AC: Actions and Arguments

Continuing the revision of Action Cards, the first part of defining how resolution is handled in the game. Some of this is a revision of some earlier ideas I posted-- the second half I'll post tomorrow

RESOLVING ACTIONS
During a game, players will face obstacles they must overcome. As in most rpgs, players and the GM resolve tests or contests to determine if and how well the players match these obstacles. This game generally takes the view that unless an event or obstacle is narratively or dramatically important, players shouldn't have to make a pull to resolve a test. The GM has at his disposal a set of other options, broadly called 'negotiated resolutions' for these situations. For everything else there's resolution based on the draw of the cards. The bottom line is: any check the player has to draw for should have some meaning.

For obstacles in general: the GM should have some meaning behind them. They could be to illustrate a point, to set the scene, to provide challenge, to create tension and so on.

NEGOTIATED RESOLUTIONS
If an obstacle is superficial, the players have time and freedom from pressure or not getting past the obstacle stops the story dead, then the GM probably shouldn't have the players draw. For simple things, the GM can assume the player or group have enough ability to get past them. This can be woven into the narrative. In these cases, the GM can take into account the abilities the group has and perhaps spotlight those abilities in the description.

*steps of prep leading up to an operation
*climbing a fence
*shopping for a good deal on food

So where the consequences aren't too vital or where the players will have plenty of time to get past the obstacle through repeated attempts, move past by narrating success.

Informal Arguments
Players have the option of presenting their actions as arguments about why they ought to succeed. In some ways, this parallels the mechanic of Taking 10 or Taking 20 in other systems. The player states the intended action and indicates the abilities he or she has which support that action. The GM can then action the action as successful or ask for a draw. Creatively narration of actions, tying in the abilities a character has purchased should be rewarded by the GM. Informal arguments can also be made for one character to support the action of another.

Formal or Matrix Arguments
For larger scale or longer actions: social networking, spreading rumors, managing logistics for an army, establishing connections with a group, rebuilding a village, and the like- players may consider presenting a more formal or matrix argument. Such arguments have three parts:

Objective: Stated goal for what the characters want to achieve long term
Method: The basic plan the characters want to undertake to do achieve this
Three Supporting Statements: Three things the group or the player can bring to bear to actually carry that out.

In the first example, the player focuses mostly on the abilities he can bring to bear

Objective: I want to start a club on campus
Note that the objective describes the end reality a character is working towards. Another version of that objective might look like this: I want to gain a social position on campus by starting and leading a club. Keep in mind how that stated objective shapes what follows.
Method: Find a niche that no one has exploited
Support #1: As a Changeling of the Fairest I have natural abilities which increase my presence (Human Perception and the Fairest Trait), but also the life of the Court is always about finding the next hot thing.
Support #2: I have the ability Leadership and I've been a leader before, and that experience should show me the best way to get both student and administration support.
Support #3: I have Contacts: School as an ability. In particular, I know Kay Ballentine, plus a few other older students on campus who have been here for some time. I can get from them what might be an area no one else has come up with.

In the second example, the argument is presented more generally, not relying on specific abilities.

Objective: We want recruit like-minded converts to our cause in the city
Method: Establishing a fraternal organization that covers our true purposes but draws in people to be screened.
Support #1: Balamon has extraordinarily strong social skills plus magics to supplement this
Support #2: We have a goodly supply of money to pour into the project
Support #3: We'll craft a particularly appealing set of precepts that will play on peoples egos, since the characters have a strong religious background we have experience in proselytizing.

That's a fairly broad-scale example. Matrix arguments can also be used on a smaller scale. They're not as formal in that case and can serve an additional purpose for a player. Sometimes a player doesn't want to play out a particular scene or event at the table, but they still want to accomplish something. Or alternately, their character possesses abilities that they don't feel they can adequately narrate at the table. Suppose you have two people playing Courtiers, both with a broad range of social abilities. One player's more comfortable with the back and forth banter at the table, while another gets tongue-tied when put on the spot. Part of the GM's obligation should be to recognize those divisions and help level the playing field. The system shouldn't necessarily penalize the articulate player, but should give the less articulate player another means to demonstrate that they have equal social skills-- as measured by the game system. In a case like this you can use a Matrix argument.

Once a player has presented a matrix argument, the Gm should assess success. If the support seems to match the difficulty of the objective, then the GM should narrate positive results. If there's some question about that, the GM can require the player to make a resolution pull (see tested results below). Again, the level of concrete detail can vary from argument to argument. The more specific the supporting statements, the more benefit of the doubt the GM should apply. The players should convince of the GM of the validity of the plan. As well, the GM should take into account the importance of the objective to the story and any potential opposition to the goal. Matrix arguments can also provide fodder for future GM storylines. In the second example above the argument suggests a made up propaganda "code" which might be brought up later.

These kinds of arguments can also be useful for players who look at the mass of information and NPCs in a game and aren't sure where to start. Stating an objective up front and then negotiating with the GM provides a short-hand allowing players to actually apply abilities while not necessarily reducing everything to passing a test. For games with community building, this can be a great aid. Where players have many things on their plate they can craft a matrix argument to deal with secondary agenda items while maintaining ownership of the process. Some abilities players purchase can to get lost in the shuffle of the game table, and this argument form allows them to put those to use. Used carefully, this tool allows the group to devote table time to more active interactions and primary agenda topics.
Matrix arguments are an optional mechanic for the game-- intended to help the GMs and players organize their actions.

Other Abstract Approaches
Players with advanced social skills have a couple of other negotiated methods they can put to use as well. For example, they have the room to take pauses of breaks in the conversation to gather their thoughts without penalty. The other option is for social take-backs-- a quick rewind if they've stated something inelegantly or gotten a particularly bad reaction. Both of those can be used to help model the suave character.

Investigation Scenarios
These ideas drawn from the Gumshoe System by Robin Laws

Where investigation and the discovery of clues forms the backbone of the game, GMs should think about the kinds of clues players can uncover. An investigation usually has a flow to it-- a line of places, people or events, beginning with an initial scene and heading towards a final discovery. That path may not be linear and may have several branching directions. But if players can't find the information which moves them forward, they become stuck-- shorting out the story.

So information can be divided into two types in any investigation scene: linking information (which shows the players options about where to investigate next) and plot information (which provides them the pieces of the puzzle to solve the problem as a whole or colors their perception of the scene). Linking information should be provided through negotiated resolution, identifying players with the appropriate abilities to pick that up. The system assumes that players with the appropriate abilities can uncover those clues by virtue of their training. Plot information may require the use of tested abilities, with the players gaining some, all or none of the information available at the scene.

AC: Abilities

Continuing my task of revising the AC system.

ABILITIES
A character's deck represents raw talent across four broad areas, as well as the whims of dramatic fate. To compliment raw talent characters may choose abilities which show specific areas and tasks they are better at. Abilities are recorded on a character sheet-- how they're used or applied depends on the model the GM wants to use: standard or detailed. In either version, Action Cards uses an open system for defining what a character can and cannot do. Essentially characters may attempt any task which makes sense given their background. Some tasks can be considered universal abilities: so a person can climb, can swing a sword, can shoot a gun and so on. Someone with that ability generally has more options or a better chance of success. But some abilities cover the kinds of tasks which require training, experience or familiarity.

In a modern game a character will be able to use a computer to do web searches, hunt down files, and contact people. But unless their background revolves around computers they won't be able to debug a program, break encryption, or create bot networks. These are more complex and specific tasks and require the character to have an ability in the relevant area or have it be part of their core background. In a fantasy game a character can swing a sword, but won't know how to forge one. In another game they can shoot that gun, but not know how to field strip or repair it. The GM is final arbiter about what kinds of tasks require an ability to even attempt. The GM should be clear about that early on-- so players know where they should invest their points. The system provides an option for picking up necessary abilities on the fly as well (see Drama Points for Retcon).

