Game Masters All

My favorite tabletop RPG (Mage: the Ascension) gives players the power to alter the game setting in fundamental ways. Although the game master--or 'storyteller', to use White Wolf's lingo--still has the final say, players wield a stupendous amount of power compared to 'traditional' RPGs like Dungeons & Dragons.

Eight of Wands

Mage does give the GM tools to keep overly ambitious players in check. Seriously, there is a mechanic called 'Hubris'. However, I have the fortune of GMing for a group of very cooperative players in that game. Their eagerness to portray PCs in a balanced and immersive fashion gives me a lot of freedom to world-build with them rather than around them.

I allow the players to contribute, both knowingly and unknowingly, in and out of character, to the shared reality of the game. I incorporate elements of the PCs' machinations and the players' wild speculations into the story--sometimes directly, sometimes retroactively, and sometimes in barely recognizable form. In effect, this inflicts a limited version of the Bard's Tongue flaw on every single character.

As I do this more and more, I realize that I will eventually hit a wall, which is the fundamental structure of a game like Mage--and most other tabletop RPGs--that separates GMs from players. Every now and then I halfheartedly investigate game systems that either distribute GM responsibilities (e.g. Prime Time Adventures) or have no GM at all (e.g. Narrative Cage Match), but so far I have not found exactly what I want.

What exactly do I want? I want a fully collaborative storytelling game system where each participant is both a game master and a player. The Narrative Cage Match system for the game Patheon is fairly close in concept, being a kind of themed Exquisite Corpse with dice and counters. Its mechanics, however, are centered on competition and scoring, and gameplay seems heavily reliant on the scenarios (essentially modules) presented in the rulebook. I am looking for something a bit more free-form than that, but not so free-from that it devolves into the Oldest Game.

Just Drawn That Way

Many roleplaying games have morality--or 'alignment'--systems that describe and proscribe the behaviors of characters.  Like all game mechanics, alignment systems must balance verisimilitude with manageability. Too much system granularity can overwhelm players in both video and tabletop games, while too little makes roleplaying morality less compelling.

"Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost."

The classical Dungeons & Dragons alignment system has two axes: 'ethical', consisting of Lawful, Neutral or Chaotic, and 'moral', consisting of Good, Neutral, and Evil. All characters in the game fall into one of the nine intersections between those axes, e.g. Neutral Good, Lawful Neutral, Chaotic Evil. While very granular and elegant in theory, I have found this alignment system unwieldy in practice, and largely cosmetic in most tabletop games.

My favorite tabletop RPG alignment system is the Path mechanic in Vampire: the Masquerade. By default, PCs (who are all vampires) follow the 'Path of Humanity', essentially a simulation of secular humanist morality on a scale from zero to 10. Each level has a set of behavioral standards, the violation of which triggers a roll that determines whether the character feels remorse for the action, thus retaining his Humanity, or rationalizes the action and drops one level on the Path.

This mechanic seems clunky, but I have found it surprisingly useful and intuitive in the context of the game. It has an admirable balance of crunch and fluff, providing system incentives both for maintaining a high Humanity score and for letting it slide, just a little. Even more, the game contains several other Paths to which characters can 'convert' if they reject Humanity, including ones that glorify that which most humans conventionally regard as 'evil'.

Many video games have linear alignment systems. Star Wars games, such as the Knights of the Old Republic and Jedi Knight series, use the Light Side/Dark Side system as portrayed in the films. The Karma systems in the inFamous and Fallout series both measure morality on a Good/Evil axis, and adjust the way NPCs interact with the PC accordingly. A common problem with these single-axis mechanics is that they often yield rewards only at the extremes, which can discourage roleplaying in favor of powergaming the alignment system.

The most interesting and nuanced alignment system I have encountered in a video game is Reputation in the Mass Effect series, which grants Paragon or Renegade points for dialogue choices as well as other actions. It looks like a single-axis Good/Evil system on the surface, but in fact Paragon and Renegade are closer (though not equivalent) to Lawful and Chaotic. Furthermore, they are measured on completely separate scales. So the player can gain both Paragon and Renegade points in the course of a single encounter without one canceling out the other. High scores on these axes unlocks special actions that can affect the game in fairly dramatic ways.

