Posts filed under 'RPG'
The One Ring. Luke Skywalker’s inherited lightsaber. The Aegis. Indiana Jones’s bull whip. The skin of the Nemean Lion.
Of such stuff are legends made. The so-called legendary objects that litter the lairs of MMO monsters and the vaults of MMO PCs, on the other hand, are for the most part nothing more than incremental improvements over lower-tiered weapons, armor, and other equipment we can cram into our character’s slots. There’s very little magic about these magical items.
The way almost all MMOs (and most CRPGs) work, there’s really very little choice. Equipment is a big (and ideally fun) part of roleplaying games. But, as realized in design built around timesinks, graduated progression, and balance, most equipment is, plain and simple, completely uninteresting.
To me, fantasy magic items and exciting science-fiction gizmos should let my character do things she’s never been able to do. Oh, I know we’ll never get away from good old-fashioned +1 longswords (which may be better simply by virtue of superior craftsmanship), but shouldn’t the really exciting, storied items give us completely new powers? Where are the rocket boots that let me fly and the gemstone that, when I clutch it in my hand, lets me dissolve into a shadow and slip under a door?
On occasion, when playing MMOs, I’ve been sucked into the pursuit of equipment that improves a certain statistic my character might have. For many, pursuing improved bonuses to a certain set of statistics represents a significant portion of the game.
How insanely boring! But it reveals what is, to me, the great truth and great failure of MMOs. They are not about stories, not about character, not even about the worlds they portray. They are about (very) gradually increasing your character’s power for the sake of increasing your character’s power.
Though that may be what draws some players to tabletop RPGs as well, such games manage to avoid the tedium of mind-numbingly dull equipment, largely thanks to the fact that a given game has fewer players, a world that can be permitted to change, and at least a pretense of narrative.
This shortcoming in MMOs helps explain why I’ve never bothered to have an item enchanted in WoW. While I value equipment statistics insofar as they let me know if a new sword is better than the one I have, I take no pleasure in squeezing out another small bonus to some statistic that is used to calculate yet another statistic that will help me end fights in 97.5% of the time I’d otherwise be able to finish them.
The real downside for me is that, once I’ve taken a character to the maximum level and played with all the abilities that come with a given class, I have very little reason to continue playing that character. There’s no carrot dangling in front of me. I can’t be bothered to invest dozens or hundreds of hours in the pursuit of improved shoulder armor, however cool it may look.
What can be done? As far as I can tell, almost nothing outside of radically different game design would help. Oh, I know there are a few exceptions. The Scepter of the Shifting Sands, for instance, is damn cool even though it doesn’t give a character any game advantages. But such things are so very few and far between (of necessity) that most players will never experience them.
To truly address the problem, a completely new approach to MMOs is necessary. In coming posts, I’ll not only gripe about things I don’t like but also propose things that I would like to see and also happen to believe are practical (hence the post’s subtitle). I welcome any thoughts, shared experience, or complete disagreement.
November 19th, 2007
I know, I know. I’m a bit late to take up the gauntlet in Syncaine’s challenge regarding EVE Online having a solution to every problem anyone has with MMOs, being the best MMO. Syncaine is not specifically asking for critiques of EVE Online. Rather, he challenges: “Bring up an issue you have had with an MMO, and I’ll relate it to EVE and explain how EVE solves that issue.”
Rather than complain about EVE (which wouldn’t be fair, as I have limited exposure to it), I’ll list the top things I’d like to see in an MMO (all of which I happen to think EVE doesn’t deliver on):
- A real sense of narrative
- A real sense of immersion (although I admit I appreciate the semi-accurate simulation of what it’s like to be a tiny ship in vast space)
- A sense of community
- A sense of participation in the game world on the part of the player characters
No MMOs offer these to my satisfaction, and part of the problem may be the fact that the fourth at least seems to be somewhat ad odds with the first two. MMOs that offer narrative elements tend to offer the same narrative elements over and over to any group of players interested in exploring them. The cognitive disconnect, in WoW, of a single group of players repeatedly destroying an enemy until a certain item drops means that the cool background lore and narrative leading up to the kill are rendered meaningless from the perspective of world participation. You’ve defeated the biggest, baddest enemy of the universe, but you’ll go back and do it again tomorrow ’cause you want his breastplate, and for some reason it didn’t drop.
