I'm currently writing a game called His Majesty the Worm. It is, essentially, a tabletop Metroidvania about how it feels to be being friends and lovers with fantasy misfits in the mythic Underworld. For this project, I have to manage expectations not just with the people I'm playtesting with--who are my friends, trust me to operate in good faith, and are close to me in experience--but with total strangers. This feels challenging to me.
Dungeon World does an awesome job of this. Its agenda and its principles are often lauded as both "good general GM advice" and a good way to on-board GMs into the game. Skerples did a good job with this for players in his Rat on a Stick GLOG.
Because I also want to create a good praxis for HMtW, I've been working on a series of game principles that let people know what the game is "about." Additionally, I've written two manifestos: one to tell GMs how I expect them to run the game, and one for players to tell them how I expect the game to be played.
I've reproduced them here to solicit feedback and talk about the idea in general.
 |
| The Throne from Dungeon Solitaire by Matthew Lowes |
Game Principles
This game’s design principles are centered around creating a
particular experience. The following are core themes for this experience.
Discovery
A theme of His Majesty the
Worm is the discovery of world lore. Who really made the Underworld? What
happened there? How did it come to the City? How does magic work? How are orcs
related to dragons? What is the Worm’s purpose? These questions don't have
answers in this text.
Players, be up front about what
questions your hero is wondering. Say what you think is cool or mysterious.
GMs, listen to your players. Infuse the Underworld with lore. Be generous with
it. Give it to your players hand over fist. Ancient tomes, mosaics, tapestries,
wandering ghosts, the research pried from the hands of dead wizards—all of
these can be used to move your lore forward. Good lore both answers and asks
questions.
For example, if it's revealed in
your game that the Underworld was once the city of heaven, where are the gods
that dwelt there? What gods dwelt there? Who dared to rival the gods?
The Scaling Underworld
Adventurers are expected to visit
and revisit places within the Underworld. There are lots of locked rooms,
mysterious puzzles whose answers only seem obvious with experience, and
obstacles unpassable without special precautions. That said, the dungeon is
what the dungeon is. Few places are totally unreachable, even for younger
guilds. A sleeping wyrmling might be an unbeatable guardian for a beginning
party, and must be snuck past. A somewhat more experienced guild might try and
defeat the wyrmling to win the treasure he sleeps on. Either way, the wyrmling
provides some type of challenge for the adventurers, whether they are fresh or
veterans.
His Majesty the Worm isn’t concerned about “challenge ratings” or
“appropriate party level.” It’s somewhat hard to even track that sort of
statistic—starting heroes might have dramatically different strengths which
make some encounters very easy, whereas others might be difficult. Rather, this
game is concerned about allowing players and GMs an open space to explore and
experience realistic consequences. If the players overreach, the entire Guild
might die. If the players move cautiously and think orthogonally, however, they
might be able to achieve success at a depth of the dungeon far outside of their
“level.” GMs should be generous in
information, so that players will know when they tread into deadly danger.
Players should be ready to fall back and return later to a part of the
Underworld that is too challenging. GMs should be fair arbiters, both while
rewarding players who get great rewards for their cleverness and elaborating on
the dire consequences of failure.
The Changing Underworld
Though it might seem like it to
many of the adventuring guilds that have delved into the Underworld over and
over, the Underworld in your game will not remain static. Adventurers are going
to be a force of change. They might make minor changes—collapsing a certain
tunnel or driving a nest of goblins from their old haunt. But, in time, they
will make major changes too. Perhaps they will drain the Boundless Moat,
allowing a whole new area to be explored without magic. Perhaps the diverted
water flows along the channel that had been intended for it, and begins to
power great waterwheels and other machines. Maybe these machines open up new
sections of the Underworld, hitherto unexplored.
Also, whenever a dungeon lord is
defeated, the consequences will be felt throughout the Underworld. The balance
of power will shift. Perhaps the adventurers will seize power and become
denizens of the dungeon in their own right.
Whimsy
A fair bit of His Majesty the
Worm is whimsy. This is an RPG that knows it’s an RPG. You play adventurers
who know they are adventurers. This is an adventure into tropes. It’s
unpretentious.
