The spicey die roll - Middel Earth (home brew) Sim

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Silmenume:
Hi Everyone,

I'm not really sure why I am posting this, I guess I am in a reminiscing mood; yet at the end there is an event I'd like to share that still resonates with me today even after the passage of several years.

This particular episode took place 4 years ago real time. I went hunting through my character folder to find what notes I could on this character and this particular scenario but they were scant to the point of merely listing the Players and their Characters plus I found another preprinted adjunct sheet to the player sheet called “Experience Record” with a bit more indicated.

That play session was just this side of the bell curve of small for us with six player characters including myself plus the GM. Included were two NPC's, one a PC who was not available and NPC'd for the night and the other a complete GM creation. On the quick the campaign was set in Tolkien's Middle Earth about 25 years before the War of the Ring. The system is home brew sharing a superficial  physical resemblance to TSR's but functioning in an almost completely opposite manner – attributes and skills but employed in a manner that is nearly completely opposite to the way “AD&D Edition” x works.

My Character that night was a Dunedain of the North by the mannish name Bannon.  His High Quenya names were Coiraumo (Living Storm) and Surion (King of the Wind). This tidbit has some minor bearing in this post as it illuminates to some degree the nature of my relationship to another PC playing that night, my brother Raven. His High names were Belirauma (Mighty Storm) and Borthalion (Strong Hand). Several years even prior the game I am posting about, the GM first introduced our characters as “Sons of the Storm” where our entrance into the world (the SIS) was framed by us both walking into the scene emerging from a howling snow storm. Actually prior to that the GM played out the set up of our characters as my brother having gone out and disappearing and my character spending 70 years searching high and low through all of middle earth looking for him. As for my brother the GM described his 70 years in a pit via witnessing a young girl grow flower into woman hood, mature, age and die all while he was incarcerated. In this process the woman was so smitten with Raven that she never married much to the chagrin of her father, who perished and his son inherited his father's keep as well as Raven, my brother. In this hour or so long introduction such thematic tropes as the indomitable Dunedain will (Bannon spent 70 years ceaselessly searching for his brother Raven and Raven never despaired of being found) and their powerful charisma (Raven made no play what so ever for the girl but she was so taken in by his Dunedain Charisma though they never spoke she could marry no other and eventually died a spinster) were demonstrated. When I did find my brother, I asked the Lord or now his heir son to release my brother to which he threatened to kill him if I did not leave. Numerically I could not fight to rescue but I proclaimed such a doom upon the lord that by morning he had died. (Note there was no “skill” on my sheet about being able to do anything like this other a generalized “understanding” that the Dunedain have immense “will.” Think Aragorn breaking Sauron's hold over the Palantir or Aragorn “breaking” The Mouth of Sauron just by holding his gaze.) So when our characters were introduced into play the catastrophe of Tharbad had already taken place where better than 95% of all the Dunedain in the world were killed – including our family. So at this point the bond between Raven and myself has been viscerally cemented in my mind.

Finally I should note that having a Dunedain in our game is a sign that you really get the material, the world and what the Dunedain are. It usually takes years of play to get one and they are THE pinnacle character. They ARE a very difficult character to play, and it should also be noted that you only get one. Period. If he dies there is NO Chance of getting another. Ever. (There are no resurrection spells or the like in the world.) They are very capable characters, they are tied directly into the highest level of events in the world, on a “Social Contract Level” they are a sign of the highest level of acceptance into the group as they are awarded to players who are considered truly great role-players. So beloved are these characters that in scenarios where they are in extreme danger players will find reasons to have their characters' put them selves into harm's way if necessary for another player's Dunedain.

OK, lot's of probably tedious back story and set up for a small moment, but in order for the following to make any sense it is necessary to understand the above.

So the background of the scenario is that Harrandor is in a state of utter chaos following the failed Black Commando attempt to decapitate and sieze Gondor and the subsequent war with the invading Harradrim armies. The Harradrim were badly beaten (this was resolved in a very abbreviated matter by having three players roll a set of percentile dice each – all of which were above 95%! - this was done because we were at the dog end of 6 loooong days of play in a row and we were all too worn out to play it out.) However this battle was waged in Harrandor lands and there was much destruction and woe inflicted on the locals as is always the case in war. The upshot was that there was no established power remaining and there was great anger felt by the locals towards both the Harradrim and Gondor.

