Thesis: I claim that individual character aggrandizement is killing gameplay. I propose a new approach to game design of power-ups, reflecting intended gameplay.

Background:

I can see how experience points make some amount of sense if one starts with R.E.Howard's Conan stories as a point of reference.

Conan starts out with youthful overconfidence, strong muscles, zero civilized education, and a length of broken chain he can use as a weapon.

He thinks an opponent is dead, but that guy gets back up, teaching Conan by real experience to doubt his youthful overconfidence.  That's the typical meaning of "experience" IMHO -- "I did some stupid things when I was 20, but I'm still here to talk about it."

Somewhere along the line, someone teaches him to read the poetry of Country X and the philosophy of Country Y.

At some point he learns how to wear armor, shoot a bow, and ride a horse.

Eventually he rules a kingdom with a troubled brow, converts to Mithraism, and demands that his subjects tolerate minority religions that are honest in mundane life.  By that point his muscles are still strong, but he's not young by a long shot.


(And eventually REH commits suicide and his literary vultures write really bad stories about Conan kicking butt as an octogenarian...[movie narrator voice]but that is another story!)

In REH's vision, Conan is gaining the weight of years, education, and world wisdom.  Lots of people have all those things and are *not* kings.  The logical statement would be: Some experienced mighty warriors become rulers and stay at the same level of mightiness as they continue to gain experience.  Conan is grand, but he's also human, convincing, and connected to the setting.  He is a role model, but he's not an insane self-aggrandizing power fantasy.

Gygax and Arneson seem to have simplified this drastically by changing the logical statement to read: All experienced warriors become rulers and continually increase their level of mightiness as they continue to gain experience.  (Other than the Conan stories, I don't know why Gygax and Arneson had this vision of super-human growth potential.  Possibly comic books, the ascent of Hercules into Olympus, and the American Dream of unlimited financial success all played their parts.)  Gygax has cited his innovation of having players identify with characters as the crucial step in discovering TRPGs; I claim that identification has hypertrophied into a disadvantage.

D&D eventually took this to the next logical step -- lots of battles and adventures turned one not only into a ruler (at name level) and eventually into a demigod or immortal.  Some game designers took this weird unlimited potential out right away, notably Miller.  His Traveller universe had personal growth, careers, money, and entropy much like the real world.  There was no chance of going from player to immortal demigod, and any referee who put such a plot element in would be creating an obvious misinterpretation of the design.

A few games (such as the D&D-based Birthright, the D&D Rules Cyclopedia, and Stolze's Reign) attempt to balance powerful adventurers and interesting kingdoms.  A few more games stress that the players do not gain much skill, but they can gain unlimited wealth and possibly even social status(e.g. Cyberpunk 2020, Traveller).

But most games seem to prefer the premise that one can start out as a powerless ordinary person (or as a low-power superhero) and become a high-powered superhero, capable of battling demigods.  Such superheroes seem very shallow to me, even shallower than Conan -- who was not the deepest character in the history of literature.  Not only are the heroes flat, the settings have few details.

This "unlimited growth potential" meme has been retained by many or most games.  The focus of most games on battle and adventure exaggerates it, since the temptation is to lose track of time and assume that the characters are almost always battling and that they gain power after every battle, without any relevant aging or loss of potential.  A group of real-life players might run a campaign for three years, playing every week, for a total of 120 power-ups over just a few months of game time.  Even if the referee enforces a minimum of one in-game month of "training" time per power-up, the players could go through 120 power-ups in ten years of game time -- starting as fresh-faced farmboys at 18 years old and winding up as immortal gods of the fictional game universe at 28 years of age.  This would be an extremely coherent campaign, of course: I have seen adolescent campaigns that spiral out of control much more quickly due to over-generous rewards, and I have seen more mature campaigns go on for years with gradually diminishing enthusiasm because the rewards are limited enough to drag the campaign on forever.

I have also seen many campaigns break up because the referee cannot figure out how to do power-ups.   If the characters have no in-character reason to go adventuring, chances are also good that the players aren't thrilled with the possible power-ups and enemies.  The players are motivated by the potential to aggrandize their characters;  they are not motivated by a desire to build a shared fictional world.  By contrast, electronic games (including MUDs) often generate communities from strangers by allowing them to cooperate and build online virtual worlds.

Many gamers have commented that the gaming industry's desire to print and sell supplements often poisons actual gameplay.  When a game company prints a supplement full of campaign-wrecking power-ups, bored players will buy it, show it to the referee, and get told it's too powerful.  The players will read the book, brood about how cool the game would be if only they could use these new crunchy bits, and eventually drop out of the "low-powered" campaign.  The game industry becomes a private fiction template industry, wherein individual customers buy expensive books and brood over them alone, because they can't make good games from them with their friends.

