Dungeons not characters (again)

Posted: March 7, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: philosophy | 7 Comments

The “Other Side” blog has continued the ‘Dungeons not Characters’ discussion, although I get the feeling that
a) the participants don’t understand what I was trying to say, and
b) they seem to think the question presents a strict dichotomy of choice: I suspect they feel I am presenting the reader with a choice between 2 extremes: they think I am saying that one must either just plod around mapping out the dungeon and look in every room OR explore your inner feelings for your character in a gassy-ass larp… no happy medium availible.
c) the Other Side statement and responses seem pretty snarky. I posted a response there but removed it and brought it here because I didn’t feel like paddling my canoe upstream.

Consider the following heavy-handed illustration of my position on the matter:

I’m not going to pretend to know what other people think ‘exploring
dungeons instead of characters’ means. But as one of the early adopters of the
phrase and the dude who dragged it into the blog-o-sphere (having no idea of the legs it would have), I can only tell you what I mean by it. And it is not complicated.

People sit down to play a game of D&D. Player A has a written backstory and has decided that his character likes elves, does not like the color yellow and has a secret enemy whom the dungeon master will introduce later
— someone who killed his parents and he will one day seek his revenge… and
there is a magic relic in there somewhere too… and an evil twin… or
whatever. The character has yet to do anything in the game and yet there is already a lot of information “about” him. This level 1 character is named “Elphegor Dragonsbrother” even though the fantasy character has never met a dragon since the player thinks it would be cool to have a character who is fascinated with dragons. Whenever the DM introduces something yellow (like an NPC wearing yellow clothes), the player announces that since his character hates yellow he will be negatively disposed towards the NPC in the yellow shirt. When elves enter the picture, his player cites his character’s life-long fascination with elves as a reason why he should
be allowed to negotiate favorably with the elves. Player A spends game time
trying to make whatever events unfold in the game fit the backstory and vice
versa.

Player B shows up and rolls dice and decides that since his
character had a decent CON he will be a hobbit fighter. He chooses a name and
buys the weapons and armor he can afford. His hobbit is level 1, so he is pretty
much a blank slate. He goes off on adventures and, when he gets betrayed by an
NPC, the player then has an enemy that he hopes to get revenge upon in the
future. If he nearly gets killed by a blink dog, his character might avoid blink
dogs in the future. If he nearly drowns in a river, when he encounters rivers in
the future the player might annouce that the hobbit is going to be very careful
because of what happened last time. There is no backstory (other than what
happened to the character before in the game). The more the character does, the more the players ‘know’ about the character. The ‘events’ of the characters
life, that form him/her/it, take place at the game table. There is no
“backstory” that player B made up before the game and then has the other
players and DM play along with.

I prefer player B’s mode of play.
I’m not claiming its the right way or the only way, but, after trying it both
ways it is the way I like. Thus, I explore dungeons, not characters, and through
the course of exploring the dungeon and having the adventures, the character is
formed. The character is not a collection of adjectives, he or she is the
product of events.

I’d add that I don’t think any way is the wrong way of doing it, just that one way seems more fun (and more suited to my conception of a ‘role playing game’ as opposed to ‘acting’ or ‘improvisational theatre.’). If you enjoy writing out a ‘character background and using that to guide your actions in the game, more power to you.

OSR FOR SALE

Posted: March 6, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: adventures, art, Dragonsfoot, Dungeons and Dragons, OSR | 6 Comments
Rob Conley has been writing about ‘The Commercialization of the OSR’ over on his blog, “Bat in the Attic.” In his posting, Rob references Mythmere’s useful analysis of the history of the OSR (here and here). I’m still digesting both Rob’s and Mythmere’s posting, so I hope this post does not come off as me as attempting to ‘refudiate’ what either of these people have said. One of the issues that strikes me, however, which may be tangential to Rob’s and Mythmere’s posts, is the idea of the ‘virtue’ of free OSR product over ‘for pay’ product in the OSR. A number of pretty vocal people tend to spout the sentiment that ‘all OSR stuff should be free’ whenever OSR product for pay is mentioned.