Immersion, the sense of living in the imagined world of the MMO, is both add odds with and compatible with narrative and player participation. On the one hand, nothing draws me into a world like a good, compelling story. But clicking through someone else’s story (always a danger in video games, MMO and otherwise) can certainly leave me feeling like an observer instead of a participant.
I’m not the first to long for an MMO in which emergent narrative, mostly created by interaction among the players and with the game world, would be the focus. No one’s come close to delivering something like this. Heavy roleplaying guilds have sometimes fascinating narratives, but usually the best parts of their interaction might just as well take place in text chat rooms.
Syncaine may argue that a game like EVE Online offers the perfect place for emergent narrative, true player participation, and a feeling of being in the world takes place. It almost seems like it should. It shares with Ultima Online some of the elements that could have allowed for terrific, epic worlds.
But then we have Syncaine’s follow-up post. When he discusses the “lack of short-term ‘fun,’” he reveals that some of the most exciting things ever to happen in MMOs took place in EVE, and I’ll be he’s right. It would be spectacular to participate in a PVP battle with hundreds of players on each side. Syncaine writes: “What draws me to EVE is that potential, that possibility of launching that Titan.”
Unfortunately, I don’t actually think that’s different than what keeps people playing WoW. Oh, the big events in EVE may indeed be bigger than killing Illidan, but only a small percentage of the playerbase got to experience that for a tiny percent of their game time.
So, richer though EVE’s narrative rewards may be, they come at a dearer price, and to a smaller percentage of players.
Oh, and that point about a sense of community? Well, any game with a loyal fanbase has it. I just didn’t find it in EVE because the game obviously doesn’t address my personal MMO needs. I therefore don’t have much in common with those who (legitimately) find it satisfying. I’ll find a community when I find people who enjoy being immersed in their worlds, their characters. The long lists of statistics and lack of avatar don’t support my kind of immersion.
In the end, I actually think EVE is a great game for the right audience. But I also know, thanks to this little exercise, that I ain’t that audience!
November 14th, 2007
I haven’t had the opportunity to post nearly as much as I’d like, lately, because I’ve been preparing to audition for a musical. It’s been two decades since I last trod the boards, but with a community theater a ten-minute walk from my house, a good friend who’s an avid participant, and the fact that they’re putting on The Scarlet Pimpernel, inspired by the entertaining novel that basically kick-started the masked super-hero genre . . . well, I really couldn’t resist.
Over the past two weeks, my friend and I repeatedly rehearsed our audition song (”Our Children” from Ragtime, another great musical based on a novel), which cut somewhat severely into my gaming time. Sunday afternoon and last night, though, we finally had our auditions.
I think I did well, and I suspect I’ll be cast. (I’ll know by next Sunday at the latest.) I don’t think I’ll get my dream part (the villain Chauvlin) because some absolutely terrific contenders, active in theater more recently than 1988, tried out for the leads, but I do hope for a fun part with a real chance to act, sing, and dance.
To tie this all to gaming, I will state that I think I’m a much better actor than I was in high school, despite not having performed since then, and I attribute the improvement entirely to tabletop roleplaying games. Having taken on the roles of antagonists, love interests, monsters, and other colorful characters over the years, I’ve gained both confidence and competence in assuming roles whose personality is wildly different from my own (although I admit to having a sort of internal cast, now; I should write about that sometime).
It will be interesting to once again perform from a script instead of winging it. Here’s hoping I can bring whatever character they give me to more vivid life than I do the various inhabitants of my made-up tabletop worlds . . . but I’ll sure miss the excitement of an unfolding storyline with an ending unknown to any participants!
November 6th, 2007
I admit it: I’m a great big cheater. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I ran a tabletop RPG session without making up a tremendous portion of “what happens” on the spot. Whether I’ve spend two weeks preparing detailed maps and NPC profiles or scribbled a couple of notes in the bathroom while my players are waiting in the den, I have to lie and cheat to give my players the enjoyable adventures they expect.
