I have mentioned a few times in the podcast that I am playing Fate, and after the first couple of sessions, I wanted to write up my thoughts and impressions.
The group I'm playing with is a mix of players. Some have little or no experience with RPGs, some have a lot of experience with a few games (i.e. played a lot of Storytelling/World of Darkness), and some have dabbled, but I don't think any have played a Fate game before now. It was interesting introducing these folks to the system. Both experienced and inexperienced players took to the system fairly quickly. The mechanisms of the are simple and straight-forward, but the flexibility of Aspects give them a strong hand in driving the narrative forward. Aspects allow any player to use imagined information in the game to create concrete, mechanical effects; if they discover an opponent is weak in a particular way, there is a simple method of using that weakness in the rules... or, as they are discovering, to create a weakness and then use it.
Although they are still heavily reliant upon my recommendations when it comes to using Aspects and creating advantages (temporary aspects), and they haven't really engaged in any fights with lasting effects to see the utility in that, the players are starting to pick up on some of the tools that they have and how best to use them. The premise for the game helps to keep things simple. It's sort of a cross between Burn Notice and Firefly: space western with heists, cons, and super spies. That premise got the players all focused on creating very particular types of character Aspects, like what they are good at, what they are bad at, etc. I would really like to play a game where the PCs' Aspects are more like actionable goals or problematic relationship descriptions, where the players are not all working together, and the play of the game is more a map of conflicting and overlapping goals than a "here's a mission for you to complete" situation. The current game feels like a surface level concept, not delving too deep into the most dramatic ways Aspects can be used... but, that lack of depth may be good for helping to keep all of the players, new and old, coordinated and focused.
The action in the game is a lot of fun. For the last session, I set a problem in front of them. A strategically important planet was on the verge of handing itself over to the enemy Alaran Empire, but a civil war was causing problems with the president's control. The PCs were to take advantage of the scuffle, prevent unification of the different factions, and postpone the turnover indefinitely so that their United Federation would have a chance to come in. Basically, it was a massive destabilization mission, in which assassination was essentially off the table, because a martyr would serve as a unifying force. The players broke into three small groups and each took a different tactic. One group strove to break up the political marriage of the president with a princess of the ethnic minority behind the civil war, another sought to break up the cohesion of the rebellion by implicating its leadership in unacceptable war crimes, and the third conspired to make it appear that the Alaran Empire had installed secret agents who were making a mess of the world, turning public opinion against the turn-over.
The plots and plans intersected in different ways, and the players were really creative with their approaches and how they could work together. There was a bit of a problem on my end, though, which took away from the players' enjoyment. I ended up using a high-level resolution for employing dice; we would discuss what was happening in a scene and role-play it, maybe with a couple of very significant rolls, and then it would be over. So much was happening in the game, in so many different areas, that I needed to keep bouncing around to different players, and none of them got enough of the spotlight. It occurred to me that I've been playing a lot of games that sort of abstract scenes, arguments, and battles down to a couple of rolls, and that takes away from some of what makes Fate so good. If you focus on individual actions and goals within a large conflict, like a debate, there is a lot of fun back and forth of tagging Aspects, creating advantages, changing approaches... and lots of opportunity to play-act as your guy, which is fun. I'm going to go much more specific with the rolls next time, so that intense conflicts get all the focus they need.
One thing I will note, though, is that the problem may have stemmed from there being a few too many players. I prefer games I run to have four players: myself, and three others. That's the perfect number for me. Everyone gets a lot of "screentime," the story moves quickly, each person gets proportionally more input. With the seven players (including myself) of this Fate game, there just isn't time for any one player to be the focus, and it's incredibly easy to accidentally leave someone out. With so many ideas and plans being proposed, enacted, altered, and revised, there was very little time for any of them. I may also have put too much situation into the mission. There were three big factions, and several NPCs to connect various factions, so there was a lot to try and accomplish. Perhaps if I focus the mission down a bit, the players will be able to focus as well, and the game will be much tighter as a result.
Overall, though, the game has been fun. It's inspiring! I have a dozen ideas for missions that I think I could flesh out, and a dozen more ideas for campaigns using Fate... High fantasy adventure! Intensive space opera politics! Gritty superhero drama (i.e. Arrow, Daredevil)! The players have so far managed to avoid relying on the traditional "nuke 'em all from orbit" method of approaching problems in RPGs, which really speaks strongly to Fate's applicability to dramatic premises. I'll have to see what I can do with it next.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
Intrinsic and Extrinsic Balance, or "Why Cosmic Encounter and Through the Ages Are The Same"
Balance in games is a tricky thing with shifty meaning. For some people (or games), "balance" means offering each player the same opportunities to gain advantages and win. Everyone gets the same pieces and initial starting situation, and from there what matters are the choices the players make. Abstract games like chess tend to feature this kind of balance; if one side got more queens or even pawns, the game wouldn't be "fair," right? Even if there are random elements, like a series of cards that could come up in an order that favors what one player did over the others (say, the actions available in Agricola), it would still be fairly easy to call such a game balanced because everyone began with the same circumstances and ability to set their plays up to take advantage of such a situation.
For other people (or games) balance means that even with different opportunities, the players still have an equal chance to win, although they may go about it in different ways. Even subtly different starting situations can creating significantly different strategies by forcing the players to evaluate the next available options differently. In TtA, if I have a single cards that once allows me to build a cheap/free farm, I might begin valuing expansion more than other players because it will essentially be cheaper for me to do so, which means needing to worry about my civilization's Happiness before the other players... and I'm sure that tomes could be written about how the goods and buildings and actions that players compete over in Puerto Rico are all affected by whether you start with Indigo or Corn. Big changes cascade out of small changes.
Either way, these games are still "balanced," but the further that you stray, the more significant that these differences are between the initial player set-ups and rules that they must follow, the more likely there is to be some sort of wild imbalance.
If there is a word with a trickier implication than "balance" in games, it has got to be "imbalance." So many times, the first thought that players have upon seeing something that is obviously strong or advantageous is to label that particular thing "imbalanced" (perhaps using a less kind synonym such as "broken" or "bullshit"). I'm just as guilty as any other player of doing this, because, to be frank, sometimes those obviously strong or advantageous things are imbalanced. No matter how much effort or play-testing a game designer puts into a game, there is a chance that a number will slip by that is slightly too big, or a single space on an assymetrical board will give Player A a huge advantage over Player B... Take a look some time at all the hand-wringing discussion online about whether chess is "imbalanced" because one of the two players (white) goes first.
That said, I'm not trying to argue that because imbalance is unavoidable, game designers and players shouldn't care at all. Getting the options in a game as balanced as possible is probably one of the main goals of creators, one of the reasons that they spend so much time on rules and processes, and that tends to make for better, more enjoyable games. What interests me for the moment, is not simply that imbalance is inherent and can be minimized, but how it is minimized.
There seem to me to be two kinds of balancing mechanisms in games. The first kind is what I've been discussing above: intrinsic in the rules are painstakingly crafted options which, even when they provide players with different starting conditions (assymetry), those conditions are tested against one another to provide for as fair a competition as possible. If suboptimal decisions are made, a player will lose, but it won't be because they didn't have access to the more optimal decisions. Even a game like Yomi or Blue Moon, where the players each have an entirely different deck of cards, the players can be considered to be playing a game where there is intrinsic balance; I may not know how to beat someone playing the Midori deck with the Jaina deck, but that doesn't mean it can't be done.
The other kind of balance, then, is one where despite wildly varying options, some of which could easily be labeled "imbalanced" aren't limited by the rules of the game. Instead, the players of the game, who have some amount of skill with the rules and options, can assess the ones that are "broken" or "bullshit" and work with the other players to limit the effectiveness of those options. Essentially, the rules not only provide a framework for playing the game, but also a framework for reining in outliers and extraordinarily strong combinations or plans. In contrast to the above "intrinsic" balance, let's call this "extrinsic."
Some examples are in order.
Cosmic Encounter is game that has been a constant struggle for me. The basic rules and processes of the game are right in my wheel-house. It's negotiation heavy, and relatively straightforward (i.e. "do this to score a point, do this to draw cards, etc) so that the negotiation and deal-making can be the main focus of play. There is direct conflict without it being spiteful, there are reasons to create and break alliances, and you can actually choose to share the win with helpful players (or stab them in the back at the last second).