ABILITIES (STANDARD SYSTEM)
Abilities define specific things a character is good at or (in the case of areas requiring talent or experience) can do at all. An ability can be pretty much anything: Horseback Riding, Hunting, Swordplay, Desert Survival, Grappling, Dodging in Melee. Abilities serve three game functions:
*If the task cannot be attempted without the ability, it allows the character to actually attempt it.
*If a task falls under an ability, a character with that ability may redraw if they do not like the first result pulled. The second card must be chosen in that case (see Timing and Multiple Abilities below).
*If a character is making an argument about success or for a long term task, the character can point to relevant abilities as support for that task.

Abilities and Meta-Abilities
While all abilities are equivalent generally, some abilities do allow players to do things ordinary people don't have access to. These are called meta-abilities and represent magic, powers, psionics, racial traits, or just unusual traits a character possesses. Some times these things simple grant a simple something the player can do. In other cases they may represent classic abilities, but beyond the human norm. There's a narrative and qualitative difference between these kinds of abilities more than anything else. Someone might take Sprinting as an ability, giving them a redraw on races and running. But as a meta-ability in a Superhero campaign, a player might take Super-Speed Running. The later will be always faster than the former. Each falls into a different class of dramatic description.

Standard Abilities: Homework, Computer Programming, Archery, Sprinting, Lifting Things, Glassblowing, Forensics, Analyze Intelligence, Stealth, Streetwise, Social Graces.

Unusual Traits: Double-Jointed, Iron Skin, Nightvision, Extreme Wealth, Cast-Iron Stomach, Anime Leaping, Crushing Grip, Common Sense.

Racial Traits: Nightvision, Dwarvish Affinity for Stone, Wings, Tracking Scent, Fur, Ultrasonic Hearing, Giant, Tiny.

The GM will define generally for the setting what kinds of traits fall into what categories. The rule of thumb is: if it isn't something someone could pick up with training easily, then it is probably a Meta-Ability.

Abilities cost five experience points, while meta-abilities cost ten.

Option: Some meta-abilities, while granting unusual gifts, may not be as useful in play as others. For example, a Cast-Iron stomach has a fairly narrow range of use in most campaigns. The player may petition the GM for meta-abilities like these to only cost as much as regular abilities.

Meta-Ability Frameworks
For genres like fantasy and superheroes which rely heavily on meta-abilities, the GM may wish to provide some framework for players buying those abilities. This helps define both the limits and how broad a character needs to buy. For example, instead of Super-Speed as a meta-ability, the GM might ask the player to purchase Super-Sonic Punch, Lightning Reflexes, Hypersonic Running, Vibrate Through Solids and the like as individual meta-abilities which cover aspects of that.

Magic systems especially may have particular ways in which spells are bought. In a more detailed framework, the character may have to buy particular effects. In a game with a broader framework, classes or aspects of spells might be bought (like Fire Magic or Transmutations). [see Magic and Powers for some example frameworks.

Timing and Multiple Abilities
A player can only apply an ability once to any particular check. This means they can only usually redraw once. However, they may apply more than one ability to a check, provided that each successive ability is narrower than the one previously used. For example, if Cerise tries to make a Physical check to get over an obstacle as she runs, she might use Fearsome Agility as an ability to make a redraw. If she still fails, she could use a narrower skill like Leaping to get another redraw. After that she'd have have have something even narrower and specific to get another pull. The GM is the ultimate arbiter about what is applicable.

The GM needs to choose early on one of two approaches for handling ability repulls, especially in contested situations. The first approach is to have the player make their pull, apply any repulls from abilities and present the final result they end up with. The GM then tells them if they have succeeded or not.

The second option is for the GM to tell the player if their initial result, and those following have succeeded or not. The player can then decide whether to apply abilities or drama points to the results. This second approach is easier on the players and generally helps them feel more in control.

The GM may combine these two systems-- for example, using the first for general tests and the second for combat actions.

Ability Range and Stretches
In an Open system such as Action Cards some abilities will prove to be more useful over time than others. The GM set out example ability lists for the campaign at the beginning, helping the players to identify what level of detail will be used. This is most important for defining combat abilities. For example, one game might use “Swords” as an ability, while another might have “Sword Attack” and “Sword Parry” as separate abilities. Still another might have more colorful and detailed abilities such as “Ringing Blow”, “Sweeping Sword”, “Turn with Steel” and the like. If a GM finds that an ability is too broad for the game as played, he should ask the player to define it more narrowly. If a character with a broad ability contests with another with a narrower applicable ability, the GM will give a narrative advantage to the narrower ability. For example, if a character with “Nimble” is trying to escape from a pin being performed by someone with the “Professional Grappler” ability, the latter will have a bump in resolution. Note that these considerations only apply if characters redraw for their abilities.

If a player asks to use an ability which seems to stretch the definition of what it can do, the GM may increase the difficulty of the action. So if a character fails at an attempt and wishes to redraw with an ability only marginally related to the task, they can but their result will effectively be reduced.

ABILITIES (DETAILED SYSTEM)
In the detailed version of the system, abilities are broken into four groups: Skills, Traits, Talents, and Other. They each function slightly differently, but all can be used to support arguments for actions.

Skills
Skills represent something that a character knows well or can do more easily. These skills shouldn’t be too broad (i.e. Melee, Athletics, etc) but don’t have to be too narrow (i.e. 16th Century Medieval Tapestries, Skeet Shooting on Clay, etc). Skills allow characters to make a repull if they attempt an action and don't like the first result. The character must go with the next card pulled (unless they spend a Drama Point,). A skill only allows one redraw, but if the PC has skills which overlap, they may get a second chance. Any second (or subsequent) skill use must be made with a narrower skill.

Traits
These represent physical or mental aspects to a character which can boost other actions. For example: Handsome, Strong, Tough, Iron Will, Smooth Voice, Pious, Perfect Balance, Quick, Hard to Kill, Agile, or Patient. Traits provide a +1 bump to actions where that trait can be applied. Only one trait can be applied to any action and they count towards the maximum +3 bump from Edges. The GM may require Traits to be defined more narrowly and allow them to go above that +3 limit.

Talents
These represent the character's ability to do things beyond what normal persons can. They don't give a repull or provide a bump, but instead give a unique power. This can range from social benefits like wealth, high rank, connections, or status; or they can be inherent gifts like Nightvision, Rapid Healing, Anime Leap, Hawk-like Vision, Cast-Iron Stomach, Light Sleeper, Hard to Kill, and so on. Racial traits and simple powers can be bought as talents.

Other
Depending on the campaign style, Magic and Superpowers may be bought as abilities. Examples of detailed versions of these systems can be found in their relevant sections. If the GM is using Combat Styles, these may also be bought as abilities.

AC: Example Unique Cards

Following from my last post, here's a partial list of the unique cards from the various campaigns-- I need to go back and fill in some gaps here.

LIBRI VIDICOS
A steampunk fantasy based campaign. I'm missing a few of the newer cards people have added into their decks.