I always find it fascinating to hear of GMs who can’t wing it, or who feel that there’s something morally irresponsible about winging it. As Ominus says at Game On :: Aleph Gaming blog in a post on Personal Rules for Narrating, the story isn’t the GM’s, nor is it the players’. A GM who lacks the agility to handle the inevitably unpredictable narrative flow that emerges when a group of people get together to create a collaborative story has no business behind the screen.
The trick, though, is not to let the player’s know when you’re winging it and when you’re not. I suspect my players know (certainly my wife does) that I have had to make up NPCs, locations, and events of whole cloth who go on to be central players in a campaign.
I tread upon the rules, too, when the situation merits. I lie about die rolls all the time, make up special rules situations that my players (who generally don’t know the rules very well) know nothing about, and sometimes fail to keep track of NPC health, letting the opponents die mostly when I feel a combat has gone on long enough to be dramatically entertaining.
And I say this as someone who takes some real pleasure in the simulationist elements of our hobby!
As an amateur magician, I’ve learned that my audience genuinely wants to know how magic is performed but will also be sorry if they do find out. Magicians don’t just keep their secrets in order to prevent others from performing the same tricks. Frankly, most people don’t want to do the tricks anyway. No, magicians keep their secrets because when the audience knows the secret, it’s the magic that vanishes, not the Statue of Liberty.
My players want to believe their characters adventure in a living world, full of vibrant NPCs and events that would happen whether or not they take a hand. They know I use narrative sleight-of-hand, mirrors, and invisible thread. But as long as they don’t know when I’m using it, they’ll have a good time.
Of course, we GM magicians must suffer for our art. This post at the Treasure Tables blog discusses the need to retcon, an inevitable consequence of improvisation.
As Sir Walter Scott states: “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
And, that goodness, as J.R. Pope adds: “But when we’ve practiced for a while/How vastly we improve our style!”
October 26th, 2007
If we gamers consider ourselves Homo ludens—humans who play—we can’t ignore that we have subspecies. Many call themselves “gamers,” but most mean something more specific. What distinguishes Homo ludens from people who don’t call themselves gamers, what unites us, is the perceived geek-factor of the games we play.
Within our geeky species, though, we’ve got varieties so distinct from one another that they can hardly be considered the same animal.
- Homo ludens sangoculi
Those whose eyes begin to bleed after avoiding blinking for five hours during an important raid. In other words, video gamers.
- Homo ludens terataleae
Those who play with monstrous dice. In other words, tabletop roleplaying gamers.
- Homo ludens con-concilii
Those whose definition of “diplomacy” is almost the exact opposite of Webster’s. In other words, board gamers.
- Homo ludens shovelens
Those who shuffle. In other words, card gamers. This subspecies is broad enough to encompass such infraspecies as homo ludens shovelens economica (trading card gamers).
No taxonomy is perfect. As with life taxonomy, the borders are blurry and subject to change. Unlike life taxonomy, in which separate subspecies rarely mate outside of unusual circumstances, Homo ludens is basically engaged in one enormous, non-stop orgy of crossbreeding. In common with Douglas Adams’s Hagunenonns of Vicissitus Three*, Homo ludens is a super-evolutionary being that morphs from one life form to another several times over lunch.
Despite that, though, most gamers do seem to wind up identifying more as one particular subspecies than any other, at least for a given time. For instance, although many MMO players also play roleplaying games, the vast majority of WoW players seem to be Homo ludens sangoculi, and many have never touched a icosohedron in their lives. A quick survey of gaming blogs supports this hypothesis. There are many video game blogs, many roleplaying game blogs, and so on. But there are very few blogs that embrace both kinds of games.
I enjoy different varieties of games with equal fervor. Surely, I’m not the only Homo ludens ecclecticus, right? Who else is out there? And what other subspecies belong in the taxonomy?
*If you don’t know about the Hagunennons, do get your hands on a copy of the original The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy BBC radio production. It has quite a few gems that didn’t survive to the many later versions of the property that will absolutely tickle a fan of the setting.