Where CE has always baffled me, though, is what made it unique when it was first published over 30 years ago, and what makes it so often imitated, is that each player is given a special ability that breaks the rules in one way for them only. Because the game has existed for so long, there are hundreds of official powers, and probably thousands of fan-created ones. This one thing in the game has been a massive inspiration to many, many players and designers... I want to say that even Richard Garfield, designer of Magic: The Gathering, has credited CE with being one of the main inspirations behind his most well known game (but I can't give you a source on that, so don't ask).
It's obviously something that people really like, but the first couple of times I played the game, I didn't understand. Some of the powers are interested, but some of them are absolutely, undeniably more powerful, to the point that I couldn't understand why they were ever included. Take the Virus power. Normally, I add the number of ships on my side to my card, and you add the number of ships on your side to your card, and the highest total wins. The Virus doesn't add. The Virus multiplies. And so, with the vast majority of cards (even uselessly bad ones), can simply and flatly win any battle, even if all the other players oppose them in a single effort. Sounds strong, right?
Well, it is. And there are countless other similarly powerful abilities that players can use in the game. The key thing that I was missing was that the Virus is not just powerful. It's supposed to be powerful, and it's supposed to be obvious to everyone that it is powerful. And once all of the players recognize how powerful it is, that's when the "extrinsic" balance can come to life. The true beauty of the mechanisms in Cosmic Encounter is that they allow all of the players to gang together to deal with the problems that the Virus presents. As a team opposing the virus, we can simultaneously work to score points, exclude the Virus from extra scoring opportunities, eliminate the points they have, reduce their effectiveness, and if I'm really sneaky, I can actually sneak in the back door, help the Virus player, and we can share the win together.
So, where the rules give one player an obvious "imbalance," they also provide a way for attentive players to deal with that imbalance. It changes the dynamics of the game, making it an almost entirely different experience.
While Cosmic Encounter is one of the best examples of this kind of "extrinsic" balance, there are others. Through the Ages features something that I feel is similar, but far more subtle. In this game, players compete to develop a civilization with strong economics, technology, population, culture... and military. But something that often happens with new players is that one player chooses to develop a strong military, leaving their infrastructure to waste away, barely advancing anything on their board. This player can then use the massive power differential to sweep in and take whatever they want from the other civilizations without fear of reprisal, even to the point of causing 100 point swings (or more) in the last turns of the game.
In other words, while everyone else is building and developing, worrying about keeping everything running and generating the points they can, one player is running around smashing it all with a hammer and they come out the winner. It's almost as if they've played a different game than the other players.
Now, obviously, the solution is for someone else to build military strength. But then they are sacrificing the science, food, happiness, and points that they could be getting to do so. Their effort to stand up to a monstrous army lead by Napoleon means that both of those players are unable to get ahead, and then another player wins. I think you can probably see where this is going. Those players with a strong military will always prey on those players without, and in doing so, perhaps even the field. But if one player gets ahead, they will start wrecking everything...
Some people don't like the way that it works. Some people don't like Cosmic Encounter. I can understand in both cases why. The intrinsic mechanisms of the game, the rules as they are written, suggest that Through the Ages is an economic engine building game. You take a small number of resources, spend them to develop your production, and use the increased output to improve production even more, branching out, diversifying, and scoring points along the way. But then there is this guy with the military hammer... it's not fun to have something you've built wrecked, and the game is hard enough without that sword hanging over your head.
But is it? The imbalance created by one player being able to hoard military strength and unleash it to devastating effect can only be balanced in Through the Ages by the players interacting with one another in ways that deepen the experience. And once the full cycle gets running, of keeping military strength close, tackling people who sacrifice too much of it to get ahead, implying dangerous outcomes for other players, the game flourishes. It is an aspect of the game that runs parallel to the rest, forcing players to learn and alter their play, instead of simply crouch over their personal board and ignore everyone else. It's quite a thing.
Does it belong in every game? Obviously, no.
A great many games are good because they are simply balanced, with rules that provide depth and challenge, and the "intrinsic" balance forces the development of certain skills. And of course, a game that would appear to have "extrinsic" balance can in fact simply be poorly designed and play-tested, without a fully developed system to allow for extrinsic balance; the obviously powerful thing is the obviously powerful thing, and whoever gets it first wins. It seems of great importance for players and designers to consider this aspect when assessing a game, either for their own enjoyment or for the enjoyment of others.
On a final side note, I think there is a fun middle ground, where a precision balanced set of mechanisms, like those in En Garde or Schotten Totten, have a small number of significant but "imbalanced" abilities or cards (like Flash Duel or Battle Line) that greatly increase the depth of the game. I have a lot of fun finding the perfect moment to use a seemingly minor one-time-use power to maximize its effect and turn the game around (or simply send myself well into the lead). That kind of positive feedback for creative use of the game's options is always a memorable moment.
For other people (or games) balance means that even with different opportunities, the players still have an equal chance to win, although they may go about it in different ways. Even subtly different starting situations can creating significantly different strategies by forcing the players to evaluate the next available options differently. In TtA, if I have a single cards that once allows me to build a cheap/free farm, I might begin valuing expansion more than other players because it will essentially be cheaper for me to do so, which means needing to worry about my civilization's Happiness before the other players... and I'm sure that tomes could be written about how the goods and buildings and actions that players compete over in Puerto Rico are all affected by whether you start with Indigo or Corn. Big changes cascade out of small changes.
Either way, these games are still "balanced," but the further that you stray, the more significant that these differences are between the initial player set-ups and rules that they must follow, the more likely there is to be some sort of wild imbalance.
If there is a word with a trickier implication than "balance" in games, it has got to be "imbalance." So many times, the first thought that players have upon seeing something that is obviously strong or advantageous is to label that particular thing "imbalanced" (perhaps using a less kind synonym such as "broken" or "bullshit"). I'm just as guilty as any other player of doing this, because, to be frank, sometimes those obviously strong or advantageous things are imbalanced. No matter how much effort or play-testing a game designer puts into a game, there is a chance that a number will slip by that is slightly too big, or a single space on an assymetrical board will give Player A a huge advantage over Player B... Take a look some time at all the hand-wringing discussion online about whether chess is "imbalanced" because one of the two players (white) goes first.
That said, I'm not trying to argue that because imbalance is unavoidable, game designers and players shouldn't care at all. Getting the options in a game as balanced as possible is probably one of the main goals of creators, one of the reasons that they spend so much time on rules and processes, and that tends to make for better, more enjoyable games. What interests me for the moment, is not simply that imbalance is inherent and can be minimized, but how it is minimized.
There seem to me to be two kinds of balancing mechanisms in games. The first kind is what I've been discussing above: intrinsic in the rules are painstakingly crafted options which, even when they provide players with different starting conditions (assymetry), those conditions are tested against one another to provide for as fair a competition as possible. If suboptimal decisions are made, a player will lose, but it won't be because they didn't have access to the more optimal decisions. Even a game like Yomi or Blue Moon, where the players each have an entirely different deck of cards, the players can be considered to be playing a game where there is intrinsic balance; I may not know how to beat someone playing the Midori deck with the Jaina deck, but that doesn't mean it can't be done.
The other kind of balance, then, is one where despite wildly varying options, some of which could easily be labeled "imbalanced" aren't limited by the rules of the game. Instead, the players of the game, who have some amount of skill with the rules and options, can assess the ones that are "broken" or "bullshit" and work with the other players to limit the effectiveness of those options. Essentially, the rules not only provide a framework for playing the game, but also a framework for reining in outliers and extraordinarily strong combinations or plans. In contrast to the above "intrinsic" balance, let's call this "extrinsic."
Some examples are in order.
Cosmic Encounter is game that has been a constant struggle for me. The basic rules and processes of the game are right in my wheel-house. It's negotiation heavy, and relatively straightforward (i.e. "do this to score a point, do this to draw cards, etc) so that the negotiation and deal-making can be the main focus of play. There is direct conflict without it being spiteful, there are reasons to create and break alliances, and you can actually choose to share the win with helpful players (or stab them in the back at the last second).
Where CE has always baffled me, though, is what made it unique when it was first published over 30 years ago, and what makes it so often imitated, is that each player is given a special ability that breaks the rules in one way for them only. Because the game has existed for so long, there are hundreds of official powers, and probably thousands of fan-created ones. This one thing in the game has been a massive inspiration to many, many players and designers... I want to say that even Richard Garfield, designer of Magic: The Gathering, has credited CE with being one of the main inspirations behind his most well known game (but I can't give you a source on that, so don't ask).