Proposal: More games should provide good systems of power-ups wherein the real power is in the setting, not the character.  This might be done by crunch, or it might be done by having all the players write their player characters into the other player characters' backstories, or it might be done by some other means.

If the players and ref are working together to power up and add details to the setting, I conjecture that more actual gameplay will result, and few gamers will brood over TRPG books alone before going to play Nintendo with their real-life buddies, or logging onto to World of Warcraft to add more houses to a virtual walled city.

Postscript: Yes, I know this essay is too long and I should have blogged it, then posted a condensed version with a link to the long blogged version.  I couldn't figure out how to get my blog working.

Quote from: riprockThesis: I claim that individual character aggrandizement is killing gameplay. I propose a new approach to game design of power-ups, reflecting intended gameplay.

My what a thoughtful essay.  Thank you.

I think you point out a basic conflict of the RPG and human psychology that has no easy solution.   The only one that even comes close, in my mind, has less to do with the rules than with the Gamesmastering.   GMing is, imo, an art and needs to be treated as such.  

One way to manage the issue you raise, as a GM, that could be effective is to keep Players from focusing on the game mechanics at all.  That's what I've always done in my world.   I very infrequently divulge game mechanics to the Players because I do not want them to be thinking in terms of Power Ups and Experience Points.  I stopped giving them numeric information about their Characters back in 1979 or so, along with the other GMs in my town.   We all had the same rational about it.  The more the Players focused on the numbers, the more they try to game the system instead of Play their Characters.   Since this isn't what we wanted from the game we reversed course and choose this alternate course.  

The other thing I did was to create my own rules system, that I then declined to delineate to the Players, for above mentioned reason.   At first I got considerable push back from my players, but since they already knew my world was interesting (coming back to this point in a sec) they were willing to go along with my proposition.  So they began playing in the new style, and whenever a calculation was required I would do the math myself, roll the dice, and describe the results in game terms specifically avoiding lingo like "You're f4th level vs a 2nd Level Orc so you need a 40 or above to hit.  Ok, I rolled a 45 so you hit.", but instead said something more like "The vicious creature with green scaley skin circles around your Character with a dangerous looking black barbed blade dripping with blood.  You lunge at him with your trusty bright blade and with a flick of the wrist catch him on the shoulder carving a slice out of his leather and causing a rivulet of thick dark blood to flow down his arm."   Very different description, but the same exact mechanics.   The description is specifically designed to cause the Player to ignore the numerics of the game, and focus on the story.  

Ok, back to the second point - story matters.   If you provide a compelling World that is truly fascinating with rich and meaningful adventures, you can substitute the textured story of the world for the mechanical thrill of Powering Up.   As long as the story itself is great (meaning the GM must be a great story teller, both in descriptive power and in developing BackStory (what I call World Weaving)), there is no need to continuously provide (game inflating) rewards in the form of "You did X, so I give you Y".  

The third thing I did in 1982 or so was introduce a Character Aging Rule.   For each decade the Character ages beyond the mid-life age of their race they lose points on their Strength, Constitution and Endurance Requisites, and eventually diminish to the point that they ...well, die of old age, actually.   Becoming Immortal must be done the old fashioned way - eating one of the sacred Golden Apples of the Gods.   That's a tough quest to win, btw.  There are a couple of other similar Quests for Immortality.  None of them are easy.  No one in my world has completed one yet, and it's been oh, about 20 something years of gameplay so far.   But then, no Characters have grown past 6th level, which is another "trick".  I designed my rules system to maintain a Low-Levels campaign setting.   An Ogre is 5th, a Troll is 6th.  If a mid-level character meets one, his expectation should be to die.   Running away is not a bad option.   But group work and good tactical cooperation with team mates can lead to happier results.  

Well, that's how I've handled this issue.  So far so good.  My players indeed have expressed great satisfaction with the quality of my World, and managed to keep me from needing to continuously Pump-Them-Up (game inflation) in order to keep them in the game.   The story keeps them in, not the goodies.  Which is why I'm focused on, and always have been, on Great Story in my RPG.   The rules ain't too shabby either.  

Quote from: riprockThesis: I claim that individual character aggrandizement is killing gameplay.

While I don't think that's always true, I think you are identifying a very real problem here.

