This from Vincent Baker - the precursor to cubes-and-clouds, I think - also seems relevant: anyway: post a comment
And this from the comments is interesting too (it's still Baker):
This is also pretty good:
And this seems directly on point re FKR ("cues" means cubes, ie the material tokens used to mediate decisions about the shared fiction):
EDIT: I think this helps us see why Look through crosshairs, as a principle in Apocalypse World, is doing more than simply establishing genre. It is also telling the GM that they are not an advocate for the NPCs they control, any more than they are an advocate for the weather or for the petrol mileage on the Chopper's motorcycle.
And this from the comments is interesting too (it's still Baker):
When I design a set of rules, I'm trying to change the way that people relate to one another, within the confines of the game. I'm trying to force, trick, or provoke them into treating one another in particular, possibly unnatural ways. I'm f****n' around with their working creative relationships.
Beyond apportioning credibility, rules create permission and expectation. Permission and expectation are the real building blocks of social contract; cunningly designed rules have access to human interactions at a deep level.
So, sure, there are no complete RPGs; as you say, the complete RPG is playerless. It may work better to think of RPG rules as strong or weak, flexible or brittle: a strong RPG draws the players into its particular play, where a weak one allows them to play however comes naturally. A flexible RPG can survive or redirect a broad range of preexisting social dynamics, where a brittle one requires a particular social dynamic to already be in place, or the game crashes.
Beyond apportioning credibility, rules create permission and expectation. Permission and expectation are the real building blocks of social contract; cunningly designed rules have access to human interactions at a deep level.
So, sure, there are no complete RPGs; as you say, the complete RPG is playerless. It may work better to think of RPG rules as strong or weak, flexible or brittle: a strong RPG draws the players into its particular play, where a weak one allows them to play however comes naturally. A flexible RPG can survive or redirect a broad range of preexisting social dynamics, where a brittle one requires a particular social dynamic to already be in place, or the game crashes.
This is also pretty good:
In my imagination, a rule is like if you take a nail and scratch a line in dry dirt, and what people actually do is like where the water actually runs. Some water will run down the line you scratched, because you scratched it. Other water will run down the line you scratched but would have run there even if you hadn't. Other water will go wherever it goes. And (and here this picture breaks down, now I'm talking about bizarro-world water) some water will respond perversely to your line, bouncing off of it or testing its limits or sliding around it or flowing in the opposite direction out of plain orneriness.
And this seems directly on point re FKR ("cues" means cubes, ie the material tokens used to mediate decisions about the shared fiction):
[Imagine a picture of two arrows, one running out of the cloud (ie shared fiction) back into itself, one running rightward to the cubes]
In play, this highlighted moment is a moment of judgment. Of interpretation. Someone has to read the game's fiction and draw conclusions about it.
Brother Benjamin is laying his hand on Sister Coral's hand. Does this count as escalation? Sister Coral's shaken by his touch, and relents. Her player's taken the blow, but does it count as a social blow or a physical blow?
Bobnar (tx Ben) is standing on a tree stump when the wood-trolls attack. Does this count as the high ground?
Ned McCubbins is breaking from cover and running like hell across the beach, in plain view of a boatful of His Majesty's marines. Does this count as going into danger? . . .
The convenience of cue-to-fiction or cue-to-cue is that nobody has to read anything, or that the reading is trivially easy, if you prefer. I say "Morton casts 'good for having back at your ungrateful relations,'" and I erase 2 evil from my character sheet. It's a triviality to judge whether this counts as my having spent 2 evil. There's one solution to the problem of biased judgment: commoditize it. Create a cue; create something undeniable or trivial to read. Coordinate mechanical advantages with mechanical costs or mechanical risks. . . .
Commoditization is Fate's solution to the problem of biased judgment (and the solution of dozens upon dozens of games). Your character has the high ground in a fight. Is it to your advantage? If you pay for it to be, yes. Later on, your character's enemy has the high ground. Is it to the other player's advantage too? If she pays for it too, yes. Otherwise, nope. Having the high ground doesn't give you the advantage - that would require a moment of judgment, vulnerable to bias - it gives you the opportunity to buy the advantage.