Aragorn had tasked small groups of Dunedain with small Ranger of Ithillian contingents to try and pacify Harrandor, bring stability and hopefully mend some of the psychological wounds Gondor had inflicted and try and win the hearts and minds of the locals. Tall order as there were so few of us and the immensity of area we were each responsible for was so large – not to mention the carnage that had be wrought on these poor people. Each Dunedain had two Rangers and that night there were nine of us in total – 3 Dunedain and 6 Rangers when we stumbled across a town of several hundred adult men plus adolescent boy, women and children that was about to engage in armed rebellion against Gondor.

I forget all the extenuating circumstances but as usual time was not on our side, we arrived at early evening and determined that the men and older boys were going to ride off the following morning. We decided out of hand that we were not looking to “kill” the people in order to prevent the insurrection (as far as the Dunedain were concerned they were Gondorian citizens), but we rather looked to try to decapitate their efforts by driving off all the horses if possible and thus rendering them immobile. We made quick plans, waited until about midnight and set about our various tasks. Well, as is want to happen in situations where everything needs to happen properly bad die rolls made their appearance at particularly pivotal times and my brother was captured. The town was roused, they knew they had been attacked as a large number of the horses had been scattered, a few of their had been knocked out and thus they were hungry for blood.

The town had been roused and collected around my prisoner brother and were threatening to kill him. There was NO way direct violent action was going to save his life as the town leader had my brother on his knees, hands and feet tied with the local firebrand standing over him with a short sword held over my brother's head working himself up to commit coldblooded murder. Events were unraveling fast in real time, literally on the order of minutes. Though we had Rangers of Ithillian who are excellent bowmen there conditions were ALL wrong to try and snipe out the ring leader and make a rush to save Raven.

As a player I had no idea what to do, but I knew I had to do something and that Dunedain are “fate benders.” Armed only with this idea I broke free of my men and rode alone into the midst of the angry mob. Needless to say the other players were not pleased by this and Chuck especially was dismayed. I however was playing on that the Dunedain were all Kings so I was going to play on that somehow. So I walked, not galloped, my horse into the town stood high in my stirrups, pulled my bastard sword out leveling it at the man holding my brother, telling the GM that I unveil myself completely throwing my Presence (Charisma) out before me (mine a 22 in a world where the manish maximum is 18) and start proclaiming a doom upon this man his descendants and all in the town who directly or passively brought harm or let harm come upon my brother, also a King by rights, in the high tongue of Quenya. The GM reminded me that the locals would not understand Quenya, but I responded that while they may not “understand” the language itself Quenya was a tongue of tremendous power (remember the hobbits in Rivendale not understanding the songs but being able to “feel” and “see” what was being sung) and I wanted the people to “feel” in their souls if not their minds the deadly earnestness with which I was declaring my intentions and their fates.

As a player I was crapping in my pants, my hands were literally trembling because if events went sideways there was no way no matter how accomplished I was as a warrior (level) that I could hope to survive several hundred people attacking me – and I had my brother to worry about as well. I had walked right into the lion's den. I then bent my gaze upon the firebrand who held the sword over my brother's neck and told him to release my brother. My sword was leveled at him, shoulder high, from atop my horse, but there was no way I could do anything physical to save my brother's life if the man decided to plunge his sword into my brothers neck. Meanwhile I am surrounded on all sides in a sea of angry, unpredictable and dangerous people. In the back of my own mind I am making what preparations I can emotionally for the possibility of the loss of this most beloved character. Not only would I have lost this character, but the world as a whole would have lost an irreplaceable bulwark against Sauron and his minions. Recall Aragorn's speech to Boromir in Rivendale about the endless and thankless struggles of the Dunedain or that on the march to Gates of Mordor at the end of the books that Gandalf said that among the army there were “men” who were worth a thousand armed knights.  When you have a Dunedain you have a “responsibility” to the world. To lose one's Dunedain is to fail in that responsibility.

But Hell if I am going to let my brother, whom I had searched the world 70 long years, die without trying to rescuing him even if it meant my life for his.  As a player I was literally trembling with nervous adrenaline and a pounding heart.