It's obviously something that people really like, but the first couple of times I played the game, I didn't understand. Some of the powers are interested, but some of them are absolutely, undeniably more powerful, to the point that I couldn't understand why they were ever included. Take the Virus power. Normally, I add the number of ships on my side to my card, and you add the number of ships on your side to your card, and the highest total wins. The Virus doesn't add. The Virus multiplies. And so, with the vast majority of cards (even uselessly bad ones), can simply and flatly win any battle, even if all the other players oppose them in a single effort. Sounds strong, right?
Well, it is. And there are countless other similarly powerful abilities that players can use in the game. The key thing that I was missing was that the Virus is not just powerful. It's supposed to be powerful, and it's supposed to be obvious to everyone that it is powerful. And once all of the players recognize how powerful it is, that's when the "extrinsic" balance can come to life. The true beauty of the mechanisms in Cosmic Encounter is that they allow all of the players to gang together to deal with the problems that the Virus presents. As a team opposing the virus, we can simultaneously work to score points, exclude the Virus from extra scoring opportunities, eliminate the points they have, reduce their effectiveness, and if I'm really sneaky, I can actually sneak in the back door, help the Virus player, and we can share the win together.
So, where the rules give one player an obvious "imbalance," they also provide a way for attentive players to deal with that imbalance. It changes the dynamics of the game, making it an almost entirely different experience.
While Cosmic Encounter is one of the best examples of this kind of "extrinsic" balance, there are others. Through the Ages features something that I feel is similar, but far more subtle. In this game, players compete to develop a civilization with strong economics, technology, population, culture... and military. But something that often happens with new players is that one player chooses to develop a strong military, leaving their infrastructure to waste away, barely advancing anything on their board. This player can then use the massive power differential to sweep in and take whatever they want from the other civilizations without fear of reprisal, even to the point of causing 100 point swings (or more) in the last turns of the game.
In other words, while everyone else is building and developing, worrying about keeping everything running and generating the points they can, one player is running around smashing it all with a hammer and they come out the winner. It's almost as if they've played a different game than the other players.
Now, obviously, the solution is for someone else to build military strength. But then they are sacrificing the science, food, happiness, and points that they could be getting to do so. Their effort to stand up to a monstrous army lead by Napoleon means that both of those players are unable to get ahead, and then another player wins. I think you can probably see where this is going. Those players with a strong military will always prey on those players without, and in doing so, perhaps even the field. But if one player gets ahead, they will start wrecking everything...
Some people don't like the way that it works. Some people don't like Cosmic Encounter. I can understand in both cases why. The intrinsic mechanisms of the game, the rules as they are written, suggest that Through the Ages is an economic engine building game. You take a small number of resources, spend them to develop your production, and use the increased output to improve production even more, branching out, diversifying, and scoring points along the way. But then there is this guy with the military hammer... it's not fun to have something you've built wrecked, and the game is hard enough without that sword hanging over your head.
But is it? The imbalance created by one player being able to hoard military strength and unleash it to devastating effect can only be balanced in Through the Ages by the players interacting with one another in ways that deepen the experience. And once the full cycle gets running, of keeping military strength close, tackling people who sacrifice too much of it to get ahead, implying dangerous outcomes for other players, the game flourishes. It is an aspect of the game that runs parallel to the rest, forcing players to learn and alter their play, instead of simply crouch over their personal board and ignore everyone else. It's quite a thing.
Does it belong in every game? Obviously, no.
A great many games are good because they are simply balanced, with rules that provide depth and challenge, and the "intrinsic" balance forces the development of certain skills. And of course, a game that would appear to have "extrinsic" balance can in fact simply be poorly designed and play-tested, without a fully developed system to allow for extrinsic balance; the obviously powerful thing is the obviously powerful thing, and whoever gets it first wins. It seems of great importance for players and designers to consider this aspect when assessing a game, either for their own enjoyment or for the enjoyment of others.
On a final side note, I think there is a fun middle ground, where a precision balanced set of mechanisms, like those in En Garde or Schotten Totten, have a small number of significant but "imbalanced" abilities or cards (like Flash Duel or Battle Line) that greatly increase the depth of the game. I have a lot of fun finding the perfect moment to use a seemingly minor one-time-use power to maximize its effect and turn the game around (or simply send myself well into the lead). That kind of positive feedback for creative use of the game's options is always a memorable moment.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Come for the air, stay for the games!
About a week before I came to Beijing, I went on Board Game Geek and asked in the appropriate sub-forum about gaming groups and stores that might be around in the city. Unsurprisingly, I got a few replies, and more surprisingly, I've already had a chance to meet some new gaming partners and visit one of the places that was recommended.
Closer to the middle of the city, a short walk from the Dongdaqiao subway station, is what I can only describe as a strange sort of mall, filled with storefronts and restaurants, all at weird angles to one another. On the fourth floor, just at the edge of a sky-bridge to another tower of the building, is Empire Penguin Games... or, what translates as "Empire Penguin Games" in Chinese. I'm not entirely sure why it's called that, but I suppose I'll get around to asking the owner at some point.
It's not a big space. In fact, it's packed so full of games and tables that when they open on Sunday afternoons to make space for gamers, everyone spills out into the hallways around the shop. Yesterday, there must have been at least 40 people, all trying to game in an area about the size of a living room... I'm told the store doesn't normally attract so many people. I've also been told that the handful of security guards that forced everyone to rearrange and cram together don't normally come by at all.
Despite the compactness of the place, there are a staggering number of games available for purchase or for play. Most of them are Chinese language editions of games, but for things like Carcassonne, The Resistance, or CV, language barely matters anyway. Along the back wall, behind the counter where the owner makes transactions, is a precarious stack of games that are so well-played the cards and tokens have been rubbed to an almost unreadable state. One corner of the store has a couple of plush couches around a low coffee table, and there are a dozen or so small folding tables that are pulled out and set up more or less anywhere there is room when people come to play.
I've been in game stores before where people came in to play games. In fact, one of my (formerly) favorite stores had a huge back room with tons of space... Friday nights were for Magic players who might have needed a bit more familiarity with deodorant than they had with white instants that clear out their opponent's enchantments or black sorceries that force unpleasant discarding. I say it was "formerly" one of my favorite stores because the owners really didn't sell very many games, and eventually went out of business. When we talked to them about the space and how many people came in all the time to use it, they said they didn't want to charge a cover fee because they wanted to foster a community. I guess that's one way to run things.
Well, Empire Penguin does charge a cover. Ten RMB per person per hour, up to a maximum of 40. That's not much money at the current exchange rate, but he seems to be doing fine. Being able to play games with a variety of people, to try things out without having to make a purchase, and to feel comfortable... that's worth $1.50 an hour. Probably more.
We've been twice. The first time, most of the English-speaking regulars were out due to a variety of reasons, but we did manage to get an extra-long game of Small World in. The second time, I was a little overwhelmed with the number of Mandarin and English speakers, and I learned to play Keyflower, which Susie sat in on a game of Le Havre. Other goings-on included a raucous Battlestar Galactica game with many accusations being thrown around in Chinese, a couple of learning games of Lords of Waterdeep, Ticket To Ride (another language independent game), and a few things I didn't recognize.
We'll definitely be going back. Staying so long in isolated places, you almost forget that people get together in stores/cafes like this. I'll take advantage while I can.
Closer to the middle of the city, a short walk from the Dongdaqiao subway station, is what I can only describe as a strange sort of mall, filled with storefronts and restaurants, all at weird angles to one another. On the fourth floor, just at the edge of a sky-bridge to another tower of the building, is Empire Penguin Games... or, what translates as "Empire Penguin Games" in Chinese. I'm not entirely sure why it's called that, but I suppose I'll get around to asking the owner at some point.
It's not a big space. In fact, it's packed so full of games and tables that when they open on Sunday afternoons to make space for gamers, everyone spills out into the hallways around the shop. Yesterday, there must have been at least 40 people, all trying to game in an area about the size of a living room... I'm told the store doesn't normally attract so many people. I've also been told that the handful of security guards that forced everyone to rearrange and cram together don't normally come by at all.
