Category: role-playing (Page 2 of 3)

3d6, straight down the line

Lately, I’ve been rolling up zero-level characters for DCC RPG. Not for any reason, really, just for the fun of it. It’s weirdly meditative. Roll 3d6, straight down the line,  and see what unbalanced, horrible/incredible stats ensue. Then roll for birth augur, occupation, random equipment, and copper pieces and bingo! Instant player character.

Why is this kind of character creation so satisfying? I think it’s due to the randomness of it. The character that begins to take shape, with her 16 strength and her 7 luck, her beggar bowl and her random candle, all leads to a low-pressure but satisfying imaginative exercise. I have to start making sense of this weird and sometimes contradictory amalgamation of numbers, stats, equipment, and info. Why was her birth augur “conceived on horseback”? What’s the story with that?! Why does she have such high strength and such low luck? Where did she get the candle and what was the last thing that someone dropped in her beggar bowl?

I’m not planning to use the character for anything, but even if I were going to run her through a funnel adventure, the whole thing is still very low-stakes. I can let my imagination drift through this hazy fictive world and spend a few moments dreaming up an entirely new  person. There’s no real purpose, it’s just me playing a game. And when I’m done, I feel both satisfied and energized. The combination of rolling dice, checking charts, and drawing the outlines of a fictional character all help me chill out and relax.

And yeah, I need to relax. Often, when I sit down to write or work on my fiction, I’m tense. “It’s getting late, I only have twenty minutes,” or, “I have no idea what to write and it’s gonna suck.” I sit down tense. Pressured.

I hate that.

I know Bradbury’s advice: “Relax. Don’t think. Work.” But I really struggle with the “relax” part. I can’t get past my perfectionism, and I’m always under the illusion that I’m running out of time.

So. I grab my 3d6, some percentage dice, a d24, a d30, and 5d12, a pencil and paper, and suddenly I’m in the midst of CHARACTER CREATION: such a simple process and yet the possibilities feel inexhaustible. It relaxes me, let’s me do something with my hands, let’s me explore a little corner of my imagination without worry or pressure.

Whether I play these characters or not doesn’t matter. They didn’t exist a couple of minutes ago, but now they do. A handful of random rolls and a new character came into being. Where once there was nothing, now there is something. It’s that simple, and it’s awesome. It might not seem very creative since the entire process is so formulaic and random, but I’m gonna go ahead and argue that it IS creative. As the dice fall and the stats gets filled, my brain starts to take over inventing and filling in the blanks. The numbers on the paper don’t really make the character; I do. Through my imagination, the character becomes a character and not just a series of game mechanics. This is what I love about randomization. It isn’t a substitute for creativity and invention: it’s a tool for creativity and invention. It allows the player to synthesize disparate elements, and in that act of synthesis, the player engages in the highest order of thinking and creation. All thanks to a roll of the dice.

Input Update 2/15/2021

Reading: Kothar: Barbarian Swordsman

Also reading: Out of the Silent Planet

Also also reading: The Twilight Realm

Listening to: The Raveonettes

Watching: Cadfael

I really should do a post about The Twilight Realm and that curious fantasy sub-genre of “friends-who-unexpectedly-get-transported-into-a-role-playing-game.” Part of my fascination with this sub-genre is that as a kid, I remember reading one of these books and feeling as if the book was perhaps “too adult” for elementary-school me, and reading it secretly because I figured my parents wouldn’t approve. (Of course, I never realized my parents wouldn’t have known what was in the book, nor would they have ever tried to find out. But somehow, I was convinced this book was verboten, and thus I would sneak around to read it. Gosh, I was a weird kid!)

Anyway, whatever this book was from my childhood, I’ve never forgotten the feeling I had while reading it. Trouble is, I can’t remember anything else about it! I know it involved kids getting sucked into a role-playing game, but that’s it. So now, with the help of the internet, I’ve begun making my way through mid-80s to early-90s books that involve people from our world getting transported into a fantasy role-playing game world. As I make my way through these novels, I’m hoping one of them will stand out as the one that was so scandalous to nine-year-old me. So far, The Twilight Realm is maybe, kinda fitting the bill, but none of it makes me go, “Yes! This is the book!”

I’m not sure what I’m expecting with this project, other than I just really want to KNOW what that book was.