Leather Blunt, the Half-Ogre acolyte
Life Among Eggshells: Everything around here is so delicate- chairs, tempers, people...sometimes you find yourself freezing for fear of accidentally destroying something.
Higher Standards: You know you must be a shining example to prove yourself. Now you demonstrate unfailing excellence that all must acknowledge. Your performance is masterful, but showy.
Damnable Instincts: You hate it-- but every once in a while you find yourself falling back into the crude Orcish habits of your upbringing. Good for Physical and Combat tests; Bad for Knowledge or Social tests...well, except intimidation.
The Art of Tolerance: You've put up with quite a bit here in your time at Libri Vidicos. In doing so you've become stronger- able to resist and stand steadfast in the face of obstacles- from both enemies and allies.
Steadfast Companion: You once stood on your own, but you've learned anything truly great requires comrades. If you are working with someone else, you win big-- if acting alone, you lose focus and concentration.

Samiir Tracy, the inquisitive would-be sleuth
Aha- You Did It!: Gain an advantage in the situation if you can work an accusation into the action. If not, then the situation remains deadlocked.
Stinky Cheese: You come from a family that prides itself on an air of competency and sophistication-- however sometimes there are lapses into rough language, slovenly manners and a base desire to glut oneself. Your faux pas may be to your advantage in some situations or otherwise it will be an embarrassment.
...But I Am Righter Than You: If you're competing with another person then your air of self-satisfied arrogance overwhelms them! If this is an uncontested activity then you've drifted off into reverie about your fantastic performance.
We Call Them Clues: You spot something that reveals a vital point-- perhaps a weakness in an opponent's stance, an opportunity to make a break, a rich detail...however your concentration on these matters works against you in a physical test-- distracting you.

Sergei Firstprime, the aspiring dashing hero
Heroic Surge!: The blood of heroes runs in through your veins. You leap forward, Shout out and seize the day ! Great in some situations... but social or in the classroom...
You Handsome Devil: Women love you... but men envy you... your result depends on the gender of your opposition.
Weight of Expectations: You find yourself frozen... if you fail... embarrass yourself... then how will you face your parents?
Tales from the Steppes: This situation reminds you of a story your mother told you. Think quick to seize control of the situation.
"It's Hard Work Being Me!" : Being a dashing you hero isn't easy. Draw top card of discard pile for result of action. If failure, gain a drama point.
Perfect Defense: You have a parry for every stroke, an evasion for every question, and an excuse for every mistake.
Goin' all John Woo !!: Physical / Combat : Sergei has a moment of glory with such style and grace it leaves any on-lookers awestruck. Social / Knowledge : The brooding young hero has other things on his mind just now and it no time for romance.

H. Robert Valmont, the aspiring would-be dashing thief
An Eye for the Finer Things: Your appraising glance allows you to spot the minor details that others might miss... but if you're not careful your greed might get the best of you.
Caught Out!: You've overextended yourself -- exposed your actions! Cheese it!
Bow Before Me!: Sometimes you cannot control the force of your presence... that can be good sometimes, but you may run the risk of monologuing.
Your Thomas Hawk, Sir...: In your time you've managed to pocket away many little knick-knacks and plans to serve every situation.
Make Your Own Luck: You may reshuffle your choice of cards (except this one) back into your deck and then continue.
Unflappable: Eidolons, dopplegangers, dream-stealing demon cats... Libri Vidicos is a new world compared to the court of Atlantae. Lucky for you, you are getting used to strange experiences.

Beletan Alonius, the out of place Elf (missing some of his cards)
Proving Yourself: They all hate you, so you have to do everything twice as well -- show them your skill and prowess.
At Home Outside: In the great outdoors you are a master, under the stars you have no equal. Inside...indoors...not so good.
Great and Mighty Elvish Lore: You can call upon the lore of the Elves...which could be helpful in some situations, but in others it could be a hindrance.
Oh No...I Couldn't: Your fear of change, breaking your own codes freeze you in place.

Sokka, the circus-born youngster
You... Barbarian!: Your avoidance of social niceties and the 'rules' can come in handy in some situations... some... but in others it may be the death of you.
Fell For It: Wow. I can't believe you bought that. Just wow.
Trixy Minx: Your agility is legendary and on occasion you can apply it to other aspects beyond the realm of the physical.
You Meet the Oddest People...: In your time on the road... you saw many things, met many people... is there something you learned there? Or are you merely distracted by the memories?
My Friend Zef: Being friends with a sprightly air spirit has many advantages. But its mischievous nature can sometimes get you into trouble... especially in situations requiring social grace and refinement.
Hamhock Assault: Why was the GM so specific about an attack with a hamhock? Even he doesn't remember. Describe the results of action as if the GM had forgotten some detail(s) important to the scene.

Cerise Kestrel Antigrym, the dramatic Shaddai
Echoing Thoughts: Your gifts are erratic at best ... but sometimes you can pick up a hint or intuition ... think quick before that little voice becomes a distraction.
Center of Attention: You can draw the gaze of any male at the cost of infuriating the ladies. Your result depends on the gender of your opponent or competitor.
Power Nap: Eyes ... getting ... heavy ... must stay awake ... but pillow calling ...
I Was Acting!: Ta-Daa! You fell for my magnificent performance!
Tie-Breaker: Set this card aside -- on the next tie or Deadlock in this scene you may play this to take the advantage before any skills or edges are scored.

Lucretia "Lucy" Moonfall D'Amberville, the Aoniaen gadgeteer (missing some cards I think)
A Full Six Foot of D'Amberville: A rich and storied history, a land of secrets and experiences unlike any other give you an up in such situations. However, your heritage betrays you in matters of balance and dexterity.
Eleven!: There are few obstacles that cannot be overcome by the careful and efficacious application of the potentiometer. Though there are some risks involved...
Oh Look, Ponies!: Your sense of wonder and appreciation of life makes you stop and smell the flowers. Your choice of what constitutes an appropriate moment and object of attention remains...questionable.
I Have Something for That OR Arcanoscience!: Only the truly masterful understand the paradigms of both worlds and only the inspired can see how those rules and theorems apply to the real world.

CHANGELING: THE LOST
Pisca, the Wizened Inventor
Gears within Gears: You sometimes manage to see things in the abstract language of forces, interactions and vectors. This gives you a good result for physical and social - but becomes confusing for knowledge and combat.
O.K. Computer: If the action you are attempting doesn't involve a physical interaction with someone else, you succeed. If you have to interface with another being, you fail.
Disconnect - Curse: Everything comes to you at a remove - viewed through a fish-eyed lens. You lose your sense of coherence and purpose momentarily - resulting in failure through distraction.
Tin Man: You've hardened your heart - if what you are doing involves breaking down, undoing, damaging or deconstructing you win big. If you are attempting acts of creation and growth you freeze up.

Toy, the Ogre Child
Goblin Tricks: You've picked up more than a few sneaky moves in your time in the Hedge. Your triumph comes through deception and sheer force of wicked wit.
From the Toy box: Going supercute can be an asset if you are attempting a social or combat action. For Physical or Knowledge, not so much.
Back to Basics - Curse: Sometimes an ogre just drops back to primitive behavior - uncontrollable tantrums, awful gullibility or stubbornness - undercutting and deflating your attempting.
A Winning Smile: Your performance and ability to weave a tale comes into play. If your action interacts with another person you succeed. Otherwise you distract yourself with reverie.

Black Annie, the Darkling/Ogre seeker
On Your Own: If you're flying solo, you marshal your skills -- however, in a crowd, you lose focus and attention.
NOM.: You know how to chew through any problem -- literally and figuratively.
A Certain Slant of Light (Curse): All it takes is a glint, a glimmer, or a shine of light to throw you off your game. (My eyes!)
...Who?: Passing unnoticed is second nature, now -- great for sneaking and hunting, but making social situations difficult at best.