Despite the compactness of the place, there are a staggering number of games available for purchase or for play. Most of them are Chinese language editions of games, but for things like Carcassonne, The Resistance, or CV, language barely matters anyway. Along the back wall, behind the counter where the owner makes transactions, is a precarious stack of games that are so well-played the cards and tokens have been rubbed to an almost unreadable state. One corner of the store has a couple of plush couches around a low coffee table, and there are a dozen or so small folding tables that are pulled out and set up more or less anywhere there is room when people come to play.
I've been in game stores before where people came in to play games. In fact, one of my (formerly) favorite stores had a huge back room with tons of space... Friday nights were for Magic players who might have needed a bit more familiarity with deodorant than they had with white instants that clear out their opponent's enchantments or black sorceries that force unpleasant discarding. I say it was "formerly" one of my favorite stores because the owners really didn't sell very many games, and eventually went out of business. When we talked to them about the space and how many people came in all the time to use it, they said they didn't want to charge a cover fee because they wanted to foster a community. I guess that's one way to run things.
Well, Empire Penguin does charge a cover. Ten RMB per person per hour, up to a maximum of 40. That's not much money at the current exchange rate, but he seems to be doing fine. Being able to play games with a variety of people, to try things out without having to make a purchase, and to feel comfortable... that's worth $1.50 an hour. Probably more.
We've been twice. The first time, most of the English-speaking regulars were out due to a variety of reasons, but we did manage to get an extra-long game of Small World in. The second time, I was a little overwhelmed with the number of Mandarin and English speakers, and I learned to play Keyflower, which Susie sat in on a game of Le Havre. Other goings-on included a raucous Battlestar Galactica game with many accusations being thrown around in Chinese, a couple of learning games of Lords of Waterdeep, Ticket To Ride (another language independent game), and a few things I didn't recognize.
We'll definitely be going back. Staying so long in isolated places, you almost forget that people get together in stores/cafes like this. I'll take advantage while I can.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Fighting to the Death in RPGs
The last couple of times I've been to Athens to hang out with my co-hosts, we played at least one session of a Star Wars RPG.
The first was a quick side-adventure where my traveling negotiator for a crime syndicate needed transportation, which used the Edge of the Empire game from FFG. I've discussed previous podcasts what about the system I liked and didn't (mostly, didn't), but there was something unrelated to the system that happened in the game. As the plot progressed, we were attacked by a bounty hunter who was trying to find my character (presumably to get rid of him since it was only a one shot, and I wasn't going to be around to play him again). The situation devolved, become a fight, then devolved further into a fight to the death... that is to say, at least one character on each side was on their last leg, and no one was going to give up, even if it meant dying.
It struck me as a weird situation, made weirder by the fact that later on, it basically happened again. Some of the other players began an assault on a highly, highly secure facility, and it never seemed to cross anyone's mind that dying was a likely outcome. Or maybe it did, and they just didn't care. Their characters were shot up, blown up, tossed around, and they just kept running at the problem head-first. Every challenge turned into a fight, and every fight was a fight to the death. Weird?
The second Star Wars game was an adaptation of Ghost/Echo (pdf link), a game I put together sort of a reaction to the way that the previous game had gone. The scenario had some opportunities for fights (Star WARS, right?) but the game works in such a way to encourage creative thinking and throwing obstacles into your own way to make the story more interesting. I hoped that, despite the fact that there weren't explicit rules for dying, the players would react to challenges and fights without a traditional RPG "crazed berserker" mentality. It went alright, but there were still hints of the attitude that if there is a fight, it is to the death.
I don't know if this is a common experience or attitude, but it sure seems that way. I've played in many D&D games (and Hero games, and Exalted games, et al) where the players behaved as if there was no possibility of retreat. I'm not really sure why. Was there actually an assumption that every fight was a challenge that could somehow be won, no matter what the apparent odds against the players's characters? Does character death even matter? I know for sure that injury never seems to. In part, that's because having penalties and being on the edge of death all the time isn't much fun, so a lot of games make healing or recovering easy, but maybe that ends up devaluing the characters' lives. Maybe?
There is a definite possibility that other methods of dealing with fights and encounters were undervalued or not even considered. The assault on the highly, highly secured facility was guaranteed to fail, but no one had even considered coming up with a plan, using tricks, diplomacy, money, allies, or any other resource besides ammunition and HP. The only reason I did was because, being unfamiliar with the system, I accidentally made a character who didn't have much in the way of combat ability or utility. If he had, I likely would have fallen right in line behind the "shoot everything, or die trying" folks.
Fighting to the death in RPGs isn't just weird, though. In my mind, it's an actual problem. It isn't just a quirk of habit, it genuinely limits tactical approaches (for people who are interested more in stepping up to a challenge) and it genuinely limits fictional outcomes (for people are interested more in improvising unexpected stories). Realism or "genre-appropriateness" is right out... characters in movies and books only "fight to the death" when everything (EVERYTHING!) is on the line. Most of the time, they try to avoid that sort of scenario, if for no other reason that they might lose.
Say your RPG is about sneaking down into underground ruins, clearing out the monstrous inhabitants, and gathering whatever treasure you might find in the meantime. If every challenge is a fight, and every fight is a fight to the death, you'll have an undeniably boring game. That's true even if the rules and systems for fighting would otherwise be interesting. First off, there need to be other stakes, other possibilities that could result from two war-ready parties encountering one another. With no reason for the fights other than "you want to kill the other guys," there is nothing of interest to do but try to kill the other guys while being killed in the process. Make the fight about chasing someone away, rescuing someone, capturing a creature, securing an important area, or distracting the enemy while someone else infiltrates... make the stakes about lasting damage to the characters (lost fingers or eyes!), the death of bystanders, or the loss of important resources (that map or key they need). There are so many specific situations that can create interesting fights that fights which are only about the relative HP of the players are clearly inferior. Yeah, clearly. I said it.
Second, and probably more importantly, every challenge need not be a fight. Even when one group characters seem entirely at with another, there may still be some interest shared or some exchange of goods or services to be made that could present non-fight-based challenges that are still fun and engage the players' tactical minds. Instead of storming the well-guarded base with automated sentry guns to rescue a kidnapped PC, the players could try to draw the kidnappers out with their victim, but do it in such a way that they don't expect and are unprepared for a fight... or maybe even con them into handing the prisoner over without ever realizing what they had done.
And frankly, if the players don't approach the game as though it were all about a challenge to their skills as CharOps magicians, with fractional bonuses and sandbagged power combos, that can't hurt either. Some games lend themselves better to highly confrontational challenges and tactical advantage-seeking, and other games lend themselves better to internal struggles (within the group or within the individual) or exploration... In the podcast, we often talk about how flexible RPGs are compared to video games or board games, and this case is no different. RPGs can be about investigation, exploration, planning, discussion, power, relationships, curiosity, confusion, unrequited love, unrequited hate... pretty much anything. If the game is too much about fighting (especially fighting to the death), maybe getting everyone on-board with the other possibilities can change that.
I think a key here may be expectations. If the players expect deadly fights, then that's what they'll play. If they expect and have available more options, then they will use those. To make sure the expectations are clear, talk about them before the game starts. When you want the other players to consider the options, nothing goes as far as saying "Hey, you/we will need to run away from some fights, and avoid others entirely. Think differently." And when you want the other players to focus on the struggle between power and corruption, nothing goes as far as saying "Let's play a game where you can have power, but it comes at the cost of what makes you human." I've seen some fantastic, genuinely emotional ideas come from the same group of players who always make death-seeking combat-monsters, and all it took was a bit of discussion of what we were doing before hand.
The first was a quick side-adventure where my traveling negotiator for a crime syndicate needed transportation, which used the Edge of the Empire game from FFG. I've discussed previous podcasts what about the system I liked and didn't (mostly, didn't), but there was something unrelated to the system that happened in the game. As the plot progressed, we were attacked by a bounty hunter who was trying to find my character (presumably to get rid of him since it was only a one shot, and I wasn't going to be around to play him again). The situation devolved, become a fight, then devolved further into a fight to the death... that is to say, at least one character on each side was on their last leg, and no one was going to give up, even if it meant dying.
It struck me as a weird situation, made weirder by the fact that later on, it basically happened again. Some of the other players began an assault on a highly, highly secure facility, and it never seemed to cross anyone's mind that dying was a likely outcome. Or maybe it did, and they just didn't care. Their characters were shot up, blown up, tossed around, and they just kept running at the problem head-first. Every challenge turned into a fight, and every fight was a fight to the death. Weird?