Quote from: riprockGygax and Arneson seem to have simplified this drastically by changing the logical statement to read: All experienced warriors become rulers and continually increase their level of mightiness as they continue to gain experience.  (Other than the Conan stories, I don't know why Gygax and Arneson had this vision of super-human growth potential.

To be fair to Gygax and Arneson, in a fairly high fatality environment where lots of PCs die along the way, it's not unreasonable to assume that the PCs that survive represent the sort of best-of-the-best elite that Conan represented.  That totally breaks down once fair challenges and script immunity are introduced, meaning that PCs gain the unlimited grown for simply showing up every session.  In other words, in a competitive game, players earn the grown of their characters.  In games where PCs rarely ever die, regardless of how foolish their actions, they don't really earn that growth.

My solution lies more in the idea of players playing character that, after a point, don't really get any better.  James Bond, for example, is the best at what he does.  So are many other action movie heroes.  They don't power up and get better, even when the same character appears in a series of movies.  They are simply very good and the excitement comes from the changing challenge.

Good read so far.  I think most people like to see their characters change over time, kinda like watching an investment grow.  They put in time, (perhaps a bit of actual money), and brainpower (I hope) into them.  I know the analogy will start to break down here but how much does risk tie into the desire for character advancement..i.e. if your character is a "Conan, "James Bond", or a "Superman", do you say those games have less risk because they are already pretty powerful and therefore needs less game inflation while 1st edition D&D is pretty risky, so the players expect more rewards?  I am not sure but just food for thought.

Quote from: ancientgamerGood read so far.  I think most people like to see their characters change over time, kinda like watching an investment grow.  They put in time, (perhaps a bit of actual money), and brainpower (I hope) into them.

I do think that's true in at least some cases.  And I also think there is a tuning effect, too, where players use the growth as an opportunity to change their characters and move them in certain directions.  I'm simply not sure that the game has to allow that sort of growth ad nauseum.

Quote from: ancientgamerI know the analogy will start to break down here but how much does risk tie into the desire for character advancement..i.e. if your character is a "Conan, "James Bond", or a "Superman", do you say those games have less risk because they are already pretty powerful and therefore needs less game inflation while 1st edition D&D is pretty risky, so the players expect more rewards?  I am not sure but just food for thought.

Speaking for myself only, I like to play competent characters.  What that means is playing a character that has a reasonable chance of succeeding and surviving without GM fudging, script immunity, and other special treatment to keep them alive.  Thus if I start out with a relatively incompetent character, which is what first level D&D characters are in many ways, I want the character to grow.  But if I start out with a competent character, I consider growth much less of an issue.  For example, when we play Champions, the amount of experience that we usually get in a campaign is usually significantly less than the points used to build the character, so a character can change a bit but not as significantly as a D&D character does between 1st level and 10th level.

Quote from: VBWyrdeMy what a thoughtful essay.  Thank you.
...

One way to manage the issue you raise, as a GM, that could be effective is to keep Players from focusing on the game mechanics at all.  That's what I've always done in my world.   I very infrequently divulge game mechanics to the Players because I do not want them to be thinking in terms of Power Ups and Experience Points.  
...

The other thing I did was to create my own rules system, that I then declined to delineate to the Players, for above mentioned reason.   ....

Ok, back to the second point - story matters.   If you provide a compelling World that is truly fascinating with rich and meaningful adventures, you can substitute the textured story of the world for the mechanical thrill of Powering Up.  

You're welcome for the thoughtfulness.  Thinking about games is much easier than thinking about more mundane topics.

As for replacing mechanics with Story ... whew!  You must be one heck of a story-teller if you can keep your players interested.

Quote from: riprockYou're welcome for the thoughtfulness.  Thinking about games is much easier than thinking about more mundane topics.

As for replacing mechanics with Story ... whew!  You must be one heck of a story-teller if you can keep your players interested.

Honestly, it's not that hard.  The key is to use Description effectively, and to have an interesting BackStory.   It pretty much works on it's own.  Once weening the Players off of the numerics the rest falls pretty much into place.   But old habits die hard, as they say, and the toughest part is getting the players to buy in.   So yes, the Story has to be good enough.   I read a lot of classics, which helps.   For some reason the Classics, as opposed to pulp fiction and/or contemporary writing, carries a certain weight, and texture, that moderns find difficult to duplicate, but has surprising resonance with Players.   Original Arthurian legends by Chretien de Troyes was where I got started, and took it from there.   Such works also help considerably in terms of Descriptive phraseology, and scene setting.

The way I convinced the players was to tell them very plainly why I play my world the way I do.   I also made it clear that I refrain from cheating on the dice.   On important rolls I will tell them what they need to succeed and let them roll - which adds considerably to the fun of the game because they only get to roll when it's an important roll - all mundane rolls I do.

