Lines in the Sand
This post originally accidentally (but rather humorously) refered to Jason Alexander, not Justin. Sorry Justin!
Even more embarrassing, I originally apologized to Jason, not Justin. I don’t care what Jason Alexander thinks, but Justin seems like a nice guy.
The day after I post about diegesis and Justin Alexander uses some similar lines to differentiate “roleplaying games” and “story games.” At least he doesn’t use the term diegetic to do it. I hate that term.
Anyway, Justin’s point boils down to: What Wil Wheaton is doing in this video
Is fundamentally different from what Wil Wheaton is doing in this other video:
I find that pretty crazy.
The definition game has been an internet passtime for years. It usually provokes response (like this post) so there’s always a reason for another round. But hey, I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk about the role of rules in an RPG, so I’ll bite.
Justin’s specific point is that the role of the rules between our two examples is different: in the D&D game the rules represent things that are true in the world of the characters (more or less). If your wizard developed the scientific method they could conduct experiments and quantify, say, the fireball spell. In the Fiasco game the rules are not something the characters can quantify.
That’s a completely valid divide, and one that may suggest which games you’ll enjoy more. It’s also not a particularly strong place to place a label. It all comes down to the role of the rules.
In both D&D and Fiasco the rules are serving the same purpose.
- The rules facilitate allowing everyone to be both a participant and a spectator in a fictional world
- The rules create conflict where there is none
- The rules help negotiate the exchange of information between players in a fictional world
The first one is the real key. When we sit down to play an RPG (using the term very inclusively here) we’re fundamentally establishing a fictional world in which we are all authors and we are all the audience. That’s the core commonality that overshadows the differences in approach.
The role of the rules is to make it fun and exciting to be both author and audience. If there weren’t any rules governing what happens in the fiction it would be pretty boring to be the audience—it would be like reading the book you wrote, you can’t really be a spectator to it since it’s all your own anyway. The rules allow us to declaim decision making.
Stated another way: the rules create conflict where there is none. When we sit down to play an RPG we all want the same thing: to have an interesting evening of describing a fictional world. There’s no conflict there—we could all sit down and try to just make the most interesting story possible.
The rules provide conflict. Not person-to-person per se, but conflict between potential outcomes. We all want the same thing, but achieving that through a set of rules makes the act of achieving interesting.
Finally, the rules facilitate the exchange of ideas between participants. They give us a framework for deciding who’s statements are true in the fictional world and who’s aren’t. This is sometimes a pretty weak function since “talk it out like adults and compromise” is a decent rule. It doesn’t serve the other two roles very well, but it is a way of exchanging ideas.
Both Fiasco and D&D do this. For D&D players:
- Rules like rolling for attacks allow a player to both have complete control over their character and be an engaged spectator when their character’s abilities are tested
- Rules like damage and HP create a conflict between what we all want (to see how these characters succeed) and the potential outcomes (death)
- The basic GM/player divide negotiates the exchange of information
Likewise, for D&D GMs:
- Rules like rolling for attacks allow the GM to be a spectator to a world that they otherwise define
- Rules like damage and HP create conflict between what we all want (to see how these characters succeed) and the potential outcomes (death)
- The basic GM/player divide negotiates the exchange of information
And in Fiasco:
- The setup and scene resolution allow us to be both spectators and authors
- Setup and the limited number of dice create conflict between what we all want (a fiasco) and how we get there
- The scene framing/resolution and setup help negotiate the exchange of information between players
There are some obvious and important differences in technique, of course. Fiasco does nothing to govern the physics of the fictional world, instead allowing the common sense of the players to handle what they know best (the physical world) while the rules help them get into someone else’s skull. D&D codifies the way the physical world works in some detail.
As game designers we can care about the differences without segregating games into separate but equal groups. They use different techniques to fulfill the same role.
In the end, the idea that Fiasco (or other games with out-of-character mechanics) doesn’t lead to roleplaying (making choices as your character) is more than a little crazy. The Tabletop video is obvious proof: who in that video isn’t making decisions as their character all the time?
I think there’s a definite “political” element to Jason’s definition, i.e., ‘We must differentiate our games here from those games over there.” In the end, he’s less providing a useful definition and more just expressing a personal preference.
Sorry, what do you men by “diegesis” here? I know roughly what the word means but I’m not twigging its use here.
I had a post scheduled about it (I don’t like the term much at all) but apparently WordPress “missed schedule” on it. So here it is: http://www.latorra.org/2012/08/07/diegetic/
I agree with Buzz. This is a personal preference. Does the pacing mechanics of the new 13th Age where you get +1 additinal to hit each round by its disassociation suddenly change it from an RPG? Innovation is made by pushing across supposed boundaries, not by reinforcing them.
Anyway, I’ll take the handmade sorbet from the small cafe down the road in any flavor over the mass produced cheap and bland icecream from the supermarket.
The name mistake is a common one. My own mother occasionally calls me Jason, and I figure if she does it, it’s understandable enough for other people.
I do think it’s worth pointing out, however, that the list you construct for “the rules are serving the same purpose” can apply just as easily to Arkham Horror and Call of Cthulhu.
So if you fundamentally believe that there’s no difference between the type of game Arkham Horror is and the type of game Call of Cthulhu is, then there’s not much more to discuss: You’ve got a definition of “roleplaying game” which I find absurdly broad to the point of uselessness and you don’t agree with me about that.
In regards to the specific example of Wheaton playing D&D4 vs. Wheaton playing Fiasco.
First: I’d argue you’ve chosen a questionable example, given D&D4′s well-earned reputation for including dissociated mechanics. But let’s lay that aside.
Second: Look specifically at the moments when Wheaton is using the mechanics in both cases; in other words, the moments when he is actually playing the game and not merely roleplaying near the game. There is a distinct difference between what the use of a roleplaying mechanic looks like and what the use of a narrative control mechanic looks like.
I’m not saying that you can’t roleplay when playing games that aren’t roleplaying games. Quite the opposite: I’m saying that happens all the time. And, therefore, it makes a very poor basis for defining what an RPG is (and an RPG is distinguished from other types of games).
@Buzz: Doesn’t sound likely, since I don’t actually have a preference for RPGs.
How is creating a division between “story game” and “roleplaying game” even useful? What purpose does it serve except to offer another chance to claim your game as “the one true roleplaying game”? I don’t see how it adds to the hobby other than to create yet another split in the community. If it’s not a useful definition, then why should we as a community adopt it?