The second Star Wars game was an adaptation of Ghost/Echo (pdf link), a game I put together sort of a reaction to the way that the previous game had gone. The scenario had some opportunities for fights (Star WARS, right?) but the game works in such a way to encourage creative thinking and throwing obstacles into your own way to make the story more interesting. I hoped that, despite the fact that there weren't explicit rules for dying, the players would react to challenges and fights without a traditional RPG "crazed berserker" mentality. It went alright, but there were still hints of the attitude that if there is a fight, it is to the death.
I don't know if this is a common experience or attitude, but it sure seems that way. I've played in many D&D games (and Hero games, and Exalted games, et al) where the players behaved as if there was no possibility of retreat. I'm not really sure why. Was there actually an assumption that every fight was a challenge that could somehow be won, no matter what the apparent odds against the players's characters? Does character death even matter? I know for sure that injury never seems to. In part, that's because having penalties and being on the edge of death all the time isn't much fun, so a lot of games make healing or recovering easy, but maybe that ends up devaluing the characters' lives. Maybe?
There is a definite possibility that other methods of dealing with fights and encounters were undervalued or not even considered. The assault on the highly, highly secured facility was guaranteed to fail, but no one had even considered coming up with a plan, using tricks, diplomacy, money, allies, or any other resource besides ammunition and HP. The only reason I did was because, being unfamiliar with the system, I accidentally made a character who didn't have much in the way of combat ability or utility. If he had, I likely would have fallen right in line behind the "shoot everything, or die trying" folks.
Fighting to the death in RPGs isn't just weird, though. In my mind, it's an actual problem. It isn't just a quirk of habit, it genuinely limits tactical approaches (for people who are interested more in stepping up to a challenge) and it genuinely limits fictional outcomes (for people are interested more in improvising unexpected stories). Realism or "genre-appropriateness" is right out... characters in movies and books only "fight to the death" when everything (EVERYTHING!) is on the line. Most of the time, they try to avoid that sort of scenario, if for no other reason that they might lose.
Say your RPG is about sneaking down into underground ruins, clearing out the monstrous inhabitants, and gathering whatever treasure you might find in the meantime. If every challenge is a fight, and every fight is a fight to the death, you'll have an undeniably boring game. That's true even if the rules and systems for fighting would otherwise be interesting. First off, there need to be other stakes, other possibilities that could result from two war-ready parties encountering one another. With no reason for the fights other than "you want to kill the other guys," there is nothing of interest to do but try to kill the other guys while being killed in the process. Make the fight about chasing someone away, rescuing someone, capturing a creature, securing an important area, or distracting the enemy while someone else infiltrates... make the stakes about lasting damage to the characters (lost fingers or eyes!), the death of bystanders, or the loss of important resources (that map or key they need). There are so many specific situations that can create interesting fights that fights which are only about the relative HP of the players are clearly inferior. Yeah, clearly. I said it.
Second, and probably more importantly, every challenge need not be a fight. Even when one group characters seem entirely at with another, there may still be some interest shared or some exchange of goods or services to be made that could present non-fight-based challenges that are still fun and engage the players' tactical minds. Instead of storming the well-guarded base with automated sentry guns to rescue a kidnapped PC, the players could try to draw the kidnappers out with their victim, but do it in such a way that they don't expect and are unprepared for a fight... or maybe even con them into handing the prisoner over without ever realizing what they had done.
And frankly, if the players don't approach the game as though it were all about a challenge to their skills as CharOps magicians, with fractional bonuses and sandbagged power combos, that can't hurt either. Some games lend themselves better to highly confrontational challenges and tactical advantage-seeking, and other games lend themselves better to internal struggles (within the group or within the individual) or exploration... In the podcast, we often talk about how flexible RPGs are compared to video games or board games, and this case is no different. RPGs can be about investigation, exploration, planning, discussion, power, relationships, curiosity, confusion, unrequited love, unrequited hate... pretty much anything. If the game is too much about fighting (especially fighting to the death), maybe getting everyone on-board with the other possibilities can change that.
I think a key here may be expectations. If the players expect deadly fights, then that's what they'll play. If they expect and have available more options, then they will use those. To make sure the expectations are clear, talk about them before the game starts. When you want the other players to consider the options, nothing goes as far as saying "Hey, you/we will need to run away from some fights, and avoid others entirely. Think differently." And when you want the other players to focus on the struggle between power and corruption, nothing goes as far as saying "Let's play a game where you can have power, but it comes at the cost of what makes you human." I've seen some fantastic, genuinely emotional ideas come from the same group of players who always make death-seeking combat-monsters, and all it took was a bit of discussion of what we were doing before hand.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Gen Con and my Top Three Most Sought After Games
I'm getting psyched about Gen Con!
Of course I am. Of the three of us, I'm the one who plays/buys/reviews/thinks about board games the most, and Gen Con is the biggest, most impressivest board game convention in the world. It, or Essen... they go back and forth depending on how you count people. Regardless of the reality of that kind of statistical puzzlery, if you are someone who gets excited about the prospect of new board games, and I am, then Gen Con is one of the most exciting places to be.
I've been to a couple of Gen Cons previously. They were fun: I got to meet some designers and publishers, try out demos for few games that I'd never seen, and make some purchases for stuff that I had been excited about. We also spent some time in different areas playing actual, full-on, not-demo games, getting a chance to meet and interact with some fun people (and, invariably, some not so fun people... it was a convention hall crowded with nerds). We haven't been in several years, though, and my understanding is that in that time, it has gotten much bigger and much more packed with nerds.
That's exciting, in a way. I understand that the local businesses have begun to cater to the crowds of Gen Con attendees, like restaurants creating special menus and food trucks parking right outside the convention center. More people means that it's a bigger draw for game companies and that it's more important than ever to get something out, even from small publishers, so for the people visiting, there is more cool stuff than ever to try out. You can't try everything, you can't buy everything, and you can't see everything, but if you prioritize well, you can hit the important stuff. The trick is that prioritizing; some people just can't figure it out.
This year, I haven't seen previews for much stuff that I'm rabidly drooling over, waiting to pounce on as soon as the doors open. Sometimes it gets that way. There are many publishers who bring a small number of copies of games that haven't been generally released yet, and very rarely do those not sell out entirely. Most of the time, that's not really a big deal, but I know that for many people, being "first" is as much about having a chance to get as much play time in as possible as it is about the pride of saying you were "first." I've never had that problem. But I do like to get my hands on stuff. And that is one place where my advice about prioritizing really helps.
When you go to a convention, especially one as large as Gen Con or Essen, you have to have a picture in your mind of what things you want to do, and what things you can go without doing. Because you can't do it all. It's only four days, and even a light schedule can leave you entirely worn out. This goes for events (which I tend to avoid) and for demos, game time, and purchases. On top of that, if you don't live within a reasonable driving distance from Indianapolis, anything you buy you have to figure out how to get home.
There are a few things that I intend to get on the spot, should I see them, regardless of what I'm carrying, what room I have left in my luggage, and whether I need them or not. (And I don't need them, so I guess that question is already answered.)
The first is the card game Red, by Carl Chudyk and Chris Cieslik. There are seven number cards in each of seven colors, and discarding a card changes the "win" condition of the game to one of seven things (such as needing the highest single card for Red, or the longest run for Blue. The trick to this is that you have to be winning at the end of your turn, or you are out, so you have to plan a winning path with the cards you get dealt (discard this, play this, then discard this...) and deal with the changes the other players are making to the game. It sounds fast, and since you can string together a long series of hands to make a fuller, more strategic game, it went on my wishlist as soon as I read about it. There is (theoretically) going to be a small print run of the game available at Gen Con, so don't buy it. Because I want one.
The next on my "drop everything and buy" list is Pax Porfiriana. I don't expect to see this one, because it has incredibly small, entirely pre-order print runs, so the chances of there being a copy just sitting around is next to nothing. It's a game about a relatively chaotic time in Mexico's history, where different factions and interests were creating lots of changes in the structure of the country and putting their fingers on the scale whenever they could sneak a chance to tilt things in their favor. It sounds great, lots of varieties of strategy and tactics, lots of dealing and backstabbing, so I would love to have a copy... if there is anyone out there with one.
