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I just tbh can't really get the appeal of finding out which outcome happens. I can't really even get the appeal of multiple possible outcomes. Like, I get that it's just a playstyle difference, but I guess I can't really wrap my head around the appeal of simulation of world, because that kind of simulation just seems wholly uninteresting to me, and like it would only really appeal to maybe historians? Or just generally people who don't care about characters, maybe?
A third type of problem are emergent problems. Problems that just are created on their own when processes interact. Those are my faves
the gloracle is 100% pure sacred magic♥♥♥♥♥
The D&D heritage is full of these disassociations because of how reliant the early game was on a neutral referee.
If by “early game” you mean the quite recent game that the OSR amplified and propagated in their hunt for the early game, then yes But we’ve talked about that before.
Gygax’ writing is full of evidence of “hygiene breach”.
If there are any philosophers in the audience they might remember the Lisp macro battles where the second generation was way more concerned with “hygiene” and strictness than the first. The first were reliant on their dual namespaces to “eh, it’s good enough. And we can use gensym… selectively”. The second developed strict tools, first the pretty wonky pattern matching macros that made easy things easier but hard things impossible. Arguably pretty crappy. Then later on came the amazing implicit renaming environments that we rely on today♥
The idea of a process being sacred is something that is interesting to me, and that makes sense to me.
Just as how chess players pray to Caïssa for a fair game and how go/baduk games are connected to the root of heaven at the 10,10 space.
I was arguing with an enemy the last month about the idea of f-dging die rolls.
And he said “why are you getting so upset and throwing so many things and breaking plates? stop screaming, don’t you know that [and here he said the F word] is on a spectrum?”
And I explained to him through flowing tears and an upset stomach that how often or not a storyteller consults, obeys, ignores, changes, tweaks, disobeys the system that they use to aid them is not relevant to a referee. When I run this game, I am a referee.
Before we came to live here, there was a cobra in a bowl that always gave true answers. Storytellers would set up shop with such a cobra in the back room. In the front room, they’d gather an audience. In the back room, they’d have the cobra bowl. And they would excuse themselves, go back there, and then return out to the front room and continue telling their story. Some of the storytellers would rely heavily on the cobra’s answers. Only disregarding it if they thought it didn’t make sense for the story – perhaps never in practice, just allowing themselves the idea as a safety net. Others would rely on the cobra talk most of the time, to ground their story in truth, but at key moments spin their yarns freely. Another type of storyteller would be most reliant on their own tales, and only listen to the cobra for inspiration when their glass was running dry and they needed some suggestion or prompt which to disregard or follow according to their own whim. And others still would keep the cobra bowl tightly packaged up in the back room, never ever listening to it.
Such was the spectrum among the storytellers. And there were much struggle and infighting among them. For the storytellers, the question of how often they disregarded or listened to the cobra bowl was a point of pride and shame and anger. Their relationship to the cobra – the cobra helping them, they helping the cobra, the cobra being their tool, the cobra being their guide… was always personal and different. A storyteller with great knowledge on how to care for a cobra, how to listen to it, and only rarely straying from it when… when they deemed other goals more important… would take great umbrage at being compared to someone with some shriveled up snake bones in the back.
This was the tradition among the storytellers. Among the curators.
But we, who strive to be referees… the quibbles among storytellers does not concern uswe take the cobra out of it’s bowl. And toss into the front room. SNAKE FIGHTS DAILY!
OSR and Forge-style play both come from the same desire: system matters. To players.
Now, can I understand the idea of change? Yes. Just as the macro philosophers eventually developed implicit renaming with explicit injection, so have we developed new games, houserules etc etc. Perhaps one day I’ll play a system where the chance of BRD (Brutal Raptor Death) is lower than 4%. Or higher. I have proposed changing rules, changing campaigns, adding or removing house rules. Which particular gloracle we rely on is a matter that’s up for discussion with the entire table. But once a gloracle is chosen, attempts to temper her steel fangs is profane.
A system is the storyteller’s servant.
A referee is the gloracle’s servant.
I am admittedly beyond hardcore on [the matter of (low-level?) lethality]. I entertain myself thinking up ways to make the D&D support even more meaningless lethality. I find that the constant, nihilistic existential pressure focuses minds wonderfully, and makes the occasional streak of success taste all the more sweet.
The attendance problem rn is a much bigger issue than the BRD
What if you as a player could entwine your next character's background with the previous one and make the game more about legacy, so dying becomes a bit less frustrating as it adds to the game instead of feeling like a block from the system?