Odd Narrative Habits
contracycle:
Cliff, you say in post 10 that the players recognise and respond to mythos elements and situations that are particularly evocative of the setting etc, and in post 18 that your two old hands are highly defensive players, goiong to lengths to protect themselves from risk.
So these are your hardened adventurers; they know what the game is, what they are supposed to do, and how to follow your lead when you give it. The one thing that doesn't appear here is the desire to assert control over the narrative in any proactive sense. So I'm not sure that outcome narration is suitable for this group, or if it is, it will need to come in some other, more radically distcint form. Playing a game familiar enough that it allows them to fall back on their veteran habits will reliably prompt them to do so, I think. Inasmuch as you are attempting to demonstrate a new way to play, you need to make a much sharper break with the past, I think.
I suspect that what is happening is that as defensive players, that surivivalist element is important to them. And so to fail, to really fail in a serious and meaningful way, would be a threat to their competence and effectiveness. And the solution to that is take the failure and draw its sting, to make it comedic rather than harmful or bitter, so exaggerated it cannot be taken seriously. That way they can even gain applause (laughter) from what would otherwise be a threatening outcome, and their self perception as effective and competent is preserved.
Short of radical shifts in system as suggested above, I'd be inclined to just deny them failure narrations. You've got a system which allows them narration outcomes on success, it would be perfectly consistent to claim that failure puts the outcome in your hands. As long as this is done with justice and mercy, and not the vindictiveness Ron described, it's perfectly viable, and will allow you to keep the tone in check. But it is moving in the opposite direction to your aspiration to change the style of play overall.
Tim C Koppang:
The thing I find interesting about this whole conundrum is that it happens only during a failure. The players don't seem to be interested in adding much detail at all to their successes. So the question is: why embellish a failure, especially in such a self-debasing fashion?
If you’re playing 7th Sea, then I assume you’re using task resolution. The players tell you what they are doing, they roll, and then either succeed or fail at the one particular task they were trying to accomplish. From the players’ perspective, especially if they have no experience narrating the results of their own rolls, the narration may seem obvious to them. Why add additional, even superfluous, detail? This happened to me the first time I tried to encourage players to narrate their results. There was a bunch of floundering until someone added a few things like, “After I hit him, he falls down the stairs… I guess.” No one knew what to do because they were so used to the traditional GM/Player division. Under that traditional division, the only way a player exerts control is through narrating character actions. It’s the GM’s job to decide outcomes.
So what I’m saying is that it sounds like you’re players simply haven’t gotten used to the idea of narrating outcomes for themselves. This may resolve itself with practice. Or you may need to change to a very different system (per contracycle’s suggestion).
As for the exaggerated failures, it may be that the players don’t know what to narrate, but sure has hell don’t want to make their failure appear to be an example of actual incompetence. Comedy is the obvious out (again, per contracycle’s suggestion).
The other alternative is that the players are looking specifically for a bit of comic relief. I’m thinking about this:
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They dealt with the devil, and if they couldn't get their friend to shut up, they were going to have to kill him. That actually made them quite uncomfortable (until the one player started asking if the man's mother was "bangable").
If you’re really throwing a lot of uncomfortable situations and choices at them, they may want a break just to blow off some emotional steam.
Callan S.:
Quote from: Tim C Koppang on January 10, 2011, 09:34:19 AM
If you’re really throwing a lot of uncomfortable situations and choices at them, they may want a break just to blow off some emotional steam.
I think that's could be applicable, because unlike a TV show the roleplayer doesn't get a break in a pressurised. I remember a commentary of burn notice where the lead kept cracking up at a line Bruce Cambell delivered (mind you, it's Bruce Cambell), because it was such a tense scene. Comedy relief has been around in serious shows for hundreds of years atleast. They could just be providing their own comedy relief. As a GM, sometimes your unaware of how much pressure a scene develops for a player, until you become a player.
Cliff H:
A whole lot of great stuff came in, I see. I find myself left in the position of agreeing with many of the details posted, but at the same time feeling like there's an element of mutual exclusivity to much of it. At the moment I'm thinking I'm missing the forest for the trees. But let's start looking at those fine specimens of wood and leaf.
