Post by Joe the Revelator on May 9, 2015 6:43:30 GMT
Author: abrowncoatforever
Category: Tabletop Gaming
Sub Category: The DM's Table
Word Count: 1,500
Post Preference: Main Monday post.
(featured picture: the mermaid statue on a ship's prow)
Once upon a time I had a bad idea. In my defense I didn’t know it was a bad idea at the time. Mostly because it sounded like such a good idea.
Now, this was many years ago, but I had already accumulated experience both as a player and a Gamemaster over several successful games. My low bar for defining “success” being when a player had enough fun to ask when the next session would be without prompting. So when my suggestion for a new campaign was not just rejected but garnered a response bordering on hostility, I was shocked. And as the years passed and the number of rejections increased I continued to be stunned by the negative reactions I encountered. Tenacity being one of my few merits, over a period of nearly twenty years I proposed this same campaign concept to nearly every player I gamed with, and it has been sounded rebuffed every time. It has only been in recent years that I’ve come to understand why.
(Photo of the puppet from Saw – google images. Caption: Maybe it was the way I was asking…)
But first a digression.
I’ve often lamented the absence of castles in the fantasy campaigns I’ve participated in. To my mind castles are the one stop shopping center of the fantasy world. They’re usually the center of local government. As such, there you’ll find a metal worker, a healer, a priest, supplies and shelter, and usually a minor noble lord who serves as a source of both court intrigue and a steady schedule of quests for your campaign.
But in my experience this is not the case. With the notable exception of one vampire lord’s fortress, the only castles I’ve ever encountered in tabletop games have been either the ruined/abandoned variety, or the dungeon of the week--usually both. I’ve determined this is due to a combination of ignorance and delinquency. I know that sounds harsh but allow me to explain.
Players expect to find little villages littering the countryside of the game world only a day’s ride from each other, in which their character will find all the conveniences of fantasy civilization. They expect there to be a hotel with a bar & grill (an inn) and a collection of specialty “shops” providing everything from magic wands to priestly vestments. At the very least they expect to find a blacksmith “shop” there complete with the walls lined with racks of horseshoes, weapons, and armor-- as if it were some kind of 10th century big box store.
(modern picture of walmart shoppers from knowyourmeme.com. Caption: Yup…everyone sacrificed CHA for CON. Worth it.)
This is mostly because of the players’ ignorance of the manorial system under feudalism. They expect anachronisms because they do not know any better. They may accept that a local hamlet’s blacksmith doesn’t fashion weapons and armor, but they still expect there to be a shop with strongbox full of copper and silver coins under the counter. The idea that the blacksmith doesn’t work in a brick building like a modern auto mechanic, or that the apothecary doesn’t sell aspirin and sheepskin prophylactics like a medieval corner drugstore, is simply outside their paradigm. They see the world through modern eyes. And though they intellectually know that earlier societies and fantasy realms are not the modern world they still apply their modern standards to them. Gaming is, after all, a form of collaborative fiction. A fantasy, not a history class, but still a form of entertainment. So the expectation persists.
And it has further been my experience that players, as a rule, behave like anarchists. They shun any kind of responsibility in game no matter how appropriate. Their characters will have no family, no friends. They will recognize no authority, temporal or ecclesiastical. And they will resist any attempt to curtail their freedom-- and by freedom I mean freedom as defined by the French Libertines as they might suddenly feel the need to burn down a tavern filled with orphans or desecrate a shrine to the goddess of mercy. Combine this with a modern distain for feudalism, and a belief that he with the most gold pieces wins, and the result is a pack of immoral mercenaries that even modern mental health professionals would consider textbook anti-social at the very least.
(Stock photo of Freud. Caption: When is a gold coin just a gold coin?)
If it seems like I’m casting my players in a bad light, it’s because I am. By and large these were decent people, and their characters weren’t murder hobos all of the time, even in the more nihilistic settings like Shadowrun and Vampire the Masquerade. It’s just that they did not possess, shall we call it a ‘romantic vision’ of the setting? Their characters didn’t long for a king worth serving like Athos, or scheme to empower their house like Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. It’s not that they didn’t like court intrigue, it was they balked at the idea of being pawns.
So in all fairness I admit that I present them here at their worst, but I do so to make my point. And though I have rambled on for a while now, and shall ramble on some more yet, I promise a point is forthcoming.
By this time you’ve probably deduced my idea had something to do with castles. Very good. You’ve been paying attention. My bad idea was a campaign revolving around the rise of a minor noble family. The PCs would all be the children (some legitimate, some bastard) of a minor lord who owned an (initially) small frontier fiefdom on which stood a castle. This would be their base of operations. Their father would be their first patron and they could climb the social ranks from there. It would be like Game of Thrones, before we ever heard of Game of Thrones.
(Photo of George R.R. Martin from his wiki. Caption: Now with 50% less incest and fratricide!)
In short I was going to take a band of cutthroats and transform them into nobles.