During a
game, both players and GMs will deconstruct and reconstruct common dungeon
delving tropes. You’ll convert them covertly, avert them, and invert them to
suit your purposes. This should be fun. This should be delightful.
 |
| Vengeance from Dungeon Solitaire by Matthew Lowes |
The Player’s Manifesto
An RPG is simply an exchange of
questions and answers between the players and the GM. These questions and
answers can have nuance and texture. When playing His Majesty the Worm, these principles will allow you to have the
appropriate conversations with your GM.
Engage the World
You don’t have to talk in a silly
voice or wear a costume[1]. You do, however, have to
interact with the fiction of the world in a logical way.
For example, if you want to talk
your way past a guard, you don’t have to role-play each and every word you say,
but it’s not fair to say “I try and talk my way past the guard.” What’s your
argument? Are you going to try and bribe him? Are you going to find common
ground based on a similar political or religious view? Are you going to insult
his wife? How does your approach differ when you’re trying to get on the right
side a member of the city watch vs. when you’re trying to schmooze with the
king?
The game is about you using your
real-life thinking brain to solve problems, overcome obstacles, and figure
things out. There are no stats or powers that are going to help you solve the essential
issues.
Ask Questions
The
essential way you have to interact with the fictional world is to ask
questions. By engaging your GM in a give-and-take, you make the game real. The
game world is sort of like an onion: it has layers. By asking questions, you
begin to understand its bounds.
There are
no abilities on your character sheet that give you the sort of insight that
asking questions will provide. You have no “Perception score.” If you’re looking
for a trap, pour water on the ground and see if you can find any trap doors. If
you’re looking for a secret door, tap on the walls and listen for something
hollow.
The corollary
to this is that you need to take notes. You think you’re going to remember the
details the NPC spills to you, but you won’t. You think you’ll remember the room’s
contents, but you won’t. Keep an in-character journal. You’ll be glad you did.
Solve Problems Orthogonally
You should be trying to make your
GM say: “I didn’t even think of that.”
In an RPG, you can do anything.
That’s the appeal! When you’re playing a computer game, you can only do the
things the game designer programmed in. They anticipated you moving left,
right, and up. Going down is out of the question. Not so in a tabletop game.
Think outside of your character
sheet. Don’t expect to “use” your Talents and Motifs to solve a problem. The
abilities and items you have listed are just tools—and they’re only one of the
many tools in your arsenal.
Most problems aren’t solved by
fighting them. People can be reasoned with. Monsters can be placated. Traps can
be avoided. Monsters can be led into traps.
People can be sold monster’s guts. Monsters can be given the people’s guts.
Be Careful, Be Fierce
You don’t start out a hero. The
only thing between you and a salivating dragon’s jaws are a few status effects
unchecked on your character sheet. You should never expect the world around you
to be fair. You’re not in a tutorial level; your character is journeying
through a mythological underworld that wants your character to stay forever and
ever. Keeping your character alive requires caution and thoughtfulness.
Encountering a dragon is
different when you’re character is inexperienced versus when they’re
experienced. At first, the focus might be stealth—how much gold can you get
away with before the dragon notices you? After you’ve built up your strength,
you might feel confident enough to engage in combat with the dragon. But don’t
fight fair. Make sure you choose the battleground. Ambush the dragon. Drop a
rock on its head.
And, when the going gets tough,
don’t be afraid to cut your losses and run away.
Embrace the Chaos
Part of the game is skill. Part
of the game is chance. Sometimes, you can’t be careful or fierce enough to
avoid a test of fate. And when fate isn’t on your side, you have to embrace it.
Having something bad does not mean that you’ve made a mistake. It’s just part
of the game.
It is easy to create a new
character. This is on purpose. If your character dies, throw yourself into the
next one. If your character completes their quest, be excited to retire them.
Games without consequences have
no teeth. How boring would it be if you knew you would never fail and never
die? The essential gimmick of question/answer with the GM would be boring: “How
will your character succeed today?” Thus, love the chaos.
 |
| From Dungeon Solitaire by Matthew Lowes |
GM Manifesto
There are two
dozen different styles of role-playing games and no two tables play those
styles exactly the same. This game has been designed to work well with certain
overarching principles of game design and table talk. I’ve found it useful in
my home games to be very upfront about these principles and keep them in my
mind while I run the game—I go so far as to write them down on notecards and
keep them in front of me as reminders. Of course, your table is going to be
different than mine, but His Majesty the Worm benefits
from the following “best practices.”