I find, sometimes to my own disappointment, that I gravitate toward playing 'good' PCs. I derive a great deal of satisfaction from portraying a well-developed villain or anti-hero when I game master, yet have little interest in such characters as a player--this includes video games. I have occasionally made 'bad' characters in games like Jedi Knight or inFamous just so I can go on a rampage, but lose interest in them fairly quickly. Unless I make a conscious effort--and sometimes even when I do--I end up playing goody two-shoes characters. This probably explains, at least in part, why I have so much interest in alignment mechanics that break the Good/Evil mold.

Parental Advisory

When I was fifteen, I saw an alarming news story. You might be familiar with the sort: footage of children gaping at a screen; "Video gaming--some experts call it an epidemic," the narrator warns over a clip of a talking head; "Are your kids addicted to video games? XYZ News investigates."

After the segment, I turned to my father and asked his opinion on the matter. Although we did not own any game consoles, he knew I played strategy games on our PC.

"Well," he said, "you can't take this stuff too seriously. When I was a boy, they thought comic books would rot out our brains. Then it was Rock n' Roll music, then television shows, et cetera. Since my brain seems pretty much in tact, I reckon you don't need to worry about those games."

He took a sip of his beer and narrowed his eyes at me. "If you start playing too much, though, your ass is grass and I'm the lawnmower."

Then we ate dinner and I played Outpost while my parents watched NYPD Blue or whatever. My father never needed carry out his threats, save once (see End of the Beginning). I did not realize my tremendous fortune.

About a year after that, I discovered Dungeons & Dragons. My parents had no opinion about the game itself, but seemed faintly relieved that I had finally started making friends outside of clubs and sports. One of my first players (half-elven Fighter/Mage) sheepishly asked us not to tell his mother what we were doing. Since she forbade him to play D&D, he had to pass our game sessions off as 'watching movies'.

I was bewildered. Why would a parent object to imaginative and cooperative play? Apparently, the poor woman had gotten it in her head that roleplaying games caused suicide, and could not be persuaded otherwise. ("Has Dungeons & Dragons brainwashed your child? Details at seven.")

Some years later, I sat in a dimly lit dormitory common room, meeting my partner's Roman Catholic mother for the first time. She was making awkward small talk, and I struggled to reciprocate.

"So, how did you two meet?" she asked.

"We played in the same Dungeons & Dragons campaign," I replied, thinking myself clever for omitting that it had been a game run by my ex, or that my partner had played a Cleric of Kord.

"Dungeons & Dragons? Isn't that the thing that makes kids kill themselves?!" she cried. ("Stay tuned to Channel 0 News to find out!")

I shot my partner an incredulous look. He just slumped down in his chair and groaned. We spent the next half hour reassuring his mother we were not in a cult, worshipping demons, or contemplating suicide. It has set the tone of my relationship with her ever since.

I also started appreciating my own parents' laissez-faire style. True, they were frequently absent in my childhood. They never attended any of my games--not when I co-captained my varsity soccer team, and not when my quiz bowl team went to the nationals. They expected much and praised little. However, they did for the most part trust me, not just to tell the truth, but to make my own decisions (again, excepting the incident in End of the Beginning).

Whenever I hear about how 'helicopter parenting' has ruined my generation ("XYZ News correspondent Chick N. Little reports her findings."), I wonder whether my parents avoided that trap by design or happenstance. Did they refrain from micromanagement to make me stronger? Or did some combination of my personality and circumstances render their negligence harmless? Either way, I am grateful, and studiously avoid television news. It will rot your brains out.

Fancy Dress Fancy

I could probably go to work dressed like
 this every single day if I felt so inclined

The first time I attended a sci-fi convention, I wore a Star Trek: The Next Generation uniform (season one, blue). Unfortunately, the smallest size it came in was 'Medium', which fit me like a potato sack on a scarecrow. I painstakingly modified it by hand, but it just never really looked right.

