Ruminations on the Impossible Dream Before Breakfast
contracycle:
I've been ranting for some time that "story" means too many things and serves only to cloud discussions rather than illuminate them. One salient question to ask in terms of this disuccion is "Why is story a good thing?" It's taken as read that a "story" is what we want to come out of play, or that "story" should be the result of player actions, but what does that MEAN?
It means something specific when we talk about Story Now. That is a clear and precise usage which can be used meaningfully and constructively. Story now is essentially the characters as protagonists addressing premise. The story which then emerges through the action of play is then NOT a sequence of events as such; it is specifically a moral or understanding derived from the answer to the premise which the players chose to give.
Note that this has nothing to do with boss monsters, or 3-act play structure, or the Hero's Journey. Because all of these are structures used by a single narrator, who uses them in linear narrative to engage an audience that in direct, Story Now play does not exist separately from the author. In this specific sense, story is the point of Narr play and story is therefore, in that context, a Good Thing.
The unanswered questions are these: what is "story" FOR in Gamist or Simulationst play, if indeed it is for anything? Why should we ever talk about story when discussing non-Narr games? What kind of specific actions and behaviours would we call on to produce whatever kind of "story" this is?
We get a lot of leak from Narr inspired discussion that does this debate no service. For example, the issue of player control over characters. It is true that without direct control by the player of their character, they cannot address premise, and therefore in Narr play there cannot be Story Now. But if we are playing in G or S, then the question of whether or not we can address premise is moot. What precisely then is the function of player ownership of the character? Surely that should should be expressed in terms that relate to exploration or challange, not "story" at all. And therefore, objecting that the GM rejected your input in terms of story is also a meaningless statement. I'm perfectly willing to concede control over "story" to the GM because "story" is not primarily what I'm there for. That doesn't extend, though, to ceding control over Exploration, if exploration is what I'm there for.
I think Nolan has summed up neatly when he says "I use dramatic techniques to keep the experience interesting". This is story as a technique, not as an agenda or goal of play. It is ancillary to and supportive of the real goal of play, which is Something Else. Is it useful to do so? I think it is, for the same reasons he mentions. It borrows, in a way Narr does not, from the traditions of linear narrative story telling. Things like the three act play structure may well be useful when seen in this light, whereas they would be actively destructive in the context of Narr. So we end up with a "story", and we have to take the One Ring to Mordor or whatever, and therefore we have reason to go places rather than just wander around willy nilly, and we have objectives to pursue, and we have reasons to talk to NPC's, and so the whole thing acquires some structure and direction that pure undiluted exploration and challenge would not have on their own.
None of this has to mean that the players get frog-marched through a set of scenes imposed by the GM to present some sort of narrative or moral lesson. Certainly that kind of thing has happened, and is the basis for all the hostility that is directed at "Metaplot". But I would suggest that this mistake arises from failing to see story, in G and S, as supportive rather than the point of play. It is attempting to impose the outcome of Narr onto games that are really pursuing other goals. This, I fear, is for the most part what people think of when using Illusionism as a pejorative, and I don't think it's valid.
When we suse story as if it is always the desired outcome, when we apply story to both the individual player actions and the work as a whole, when we use story in a way that fails to distinguish between goals and techniques, when we conflate story with player freedom - all of these mean we end up talking in circles.
Callan S.:
Quote from: Vulpinoid on September 21, 2010, 03:27:18 AM
Great series of posts (up until the last one)
If the tone didn't carry across in the text, I mean look at the spiritual attributes section like porn like I look at food shows on TV as food porn. In a good way! I look at the spiritual attributes section like it's hotness. Otherwise, shove off, atleast to me your acting like your judgement of a post is above mine. And to me, that's vulgar.
Vulpinoid:
Quote from: Adam Dray on September 21, 2010, 12:18:40 PM
Michael,
I like your river analogy. Realize that the longer the river, the less meaningful my contributions are to the destination.
Let's say the GM has this plot arc mapped out: we'll start off as nobody peasants and fight our way up to renowned heroes who save the world from a race of conquering monster overlords. And the GM knows that we're going to survive all those battles along the way, and he knows that we'll save the world and drive back the overlords -- because, hey, it wouldn't be fun otherwise. After a year or two of play all culminating exactly how the GM planned, distinctions between rivers and railroads are kinda lost on me. That river can't be wide enough.
Ahh, but this is thinking two dimensionally.
And that's something I've been meaning to get to with my Vector Theory.
Let's twist that analogy a bit.
Instead of a river, we're looking at a flight path. The aircraft has to stay within a fixed horizontal boundary imposed by the flight controller, but they are free to fly at whatever altitude they desire.
That's actually what I try to get at when I'm running a game...whether it's a three act structure, a hero's journey, or any other structure you choose to name. In fact I wrote my first game "The Eighth Sea" to specifically restrict play to a five act structure, but then allowed a whole heap of narrative framing rights to fall into the hands of the players so that they could fly or crash according to their whim. It wasn't a complete success and I've been meaning to rewrite it based on dozens of playtest sessions, but that was one of the main objectives.
The ship's captain (the GM) sets a basic plot, and we know where things are going ti generally end up, but we have no idea what this will mean to our characters or what it may reveal along the way. We might get to the ending that great for the crew, but it ends up being a pyhrric victory for most of the individual characters with them losing so much and sacrificing along the way. The same ending might be reached by a crew who flew high and reached the lofty heights of character satisfaction. The same ending for the crew in each case, but a very different story experience for the players involved.