The last of these games is Quantum. It's not nearly as rare as the other two, or as new, but it sounds absolutely great and I just haven't had a chance to get it on order. Everyone plays different factions in space, taking control of planets with dice-spaceships - higher number ships are faster but fragile, lower number are slow, but devastating. Almost everything in the game is highly deterministic; if you can get the right ships in place, you'll know you can take control of a planet, destroy another player's ships, or whatever else you might want to do. And that's what makes it seem keen. If you fail, it's probably not because you missed a combat dice roll. It's more likely that you didn't plan well.
I've talk about a few other things on the podcast that I want, and will probably end up with if I can squeeze them in, but those are the board games I am most excited about at Gen Con. I'm also going to try to meet up with some people, friends and people we've had on the show. If you are around, and you see me, and somehow you recognize me, say hello. And if you have a copy of Red in your hands, be prepared for an epic game of roshambo to see who gets it. I go first.
Of course I am. Of the three of us, I'm the one who plays/buys/reviews/thinks about board games the most, and Gen Con is the biggest, most impressivest board game convention in the world. It, or Essen... they go back and forth depending on how you count people. Regardless of the reality of that kind of statistical puzzlery, if you are someone who gets excited about the prospect of new board games, and I am, then Gen Con is one of the most exciting places to be.
I've been to a couple of Gen Cons previously. They were fun: I got to meet some designers and publishers, try out demos for few games that I'd never seen, and make some purchases for stuff that I had been excited about. We also spent some time in different areas playing actual, full-on, not-demo games, getting a chance to meet and interact with some fun people (and, invariably, some not so fun people... it was a convention hall crowded with nerds). We haven't been in several years, though, and my understanding is that in that time, it has gotten much bigger and much more packed with nerds.
That's exciting, in a way. I understand that the local businesses have begun to cater to the crowds of Gen Con attendees, like restaurants creating special menus and food trucks parking right outside the convention center. More people means that it's a bigger draw for game companies and that it's more important than ever to get something out, even from small publishers, so for the people visiting, there is more cool stuff than ever to try out. You can't try everything, you can't buy everything, and you can't see everything, but if you prioritize well, you can hit the important stuff. The trick is that prioritizing; some people just can't figure it out.
This year, I haven't seen previews for much stuff that I'm rabidly drooling over, waiting to pounce on as soon as the doors open. Sometimes it gets that way. There are many publishers who bring a small number of copies of games that haven't been generally released yet, and very rarely do those not sell out entirely. Most of the time, that's not really a big deal, but I know that for many people, being "first" is as much about having a chance to get as much play time in as possible as it is about the pride of saying you were "first." I've never had that problem. But I do like to get my hands on stuff. And that is one place where my advice about prioritizing really helps.
When you go to a convention, especially one as large as Gen Con or Essen, you have to have a picture in your mind of what things you want to do, and what things you can go without doing. Because you can't do it all. It's only four days, and even a light schedule can leave you entirely worn out. This goes for events (which I tend to avoid) and for demos, game time, and purchases. On top of that, if you don't live within a reasonable driving distance from Indianapolis, anything you buy you have to figure out how to get home.
There are a few things that I intend to get on the spot, should I see them, regardless of what I'm carrying, what room I have left in my luggage, and whether I need them or not. (And I don't need them, so I guess that question is already answered.)
The first is the card game Red, by Carl Chudyk and Chris Cieslik. There are seven number cards in each of seven colors, and discarding a card changes the "win" condition of the game to one of seven things (such as needing the highest single card for Red, or the longest run for Blue. The trick to this is that you have to be winning at the end of your turn, or you are out, so you have to plan a winning path with the cards you get dealt (discard this, play this, then discard this...) and deal with the changes the other players are making to the game. It sounds fast, and since you can string together a long series of hands to make a fuller, more strategic game, it went on my wishlist as soon as I read about it. There is (theoretically) going to be a small print run of the game available at Gen Con, so don't buy it. Because I want one.
The next on my "drop everything and buy" list is Pax Porfiriana. I don't expect to see this one, because it has incredibly small, entirely pre-order print runs, so the chances of there being a copy just sitting around is next to nothing. It's a game about a relatively chaotic time in Mexico's history, where different factions and interests were creating lots of changes in the structure of the country and putting their fingers on the scale whenever they could sneak a chance to tilt things in their favor. It sounds great, lots of varieties of strategy and tactics, lots of dealing and backstabbing, so I would love to have a copy... if there is anyone out there with one.
The last of these games is Quantum. It's not nearly as rare as the other two, or as new, but it sounds absolutely great and I just haven't had a chance to get it on order. Everyone plays different factions in space, taking control of planets with dice-spaceships - higher number ships are faster but fragile, lower number are slow, but devastating. Almost everything in the game is highly deterministic; if you can get the right ships in place, you'll know you can take control of a planet, destroy another player's ships, or whatever else you might want to do. And that's what makes it seem keen. If you fail, it's probably not because you missed a combat dice roll. It's more likely that you didn't plan well.
I've talk about a few other things on the podcast that I want, and will probably end up with if I can squeeze them in, but those are the board games I am most excited about at Gen Con. I'm also going to try to meet up with some people, friends and people we've had on the show. If you are around, and you see me, and somehow you recognize me, say hello. And if you have a copy of Red in your hands, be prepared for an epic game of roshambo to see who gets it. I go first.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Asymmetry: A Ward Against Mayflys?
As any regular listener to The Die is Podcast can probably tell you, I like learning and trying new games. I don't just mean games that have come out recently, but also any game that I've never tried before, regardless of how old it may actually be. I enjoy learning how the metaphorical gears of the machine hook together, how a few simple rules can create a massive emergence of strategic and tactical options, and I really love exploring the mechanics of the game with my friends to see what of those options we can find and screw with.
For me, a regular influx of new games provides me with never-ending variety when it comes to seeking those things out. The variety that comes from playing new games means that the experiences I have are always (or most times) different, so I always (or most times) get fun out of the sense of exploration.
Basically, new stuff is fun in part because I've never done it before.
That doesn't mean I don't love old games as well. Part of the reason I have a collection of board games is because many (if not most) are games that I enjoyed not only for the "newness," but also because there was enough depth that I thought the game would continue to be fun, or that there would be people to play with who would really enjoy some aspect of the game. I love Tichu, Intrigue, and For Sale as much as Paperback and Concordia, even though there is a more than twenty years difference between when some of those were published, and a several year difference between the times I first played them.
Getting really into new games as they are released can earn you a label, like "mayfly." I've heard people speak half-jokingly about the "Cult of the New," people who only seem to enjoy playing things that they've never played before. I don't exactly think that such a label is fair in most cases; as I said, I (and many others) enjoy new and old stuff equally. But there is something to be said about the rush that comes from trying out some new cool thing, and how many people seem to flit away from old favorites (perhaps your favorite game?) just to hop on the bandwagon.
Generally, I try not to get too hooked on that feeling. It's no problem at all trying new things all the time if you have a regular group with a never-ending supply of games, or if you go to conventions where there is an actually never-ending flow of newly published gems, but it becomes fairly problematic if you only really get to try new things by buying them... You could end up with the tragedy of dozens or more unplayed and maybe even still-in-shrink games. And that is, by any standard, a waste. Buying a game on a whim, because it seems like it might give you that "new stuff" rush, is a great way to end up with a disappointing purchase.
There are many games that you can play once or twice, and get a really good sense of, maybe even coming to the plateau of the learning curve just in a couple of tries... basically, once everyone has a solid grasp of the rules, everyone is essentially on the ground for every future play. I've heard these games referred to as "disposable" games by people in some corners, which is another unfair categorization, but they do tend to be games that encourage rather than discourage mayfly-like behavior. These games do serve a purpose, of course: they tend to be easy to learn or teach and great for non-gamers, since even an expert isn't going to necessarily do better than a brand new player.