Ash and Embers, the Fairest Draconic
In the Right Role: You call upon your experience as a martial leader, giving you success in combat or social- but terrible for Knowledge and physical success if the action demands a flourish
Cruel Majesty: Your brilliant, burning self will out-- you perform the action with aplomb, but cannot contain the force of your own presence. That can be good sometimes, but your necessary monologuing may alienate others or give the heroes a chance to act...
Regaining Honor: If your action is true and virtuous, you succeed. If you've given into your base urges, you fail spectacularly.
Dreadful Phantoms (Curse): You've done awful things- horrors that came naturally to you. A sudden Memory strikes you -requiring a clarity test- failure will undercut your action attempt as well.


Sarah No-Tears, the Wizened Physiker
(curse) Raging Injustice: The world overwhelms and you become frustrated and enraged - losing control with a fury of venom, spite and lack of focus.
Doctor's Orders: You've learned to cut - in more ways than one. For Social and Combat, you win big. Otherwise you find yourself caught up in yourself.
Weight of New Flesh: For Smarts or Physical you have an understanding and degree of control. However, for Social and Combat, a fear of exposure hampers you.
Paradoxical Rounds: You've been trained by example through puzzle, misdirection and complicated choice. If you can provide a complex or labyrinthine solution to your task, you win--otherwise you're stumped by simplicity.

THIRD CONTINENT
I need to get everyone's unique cards recorded-- I haven't done that yet.

Ori
Broken Fate: You fail, but not from any fault of your own - instead the world and environment turn against you.
Relentlessly You: You know who you are and that things will turns towards the right path - that certainty propels you forward to success.
Right Thing for the Right Moment: You have something for that - a fact, an opportunity, an object - allowing you a situational advantage.
Making the Impossible Everyday: You often fail at the commonplace and mundane...but when attempting something bizarre or over-the-top, you win.

CITY OF OCEAN
The first extended campaign I ran with Action Cards and the first to have Unique Cards. I still wasn't sure how I was using them in this game, so at least one of them actually represented a power in each persons deck. As the game evolved I began to see the utility of them. I need to track these down.

AC: GM's Guide to Unique Cards

For the rest of this month I plan on using the blog to write up draft versions of the rules for Action Cards 3.0. In particular I need to write up the GM's section- since I'm the one person to have the system, I've never really needed to but I want the game to be playable by others. So here's the first part of that, an explanation for GMs how to create unique cards for the players' decks. This is a draft treatment.

UNIQUE CARDS
Unique cards in a player's deck represent success or failure based on that's character's personality, quirks, traits and play style. Because they help bring those aspects into the play itself, A GM should write those up with some care. That requires both listening to the player's description of their character and knowing something about the player's own style. Mechanically a player gets four unique cards: one bad, one good and two mixed. Those broad categories present many variations.

One of the key thing to keep in mind is that any card draw is an opportunity for narration, on the part of the player or on the part of the GM. Unique card draws are an opportunity for narration that helps the player show off exactly who they are.

GMs have a couple of options as to writing up those cards. They can design them on the fly during a character creation session, or if the players are submitting write ups ahead of time they can design them early. The former choice offers the opportunity to hear the players talk about their characters with one another and negotiate for role in the group. Another option is to hold off defining some or all of the cards until the game progresses. If they players know the system, you can also offer them the opportunity to design their own cards (and they can always do that later with experience). A GM does gain a couple of advantages through writing the cards up, however. It allows the GM to make sure that everyone has unique strengths and qualities, it reinforces that the GM has been listening to the player's discussion of their character, and it helps the GM remember what cards are out there.

Personal Note: I usually write up the cards during a character creation session. If I get some notes from the players ahead of time I think about it a little bit, but try to do it on the fly. Player's seem to like the surprise of what I come up with.

It is also important to remember that the cards themselves can be literal, but are generally metaphorical. For example, in one of the earliest uses of the system Scott was running a narrowly focused former cop. He simply nodded at strangeness and recorded everything in his little notebook. I gave him a card with mixed results called Frank's Notebook which reflected a certain kind of autism. For information or fear/shock reaction checks it gave him a big win. For other things (especially social), he was distracted by a focus on the mundane or the particular. Of course he didn't literally have his notebook out every time, but it stood for the concept. On the other hand, when he got shot once and drew this card to resolve his dodge, Scott narrated that the bullet had actually lodged in and been stopped by the notebook in his pocket.

Good or “Win Big” Cards
Each player gets one strong card indicating a success that plays into their virtues, abilities or personality. GMs can take this from what the core concept of the character. In the hierarchy of resolutions, the “Win Big” unique cards will usually lose to a Moment of Glory card and but win over a highly boosted standard resolution card. The trick here is that these cards still require narrative input on the part of the player. As with any card, if the GM presses the player to explain or describe how the drawn result plays into the scene, the player should be willing and able to do so. If they can and the results were close, then the GM should give them the benefit of the doubt. If they can't than that balance should swing the other direction.

Some example of Win Big Cards:

Beletan took a lot of joking around during the character creation process for choosing to play an elf in a party of mostly humans. So I gave him Proving Yourself: “They all hate you, so you have to do everything twice as well -- show them your skill and prowess.” On the other hand, developed as a character with a couple of directions. One of those revolved around a certain sense of drama and presence. Since that aspect hadn't been taken up by the other players in the same way, I decided to make that the focus of her Win Big Card-- I Was Acting!: “Ta-Daa! You fell for my magnificent performance!”. I like that card because it does ask her to provide some exciting narration for their character. It has come up a number of times where she's been at a disadvantage and then has pulled this out, being able to turn the tables on her opponent.

For the Changeling game, I made the win big cards a little more complicated, or at least required the players to put a little more effort into resolving them. For example here are some results which require some strong narrating on the player's part:
NOM: “You know how to chew through any problem -- literally and figuratively”; Goblin Tricks: “You've picked up more than a few sneaky moves in your time in the Hedge. Your triumph comes through deception and sheer force of wicked wit.”;
Dark Majesty: “Your brilliant, burning self will out-- you perform the action with aplomb, but cannot contain the force of your own presence. That can be good sometimes, but your necessary monologuing may alienate others or give the heroes a chance to act...”; and Paradoxical Rounds: “You've been trained by example through puzzle, misdirection and complicated choice. If you can provide a complex or labyrinthine solution to your task, you win--otherwise you're stumped by simplicity.”

That last one falls into a class of what I'll call “story-spinning” cards, which I'll come back to when I talk about the Mixed Unique type.

Bad or “Curse” Cards
These cards result in failures, but failures based on the character's own flaws. Action Cards doesn't have “disadvantages” per se. Instead players can define their major personal weakness or tragic flaw. This system means that the player doesn't feel that his or her disadvantages get imposed from the GM, but rather function as part of the character. They become something the player has to roll with and also once again provide the opportunity for the player to illustrate something about themselves and take the spotlight.

Unlike the Egregious Humiliation result, a player can narrate on these bad unique cards. They can do that to try to ameliorate that failure or even to turn a negative into a positive. The GM should allow this where it is dramatically appropriate. However, if a player is constantly able to make that shift and suffers no downside to it, then the card needs to be reworked. A good player will roll with the punches and suffer the slings and arrows of failure in a dramatically entertaining manner. Failures are just as interesting as victories-- and the GM should make them so.

Some examples: in a high fantasy game, Raythe ended up with a "Dark Secret" about a betrayal he'd committed to get to his present position. I created a Guilty! card which had him flashing back to that incident and freezing in place. For Candy the mage we created Plum Wine, a reference to events of the prologue sessions of the campaign. It represented his attempts to impress another character which failed comedically. Ori, on the other hand, ended up with a curse that tied into a couple of missed opportunities (including a lost love). She'd touched a broken shard of destiny in the prologue sessions which should used as an explanation for later problems. Her bad card is Broken Fate where she fails not from any fault of her own but from some external factor or element interfering.

