group member get a little too close; maybe you decide your art would be even better if your best friend's sorry ass was no longer gumming up the group's work. Can you make those sorts of choices? Can you live with the results?
Good luck with it.
That's deliberately provocative. In the same essay, he also writes this:
[N]ot everyone is necessarily a whiz at addressing Premise even when they try. If they were, we'd see a hell of a lot more great novels, comics, movies, and plays than we do. Signs of "hack Narrativism" include backing off from unexpected opportunities to address Premise or consistently swinging play into parody versions of the issues involved. I don't see any particular reason to bemoan or criticize this bit of dysfunction; all art forms have their Sunday practitioners.
Obviously this understates the ways in which "Sunday practitioners" can produce bad or mediocre art. It also helps us appreciate why "Sunday narrativism" is more likely to involve low-stakes, not-particularly-revealing play (Prince Valiant or 4e D&D is good for this) rather than higher-stakes, more personally revealing play (Apocalypse World is clearly set up to invite this). But it also reminds us of an appeal of narrativist RPGing, like any other Sunday art creation: it might be bad, but it's mine! Or, in the case of RPGing, which is a group activity, it's ours!