However, there are also games that have depth that is far beyond what could be plumbed in one, ten, or even a thousand repeated plays. Obviously, games like Chess and Go fall into this category. But the main issue with a game like those is that the sense of exploration and newness tends to be very, very subtle and drawn out over a long period, and the excitement from them also tends to be subtle. This is unlikely to help a mayfly focus down on a single game for long. In Go, the rules can almost be boiled down to two or three sentences, with only one kind of piece or move, but the tactics and strategy are almost boundless. Thousands of years of humanity playing Go, and we still feel like we have only scratched the surface. It's like digging through bedrock with a broken spoon; you are able to find cool new possibilities within the play space, but it can be arduous. Which means that it is only fun for a small subset of people as a game of "newness" and "exploration." To be clear, this doesn't make Chess or Go bad (or really, much like the other games I discuss in this article), but to me, it explains a great deal of why they aren't as popular as other board games.
Many board games, especially on BoardGameGeek, fall somewhere between these two ends of the spectrum. The most popular games on the site, like Twilight Struggle, Through the Ages, and Agricola, have amazing depth, and require lots of time to learn, gain skill at, and master (if that is even possible). Recently, though, I've begun to find that there is a particular sub-set of these games that provides depth much in the same way that deep games do, with a much quicker turn-around on the newness/fun rush that people get from so-called "disposable" games can provide. Games where the player sides are asymmetrical; each player has a different set up, a different stock of pieces or cards, and maybe even a different goal.
Asymmetry in games is not a new thing, but I find that when it is used well in games, it can provide a way for players to explore vast depths of strategy in a guided way that can feel absent in symmetrical games. Assymetrical games that have few rules and are easy to learn can't be easily written off because the progress you make in exploring the depth of the game is far more obvious than in something like Go. This doesn't make them better games than Go, but it does make them better at providing that rush that a mayfly gamer wants, the thing that otherwise would have them chasing after whatever new game they see.
Let's take a game I've talked about before as an example, so I can use specifics. Yomi is a quick card game with fairly basic rules that simulates a Street Fighter-esque video game, where two players face off with distinct characters, and fight using attacks, throws, and defensive moves to reduce their opponent's hit points to zero. The basics of the game are incredibly simple: dodges and blocks beat attacks, attacks beat throws, and throws beat dodges and blocks. There are straight-forward rules for dealing damage, character speed, and a few other things, but it can be learned in about five minutes.
The depth of the game comes from the fact that every single character is completely different. Fire archer Jaina has the same basic kinds of moves as the draconic shapeshifter Midori, but the mix of cards and special attacks make the two decks entirely unlike one another. When you play your first match of Jaina versus Midori, you might find that Midori wins most of the time, due to some built in advantage in the deck. However, as you play more and more, you will see some advantages and cards that Jaina can make use of that turn the game in the opposite direction. Now, instead of Midori dominating with powerful moves in his dragon-form, Jaina relentlessly and repeatedly fires arrows in such a way that she wins most of the time. And again, dozens of matches later, Midori starts to creep back in, countering not just the new style that Jaina is being played with, but also keeping his old advantages in just enough that she has confronted with an entirely unexpected style of attacks.
The Blue Moon (now Blue Moon Legends) card game progresses similarly. When you first play the Vulca, a fiery race with brute strength, against the Hoax, a weaker group of historians with a few tricks up their sleeves, you might find the Vulca win, and they win strongly. After a few games, learning a bit of the deck composition, the Hoax begin to use their tricks effectively, and make the Vulca look positively lame. But slowly, it comes around again, and the Vulca, armed with knowledge of the Hoax's tricks, begin to come up with counters.
The back and forth in an assymetrical game like this is not just within a single play, but in the entire overall strategy of the multi-play game itself. As one strength is discovered, another is brought low.
Anyone who's spent any amount of time learning and playing a deep abstract game like Chess and Go will know this feeling. First you discover the power of your Queen, then games later the trickery of your Knights, and even further into your play you realize the strength of the Bishops who don't stand on the same color of squares... And that is certainly one of the reasons that Chess has been around for as long as it has, and still remains a complex game with many fans. But, I believe that a smaller scale, asymmetrical game like Yomi provides this same kind of feeling, but where the steps you take in Chess might take a hundred games (or, in Go, a thousand games), the steps in Yomi take only a dozen, but each time you take a step, you see there are further steps in a hundred directions.
And that is a real strength in trying to settle yourself if you feel like a mayfly. Instead of hopping from game to game, you can hop from character to character, deck to deck, loop around and discover new strategies, and get the rush of "new cool stuff" without abandoning games left and right. Even the same character vs. character match in Yomi takes on new dimensions every time you play.
Collectible card games have a great strength in this area, as every deck is different and infinitely adjustable. A green-red deck in Magic: The Gathering, with big creatures and direct damage as its main components, can be carefully played and its contents tweaked until it can stand strongly against most varieties of any color of deck. However, people playing these games tend to turn a mayfly's attention to getting new cards all the time, and quickly "fixing" their decks or building new ones to counter any perceived strength of another player, so less depth is explored... and Magic becomes like a microcosm of the gaming hobby, where very few people explore the depth and strengths of a particular set of cards, always looking for the next new thing.
This is less of a problem in the Living Card Games of Fantasy Flight Games, in particular Netrunner. This is a fantastic example of asymmetry: not only are there different factions with different strengths (like Yomi and Blue Moon), but each player in the head-to-head game plays with an entirely different goal and process. One player is the Corp, building up firewall fortresses to protect their secret agendas, the other is the Runner, attacking any weakness they can find. Both sides play entirely differently, and thus, provide a lot of depth to explore without a need for swapping between games, or even between factions.
I'm willing to admit that I could be wrong, and that this kind of game isn't necessarily a solution to the problem that I presented in the beginning of this article. But, for me, I more and more find myself enjoying asymmetrical games because of how easily I can get a rush of "cool/new" without having to learn or buy a new game. Of course, that doesn't stop me from learning or buying new games entirely, but it is a sub-set of games that could provide others with a way to control purchasing impulses and really learn the strength of games that they otherwise might not.
For me, a regular influx of new games provides me with never-ending variety when it comes to seeking those things out. The variety that comes from playing new games means that the experiences I have are always (or most times) different, so I always (or most times) get fun out of the sense of exploration.
Basically, new stuff is fun in part because I've never done it before.
That doesn't mean I don't love old games as well. Part of the reason I have a collection of board games is because many (if not most) are games that I enjoyed not only for the "newness," but also because there was enough depth that I thought the game would continue to be fun, or that there would be people to play with who would really enjoy some aspect of the game. I love Tichu, Intrigue, and For Sale as much as Paperback and Concordia, even though there is a more than twenty years difference between when some of those were published, and a several year difference between the times I first played them.
Getting really into new games as they are released can earn you a label, like "mayfly." I've heard people speak half-jokingly about the "Cult of the New," people who only seem to enjoy playing things that they've never played before. I don't exactly think that such a label is fair in most cases; as I said, I (and many others) enjoy new and old stuff equally. But there is something to be said about the rush that comes from trying out some new cool thing, and how many people seem to flit away from old favorites (perhaps your favorite game?) just to hop on the bandwagon.
Generally, I try not to get too hooked on that feeling. It's no problem at all trying new things all the time if you have a regular group with a never-ending supply of games, or if you go to conventions where there is an actually never-ending flow of newly published gems, but it becomes fairly problematic if you only really get to try new things by buying them... You could end up with the tragedy of dozens or more unplayed and maybe even still-in-shrink games. And that is, by any standard, a waste. Buying a game on a whim, because it seems like it might give you that "new stuff" rush, is a great way to end up with a disappointing purchase.
There are many games that you can play once or twice, and get a really good sense of, maybe even coming to the plateau of the learning curve just in a couple of tries... basically, once everyone has a solid grasp of the rules, everyone is essentially on the ground for every future play. I've heard these games referred to as "disposable" games by people in some corners, which is another unfair categorization, but they do tend to be games that encourage rather than discourage mayfly-like behavior. These games do serve a purpose, of course: they tend to be easy to learn or teach and great for non-gamers, since even an expert isn't going to necessarily do better than a brand new player.
However, there are also games that have depth that is far beyond what could be plumbed in one, ten, or even a thousand repeated plays. Obviously, games like Chess and Go fall into this category. But the main issue with a game like those is that the sense of exploration and newness tends to be very, very subtle and drawn out over a long period, and the excitement from them also tends to be subtle. This is unlikely to help a mayfly focus down on a single game for long. In Go, the rules can almost be boiled down to two or three sentences, with only one kind of piece or move, but the tactics and strategy are almost boundless. Thousands of years of humanity playing Go, and we still feel like we have only scratched the surface. It's like digging through bedrock with a broken spoon; you are able to find cool new possibilities within the play space, but it can be arduous. Which means that it is only fun for a small subset of people as a game of "newness" and "exploration." To be clear, this doesn't make Chess or Go bad (or really, much like the other games I discuss in this article), but to me, it explains a great deal of why they aren't as popular as other board games.