In the Libri Vidicos campaign we have a couple of negative cards which sometimes get turned to positive ends. Leather Blunt, the half-Orc trying to live among humans has Life Among Eggshells where he can freeze because everything around him is so delicate and easily broken. That card's a little too easy to turn to a positive in combat situations. If I allow it, I try to make sure to have some consequence later-- perhaps post-combat shakes or an increased difficulty to tasks afterwards. Sergei's Weight of Expectations card: “You find yourself frozen... if you fail... embarass yourself... then how will you face your parents?” can also be turned narratively positive, so I have to watch and manage after-effects. Others are more classically negative. Sokka has Fell For It: “Wow. I can't believe you bought that. Just wow.” which comes from his somewhat gullible nature. Lucy's distratibility comes through in Oh Look, Ponies!: “Your sense of wonder and appreciation of life makes you stop and smell the flowers. Your choice of what constitutes an appropriate moment and object of attention remains...questionable.”

Bad cards can also be used for special purposes. For example, one option for handling sanity, fear or shock is to restrict players in those states from redrawing (via skill or drama point) if they draw their personal bad card. In the case of the Changeling game, each particular group suffers from a shared disadvantage, their Curse. Instead of having those as an abstraction on the sheet, I integrated them into the player's decks. In the case of two players of the same group, I tried to create some thematic difference between them-- showing how the Curse could appear differently for different people.

For example both Sarah and Pisca are Wizened, Changelings with a focus on role and internally focused. For Sarah she has the more classic version of the Wizened curse in Raging Injustice: “The world overwhelms and you become frustrated and enraged - losing control with a fury of venom, spite and lack of focus.” Pisca on the other hand has a more mechanical nature to him, so his version looks like this Disconnect: “Everything comes to you at a remove - viewed through a fish-eyed lens. You lose your sense of coherence and purpose momentarily - resulting in failure through distraction.” While they're pretty close in terms of literal effect, there's a strong difference between them in terms of narrative.

Mixed Cards
Each player gets two unique cards which represent their success in some situations, but not in others. Again these come from the player's explanation of their character. There are many ways to handle theses.

Splits
The easiest way is to come up with cards which have successes for two result types, and failures for the other two.

For example, Goin' all John Woo!!: “Physical / Combat : Sergei has a moment of glory with such style and grace it leaves any on-lookers awestruck. Social / Knowledge : The brooding young hero has other things on his mind just now and it no time for romance.”, From the Toy Box: “Going supercute can be an asset if you are attempting a social or combat action. For Physical or Knowledge, not so much.”, and Gears within Gears: “You sometimes manage to see things in the abstract language of forces, interactions and vectors. This gives you a good result for physical and social - but becomes confusing for knowledge and combat.”

Contingent
These cards are similar to those above, but specify certain situations or events rather than the specifics of the Result type. Basically they work great for some things, but not so well for others. These kinds of cards can be more or less difficult for a player to narrate, depending on how specific they are. For example, You Handsome Devil: “Women love you... but men envy you... your result depends on the gender of your opposition,” is pretty specific. In situations without an obvious gender to the opposition the GM can give the player the benefit of the doubt, based the decision on the majority of onlookers, or have the player redraw. Another example of something fairly specific would be O.K. Computer: “If the action you are attempting doesn't involve a physical interaction with someone else, you succeed. If you have to interface with another being, you fail.”

More general contingent cards allow more room for the players to turn things positive. Consider the Tin Man card-- “You've hardened your heart - if what you are doing involves breaking down, undoing, damaging or deconstructing you win big. If you are attempting acts of creation and growth you freeze up”. Some results will be obvious, but some will require the player to explain why the situation is deconstructive, rather than creative. Other examples include Heroic Surge!: “The blood of heroes runs in through your veins. You leap forward, Shout out and seize the day ! Great in some situations... but social or in the classroom...”; On Your Own: “If you're flying solo, you marshal your skills -- however, in a crowd, you lose focus and attention.”, and At Home Outside: “In the great outdoors you are a master, under the stars you have no equal. Inside...indoors...not so good.”

Story-Spinning
Some cards require narrative input on the part of the players for success to occur. If the player can't come up with a story in time, then the action stutters or fails. GMs should generally allow new players more time for coming up with these things. They should also recognize that some players aren't as good or as comfortable with this kind of improvisation as others. The GM should avoid dropping these kinds of unique cards on them as it can become discouraging-- with the player spending drama points to avoid having to come up with something.

A couple of examples-- Great and Mighty Elvish Lore: “You can call upon the lore of the Elves...which could be helpful in some situations, but in others it could be a hindrance.”, Tales from the Steppes: “This situation reminds you of a story your mother told you. Think quick to seize control of the situation.”, Right Thing for the Right Moment: “You have something for that - a fact, an opportunity, an object - allowing you a situational advantage.”, and Making the Impossible Everyday: “You often fail at the commonplace and mundane...but when attempting something bizarre or over-the-top, you win.”. This last one falls into the category as the player can be given a chance to describe or rephrase the action in more complicated terms.

Other
Some cards fall into more than one of these categories or even don't fit at all. The GM should be willing to experiment with new kinds of cards in the game. Since players can make and add new cards to their deck, you may see entirely new forms. Some examples:

Make Your Own Luck: “You may reshuffle your choice of cards (except this one) back into your deck and then continue.” and Perfect Defense: “You have a parry for every stroke, an evasion for every question, and an excuse for every mistake,” Hamhock Assault: “Why was the GM so specific about an attack with a hamhock? Even he doesn't remember. Describe the results of action as if the GM had forgotten some detail(s) important to the scene.” and Bow Before Me! "Sometimes you cannot control the force of your presence... that can be good sometimes, but you may run the risk of monologuing."

[After this I would have a section with full examples from the campaigns and the NPCs.]

Time and Character (Part Three)

Time and Character Part Three
Part One here; Part Two here

In thinking about this idea of character change, I've realized I should probably clarify my thoughts on a couple of issues. I keep referring to standard narratives, but generally I'm focused on pretty conventional and straight-forward dramatic forms. I think those translate best over into the rpg format, with more complex structures (ala Momento, anti-hero forms, and any kind of meta-story structure) being limited to shorter term or one shot games. So generally I'm talking about stories with a kind of linear progression-- in that there are lines and progression-- but not necessarily that those lines are straight. RPG stories present lots of branching options, and how firm those branches are depends on the kind of story.

A Spectrum of Change Types
The kind of story affects in a couple of other respects. Consider the issue of change in the game. I'd say there's a spectrum of change which starts with External Environment runs through External Character and ends with Internal Character. An External Environment game has characters relatively unaffected by the situation. They're cogs or elements in playing out a particular story. So these characters are strictly iconic and static, generally with a strong archetypal role. The dungeon crawl or railroad scenario takes this form. The story is above the characters with them playing out under it. Generally the only kind of change characters at this end have to worry about are the Living/Dead and Uninjured/Disabled dichotomies. Other than that, the characters could be easily switched out for others who could carry out the same steps and tasks. Most classic video games which have you create a party follow this path-- there's little to anchor your characters drive and motivation besides the racking up of points and solving of tasks for progression. The Black Company/Planescape game tilted this way.