I’ve given things away for free and sometimes I have sold them. I don’t begrudge anyone the decision to try to make a buck (or at least mollify the loss) represented by charging for their work, whatever it may be, so I am somewhat nonplussed that this becomes such a hot button issue for some people (some of the debates on whether or not anyone should get paid for OSR work have gotten quite heated).
One of the primary arguments advanced by the ‘anti-sales’ contingent is that many of the products offered for sale are not worth the asking price. Of course, this sidesteps the religion of capitalism (the market will decide if products succeed based on people voting witht heir wallets). But “quality” is a relative thing, isn’t it? Back in the day, we had a lot of fun with adventures like “Thieves of Fortress Badabaskor.” As far as the usual markers of quality goes in terms of completeness, adherence to the rules as written, professionalism of layout and art, etc., etc., “Badabaskor” seems pretty “bad” by the standards of most products (even free ones) today. Some of the art is pretty amateurish, the spell casters do not have spells listed, many things are not explained adequately and there are editorial mistakes galore. Despite this, we had a lot of fun with that adventure. In some ways, it’s incompleteness was almost a virtue since the DM seemed to have a lot of fun filling in the details. So was it ‘worth’ what we paid for it? I’d say if the value of such a book is in the fun that you get from it, the answer is “yes.”

I have to confess that I had some pretty frustrating experiences with publishing a ‘free’ OSR-type adventure through Dragonsfoot. I submitted an adventure for ‘free’ publication a number of years ago and waited for about two years for someone to get around to reading/editing it. It was only when I said I wanted to take the adventure elsewhere (since I thought it would never see publication) that it got pushed into publication. Then, when it was in editing, I had a number of editors demanding I make changes that I did not neccessarily want to make or agree on. One editor was quoting rules from one of the rule books in his messages to me in a manner that kind of galled me, especially since I had written the adventure years before and based the adventure on how I had ruled or interpreted rules. Finally, as author I wanted to also illustrate the adventure, but at one point the editor sent the images back to me, saying they looked like ‘crap.’ I had done the illustrations in black and white and then added a ‘zipatone’ texture digitally. The editor demanded I remove the zipatone texture because he didn’t like it. What disturbed me was that the editor seemed to be under the impression that I didn’t give a shit about how it looked when I felt like the whole project was really MY BABY and he was just the midwife who was really supposed to make sure we dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s before we sent it out.

Part of the problem, of course, was a personality conflict. Perhaps I am too sensitivem but I didn’t like the way some of the editors/producers treated me in the course of bringing the project to the point where it was deemed ‘ready’ for publication on Dragonsfoot. And, to be fair, I might have been a bit of a ‘prima-donna.’ The adventure in question was one I had originally written back in high school; I don’t think I was ready to allow strangers to poke and prod it and criticize all of its faults. But I was also unhappy because it took a lot of effort on my part to see the adventure to publication and I had to try to make a lot of concessions along the way in order to make it happen. And, after all of that, I still didn’t get the sense that everyone involved in the process understood how hard it was for me to give up so much creative control on a project in which our respective roles were not clear. Dragonsfoot wasn’t paying me for the writing or the images, so I didn’t feel like they had the right to make too many demands or the right to make more than superficial changes. On the other hand, the Dragonsfoot crew probably felt that since the adventure was being published by them, they had the right to demand that it be brought into compliance with their editorial guidelines. That is quite a conundrum. And this instance wasn’t the first (or last time) I joined a project as a volunteer and ended up regretting it. Perhaps I don’t have the right temperment for such collaborations. But (and this is the most important thing), I learned something about the work involved and being a professional from participating in the process of submitting that adventure to Dragonsfoot. I got some valuable perspective on what it is like to be involved in such a process.

Trying to think honestly about the OSR ‘for profit/not-for-profit’ issue, I long ago discovered that I much preferred to have a clear role as a paid collaborator on any project. Perhaps getting paid (even when one is paid a tiny amount) makes one feel as though one is being given a tangible reward for participation, and, strangely, being paid also seems to help me place a limit on my level of responsibility for the project. One of the problems with the Dragonsfoot experience is that I ended up feeling taken for granted — first when I had to wait for two years to have the process of editing my adventure begin, then when I felt that I had to jump theough a lot of editorial hoops to see it finished. I don’t think Dragonsfoot is to be held to blame for my feelings; I’m just trying to be honest about how I felt (and why I am reluctant to repeat the experience). My relationship to the product (and to the other people involved in the production) seems clearer when I am being paid. Being paid is not as much about the money (although, as someone with bills to pay, the money becomes more important than it was when I had a full time 9 to 5). It can also be about the ‘boundaries’ of the project. The problem with the freebies is that we did not have a clear understanding of where my control ended and the other collaborator’s control began.

More Doodles:

Posted: March 5, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: art, portfolio | 2 Comments

This one for E.G.G. 1938-2008

Doodle in progress

Posted: March 3, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: art, portfolio | 5 Comments


This is a fun doodle that I have been spending a little time on every day over the past three days. Today I added the spiky things and the water plus other details. Eventually I suppose I’ll fill the page.

I don’t have anything to post today

Posted: March 2, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: weird | 3 Comments

I’m working on mosaics, trying to fix my laptop and trying not to succumb to the hate. So here is a picture of an old fashioned penis pump to brighten your day:

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