Many board games, especially on BoardGameGeek, fall somewhere between these two ends of the spectrum. The most popular games on the site, like Twilight Struggle, Through the Ages, and Agricola, have amazing depth, and require lots of time to learn, gain skill at, and master (if that is even possible). Recently, though, I've begun to find that there is a particular sub-set of these games that provides depth much in the same way that deep games do, with a much quicker turn-around on the newness/fun rush that people get from so-called "disposable" games can provide. Games where the player sides are asymmetrical; each player has a different set up, a different stock of pieces or cards, and maybe even a different goal.
Asymmetry in games is not a new thing, but I find that when it is used well in games, it can provide a way for players to explore vast depths of strategy in a guided way that can feel absent in symmetrical games. Assymetrical games that have few rules and are easy to learn can't be easily written off because the progress you make in exploring the depth of the game is far more obvious than in something like Go. This doesn't make them better games than Go, but it does make them better at providing that rush that a mayfly gamer wants, the thing that otherwise would have them chasing after whatever new game they see.
Let's take a game I've talked about before as an example, so I can use specifics. Yomi is a quick card game with fairly basic rules that simulates a Street Fighter-esque video game, where two players face off with distinct characters, and fight using attacks, throws, and defensive moves to reduce their opponent's hit points to zero. The basics of the game are incredibly simple: dodges and blocks beat attacks, attacks beat throws, and throws beat dodges and blocks. There are straight-forward rules for dealing damage, character speed, and a few other things, but it can be learned in about five minutes.
The depth of the game comes from the fact that every single character is completely different. Fire archer Jaina has the same basic kinds of moves as the draconic shapeshifter Midori, but the mix of cards and special attacks make the two decks entirely unlike one another. When you play your first match of Jaina versus Midori, you might find that Midori wins most of the time, due to some built in advantage in the deck. However, as you play more and more, you will see some advantages and cards that Jaina can make use of that turn the game in the opposite direction. Now, instead of Midori dominating with powerful moves in his dragon-form, Jaina relentlessly and repeatedly fires arrows in such a way that she wins most of the time. And again, dozens of matches later, Midori starts to creep back in, countering not just the new style that Jaina is being played with, but also keeping his old advantages in just enough that she has confronted with an entirely unexpected style of attacks.
The Blue Moon (now Blue Moon Legends) card game progresses similarly. When you first play the Vulca, a fiery race with brute strength, against the Hoax, a weaker group of historians with a few tricks up their sleeves, you might find the Vulca win, and they win strongly. After a few games, learning a bit of the deck composition, the Hoax begin to use their tricks effectively, and make the Vulca look positively lame. But slowly, it comes around again, and the Vulca, armed with knowledge of the Hoax's tricks, begin to come up with counters.
The back and forth in an assymetrical game like this is not just within a single play, but in the entire overall strategy of the multi-play game itself. As one strength is discovered, another is brought low.
Anyone who's spent any amount of time learning and playing a deep abstract game like Chess and Go will know this feeling. First you discover the power of your Queen, then games later the trickery of your Knights, and even further into your play you realize the strength of the Bishops who don't stand on the same color of squares... And that is certainly one of the reasons that Chess has been around for as long as it has, and still remains a complex game with many fans. But, I believe that a smaller scale, asymmetrical game like Yomi provides this same kind of feeling, but where the steps you take in Chess might take a hundred games (or, in Go, a thousand games), the steps in Yomi take only a dozen, but each time you take a step, you see there are further steps in a hundred directions.
And that is a real strength in trying to settle yourself if you feel like a mayfly. Instead of hopping from game to game, you can hop from character to character, deck to deck, loop around and discover new strategies, and get the rush of "new cool stuff" without abandoning games left and right. Even the same character vs. character match in Yomi takes on new dimensions every time you play.
Collectible card games have a great strength in this area, as every deck is different and infinitely adjustable. A green-red deck in Magic: The Gathering, with big creatures and direct damage as its main components, can be carefully played and its contents tweaked until it can stand strongly against most varieties of any color of deck. However, people playing these games tend to turn a mayfly's attention to getting new cards all the time, and quickly "fixing" their decks or building new ones to counter any perceived strength of another player, so less depth is explored... and Magic becomes like a microcosm of the gaming hobby, where very few people explore the depth and strengths of a particular set of cards, always looking for the next new thing.
This is less of a problem in the Living Card Games of Fantasy Flight Games, in particular Netrunner. This is a fantastic example of asymmetry: not only are there different factions with different strengths (like Yomi and Blue Moon), but each player in the head-to-head game plays with an entirely different goal and process. One player is the Corp, building up firewall fortresses to protect their secret agendas, the other is the Runner, attacking any weakness they can find. Both sides play entirely differently, and thus, provide a lot of depth to explore without a need for swapping between games, or even between factions.
I'm willing to admit that I could be wrong, and that this kind of game isn't necessarily a solution to the problem that I presented in the beginning of this article. But, for me, I more and more find myself enjoying asymmetrical games because of how easily I can get a rush of "cool/new" without having to learn or buy a new game. Of course, that doesn't stop me from learning or buying new games entirely, but it is a sub-set of games that could provide others with a way to control purchasing impulses and really learn the strength of games that they otherwise might not.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
A Game of Ice and Fire, Part 7: Intermission
We've set a sort of soft policy in my gaming group that as long as a majority of people are present, we will continue to game and have the missing Player Characters appear as secondary characters. I was all set to do this for our SIF game, but I was enjoying Zoren's antics too much from the last session to leave him out when the group finally arrived in King's Landing. In light of no game, I thought I would provide a list of characters and the story they have learned so far. A lot of this is going to be coming to a head soon now that they will be entering King's Landing.
The party is on their way to King's Landing for King Robert's yearly Tournament. In addition, one of House Trevayne's main purchasers of their ore has requested a meeting to discuss new financial arrangements.
Aiden Buckwell is along the road to King's Landing as well, spreading accusations against House Trevayne for the murder of some of their small folk. The party has learned that this deed was actually performed by a rogue knight, Lord Archay, also known as The Fox Knight, and a group of hired mercenaries. The mercenaries are now deceased, having been betrayed by one of their own, Hamish Flowers, who was paid off by Lord Archay. He himself was found recently murdered and robbed of his new found wealth shortly after the party spoke with him. It is unknown who hired Lord Archay, but the running theory among the party members is Lord Darren himself.
House Buckwell
Bannermen to House Lannister and rival to House Trevayne. Lead by Lord Darren, father of Rosa and Aiden. Rumor is that Rosa was to be involved in an arranged marriage but ran away. Aiden is young, headstrong, and devoted to his family. Currently in King's Landing to bring accusations against House Trevayne for the murder of their smallfolk.House Thorne
Bannermen to House Tyrell. The party has not had much interaction with them having only glanced the second son Orten Throne talking with Aiden Buckwell at a wedding. Ser Naton, the eldest son, is said to be a skilled tourney night, though he has yet to distinguish himself.House Vale
Bannermen to House Tyrell. They only members of this house the party has met are Ser Armattan and his twin sister Amberley. Through them, they learned that Lord Duncan has recently been betrayed and murdered by a Dornish knight and made off with the house's Valyrian sword, Thresher. The two are on their way to King's Landing for the tourney and searching for the sword.The Story Thus Far...
The events of individual sessions are in previous posts. Here is the overarching plot so far.The party is on their way to King's Landing for King Robert's yearly Tournament. In addition, one of House Trevayne's main purchasers of their ore has requested a meeting to discuss new financial arrangements.
Aiden Buckwell is along the road to King's Landing as well, spreading accusations against House Trevayne for the murder of some of their small folk. The party has learned that this deed was actually performed by a rogue knight, Lord Archay, also known as The Fox Knight, and a group of hired mercenaries. The mercenaries are now deceased, having been betrayed by one of their own, Hamish Flowers, who was paid off by Lord Archay. He himself was found recently murdered and robbed of his new found wealth shortly after the party spoke with him. It is unknown who hired Lord Archay, but the running theory among the party members is Lord Darren himself.
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