Towards the middle falls External Character based stories. In these, most of the changes which happen are superficial, they don't serve to shift the essential dynamic of the character. Changes mostly seem to be in status, in goals, in possessions, wealth, and in formal/informal relationships. While characters may develop things like romances, these tend to be light events or else dramatically charged doomed ones. When games take on the genre aspects of anime (which I'll come back to) they often work in this area of the story change spectrum. As an example of a campaign I ran that tended to fall here, I'll cite the Scion campaign I ran. For the extensive post-mortem of that campaign, see here. The characters began fairly fully formed and while they had personality quirks, goals and drives, they were more about fulfilling their role than about changing themselves. They wanted to beat the bad guys and save the day in a way which matched their own sense of the world. In some sense the game was about the players getting into the skin of their characters and figuring out how they would react-- rather than coming in with a sense of themselves and the arcs they wanted to play out for their own development. Supers games also tend to aim for this mark, with only minor or predictable changes internally to the character. The Wushu campaign I'm running leans this way.

Internal Changes usually require the player to begin with a sense of the shortcomings of their own character-- to have a good idea of what will be a struggle for them and how they can change. The game itself has a plot and a story, but in some ways that takes a back seat to the stories of the characters. School games lend themselves to this-- so Libri Vidicos falls this direction. Changeling absolutely falls here-- that's the story of characters and their development.

Of course these are rough gauges-- stories will move between points on this spectrum from scene to scene, session to session. But often you can look and see where a game falls more often-- helping to inform the player and the GM about how much energy should be invested. One of the worst moment I had as a player was misreading what kind of game we were playing in. When I tried to rp my character in a scene, since I had a pretty strong sense of my motivation and backstory-- important to Internal Character Change-- the GM slapped me down, asked me what I was doing and literally told me to stop. The game itself can shift quite a bit-- I'd say the Exalted game I ran moved between External and Internal Character change quite a bit, depending on the tone and pace of the sessions. The focus didn't rest clearly on one over the other. It can also be that different players have different sense of character change within a group. For example, in the Sunday Third Continent game, some players are interacting with their own struggles, while for others the motivations remain a little more mechanical and distant. In the Vampire campaign I ran, I'd say the group was split evenly between players who saw the game as Internally Character driven, and those who saw it as Externally Character driven, or even Externally Environment driven.

Anime Drama
I mentioned anime tropes above and I think they're interesting to consider in the context of this. Anime (and to an extent manga) has significantly influenced the stories for games I run and enjoy over the last decade+. I'd argue that I've seen that impact in other people's play as well. Romantic plots are no longer taboo, descriptions of actions tend to echo the over the top cinematic nature of these stories, and a good number of the other surface elements have carried over, particularly in referential humor. But anime's an interesting serial form for examining change, because real change is rare until the very end. But the stories have an Internal Character Change central focus. But like the TV shows they often most closely model, you can't have real resolution until the end. There are some exceptions to this- His and Her Circumstances, for example, manages to pull off an escalating series of character shifts and does it well. But something like Fruits Basket has to save things up-- and even the main female character doesn't really change all that much, instead she's a device for changing others.

Another interesting drama arc trope from anime that I haven't really seen done at the table is what I'll call the mid-season switch and acceleration. A greta number of series begin with a fairly repetitive structure toward the beginning: monster of the week, introduction of new characters, stories around related issues. This goes for about half of the arc. Then when we hit the midpoint of the series and the status quo has been established, suddenly everything changes. Revelations pop out, characters die, the real bad guys are revealed, the direction and plot of the series take a drastic change. While there's usually been some set up and hint about that through the course of the first part, what comes after the break feels like a completely different show. Blue Seed, Witch Hunter Robin, Shikibane Hime, Read or Die, Revolutionary Girl Utena (to an extent), Neo Genesis Evangelion, the first season of Bleach and others share this pattern. I wonder how well that would play out at a game table-- with the drastic level of switch that happens. It would have to be a closed game, in the sense that the players would have to know the expected length of the game and be able to see the logic of the mid-switch.

This does come back to the conception of dramatic time I mentioned in the last post. If players were to know they would be playing in a campaign consciously emulating that structure, they'd have a decent sign-post for choices. Generally games which adopt anime conventions for drama have a fairly compressed sense of dramatic time. By that I mean characters can change or make significant shifts in a short amount of time, divorced from the actual logical passage of time for the narrative. So they can fall in love, they can overcome some internal problems, they can change their focus pretty quickly without it feeling out of place. However, their core issue won't get resolved until the end.

Change Choices
To go back to the Three Up/Three Down system I talked about before-- how does one actually apply that to playing your character. The method asks players to identify three internal characteristics crucial to the character's definition and approach which will remain static through the campaign. Those are essentially the core definitions of themselves. If those were to change, the character wouldn't be the same. It then also asks players to define the three most important character struggles, flaws, hang ups or arcs which the player imagines the character will face and deal with through the course of the campaign. The character may succeed at addressing and changing those issues or they may fail. That's another level of victory and success to be considered in the game. A how the character actually does change may not exactly be how the player envisioned it at the start.

So as a concrete example, the Three Up/Three Down for Sherri's character Sarah No-Tears from the Changeling game:

Sarah No-Tears
These are core concepts to the character of Sarah No-Tears. The first three are 'iconic'--unlikely to change no matter what the world throws in her face. The second group of three are just as core and just as important to her self-definition; however, her reactions and methods of incorporating these issues into her life are likely to change over the course of the game. She may come to loathe her Changeling self less or re-define her relationship with Noisy multiple times.

3 Up (iconic):
1. Physiker role--healer, capable of medical miracles, dedicated, will make SOMETHING good out of those years
2. Struggling with her Wizened nature--the fury and the ego and the desire to bury herself in work
3. Cooperation and shared goals are the only way to proceed; communication and community are of the utmost importance to her

3 Down (mutable):
1. Her relationship with Noisy--important, but confusing. Who is she to him and he to her and who ought they be to each other?
2. Regaining her humanity--her drive to understand other aspects of healing (emotional, mental) are part of this as she recognizes that she is damaged. So too is a reckless sort of 'virtue' that she associates with that humanity.
3. Loathing of her Changeling self. All of her Contracts have been made almost involuntarily and she loathes them as much as she does her Changeling self: Omens, Dreams, Hours, Spring (desire), Uniform and Urn--they are the mysteries of her new persona. She is perpetually hesitant to use them as they tie her back to Sarah No-Tears, to whom the Contracts have been made.

I think those are great definitions of the character and provide a hopeful arc for the character over the course of the game...if she's able to handle them in a positive way. She may not be able to...she may fail. That's the challenge of the play.

But when should change happen? Obviously if the players know how long a campaign will last it becomes easier to plot for themselves when they ought to be willing to make those shifts or at least push themselves into situations where those shifts can occur.

Time vs. Incident
One half of the equation is time-- but it has to be based on dramatic time, not logical time. Dramatic time is variable, but generally compressed. In a story people change faster than you'd realistically expect if you thought about it. As I mentioned above, anime genre forms can really compress this to the point of silliness. But the other half of the equation is incident: situations which the GM provides or the player moves into that provide opportunities for players to work through those struggles. That requires the GM and the player to be on the same page about what constitutes a) something in the character that might evolve internally and b) what constitutes an appropriate (or inappropriate incident). So in that sense I think having players in a game focused on Internal Change do this kind of exercise can be useful.

I think another thing which players ought to do, if possible, is consider the hierarchy of those changes. Does one have to come before the other, as a stepping stone? Is one broader than another? Or even which would I feel most comfortable dealing with first. From the example above, regarding Sarah, it seems to me that her first mutable point probably needs to be handled first. By establishing that change she may be able to handle the other changes. With that in mind, players should approach dramatic time breaks and junctures with an eye to dealing with at least one of those changes. Of course, what actually happens will depend on the play of the game.