Looking down my pointed sword I demand that the firebrand release my brother as he is holding the sword high ready to plunge it down into Raven's neck in a horrifying blink of an eye. Again I must make clear that if the firebrand had so chosen to do so there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop him, I was too far away. The man starts to argue back and two thoughts occur to me in a flash. First I cannot let him get the upper hand dynamically in the situation – I have to dominate him completely. Second I was irked that the GM wasn't responding to all these Charisma efforts of mine that are gift and birthrights of the Dunedain when I as a player am struck out of the blue – I will remind the NPC who he is dealing with and I say in as a commanding voice as I a player could summon, “Kneel, before a King.”

The room went quiet but there was definitely an electricity in the air. I had done something that no one else had ever done playing a Dunedain in 20+ years that the game had been played. I could even see the sparkle in the eye's of the GM when I said this – he was impressed. He had me roll a d20 and banged a natural 20 and the table explodes into shouts and whoops and hollers. The man struggled for a moment, thrust his sword into the ground in frustration and collapsed to his knees, as did a surprising number of the mob. Whew! He was broken and his hold over the mob was destroyed. I bid my brother to rise and we leave the town together. I do not offer a hand to raise him no do I offer him a spot on my horse for I felt it was still important to show that my brother had NOT been broken. (Of course once out of sight I gave him my horse and I walked.)

As my brother and I were making were waking our way through the crowd about thirty scattered men shouted “For Gondor!” I responded with something like, “Know that Gondor is not your enemy. Go – and make of yourselves good men.”

What was soooooooo cool was that not only did I get my brother out, I was alive, but that I had successfully accomplished our original goal of restoring order but trying to win over the people back to Gondor...and the best part was that this was accomplished without killing anyone! Because in a way these people are “future subjects,” my people as it were. One does not wage war against one's own people. It was immensely satisfying especially to have accomplished all that, but there's an important coda to this...

...some weeks (months?) later I was talking about this scenario to the GM and he told me that he had never seen a Dunedain more perfectly played in all his years of Gming Middle Earth. He told me that the die roll was for show, to add drama to the moment as my actions were so perfect that in his mind no die roll was needed to determine success. Did this revelation bother me? NOPE! Not in the least! He just told me that my play was so good that it transcended the need for a die role. It was spice only to make the moment even more delicious, but that the success was a solely and direct result of my role-play. That made me feel even more excited about that night's play. The best he'd seen in 20+ years of play. Wow!

I guess the point of all this was the above paragraph - the idea of play transcending the need for (or the outcome) of a mechanical resolution check. I don't know if any of this comment worthy but there you go. I hope I haven't wasted everyone's time.

Jay

Abkajud:
It sounds like you had a really great experience, Jay! It was a pleasure to read it.

I was looking at this: Quote

I guess the point of all this was the above paragraph - the idea of play transcending the need for (or the outcome) of a mechanical resolution check
and I noticed something - the big, exciting climax of the scene happens when the die hit the table, right? And it was the die result that gave it some punch.

It's possible that I'm wrong, but my guess is that if the GM had simply "let" you succeed in that situation, it would not have been nearly as memorable. You were crapping your pants, as you said ^_^ because you knew that if ordering the firebrand around didn't work, you were screwed! I daresay that a great big source of tension in this scene was highly mechanical and metagame in nature - as deep in the scene and as deep into character as you might've been, it sounds like a big reason why this was so exciting was because of mechanics considerations, not in spite of them. I'm really glad your GM told you to roll, actually, or he might've robbed you of some of the glory of this great moment!

At the same time, I want you to know that I agree that mechanics can sometimes spoil a great moment in the game, or rather hinder the chance of a great moment really happening. I think this happens when a) the mechanics only cover things we don't care about or b) they cover them in a way we find uninteresting. If Dunedain and other characters with "Will" had "Will" as a character trait, but maybe kept it fairly general (a couple of possible modifiers, a couple sample target numbers, and leave it at that), it could be a good way to "push" a scene with your character, "bend fate" as it were ^_^ to try and break someone's resolve when nothing else would work, but without leaving that intense moment created when a Dunedain bends fate, you know?
 One thing that happens with high- and low-handling-time mechanics (how much page-flipping you have to do, how many tables to consult, etc.) is that the longer you spend outside the scene, the more the tension in the scene can cool off. If a swordfight is supposed to be really intense and meaningful, then the mechanics for that kind of situation (a meaningful one) could stand to be a bit less detailed, and certainly more intuitive and easy to remember, so you can keep all the necessary bits in your head and not have to look anything up. On the other hand, "cool" scenes, i.e. ones in which things don't get red-hot with tension and excitement, could be handled in a more complicated fashion, if you desire, without sacrificing the feel of that kind of scene. Neat!