Rulings, Not Rules
Ultimately, no rule system completely encapsulates every
possibility of player action—and that’s the fun of RPGs: there are fringe
cases, strange situations, and unconsidered possibilities that inevitably arise
during play. Having a GM be able to arbitrate these situations is one of the
advantages of tabletop games compared to computer games or board games. As
such, all the rules of the game are a resource for the GM to use and adapt
from, not a straight-jacket.
When unexpected questions arise, GMs can adapt the rules to fit
the situation at hand. When that situation comes up frequently, the GM and the
table can collaborate on turning that ruling into a more hard-and-fast rule.
And, when hard-and-fast rules seem to fail the tests of common sense, verisimilitude,
and fun, it’s the GM’s responsibility to make calls that change the rules for
the better.
Sidebar: Arbitrating Rules Questions
What should be done if there is a
genuine rules dispute during gameplay? One of the GM's duties is to arbitrate these
questions and decide how the rule should be played. If you're still learning
the rules, you might want to look them up every time until the flow of
narrative and mechanics feels natural. If you have the rules down pretty well,
but encounter a speedbump, we offer this suggestion: arbitrate in favor of the
players, and look up the rule later. Don't slow down a fun combat with page
turning. Just make a temporary rule that is beneficial for the players, and ask
your best rules lawyer at the table to look it up after the combat is over.
Let Smart Plans Work
HMtW is not a game of balanced encounters. GMs don’t have
to make experience point banks and dole out appropriate levels of monsters or
treasure. The player heroes should find themselves alone in alone in a large,
daunting, dangerous, and fantastic world. There’s no expectation that the
players are ever in a “level appropriate” place.
The game—and the character sheet—are actually pretty simple.
There are few numbers, and not a lot of special powers or abilities. Players
should feel empowered to experiment and take risks, with all the rewards and
consequences that that entails. There are no “spot checks”—only players
describing where and how they’re searching. There are no “disarm trap”
skills—only players describing how they move the knife across the tripwire or
tap their ten-foot pole ahead of them.
As the GM, you can give difficult situations to the players with no
idea how to solve them yourself. The players will surprise you with their
ingenuity and problem-solving skills. When they come up with something
surprising and cool, let it work.
Engage the Senses
The principles of “Rulings Not Rules” and “Let Smart Plans Work”
only work when the players have a good sense of what is going on. Since the players
are not actually in the shared hallucination, they need the GM to tell them as
much information as possible about the environment their heroes are acting
within. GMs should paint pictures with their descriptions, actually sketch out
rooms when mental pictures are difficult to conjure, and be vivid about all
five senses. GMs should not leave out any salient details about things that
players can see, hear, feel, or smell.
Speak Generously
“Engaging the Senses” flows from
the idea that the GM is acting in good faith to the players. GMs should not
fall into the trap of thinking that doling out half-secrets and hints are
interesting. Information sharing games are only fun when information is
actually shared. Maybe the information comes with a price (“You’re not sure if
the dragon is truly sleeping or only faking it. You’ll have to move closer to
get a better look at him…”), but when it comes time to pay the piper, GMs
should give the players as much information as he can. “Gotcha” moments are not
fun.
This is particularly true when
players Bid Lore. If you accept a lore bid, you have a social obligation to
speak generously to the player and give as much information as is appropriate.
Meaningful Exploration
Decisions in an RPG should be
interesting, not arbitrary. It is essential that, during the Crawl, the GM
provides meaningful choices so that exploration is fun and engaging. Nobody
cares about taking the left path or taking the right path. The players don't
have enough information to make an informed or interesting choice. A coin flip
could determine the "best" way to go. However, you could put graffiti
on the walls of the right path that says in Cant "Undead ahead! Do not
enter! Turn back! All is lost!" For the left path, you could hear the
distinctively peacock-esque cry of the cockatrice. Now the players have
information to make a decision with: would they rather face a basilisk or the
undead? What are they most prepared for? Could they lure the undead towards the
basilisk?
Gloss over
details or choices that aren't interesting. Only zoom in on the action when the
players have meaningful choices to make.
No comments:
Post a Comment