By now you must be wondering, if everything I’ve said about these players is true, why I would believe this company of brutes would possibly be capable of such a dramatic change in behavior? My answer is simple: I’d witnessed it before.
These same players that didn’t re-shoe or even water their horses unless reminded would voluntarily commence a regular schedule of maintenance. These players that were so anti-authority that they wouldn’t bend a knee to King Arthur, or even choose a leader from amongst themselves, now without prompting would conjure and enforce a chain of command over themselves and each other. Players that specifically designed their PC’s to be unmarried orphans with no social ties whatsoever would cherish a dependant that they would support and defend even unto death-- and these are the people that can’t even tell you the name of their character if it isn’t printed on the top of their character sheet!
And yet, regardless of setting, regardless of what has already transpired in the campaign, the introduction of this one thing irrevocably changes the attitude and priorities of every player at the table.
(Stock photo of a sailboat. Caption: “Hint: What looks like a Dorito and glides across saline?”)
Looking back through all the campaigns I’ve ever played or mastered, I can see that each game fit perfectly into two distinct categories. Those games that are mission-based like Shadowrun and Dungeons & Dragons, which inevitably slide into murderhoboism. And those games in which the player-characters own a ship.
It doesn’t seem like that big of thing does it? Trust me, the change is profound.
In mission-based games players will argue over who gets to stand watch during the night, hoping for that midnight attack and the precious opportunity to fight the aggressors single-handedly before the rest of the party can wake and join the battle. But when the PCs own a ship, players set watch to protect the vessel, and heaven help the wayward pirate that happens to find themselves too close to her. Players take no chances when it comes to their lady. There is no grandstanding. No score padding. It’s “Battlestations!” from the word go.
(Picture of Zoe from Firefly with the quote “What? And risk MY ship?”)
Even campaigns that are not supposed to be about ship ownership, like Star Wars, which is ostensibly about the heroes working to overthrow the Evil Galactic Empire, becomes the story of the ship, whose crew just happens to be working to overthrow the Evil Galactic Empire.
There is a psychological shift that occurs. And it has happened every time I’ve seen an RPG group acquire a ship. They may treat close family NPCs like the tax collector after winning the lottery. They might rape nuns and murder puppies. But that ship, to them, is the very essence of freedom. The power to come and go as they please. There, they are masters of their fate, forever free of the railroad tracks. And that’s something no castle can ever give them.
Joss Whedon called Serenity "the 10th character.” I’m inclined to disagree. The ship, whatever her name, should definitely be the first.
(Picture of Serenity from the Firefly wiki. Caption: Seriously, if Jayne can behave himself aboard ship, surely your players can.)
Category: Tabletop Gaming
Sub Category: The DM's Table
Word Count: 1,500
Post Preference: Main Monday post.
(featured picture: the mermaid statue on a ship's prow)
Once upon a time I had a bad idea. In my defense I didn’t know it was a bad idea at the time. Mostly because it sounded like such a good idea.
Now, this was many years ago, but I had already accumulated experience both as a player and a Gamemaster over several successful games. My low bar for defining “success” being when a player had enough fun to ask when the next session would be without prompting. So when my suggestion for a new campaign was not just rejected but garnered a response bordering on hostility, I was shocked. And as the years passed and the number of rejections increased I continued to be stunned by the negative reactions I encountered. Tenacity being one of my few merits, over a period of nearly twenty years I proposed this same campaign concept to nearly every player I gamed with, and it has been sounded rebuffed every time. It has only been in recent years that I’ve come to understand why.
(Photo of the puppet from Saw – google images. Caption: Maybe it was the way I was asking…)
But first a digression.
I’ve often lamented the absence of castles in the fantasy campaigns I’ve participated in. To my mind castles are the one stop shopping center of the fantasy world. They’re usually the center of local government. As such, there you’ll find a metal worker, a healer, a priest, supplies and shelter, and usually a minor noble lord who serves as a source of both court intrigue and a steady schedule of quests for your campaign.
But in my experience this is not the case. With the notable exception of one vampire lord’s fortress, the only castles I’ve ever encountered in tabletop games have been either the ruined/abandoned variety, or the dungeon of the week--usually both. I’ve determined this is due to a combination of ignorance and delinquency. I know that sounds harsh but allow me to explain.
Players expect to find little villages littering the countryside of the game world only a day’s ride from each other, in which their character will find all the conveniences of fantasy civilization. They expect there to be a hotel with a bar & grill (an inn) and a collection of specialty “shops” providing everything from magic wands to priestly vestments. At the very least they expect to find a blacksmith “shop” there complete with the walls lined with racks of horseshoes, weapons, and armor-- as if it were some kind of 10th century big box store.
(modern picture of walmart shoppers from knowyourmeme.com. Caption: Yup…everyone sacrificed CHA for CON. Worth it.)