October 16th, 2007
Still enjoying taking my time in LotRO, I did something about a week ago I’ve done once before but didn’t expect to do again: I re-rolled a character to create almost exactly the same one.
I enjoy a certain brand of roleplaying in MMOs, one that’s compatible with actually playing the game and that favors emergent narrative. As such, I tend to create characters and envision their personalities and histories with a few bold strokes. I choose the character’s class based on what I’d like to play, the character’s race based on what can play my class of choice. If I have a choice of races, I’ll choose the one I haven’t played before, since in most MMOs each race gets to experience some different content, at least at the beginning of the game.
When choosing my character’s sex, I generally alternate between male and female. I like playing characters of both sexes. No, I don’t choose female characters because of the appearance of their posteriors, nor for any prurient reason whatsoever.
But as my female hobbit burglar reached level 17 and I began grouping more and more, I realized I just didn’t want to deal with the reaction to my obviously male voice in voice chat. I know most people don’t have a problem with men playing female characters, and I know people actually expect male voices for female characters. And I even know that hobbits of both sexes actually look pretty much identical in LotRO.
But I didn’t want to add another element to the already immersion-shattering effect of voice chat.
That alone wouldn’t have been enough reason, though. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that I’m tempted to achieve the “Undying” title available to those who achieve level 20 without once being defeated. With my first burglar, I died rather stupidly in an easily survivable situation at level 13. I got over it pretty quickly, but when I came up with a second reason to re-roll (changing my character’s sex), that was enough justification.
Now I have a bit of a quandary, though. As I said, I enjoy characters of both sexes. Will my concerns about voice chat doom me to creating only male characters henceforth? Will I get over those concerns and freely create female characters in the future? Will I avoid voice chat even when it’s just so useful (such as for dealing with the fellowship maneuvers key to the burglar class)?
Playing cross-sex characters is a big issue in MMOs, an issue that goes way beyond the scope of this blog post. But has anyone out there ever made a similar decision? Has anyone’s choice of character sex—or other character attribute—been influenced by the prospect of voice chat?
October 10th, 2007
In early September, I downloaded the intriguing Sword of the New World, a Korean fantasy MMORPG that is “free to play,” although the game ultimately favors players who buy in game items and money with real money transfer (RMT).
I had planned to write a detailed review of the game, but an excellent write-up appeared a couple of days ago at Hardcore Casual that really tells you all you need to know
For myself, here’s what I very much enjoyed about the game:
- The characters look amazing. The costumes are richly detailed and beautiful, and even though you can’t do even one thing to customize their faces, they are appealing. This game has truly captured the anime look and wedded it to the setting.
- The setting is unique: pseudo-Spanish exploration of a (not the) new world. It has some of the flavor of the popular pirate genre but winds up carving out a unique niche. The setting doesn’t try to be believable. Lavishly decorated ballrooms and opulent halls line the streets of a city on the edge of an unexplored continent. But when you’re playing, you just don’t care.
- The music is gorgeous and setting appropriate (really, you just have to listen to it), and the game allows you to control what music is playing.
- The chance to control three characters simultaneously means a person like me, who loves to explore every class available, doesn’t have to split time among quite so many different groups. You can easily make characters of all classes and choose whatever combination seems interesting when you set up an adventuring party.
That said, I quit the game after about a week, because for all the good points, I find it’s just a terrible game. Here’s why:
- It’s too “gamey” for me. As I’ve said before, I prefer a more immersive environment, and Sword of the New World instead reminds me that I’m playing a game. Controlling three characters means I’m not really roleplaying any one; instead, I’m operating three virtual chess pieces simultaneously. The NPCs talk openly about game mechanics.
- Combat is either entirely too easy or almost too hard. One thing I actively dislike about most current MMOs is that they’re too easy. WoW and LotRO are both designed to be accessible to anyone, and even the most difficult challenges are met primarily with time investment, not with skill. In SotNW, though, adventuring can be so easy that you can literally leave the game running for hours at a time, then come back and see how far your characters have leveled. Seriously, the game is actively designed to let your characters grind while you eat lunch. On the other hand, the challenging dungeons and encounters require such careful management of your characters’ abilities and positions to handle the onslaught of monsters – something you won’t have practiced in the super-easy leveling you’ve done so far – that even experienced, skilled gamers may be unable to handle them consistently.