Here Be Dungeons

I have been trying for quite some time to articulate my love of old school D&D, but every time I sit down to write about it, I can’t quite get a handle on what makes it special to me. On one hand, it’s 100% nostalgia. . . but not in the way you’d think. See, I was never actually allowed to play D&D when I was a kid. My parents believed in the “satanic panic” stuff, so D&D was forbidden, even though they let me play other role-playing games like Pendragon and MERP. But D&D still influenced me as a young kid, from the Endless Quest books to the Dragonlance novels to board games like HeroQuest. I studied the covers of all the D&D rule books, soaked up the Larry Elmore artwork, dreamed of what it would be like to play the game.

So yeah, nostalgia is part of it.

It’s the nostalgia for a certain aesthetic, for a certain vibe that had attached itself to all fantasy-related stuff at the time. That vibe was one part danger (the somewhat forbidden nature of fantasy that borrowed tropes and shared shelf space with D&D products) and one part belonging (here were works of art and entertainment that seemed made almost especially for me: for the shy, bookish, imaginative kid who loved dragons, knights, and high adventure).

This is where my ability to articulate the feeling breaks down. Because why should an aesthetic matter that much? Why does the cover of an Endless Quest book make my heart skip a beat? (I have not read one of these books in nearly thirty years, and I cannot imagine they’re any good.) Is it just because these were the things of my childhood and therefore they give me the warm fuzzies?

I mean, yeah, that’s what nostalgia is, right? But I suppose I’m interested in why nostalgia itself — particularly nostalgia related to literature and art — is such a strong force, and how my nostalgia for old school D&D is not driven by the game itself (of which I never actually played as a kid), but by all the things surrounding and influenced by the game.

See, here’s the thing: I really like playing old school D&D and the OSR-style games that have been come along in recent years. But it’s not because these rule-systems and games remind me of how I used to play back in the day. I didn’t play D&D back in the day! I barely even played MERP and Pendragon.

Nevertheless, these old school games intrigue me. Maybe I’m excited by the fact that I can finally play D&D without any parental chastisement. Or maybe I’m just responding to the nostalgia for the old-school aesthetic. (Truthfully, this IS a big part of it. I really like that DIY, grungy, punk-rock style artwork that accompanies both the old D&D books and the OSR-related new stuff.) But I think that even if D&D 5e came decked out in an “old-school” art edition, I’d still prefer playing the older games (or retro-clones).

Why???

I do, in fact, prefer rules-lite games in general (less headaches trying to figure things out), but I don’t think it’s JUST a matter of rules-lite. Lasers and Feelings is a fantastic game, and as rules-lite as one can get, but it doesn’t stir my heart the way old school D&D does.

No, I think it goes beyond the rules themselves and taps into something deeper within me.

Here’s the deal: When I was a kid, I loved to play pretend. I ran around the woods near my grandparents’ house and pretended to be a warrior fighting goblins and trolls and dragons. I went on epic quests in the backyard. I read fantasy novels and watched fantasy movies, and all the time I wanted to be Bastion or Lucy Pevensie or Dorothy Gale. I wanted to GO to Middle-Earth, even as I knew that was impossible. When I discovered role-playing games, I discovered that there was a way to travel into these realms of magic, even if it was only with pen, and paper, and twenty-sided dice.

And I think THAT is what keeps attracting me to old school D&D. Back in the day, I wanted to play pretend — I wanted to be a sword-fighter or a half-elf or a chivalrous knight — but I wanted to be me as the sword-fighter or the half-elf or the chivalrous knight. I wasn’t pretending to be an entirely different person; I was just myself, but myself as I wished I could be.

As I experienced it, on the periphery, old school D&D wasn’t just about pretending to be someone else. It wasn’t theater or acting class. It was about going into a magical, uncanny world and exploring it through the eyes of a character. The character was the vehicle through which the player could explore this strange and wondrous world. When the runic doorway to the musty dungeon opens and the stench of long-forgotten curses wafts through the forbidding tunnels, it’s ME standing there smelling it and peering into the darkness. But it’s me AS a warrior, or a wizard, or a crafty rogue. To put it another way, it’s both Me and Not-Me at the same time.

That’s the genius of the Choose Your Own Adventure books, or Endless Quest, or Lone Wolf. It’s the second person pronoun: “You.” You are the one on the adventure, not a character who is totally separate from yourself.