This is mostly because of the players’ ignorance of the manorial system under feudalism. They expect anachronisms because they do not know any better. They may accept that a local hamlet’s blacksmith doesn’t fashion weapons and armor, but they still expect there to be a shop with strongbox full of copper and silver coins under the counter. The idea that the blacksmith doesn’t work in a brick building like a modern auto mechanic, or that the apothecary doesn’t sell aspirin and sheepskin prophylactics like a medieval corner drugstore, is simply outside their paradigm. They see the world through modern eyes. And though they intellectually know that earlier societies and fantasy realms are not the modern world they still apply their modern standards to them. Gaming is, after all, a form of collaborative fiction. A fantasy, not a history class, but still a form of entertainment. So the expectation persists.
And it has further been my experience that players, as a rule, behave like anarchists. They shun any kind of responsibility in game no matter how appropriate. Their characters will have no family, no friends. They will recognize no authority, temporal or ecclesiastical. And they will resist any attempt to curtail their freedom-- and by freedom I mean freedom as defined by the French Libertines as they might suddenly feel the need to burn down a tavern filled with orphans or desecrate a shrine to the goddess of mercy. Combine this with a modern distain for feudalism, and a belief that he with the most gold pieces wins, and the result is a pack of immoral mercenaries that even modern mental health professionals would consider textbook anti-social at the very least.
(Stock photo of Freud. Caption: When is a gold coin just a gold coin?)
If it seems like I’m casting my players in a bad light, it’s because I am. By and large these were decent people, and their characters weren’t murder hobos all of the time, even in the more nihilistic settings like Shadowrun and Vampire the Masquerade. It’s just that they did not possess, shall we call it a ‘romantic vision’ of the setting? Their characters didn’t long for a king worth serving like Athos, or scheme to empower their house like Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. It’s not that they didn’t like court intrigue, it was they balked at the idea of being pawns.
So in all fairness I admit that I present them here at their worst, but I do so to make my point. And though I have rambled on for a while now, and shall ramble on some more yet, I promise a point is forthcoming.
By this time you’ve probably deduced my idea had something to do with castles. Very good. You’ve been paying attention. My bad idea was a campaign revolving around the rise of a minor noble family. The PCs would all be the children (some legitimate, some bastard) of a minor lord who owned an (initially) small frontier fiefdom on which stood a castle. This would be their base of operations. Their father would be their first patron and they could climb the social ranks from there. It would be like Game of Thrones, before we ever heard of Game of Thrones.
(Photo of George R.R. Martin from his wiki. Caption: Now with 50% less incest and fratricide!)
In short I was going to take a band of cutthroats and transform them into nobles.
By now you must be wondering, if everything I’ve said about these players is true, why I would believe this company of brutes would possibly be capable of such a dramatic change in behavior? My answer is simple: I’d witnessed it before.
These same players that didn’t re-shoe or even water their horses unless reminded would voluntarily commence a regular schedule of maintenance. These players that were so anti-authority that they wouldn’t bend a knee to King Arthur, or even choose a leader from amongst themselves, now without prompting would conjure and enforce a chain of command over themselves and each other. Players that specifically designed their PC’s to be unmarried orphans with no social ties whatsoever would cherish a dependant that they would support and defend even unto death-- and these are the people that can’t even tell you the name of their character if it isn’t printed on the top of their character sheet!
And yet, regardless of setting, regardless of what has already transpired in the campaign, the introduction of this one thing irrevocably changes the attitude and priorities of every player at the table.
(Stock photo of a sailboat. Caption: “Hint: What looks like a Dorito and glides across saline?”)
Looking back through all the campaigns I’ve ever played or mastered, I can see that each game fit perfectly into two distinct categories. Those games that are mission-based like Shadowrun and Dungeons & Dragons, which inevitably slide into murderhoboism. And those games in which the player-characters own a ship.
It doesn’t seem like that big of thing does it? Trust me, the change is profound.
In mission-based games players will argue over who gets to stand watch during the night, hoping for that midnight attack and the precious opportunity to fight the aggressors single-handedly before the rest of the party can wake and join the battle. But when the PCs own a ship, players set watch to protect the vessel, and heaven help the wayward pirate that happens to find themselves too close to her. Players take no chances when it comes to their lady. There is no grandstanding. No score padding. It’s “Battlestations!” from the word go.
(Picture of Zoe from Firefly with the quote “What? And risk MY ship?”)
Even campaigns that are not supposed to be about ship ownership, like Star Wars, which is ostensibly about the heroes working to overthrow the Evil Galactic Empire, becomes the story of the ship, whose crew just happens to be working to overthrow the Evil Galactic Empire.
There is a psychological shift that occurs. And it has happened every time I’ve seen an RPG group acquire a ship. They may treat close family NPCs like the tax collector after winning the lottery. They might rape nuns and murder puppies. But that ship, to them, is the very essence of freedom. The power to come and go as they please. There, they are masters of their fate, forever free of the railroad tracks. And that’s something no castle can ever give them.
Joss Whedon called Serenity "the 10th character.” I’m inclined to disagree. The ship, whatever her name, should definitely be the first.
(Picture of Serenity from the Firefly wiki. Caption: Seriously, if Jayne can behave himself aboard ship, surely your players can.)