Signposts of Dramatic Time
So logical time can get in the way, but how do you communicate dramatic time? I mentioned breaks and junctures, which can serve as signposts. Again, knowing how long a campaign will last can be of enormous benefit in this. But also having a specific time period in-game has work as support as well. For example, in Libri Vidicos the players have the structure of the school year, ala Harry Potter. They know things will be introduced in the first semester, grow more complicated by the Winter Break and then accelerate downhill in the second semester. But as well they also know that the campaign itself will cover exactly five years of their lives. So each chapter of the campaign has its own dramatic time (horizontally, if you will) but the campaign itself will have a slowly rising set of stakes throughout over those five years (vertically, if you will). The players also know that Year Five will likely change up some of the structure they've had during the previous four years.

Time lapses can be another clear signpost of a change, giving players permission for development. GMs have to be careful with lapses to make sure not too many outstanding threads get left behind. If things haven't been dealt with yet, the GM should be careful not to unduly penalize the players since they have no control over the lapse. Immediately after a lapse, opportunities should be given for players to do flashbacks if they want-- especially to tailor scenes which can let them go through changes. We did this last session in the Changeling game, a campaign which has a real break between logical time and dramatic time. But more importantly to signal a shift in dramatic time I put together a series of TV credits (using Powerpoint), cued to music which presented the campaign as if it were a show and we were just beginning season two of the series (complete with some people in the credits they hadn't yet met in the game). That device essentially said to the players, OK, we're moving forward, you have some license to make changes to your characters and move in new directions, despite how much logical time may have passed. I think it worked pretty well as a device, and we'll see how well it does as a dramatic time marker.

Time and Character (Part Two)

Time and Character Part Two
Part One here.

Kinds of Change
Character change in the course of an rpg campaign can be difficult to measure. Some games make this easy-- a player simply buys off the relevant disadvantage. There's a clear signal and device and the player simply needs to get GM approval.

But most flaws, character arcs and so on aren't quite so easy to manage-- they represent a fundamental change in the character's outlook, their play, their approach. It a drama, like a movie or a single book, we can see the change (or failure to change) at key predictable moments in the narrative. The situation becomes more difficult in a serial-- like a book or televisual series. Here there are a number of options. First, there's the false change. Robin Laws talks about this a little in a recent post. For example, you know they're not getting free in Gilligan's Island. Of course that's a comedy-- ironically the dramatic narrative most given to a static approach. But the other example he gives is off the season opener for House-- where he's checked into an asylum and learns something about humanity along the way. There's an expectation of change, but when we get the rest of the season, he's back to being the same old curmudgeonly doctor he was. Perhaps there will be some references to it and maybe he's overcome a few minor character obstacles, but the change suggested by that first part never actually happens. Imagine A Christmas Carol Part Two, where Scrooge falls back to his old ways and then has to go through another transformational experience, again and again.

Another approach is the more explicit relapse-- where the transformational experience and change is explicitly acknowledged, but some circumstance pulls the character back to old bad behaviors and now he has to go through another rebirth or change. As opposed to the one above, that falling back is an important dramatic moment and provides a spine for the narrative as a whole. So we see Bruce Banner in the second Hulk movie in a good place, but circumstances intervene and force him to once again acknowledge and struggle with that part of himself. This cycle can continue on ad nauseum.

Rather than sticking with a kind of a false choice, the character may change and evolve over sub-aspects. I'd say Buffy the Vampire Slayer does this quite a bit. The central premise issues: about the difficulty of being alone as a Vampire Slayer and reconciling that with ordinary life don't really get resolved in a big way until the final season. But versions of that and other problems get brought up and dealt with in each season. One could argue there's a sense of false change, but I don't really see that. The characters do change, take on new roles and evolve-- those changes aren't complete transformations (with the exception perhaps of Willow) but they advance the character's plot over time.

Defining Time
The problem when we come to the game table is defining change, space and time. Time especially is tricky-- in the sense that we have several kinds of time operating there. We have in-game time, we have out-of-game time, we have logical time, and we have dramatic time. In-game time is obviously the time which passes for the characters-- depending on the game this may be more or less solid. Some games simply move time forward, with each moment only being relatively related to the previous one and the next. We jump to two days later or a few hours pass. On the other hand, we may have the other end of the spectrum, where the date and time is specific and detailed. We know the season, the month, the date, the day of the week and the time. In either case we do have movement at an irregular pace determined by the needs of the story. Out-of-game time is the real world time-- which usually we don't reference except to be shocked about how many months it took us to get through two days worth of game play. But out-of-game time is worth considering for a couple of reasons. First it does have an effect on the mental perception of investment in a game. If you've been playing for half a year, even if you've only covered a week in the lives of your character, you're more likely to feel attachment than if you've played two sessions and covered a year in the lives of your characters. There's a strong correlation between contact hours and investment.

On another level altogether, we have logical time. Logical time is a kind of mental assessment of how long something will take within the game. Unlike the previous two forms of time, logical time is a private and individual reading on the game world. For example, if a player says they're going to do some research on a person or a topic in the game, the player may have one sense of how long that takes, while the GM may have another—one may be imagining a quick Google hunt, while the other is thinking about tracking every lead down or following things up with other sources. I'd say 90% of the time, these kinds of discrepancies don't matter. The remaining 10% constitutes those moments when the GM tries to impose some order on time-- to say that X character will be occupied with something for X amount of time. Players always underestimate how long some task will take and GMs always overestimate. There's a battle there over a limited resource-- that of time and possible actions.

But in some ways that's more a formal fact of the game play. The other aspect of logical time comes from a player's internal perspective about who their character is-- and where that collides with the most important form of time in the game, dramatic time.

Dramatic Time
He's the basic struggle. A player has created a conception of their character and while that player has envisioned some character arc changes-- the three down from that exercise I mentioned before-- those changes are fairly significant. They change the character itself-- it that respect I'm talking about internal changes to a character, rather than external. Therefore in a game, players tend to cling to a perception of logical time closely associated with in-game time. In other words, most players back away from changes to their character by thinking that “not enough time has passed for this change to occur.” This is especially true for games with more detailed chronologies: my Vampire game, Changeling, and even Crux to an extent.

Those reactions, however are governed by a certain perception of time as defined by the narrative length-- or in the case of the rpg narrative, the campaign length. Character changes shift to occupy the space allotted to them. So in the case of a film, we know the main character who has an established difficulty or trait will face a challenge based on the trait in the latter half of the film-- generally. They might succeed or fail in that challenge, but it will be the crucial one deciding the dramatic arc for that character. They might have already faced some challenges on it, but this last one will tell us really what kind of story we're seeing. A movie or a novel length structure is probably equivalent to a short-run campaign, say five or six sessions. If the game has those elements of change inherent to them, the characters probably will have some shift by the end. Take for example my Bloodlines supers game. Even though it was a short-term game in a genre given over more to action than character development, we had significant change moments. Kenny's character Grey came around enough to reveal some awful details about her background and overcome some trust/fear issues, Will's character Cruel Butterfly dealt with some family issues, as did Steve's character. There was some dramatic development-- in part because the players knew how long the game would last and had a sense that if they wanted to get their arc together, they had a limited space. I, as GM, knew this as well.

The situation becomes more difficult where the length of the text is indeterminate. If it isn't certain how long the game is going to last-- when do you make moves to deal with some of those conflicts and changes. Go too early and you can find yourself unsatisfied and feeling like you just kind of flipped your character from A to B. Go too late and you don't have a chance to actually play out your arc. I think that communication of game span is vital to a campaign. Other examples-- my Exalted Campaign, Sherri's Rolemaster Campaign and Rob's original HCI campaign created a sense of frustration for the players when they stopped. Not just because the actual play was strong, but because movement forward had been done by the players towards changes, but they never got resolved. Story lines about the development of those PCs died. So the memory of the characters one had in those games is stuck in a sense of what would have been great.