It's a fine solution. However, it's not the only solution, and it's not the best solution for every game. It's the heart of Frank Tarcikowski's complaint from that Forge thread:
My experience matches Frank's.
Another solution, equally good, equally not-always-suitable: give the moment of judgment to a player who's strongly invested in getting it right, not in one character or another coming out on top.
Player 1 wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, but STRONGLY wants Bobnar to have the high-ground advantage.
Player 2 wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, but STRONGLY wants Bobnar to NOT have the high-ground advantage.
Player 3 STRONGLY wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, and doesn't care a bit whether Bobnar has the high-ground advantage.
Which player should get to judge Bobnar's position? (Hint: Player 3 should.)
This solution has a hell of a lot to recommend it, when it's suitable. It works directly counter to Frank's complaint.
And I'm certain there are more solutions to the problem of biased judgment than just these two.
In play, this highlighted moment is a moment of judgment. Of interpretation. Someone has to read the game's fiction and draw conclusions about it.
Brother Benjamin is laying his hand on Sister Coral's hand. Does this count as escalation? Sister Coral's shaken by his touch, and relents. Her player's taken the blow, but does it count as a social blow or a physical blow?
Bobnar (tx Ben) is standing on a tree stump when the wood-trolls attack. Does this count as the high ground?
Ned McCubbins is breaking from cover and running like hell across the beach, in plain view of a boatful of His Majesty's marines. Does this count as going into danger? . . .
The convenience of cue-to-fiction or cue-to-cue is that nobody has to read anything, or that the reading is trivially easy, if you prefer. I say "Morton casts 'good for having back at your ungrateful relations,'" and I erase 2 evil from my character sheet. It's a triviality to judge whether this counts as my having spent 2 evil. There's one solution to the problem of biased judgment: commoditize it. Create a cue; create something undeniable or trivial to read. Coordinate mechanical advantages with mechanical costs or mechanical risks. . . .
Commoditization is Fate's solution to the problem of biased judgment (and the solution of dozens upon dozens of games). Your character has the high ground in a fight. Is it to your advantage? If you pay for it to be, yes. Later on, your character's enemy has the high ground. Is it to the other player's advantage too? If she pays for it too, yes. Otherwise, nope. Having the high ground doesn't give you the advantage - that would require a moment of judgment, vulnerable to bias - it gives you the opportunity to buy the advantage.
It's a fine solution. However, it's not the only solution, and it's not the best solution for every game. It's the heart of Frank Tarcikowski's complaint from that Forge thread:
...I'm saying that one should invest in the SIS, and specifically, in Situation, moment-by-moment. Who's there, what's going on, what does it look like, sound like, feel like? In my experience, if you have a game system that works perfectly well without investing much in the SIS, people may tend to rush the story and their imagination of the actual in-game situation gets rather blurry. Such games still sound great in a write-up but to me, they're leaving a bad taste, like reading a good book way too fast.
My experience matches Frank's.
Another solution, equally good, equally not-always-suitable: give the moment of judgment to a player who's strongly invested in getting it right, not in one character or another coming out on top.
Player 1 wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, but STRONGLY wants Bobnar to have the high-ground advantage.
Player 2 wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, but STRONGLY wants Bobnar to NOT have the high-ground advantage.
Player 3 STRONGLY wants the game to have a reliable-but-interesting internal consistency, and doesn't care a bit whether Bobnar has the high-ground advantage.
Which player should get to judge Bobnar's position? (Hint: Player 3 should.)
This solution has a hell of a lot to recommend it, when it's suitable. It works directly counter to Frank's complaint.
And I'm certain there are more solutions to the problem of biased judgment than just these two.
EDIT: I think this helps us see why Look through crosshairs, as a principle in Apocalypse World, is doing more than simply establishing genre. It is also telling the GM that they are not an advocate for the NPCs they control, any more than they are an advocate for the weather or for the petrol mileage on the Chopper's motorcycle.