I have grown wiser in my costuming choices since then. I know, for example, that almost nobody looks good in a TNG season one uniform. Still, hunting for off-the-shelf clothing items that fit me remains a laborious task. All of my efforts to use a sewing machine have ended with a broken needle and/or a huge wad of thread where the seam should be

With a larger budget came the option of having clothes tailored to my diminutive frame. When my mother took a sudden and unexpected interest in sewing, I gently nudged her toward making costume pieces for me. I own some incredibly screen-accurate and comfortable Old Republic Jedi robes thanks to her.

From attending conventions regularly, I know that many costumers take their hobby far more seriously than I do. Though I often obsess over the details of my outfits, I rarely push myself out of my comfort zone to attempt a full-body Xenomorph suit or anything like that.

I still need to get rank insignia and such

My current Dragon*Con costume project is Felix Gaeta from the reimagined Battlestar Galactica. I also have a notion to dress as a human version of Rainbow Dash along with several friends are planning to go as a group of characters from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Oh, and I may assemble a Saotome Alto (Macross Frontier) cosplay to match a friend's Ranka Lee.

Aside from more 'serious' costuming like that discussed above, though, I also enjoy wearing garb (historically inspired clothing common at Renaissance faires), drag, and unusual outfits in general. I proudly acknowledge my Utilikilts as a variety of skirt, to the horror of other men. I wear hats in all seasons and have a particular love for broad brimmed pinch-front Stetsons. My winter coat is patterned after one worn by Jack Harkness (of Dr Who and Torchwood fame).

As an introvert, I tend to feel uncomfortable when under too much scrutiny, so it seems odd for me to dress in a way that draws attention to myself. Were I more outgoing, I would probably wear bizarre clothes constantly. If not attention, though, what do I get out of dressing up?

I imagine it has something to do with why I like roleplaying. Roleplaying and costuming both give physical manifestations to that inner universe, which I cherish in equal measure the outer one (see Nothing Unreal Exists for my views on reality vs. fiction). Or maybe I just get tired of 'everyday' clothes like most people do, but feel no attraction to conventionally fashionable 'going out' clothes. Either way, I cannot wait to wear my new purple wig.

Storyteller

As a child, my exposure to English came exclusively from my father. At the age of five, I went to live with my Chinese grandmother and only saw my parents on the weekends. If I did all of my homework on time, however, I was allowed to call my father for bedtime stories.

Major Farrington was a fine storyteller, and gave me to understand that it was an Irish gift I would surely inherit. He told me twisted fairy tales, his own takes on classical literature, Loony Tunes-inspired dinosaur hijinks, and probably more than anyone should tell a small child about the Korean and Vietnam Wars. I could not get enough, and from an early age started reading everything in sight and weaving clumsy imitations in my mind.

I loved playing make-believe, casting myself and my friends into the roles of favorite anime characters. When I discovered Dungeons & Dragons as a teenager, I ended up playing Dungeon Master a lot (for those not familiar with tabletop roleplaying, the 'Dungeon Master' or 'Game Master' narrates the adventure for the other players).

I wrote my first sci-fi story at age ten (trust me, it was awful) and my first fantasy novel eight years later (also awful). My primary consideration when seeking employment is how it will impact my writing and gaming. Those two activities now consume the vast majority of my spare time.

When you think about it, the whole idea of a story is really quite remarkable. A storyteller creates entire worlds with his mind and then transmits it through language to other people. In collaborative storytelling endeavors (such as make-believe or roleplaying games), each participant modifies the constructed reality, bringing to it his own knowledge and imagination.

Whether the work of a lone soul or a massive group, though, stories unite people. They link minds together across vast gulfs of space and time. They create common experience in their own dimensions, where we can explore strange, dangerous, or improbable ideas in relative safety.

The human experience contains plenty of other fascinating endeavors. I find many of them interesting, but I could take them or leave them if it suited me. Whether or not it has anything to do my Irish blood, I have a need to tell stories. So, I tell stories.