Next time options for establishing dramatic signals, multiple changes, and other examples.

Time and Character (Part One)

Time and the Character: Part One

So I've talked about the dramatic arc of characters before-- a good deal of it reflecting some of the issues Robin Laws' has been bringing up recently in his LJ, and some of it drawn from other sources. The gist of it is that characters has some arcs and change over the course of a story-- be that a movie, a TV series, or an rpg campaign. There are problems established, crises that test those characters and play off of - for lack of a better word- their flaws. Managing those changes can be difficult for the player and the GM for a couple of reasons.

Icons and Change
On the one hand, some of the flaws which make up a character serve as a central defining point for them. They serve as important parts of their identity. Laws mentions the idea of the iconic character- where they go through the trials but do not change. They remain unswervingly associated with those ideas, even when that causes sacrifice and destruction to others. He mentions Inglorious Basterds, where the apparently central characters follow their code to the end without any kind of bending, even when that destroys others. Change and actually moral choices go to the wayside-- the character moves through the story unchanged and unchangeable. Interestingly he suggests that because of that nature, the story focus rests on others who can change or be affected by circumstances. The iconic character is interesting, but doesn't provide a dramatic attachment.

Modernization of the Icon
Sherlock Holmes is an iconic character as is Dr. Who-- but consider all of the modern reimaginings for those characters. Most of the recent takes on Holmes present him as human, associated with love or subject to problems of the self that he has to overcome, and sometimes fails at. The Seven Percent Solution, the more recent Rupert Everett Masterpiece Theater take, and clearly the new Robert Downey, Jr. film all follow this path. The newer Dr. Who works because it really does consider the internal struggles of the character at the same time that he remains at least somewhat iconic. The writers recognize the difficulty of balancing that. The Doctor is dangerous to know, to be around. And he's driven by other concerns and values which do not change. There's a striking two-parter in Season Three of the new series which makes this explicit. The Doctor's forced to become human for a time, and forget his past to hide alien hunters. He falls in love as a human, but once he's forced to revert back- that means nothing. His lover recognizes that-- and sees that he's a being without the capacity for human choice and change, at least in that respect. I'd say the central tension in the new series comes from that balance between The Doctor as an iconic figure and The Doctor as a creature who does suffer when things go against him.

As a side note, I'd say that part of this comes from an evolution of the Dr. Who show from being primarily a children's show to primarily a show for adults. Iconic characters provide a kind of reassurance and solidity for certain kinds of readers and viewers. I'm not saying that's bad, but those structures are more classical. Consider the flack that Peter Jackson took for some of the liberties he took with Lord of the Rings. Some of those came from cutting and the choice of story moments, but the most vehement objections I heard revolved around the humanizing of some of the characters-- Aragon, Boromir and Faramir, making them agonize over their choices, showing them as real people. They are changed by their interactions and evolve. In the original, there's little of that beyond a kind of mythic telling of the power of the ring in some cases or a sudden taking on the mantle of a new power in others. We sympathize and empathize with the characters more strongly, and not just because we see them on the screen. The iconic character appeals to a certain kind of mood and a certain kind of thinking.

The Appeal of the Iconic: One View
Norman Spinrad, author of Bug Jack Barron and a essayist on science fiction, talked about a related kind of appeal-- the fiction which presents the superhuman, the unfailing character. He went so far as to suggest that those kinds of certainties appealed to a kind of totalitarian mindset. In particular he indicted the later Orson Scott Card novels for making a character who was always right, and whose moral judgments were beyond those of ordinary humans. There's a magical thinking that goes on there where the writers present their superhuman characters and the magic of the world present magically wipes away the atrocities they create. Gordon Dickson's Dorsai novels fall into this category as well-- with a strange superhuman philosophy of great thinkers who magically stand above others and who are always right, always perfect and unchangeable.

Look at the difference in paths between Marvel and DC in the early days. At the time Superman was still always right and completely perfect, Marvel had started to present characters with real problems: Spider-Man, the Thing, Daredevil-- they weren't always right and they didn't always win. Eventually by the 1970's DC would begin to follow that story path as well, but more modestly. Of course all of that would explode in the 1980's in two directions: the completely flawed heroes and the dark and gritty heroes who just didn't care. Then we have the modern Superhero movie which presents these iconic heroes, but stresses their flaws and need to change even more perhaps that the comics do. The Spider Man and Batman franchises are about the characters changing and making choices. They made have a code, but when they adhere to it they can suffer as well. I read an article recently that looked at another tangent to this-- where the character changes, tries to find humanity, but ends up destroying without real remorse. And that destruction is presented as unimportant to the audience. As that article puts it, there's a certain irony to heroes “...who struggle to re-humanize while killing lots of other humans.”

False Dramatic Choices
This does bring me to an important example of a place where there is apparent change as the dramatic highpoint of a story, but which actually fails. In this sense, I think the ending of the Harry Potter series sucks. Not the epilogue, which is problematic on its own, but the first ending. To finally defeat Voldemort, Harry has to sacrifice himself. Rowling makes a big deal about Harry's struggle with his decision to make that sacrifice. There's a whole Passion in the Garden moment for him, but it doesn't ring true. The problem being two-fold. First, we can be pretty certain as readers that Rowling's not going to actually kill Harry off. That's for a whole different class of writing (see the end of the Narnia series for example). But more importantly, sacrificing himself really isn't that big a deal. It isn't a struggle there-- everything about Harry's actions before this has been selfless and sacrificing. He's a sheep led to slaughter in that respect. There's never any question that he wouldn't sacrifice himself-- the Harry of any of the earlier books would have done it. There's a false drama which comes from that-- where there ought to be a struggle against impulses-- the kind of struggle we saw in earlier books, here the final choice pretty much fits with his character.

Character Evolution
But all of that goes more than a little off tangent. For me the important point is that characters can change and evolve over the course of a campaign. However that change requires dealing with two issues: what kinds of changes do the players want and when do characters change? I've talked a little bit before here about the idea that some changes to characters are organic to a players conception and some changes break a character's conception of themselves. Basically there are some key elements of a player's conception of themselves that, should they change or be forced to change, then the character is no longer one they wish to play. But other elements of a character are set up to be changeable-- the character can and will overcome those in the course of a campaign. They see that arc as part of themselves. The trick is to get both the GM and the player on the same page regarding that. So that Three Up/Three Down structure I borrowed attempts to do that: to have a player explicate those issues for themselves and for the GM. I think it is something that has to be done a ways into the campaign, once the players have had a good chance to walk around in their new skin.

Mind you, I'd say there are several levels to character change-- some deeper than others. Some character changes are superficial, some are external and some are internal. Superficial goals can revolve around achieving a short term objective, like gaining a particular item or defeating a foe, they're generally easy to get to within the span of a few sessions. They can be external or internal. Like winning the admiration of a particular group or coming to trust a particular character. They're small changes which represent the continuing development of the character. Perhaps superficial isn't the right word here-- more that they're smaller and accumulated. So in contrast larger, external goals would revolve around defeating the big bad, gaining a particular role or position, advancing to the next year of school. Iconic or static characters only change through these external goals, changes to the world around them or apparently changes to themselves which don't really change who they are. The more complicated, more satisfying and more interesting dramatic changes are large and internal.

Which brings us to the difficult question: when should characters make these kinds of changes? (TBD discussed in Part Two)