Very cool! Thanks for sharing that great moment with us!

-- Zac

David Berg:
Quote from: Silmenume on September 29, 2009, 02:14:25 AM

The man starts to argue back and two thoughts occur to me in a flash. First I cannot let him get the upper hand dynamically in the situation – I have to dominate him completely. Second I was irked that the GM wasn't responding to all these Charisma efforts of mine that are gift and birthrights of the Dunedain when I as a player am struck out of the blue – I will remind the NPC who he is dealing with and I say in as a commanding voice as I a player could summon, “Kneel, before a King.”

The room went quiet but there was definitely an electricity in the air. I had done something that no one else had ever done playing a Dunedain in 20+ years that the game had been played. I could even see the sparkle in the eye's of the GM when I said this – he was impressed.

Good stuff, Jay.  This rings very familiar to me.  It's this play style that has been the source of most of my most rewarding roleplaying experiences.  I basically see the core of the experience as a "what should happen" negotiation between all involved players (that is, the GM plus whichever players are acting via their characters).  It's always satisfying when there's a meeting of the minds about the next step in the fiction -- what makes sense, what would be cool, what would work, etc.

There's that moment of tension where the player goes, "Does the GM agree that this is at least plausible?" and then, "Does the GM think that this would succeed?"  In a game where no one's on the same page, a "no" is usually merely frustrating, but in a group with well-shared priorities, the GM's answer arrives as The Truth.  "No, these townsfolk are too incensed to listen," or, "That speech would totally make them pause and take your words seriously."  Or, "Could go either way; roll some dice!"

Quote from: Silmenume on September 29, 2009, 02:14:25 AM

He had me roll a d20 and banged a natural 20 and the table explodes into shouts and whoops and hollers.

I do this a lot too (calling for a die roll as GM) for drama's sake.  The shaking, the die, praying for a high number, the roll, watching, the die stopping, and... result!

Of course, if I've already decided as GM that the player's attempt really ought to succeed (logically, dramatically, or both) then the actual impact of the die roll is just degree of success.  So I totally beleive your GM when he told you that the roll didn't determine the outcome.  In those situations, if my player rolls poorly, I just qualify or delay his victory with some other shit happening.  Perhaps, "The sword wielder doesn't lower his blade, but his fierce look wavers!  Speak on and roll again!"

I really think this kind of play can be common if the players and GM can just learn to trust each other on the crucial criteria for affecting the fiction.  I'm working on some cartoons to facilitate that.  If you want to bring that into this discussion, Jay, just lemme know and I'll happily post a link.

Callan S.:
The problem with advocating that trust is that it blocks out other kinds of play (like both parties using written, transparent rules as the criteria for affecting fiction). If they trust in one game, what are they going to do in the next session with a game that's designed around transparent criteria rules? Not trust each other on the criteria (and instead defer to the rules)? No, once you've set up a trust process, it doesn't stop in a hurry - it's pretty much embeded in the social framework. And that blocks out other ways of playing.

Abkajud:
Well said, Callan.
David, I too find Jay's post exciting, but as a rule I just don't trust GMs to honor my input unless I have mechanical backing for what I want to happen. To me, a die roll is not just emotionally relevant - it states, unmistakably, "My ideas matter just as much as anyone's. Back me up, dice!"

Besides that, it's disingenuous for a GM to try and corner the players - if you come up with a sweet way out of (or through) a dilemma, especially if it's emotionally satisfying, there should be a way for you to present your solution and make it stick. Any sort of "you'll get out of here if I SAY you do!" stuff, which some GMs pull all the time, is bad-faith play, as far as I'm concerned.

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