- RMT pisses me off. There are some good arguments for a revenue model based on real cash for in-game rewards, but as someone who prefers immersion, I find such options break my suspension of disbelief. Also, I happen to prefer games in which those with more abundant real-world capital don’t automatically have an advantage.
The worst problem with the game is that I was just plain bored with it after four or five days of exploring. Without a reasonable challenge, an interesting storyline, or a chance to interact in a fun way with other players, even the beautifully realized setting couldn’t hold my interest.
Instead, I felt as if I were playing ProgressQuest. That’s not really fair, of course. The game has lots more to offer. But it doesn’t have lots to offer me.
September 26th, 2007
On vacation, I had time to read the core rulebook for the Buffy The Vampire Slayer Roleplaying Game
. I picked it up because a friend who has never played a roleplaying game in her life but who seems like a good candidate absolutely loves the Buffyverse.
In fact, our very first session will take place this Friday. Introducing a new player to roleplaying is fun and exhilarating. This woman is friendly, fun, and creative. She loves good stories and acts in the community theater. Unless the utter geekiness of our activity sends her screaming, she should be a wonderful addition to our group.
I like the Buffy system. This is my first encounter with Unisystem, but from what I can tell it will be a genuinely fun game system that actively supports the genre. The very grainy rules (one skill covers all melee weapon use) mean that players can focus on doing the cool stuff they’ve seen on TV without worrying about a dozen possible techniques for any given weapon. (Note, I absolutely love games that let you worry about such things. GURPS is my system of choice, after all. But that sort of detail has no place in Buffy.)
The text itself does a pretty good job capturing the feeling of the show (the name of that one melee skill: “Getting Medieval”), although sometimes I thought it got a bit heavy handed. Yes, it’s clever to use Buffyspeak in the text, but sometimes every single sentence in a rules-heavy paragraph seems to drip with Whedonesque wordplay. Funny and fun, but not all the time.
This Friday, we’ll spend most of our time creating characters. I’ll need to refamiliarize myself with the rules (I get lots of great players, but none of them ever seem willing to read the damn rules, even though doing so would make our games richer) and put the finishing touches on our introductory adventure.
Before I do, though, I’d like to ask anyone who plays or has played the game one question: How important are the various supplements? I have one player set to take on the mantle of the Slayer, one who wants to be a reluctant witch, another who can’t resist the alure of a lycanthropy, and the last who’s eager to play a Watcher. Will we be missing out on lots of great rules of we don’t have the The Slayers Handbook
and the The Magic Box
within easy reach?
September 26th, 2007
It seems Flying Lab Software, developers of Pirates of the Burning Sea, has begun to actively recruit members for an elite fan group who they hope will “increase online and offline awareness of the game.” They have a sign-up form here, and anyone who’s interested in the game should probably go sign up right now.
I should note that this isn’t your ordinary sign-up. As they said in their blog post: “Boarding Party Membership is a privilege and not every person that applies will get to participate. As a matter of fact, begging, cajoling, harassing, demanding or complaining about your lack of membership is a sure-fire way to ruin your chances to participate.” The application supports this, requiring written answers to several questions. It even includes a chance to submit a writing sample!
Sounds like this is a chance to become a real, active participant in the community surrounding PotBS. I’m pleased that the developers are taking community building seriously. The community comprises people who care about the game, so it should be well served—hopefully in creative ways. Further, a well-developed community can in turn serve as a valuable resource for developers and designers.
As I may have mentioned, I’m quite excited about the game. I suspect it will quickly become my game of choice. In the meantime, though, if I’m lucky enough to become of The Boarding Party, I’ll be thrilled at the chance to get involved in the community even as it’s forming.
September 25th, 2007
Although I mentioned that I very much enjoyed my vacation from MMORPGs, in the month since I’ve been back, especially while my wife has been playing WoW, attending knitting groups, or otherwise occupied, I’ve dedicated some evenings to exploring (via betas and free trials) a number of other MMOs, among them Tabula Rasa, Sword of the New World, Everquest 2, and Lord of the Rings.