With this in mind, who's to say we can't play narrativist on the vertical axis, developing story as we play, while we play simulationist on the horizontal axis, playing strictly to the relevant tropes and paradigms of a setting. The important thing is making sure everyone is on the same page about what we're doing. One player gets their fun from sticking to the "established realism" of the setting and making their decisions in context, another player gets their fun from the moral dilemmas and unveiling of their character through interaction with the various tableaux and scenes offered by the GM or prompts provided by the other players.
The players make their story on one axis while working within the framework and scenes provided on the other axis.
That's the way I'd play if there were two versions of me; one of me playing in a session, that the other of me was running.
Sandbox play...I run that very differently, forgetting the river and basically offering an ocean of possibilities. In this style of play I deliberately don't know which port the characters will set down in, but I make sure I've got a few of the nearby ones planned out just in case they land there. And I make sure to lay down a couple of currents that will gently nudge boats in a certain direction if they lose the wind and would otherwise be caught adrift in the doldrums.
Adam Dray:
Quote from: Vulpinoid on September 22, 2010, 03:50:23 AM
Instead of a river, we're looking at a flight path. The aircraft has to stay within a fixed horizontal boundary imposed by the flight controller, but they are free to fly at whatever altitude they desire.
Yes, but the pilot knows where the plane is going to land before it even takes off, right? He's filed the flight plan and can fly around in non-restricted airspace but has to land at a certain airport. And there's an invisible hand tugging the plane magnetically towards that airport, right? Because if there's not, we're not talking about the same thing at all. A GM who hopes that someday the players will end up saving the world but never uses Force to accomplish it is not what I'm talking about here.
I don't think talking about "playing narrativist" or "playing simulationist" (especially both at the same time) is going to clarify anything specific about The Impossible Thing. I think you're really talking about techniques, not creative agenda. If everyone is on the same page about what you're doing and has the same creative priorities over the complete instance of play, then that is the creative agenda. The Impossible Thing isn't about Nar-Sim conflict, anyway.
Let me go on record as saying that I believe that 99% of epic "Save the World" games end before the world gets saved. I'll also state for the record that I believe that more of them would succeed if everyone at the table knew that they were going to save the world as a foregone conclusion.
"But where's the excitement in that?!" you cry. Fair enough. What happens if saving the world isn't a foregone conclusion?
If you want to play in a game where the world needs saving, and maybe your character is the one to do it, then you need to own that maybe you won't be the one to do it. "Maybe" cuts both ways. Choose one:
a) It doesn't matter whether you save the world (maybe it's a foregone conclusion, but maybe it isn't; doesn't matter). What does matter is that the players get to make a real life point about something meaningful to them (some kind of Nar thing). As long as the GM doesn't trump your ability to address premise, you probably don't care too much about whether the world gets saved. Force applied to achieve a certain ending doesn't matter as long as the GM doesn't step on that. As soon as the GM invalidates anything you've done to address premise, though, players will be throwing dice across the table.
b) You're going to do all you can as a player to save the world. If you fail, you failed as a player--that'll suck, but it's a possibility (some kind of Gam thing). Here, if the GM just lets you save the world, he's just letting you win. It's like you played chess for months or years and finally beat the Master, only to find out he let you win the final game. Your victory is hollow. (Consider: if it's okay for the GM to "cheat" this way to achieve a successful ending, is it okay for players to cheat for the same reasons?)
c) You're going along for the ride to find out if your character has what it takes. If he fails, it's because the character wasn't strong enough, or lucky enough, or clever enough, and so on (some kind of Sim thing). If the GM has an ending in mind, there's a good chance that he's breaking many of the "rules" that the players have blessed as Right. The game logic that they've built, session after session, isn't the logic that's really running the game. Your character has what it takes because the GM decided it and hid the fact from you.
Now, I grant that a lot of people are fine with option c. I get that. I don't understand why the GM has to hide it as illusionism, and not just convert it to participationism with a few words to the players at the beginning of play. When you watch a movie, you are participating in the lie; you know it's not real. You eat your popcorn and suspend disbelief and let yourself fall into the director's constructed reality, and it's a sweet, sweet thing. You do not need the director to show up at your house with actors who you think are real people and trick you into thinking that some drama is happening (though I suppose reality shows have been built on less).
Note that option c is impossible under participationism, because you know that your character will succeed. Consider:
d) The GM told you that the game ends with your characters saving the world. You block that out mentally and go along for the ride. There's plenty of other stuff to be excited about, like the way the GM's story unfolds, the clash of battle, and playing your character through this epic tale. (And it still can be some kind of Sim thing, sure.)
contracycle:
Thr difference between participationism and illusionism is not, AFAIK, just a case of issuing a disclaimer up front. It's overt and explicit use of force or concealed use of force. You must go here, you must go through this door, follow these flashing lights to the next encounter. So disbelief is not suspended when this is happening all the time; it's the difference between a movie and a rollercoaster. The function of the illusion is to allow the suspension of disbelief.
Secondly, Adam I think you've fallen into the trap off thinking that this is "about the character". Why should it be? The character is just a vehicle for the player. If your goal as a player was "I wonder what it would be like to be a crewmember on the starship enterprise", then this stuff about whether the character matches up to some supposed standard or not is irrelevant. You get what you want just by "being there". The GM's plot can be anything as long as it doesn't do something strange like introduce The Force or whatever.
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