So we use the character's cooking skill and the quantity of food, not to measure how well they cook at all, but instead we use it to measure an utterly unrelated likelihood of an bandit attack.
This is not accurate.
The Cook skill rating determines how likely the character is to achieve what they want, when what they want pertains to cooking.
In the event of a failure, it's up to the GM to narrate what happens, such that the character doesn't achieve what they want. In the episode of play that I described, what I (as GM) narrated was that there cooking was interrupted by curious bandits (whom the players correctly inferred were from, or at least connected to, the not-too-far-off moathouse).
(Having read on while writing this post, I see that
@Thourne has made the same points as I've just typed out.)
As stated, the failed roll doesn’t equal being bad at cooking. That’s not what happened.
Perhaps it took longer than expected and the additional time attracted bandits. Surely bandits are the kinds of folks who might look for cook fires.
Just to elaborate on this - my recollection (now two weeks old, so imperfect) is that I referred to the character mucking about with his improvised equipment, and before he could finish the job, the bandits turn up . . .
But in practice this means that worse you're at cooking, more likely you're to be attacked by bandits (and suffer other completely unrelated misfortunes.)
The worse you are at cooking, the more likely it is that when you try and achieve cooking-related goals, you will instead experience something undesired.
That in your play experience they are
unrelated seems like a weakness in the GMing. At my table, I can assure you that they are related. In this respect, I am conforming to these two bits of advice (written for Apocalypse World, but more broadly applicable; I say "conforming" rather than "following" because I worked out how to do this before AW was published, but these two bits of advice are very clear):
Vincent Baker (Apocalypse World rulebook, pp 110-11):
Make your move, but misdirect. Of course the real reason why you choose a move exists in the real world. Somebody has her character go someplace new, somebody misses a roll, somebody hits a roll that calls for you to answer, everybody’s looking to you to say something, so you choose a move to make. Real-world reasons. However, misdirect: pretend that you’re making your move for reasons entirely within the game’s fiction instead. Maybe your move is to
separate them, for instance; never say “you missed your roll, so you two get separated.” Instead, maybe say “you try to grab his gun” - this was the PC’s move - “but he kicks you down. While they’re stomping on you, they drag Damson away.” The effect’s the same, they’re separated, but you’ve cannily misrepresented the cause. Make like it’s the game’s fiction that chooses your move for you, and so correspondingly always choose a move that the game’s fiction makes possible.
Make your move, but never speak its name. Maybe your move is to
separate them, but you should never just say that. Instead, say how Foster’s thugs drags one of them off, and Foster invites the other to eat lunch with her. Maybe your move is to
announce future badness, but for god sake never say the words “future badness.” Instead, say how this morning, filthy, stinking black smoke is rising from somewhere in the car yard, and I wonder what’s brewing over there?
These two principles are cause and effect. The truth is that you’ve chosen a move and made it. Pretend, though, that there’s a fictional cause; pretend that it has a fictional effect.
Together, the purpose of these two principles is to create an illusion for the players, not to hide your intentions from them.
John Harper (
The Mighty Atom):
I've seen people struggle with hard moves in the moment. Like, when the dice miss, the MC stares at it like, "Crap! Now I have to invent something! Better make it dangerous and cool! Uh... some ninja... drop out of the ceiling... with poison knives! Grah!"
Don't do that. Instead, when it's time for a hard move, look back at the setup move(s) you made. What was threatened? What was about to happen, before the PC took action? Follow through on that. Bring the effects on screen. Bring the consequences to fruition.
I can say from experience that, in Torchbearer, if the PCs are trying to prepare preserved rations from the meat of killer frogs that attacked them while they were lost in the Troll Fens, there will be established fiction to draw on to narrate the twist!