Quote from: Callan S. on January 08, 2011, 09:04:56 PM
Except if your playing for nar enjoyment, you toss in say a choice between an easy job robbing a little old lady or a hard job robbing some nasty stock broker and suddenly all these utterly tone broken characters are arguing with each other over which to do (if not both). And that arguements fun...but how can it be fun, eh? Surely tone is all there is and it's wrecked? Well in sim, yeah, tone is all there is. But in nar, there's that argument fun, still fit, fat and functional. That argument fun sits on top of the tone. Sure it's nice to have coherant tone, but it's not needed. Unless your playing sim.
Actually, that situation sounds like it would be wonderfully evocative in terms of character exploration, and that's the primary reason I like those situations. The dilemma I mentioned in which the characters almost had to kill a friend because of an agreement with an enemy was another good situation like that. Do they uphold their bargain, or do they break it for the bonds of friendship, even though it'll probably cost them their lives? And when the group first encountered texts hinting at the Cthulhian things out in the world, I sat back and effectively stopped running the game for a half hour as they debated in character what the proper course of action should be (burn vs. study vs. kick it up the chain of command). It was so great I gave lots of extra xp that session.
However, most times that's not the kind of discussion we wind up with. To again return to that example of trying to get their friend to clam up about a discovery, the group was in the man's ship quarters, with a massacre of a village still visible as a red stain in the shore waters. They are able to communicate with each other in public via secret code, so I let them carry on conversations in front of NPCs freely. There were two conversations going on in this case: what the characters were saying to each other, and what they were saying to their friend.
PC 1: Look, Egil, I know this is a big deal for you, but you can't tell anyone about this.
EGIL: Not tell? Are you mad? The whole purpose of this expedition was to recover evidence that the golden man of Kalak Ur'Nagath was real. If we didn't recover the artifact itself, we need to at least publish an article in the journals detailing our discoveries.
PC 2: (in private) If we can't keep him quiet, we're going to have to kill him. Reis will butcher everyone who reads that article. He said so.
PC 1: (in private) I got this. Don't worry. *rolls dice, fails* (to Egil): So, Egil, my man, let me ask you. Are you married?
EGIL: Mar- what?
PC 1: More importantly, is she hot?
EGIL: No, I'm not. I hope to one day-
PC 1: Too bad. What about your mother. She hot?
EGIL: I -
PC 1: Sister? Cousin? Neice? Seriously, I'm not that picky. Even if they're a little heavy, I don't mind the weight.
And so on.
It's not the inclusion of mirth. I like laughing at the table, even if I myself am not good at introducing funny characters (they're never popular, regardless of the game or circumstance). But this didn't seem to be the appropriate time. I'll totally bite on the sim theory though. I've never cared much about historical accuracy in settings or needed to know the intricacies of how everything worked, but I'm enough of a literary snob to want tone and genre to be a certain way, certainly.
Quote from: Tim C Koppang on January 10, 2011, 09:34:19 AM
If you’re playing 7th Sea, then I assume you’re using task resolution. The players tell you what they are doing, they roll, and then either succeed or fail at the one particular task they were trying to accomplish. From the players’ perspective, especially if they have no experience narrating the results of their own rolls, the narration may seem obvious to them.
You have it exactly. As it turns out, I didn't discover games that used anything but task resolution until after I started this campaign. So not only have the players not encountered anything else before, but the concept is still relatively new to me as well. While I try to suggest the narrative options they have available, the game table is a self-reinforcing structure in terms of behavior sometimes. They as players are conditioned to look to dice for resolution after all this time, just as I am conditioned to ask them to roll in those situations. It's very easy to fall into old habits, especially when surrounded by the people with whom you've engaged said habits for a long time.
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So what I’m saying is that it sounds like you’re players simply haven’t gotten used to the idea of narrating outcomes for themselves. This may resolve itself with practice. Or you may need to change to a very different system (per contracycle’s suggestion).