I’ll chatter on about each of those games (and others) in other posts, but since I signed up for a paid subscription to Lord of the Rings Online, I figured I didn’t want to delay keeping a light journal of my experiences with the game.
This is the first time I’ve ever been subscribed to more than one MMORPG at a time. I’ve kept my WoW subscription open because my wife is still playing. I’d very much like to see her reach level 70 in that game, and her being able to call on my dwarf priest for help when she needs it (almost nothing can get her to look for a group in the game unless she knows the people in real life or through real-life friends) will make that process easier. As long as she has a WoW account, I’ll keep mine open, because I really do enjoy playing games with her.
But on to LotRO. During my seven-day trial, I experimented with a human Captain and hobbit Hunter. My initial assessment: the game is WoW with a different skin.
That is, of course, a gross oversimplification. The two games each have their own unique features to recommend them. But they also have a common core:
- They’re easy to play.
- They’re fantasy games with a class-and-level character development system.
- Character advancement is a big part of the “goal,” and this is largely achieved through quests and combat.
- The tank-heal-nuke-(crowd control)-(buff) model applies in both cases.
- Both games allow soloing as a viable alternative to grouping.
- The base UI is fundamentally identical.
Some of LotRO’s refinements directly address shortcomings in WoW, like the fact that you can make objects useful to your character as soon as you learn a profession. As I understand it, professions are still money sinks, but rather less severe than WoW’s.
So why have I signed on?
- I like the fiction, and LotRO has done a bang-up job capturing Middle Earth in MMORPG format. I’d heard that, but I must admit I’m surprised at how much it feels like I’m actually running around the Shire from The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring.
- I like exploring and learning new classes, and LotRO gives me seven new classes with which to do just that.
- Deeds. I didn’t like rep grinds in WoW, and a lot of Deeds in LotRO seem like mini- (or not so mini-) rep grinds. But as someone who would most like to see a level-free MMO where any character can set out to pursue any quest to gain a given ability, equipment, trait, or the like, I have to say that the deeds give me some of that feel.
- Roleplaying. I don’t enjoy the so-called “heavy rp” roleplaying style that’s emerged in WoW. I hate being called to guild meetings to watch avatars agonize over their personal angst via text chat. But I consider myself a roleplayer because I like it best when I and those I play with stay in character. LotRO does several things inherently hospitable to roleplayers, including a default “RP” channel which new characters do not automatically join; a clearly-marked “OOC” channel and other topic-based channels that one can opt out of; and an immersive, slow-paced game world where fast achievement, boasting, and baseball don’t have a roll.
- Immersion and a slow pace. Now, I like leveling and achieving the pinnacles of character advancement as much as anyone, but I also like to enjoy the process. In WoW, I reached 70 largely by performing the same repetitive fight sequences thousands and thousands of times without paying much attention to my surroundings, the storyline, or eventually even the quest text. In LotRO, I may will wind up doing the same fighting, but I don’t feel as if I’m in a hurry. Instead, I actually get pleasure out of running around a given region, discovering what’s over the next hill, finding that I can get a peek in Bag End. I love that NPCs say things inspired by your character as you run past.
- The slow pace also means that I’m likely to do a lot more grouping. In WoW, I always, always felt that I was making a sacrifice when grouping with others, unless it was to do an instance I couldn’t solo. In LotRO, I just don’t care. If someone asks for help, I’ll be glad to help them. I’ve grown very bitter about the fact that WoW’s easy soloing has meant that I haven’t made many in-game friends. (Yes, it’s my own fault, but I’m not the only one who finds solo-grinding to 70 the most effective method in WoW.) In LotRO, I’ve grouped with people just to get to know them.
My main character is a hobbit Burglar. I think she’s level 13 now. I couldn’t tell you her stats if you asked. But I do know that she’s “Undefeated,” a “Fur-cutter,” a “Pie runner,” and an official post officer.
And that, right there, is why I’m playing LotRO, now.
September 24th, 2007
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