Me: I’m the one standing upon that threshold. The character/PC is just the avatar. I want to see how I’ll handle the dangers of the dungeon, how I’ll face down the orcs and the traps and the lich-king. THAT is what I’m nostalgic for. For that feeling of being able to imagine myself in the fantasy world.

Being the game master or dungeon master or referee is about acting out all these different characters. But being a player is about being myself, of seeing how I would stack up in a world filled with peril and wonders to behold.

“The Valley of the Forgotten Secrets”

Just gonna leave this here for anyone who wants to roll some dice and fight some lizard men. . .

Honestly, this music is so evocative of a certain era of gaming, of fantasy, of childhood, it’s hard to believe how perfect these dungeon synth albums are. Bands like Kobold, Basic Dungeon, and Gnoll: they all make time machine music. I am instantly transported to being a kid again, even though there was hardly any music like this when I was young — outside of a few computer and video games. But the dungeon synth stuff is *just* close enough to old video game music — and just close enough to the musical scores of old 70s and 80s fantasy films — that it feels like it’s from that earlier time.

I love the track names too. The last track on this album is “Three dangerous artifacts.”

I wonder what those artifacts could be. . .

Perhaps a bowl crafted from star iron, a book of royal genealogy, and an amber scimitar that will banish all wights and ghouls (but only if the blade has tasted the blood of a sand dragon).

Once again, YouTube has led me down another musical rabbit hole that must be explored. . .

Next up: Fief – IV

Random Tables

I’ve been stuck in a mire with my fiction writing lately. I’m almost finished with a short story, “The Wind Masters,” and I’ve started another story called “Things” (that’s a working title), but my imagination has been pretty dry recently. It’s been hard to conjure images in my mind.

So I’ve decided to practice a new habit: Creativity Hour. I’m pretty sure this comes from James Scott Bell in his book on plot structure; the basic idea is that a writer should spend some dedicated time each week coming up with ideas.

A few months ago, I made a list of activities that could help me with generating ideas and images (I’m like C.S. Lewis in that way: I start with a picture in my mind), and then when it’s “Creativity Hour” time, I can pick an activity or two to do for about an hour.

I usually work in my writer’s notebook for these sessions. Sometimes I’ll listen to evocative music and write down the images that come to mind. Sometimes I’ll do a “Try Ten” and makes lists. Other times I’ll just free-write, or ask myself, “What do I want to write about right now?” I might also look at cool artwork and get ideas from the images.

Today I tried using random tables from some of my RPG books to generate ideas. The fantastic Dungeon Alphabet, the Monster Alphabet, issue #2 of the Wormskin zine, the Lazy DM’s Cheat Sheet. After about 30 minutes of messing around, I ended up on the psychedelics table in Wormskin, and then the ideas started to flow. I thought about scenes for my Norse-inspired story, “Things,” and started the seedlings of other stories and characters (one that I particularly like is a dragon with piercing white eyes without pupils).

Anyway, it was neat seeing how these random tables for role-playing games could be used to inspire my fiction. I’m not particularly interested in using my homebrew DCC RPG campaign as fodder for a novel or anything; instead, it’s more about the randomness of the tables being a nice way to challenge my imagination, improvising and mixing together disparate elements. The randomness opens up my imagination, makes me think: How can I fit this into my current work-in-progress? How can I use this to tell a *new* story? How can I combine these two seemingly unrelated things into something whole?

Random tables serve as a kind of tonic for the imagination. They can give a jolt of energy to an over-tired, dulled mind.

Winter memories

36097I had a nostalgic morning. The snow and winter, seeing the woods and swamp behind our house covered in ice and snow, being on Christmas vacation: they made me think of winters at my grandparents’ house, playing HeroQuest and having imaginary adventures in the snowy woods, sledding and trekking through the silent forest. All of it made me want to leaf through old Dungeons & Dragons modules, and come up with characters to play and quests to undertake and treasures to discover.

I discovered the Ruined Tower of Zenopus the other day, and it’s precisely the right trigger for my nostalgia. Especially the example of play that’s provided. Takes me right back to my old MERP core book, with its example of role-playing, and the thrill I had when I first read it.

And now I really want to play an old-school adventure; something classic, with fierce orc tribes, creepy skeleton warriors, and a dusty, moth-ridden crypt. I completely understand the desire to create new and weird worlds to role-play in, but sometimes I just want the classic stuff. I want to climb inside an old Dragon Magazine cover and have an adventure.

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