My entry for the Ronnies used a narrative resolution mechanic. Dice didn't tell you what happened, but who got to say what happened. I tried it out with a couple of these guys, and again, I think you're right. When dropped into a game where the dice required more narration because they didn't provide resolution, the self-effacement disappeared and they took much more tonally-appropriate control of situations from an author's standpoint. In that case they weren't in the position to narrate failures (well, they were, but the idea of winning a die roll and choosing to fail wasn't something that occurred to them), since failure was more that I got narrative control over them, so we didn't see the same sort of "I drool on myself" responses.
Quote from: contracycle on January 09, 2011, 02:35:16 AM
So these are your hardened adventurers; they know what the game is, what they are supposed to do, and how to follow your lead when you give it. The one thing that doesn't appear here is the desire to assert control over the narrative in any proactive sense. So I'm not sure that outcome narration is suitable for this group, or if it is, it will need to come in some other, more radically distcint form. Playing a game familiar enough that it allows them to fall back on their veteran habits will reliably prompt them to do so, I think. Inasmuch as you are attempting to demonstrate a new way to play, you need to make a much sharper break with the past, I think.
With that observation, and a number of recommendations that came to me both on this thread and privately, I'm looking to shift to a game that uses a radically different resolution methodology to see how that flies with everyone. It might not be to taste, but there's only one way to find out, and better we try it in a game designed to be played that way.
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I suspect that what is happening is that as defensive players, that surivivalist element is important to them. And so to fail, to really fail in a serious and meaningful way, would be a threat to their competence and effectiveness. And the solution to that is take the failure and draw its sting, to make it comedic rather than harmful or bitter, so exaggerated it cannot be taken seriously. That way they can even gain applause (laughter) from what would otherwise be a threatening outcome, and their self perception as effective and competent is preserved.
Harkening way back to the post where Ron noted that old school D&D was all about screwing the PCs, and where survival itself was something of an accomplishment, it does seem that sort of mentality is ingrained in their approach to things. And I say that not only because they look to safeguard their characters, but because at the beginning of the campaign I introduced an idea that John Wick mentioned he used in his campaigns, which was Grave Danger. The rule was that your character couldn't die. He could be beat up, maimed, lose an eye, lose his possessions, close NPC ties, and suffer in all sorts of ways, but Wick wouldn't kill him. Until he said the character was in Grave Danger. At that point the safety came off and mortality entered the game for that scene. I thought it sounded appropriate for 7th Sea, so I said I'd run with that idea.
One of the players asked I remove it. He wanted to know that I'd be looking to kill his character at all times, not just when I said the magic words. He told me without that, things lacked excitement. But then in response to that, these characters keep clear of danger. They'll get into all kinds of fights, because fights in 7th Sea aren't typically dangerous, and frankly these guys like to beat up the bad guys, but whenever there's something that might be dangerous, the preferred method is to burn it, preferably from a distance.
So, now that you mention it, old thinking may very well permeate this culture deeper than I realized. A clean break into something radically different may be just what's called for.
Thanks again for all the feedback. Your input routinely gives material for use and trial.
Callan S.:
Still thinking...
After the whole pick up line thing, what happened in terms of keeping him quiet or not? Or did you already describe that and I'm recalling badly? I think you said they didn't need to kill him in the end. But what changed the NPC's mind to not publishing the article?
I'm thinking one issue is that the dice roll, which seemed initiated by the player, was a bit 'premature ejaculation'. Ie, no one at the table talked about how dire the ramifications would be on a failed roll, or whether there would no ramifications at all in the short term (ie, rolls, fails "Please don't publish!" "Sorry, I'm going to! Goodbye my friends! Catch you at the party next week! :)" leaving plenty of time for other plans...). Just suddenly he rolls out of nowhere and nobodies internalised what significant context a fail will have (if any).
I mean, imagine if he rolled to persuade, fails, then just grunts 'Oh, failed it'. Seems a bit non climactic. So perhaps he's trying to make it somehow climactic on his own. Mainly because he rushed to dice and everyone else was left behind?
Perhaps if it becomes an informal rule that if a player picks up dice like that, he has to turn to the group first and go 'So...how bad is it if I fail' and actually wait a bit to get some feedback and back and forth on the matter? I'm not saying determine it in fine detail, just an overall sense of bad result?
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