Anyway, I'd give it a try.   You may find it works better than you expect.  And it doesn't require a change in the basic structure of the game (ie - Player Empowerment).   Ok, nuff said (I have to run to work).   Best wishes!

- Mark

I like the thoughts riprock.  I think character advancement is a great reinforcement to the game but also like to see it scaled back: steady incrimental progress instead of steps.

Great opening post riprock, though I agree with Mr. Morrow that the lethality in Gygax and Arneson's campaign is a factor you aren't taking into consideration in your critique.  And the power curve in AD&D flattens out at the top.  For a campaign with a wide scope the stat deterioration and natural death rules in the DMG could have an impact as well.

Quote from: jrientsGreat opening post riprock, though I agree with Mr. Morrow that the lethality in Gygax and Arneson's campaign is a factor you aren't taking into consideration in your critique.  

Well, I think Mr. Morrow's notion of freezing commandos in suspended animation is a very expensive --- oh, wait, you mean the Mr. Morrow posting here, not the one with the eponymous post-apocalyptic Project.

Whoops, it's late, I can feel my prose getting less coherent by the minute.  I fear this post will be less organized than the opening post...

Quote from: MrMorrowWithoutThePostApocalypticMorrowProjectTo be fair to Gygax and Arneson, in a fairly high fatality environment where lots of PCs die along the way, it's not unreasonable to assume that the PCs that survive represent the sort of best-of-the-best elite that Conan represented. That totally breaks down once fair challenges and script immunity are introduced, meaning that PCs gain the unlimited grown for simply showing up every session. In other words, in a competitive game, players earn the grown of their characters. In games where PCs rarely ever die, regardless of how foolish their actions, they don't really earn that growth.

Somewhat speculative claim: I think Gygax and Arneson's groups dealt with player deaths much better than the average 1970's and 1980's D&D players.

When Gygax&Arneson killed off a playtester's PC, the playtester was probably accustomed to losing at wargames and didn't feel that his social standing in the gaming group was impaired.  When a  newbie D&D player lost his 5th-level PC and the DM told him to come back as a 1st-level replacement in a party of 5th-level PCs, it caused tensions.  Eventually, combined with optional rules from Dragon, it caused the style of D&D play that is parodied in the Hackmaster books, with the "main character" being surrounded by hirelings, proteges, etc. so that the campaign won't suffer much from player death.

To divert somewhat into the trivia of gaming history, I seem to recall a white-box book that specifies that a player character may name a single heir before going forth to risk everything -- presumably in the white-box days, equipment gained from the "inheritance" softened the blow of player character death and altered the starting equipment of some characters considerably.

Also to be fair to G&A, they were playtesting with fairly grown-up, sophisticated, pulp-fiction-savvy wargamers and the resulting game was intended for adaptation by reasonable adults. The game was often mangled and maladapted by folks who didn't have any background in wargaming, pulp fiction, or rule adjustment.  Some of those maladapters were nine-year-olds playing D&D without having read Conan;  some of them were taking over TSR and sneering at gamers as social inferiors.

Quote from: jrientsAnd the power curve in AD&D flattens out at the top.  For a campaign with a wide scope the stat deterioration and natural death rules in the DMG could have an impact as well.

I have a somewhat distorted view of Gygaxian play balance, because I have seen a lot of games that achieved temporary fun by taking out most of the challenge, and I have seen a lot of games that achieved  conflict by becoming ego contests between DMs and players, but I don't think I've seen it done well, as Gygax was able to do it.

A lot of characters who *should* have died were instead humiliated and kept alive (e.g. sold into slavery) and the campaign died instead of the characters.
Also, a lot of characters who *should* have died, or at least retreated, were handed victories they didn't deserve ... leading to a "happy ending" without challenge.  Those campaigns tapered off from boredom rather than dying with hard feelings.  It would have been interesting if the characters got old and stiff (but more intelligent and wise) as the DMG instructed.

So ... I've seen some high-level AD&D campaigns that were seriously out of control.  Possibly those power curves should have flattened out but didn't.  And those are probably the *only* high-level D&D campaigns I've ever seen.

All right, I'm too tired to think straight, I need to wrap this up.

I do agree with the notion that setting matters, Description matters.  If I could describe my setting as beautifully to my players as it appears in my mind, they would be fascinated and hypnotized and entranced.  My Descriptions aren't quite all that, unfortunately.

QuoteHonestly, it's not that hard. The key is to use Description effectively, and to have an interesting BackStory. It pretty much works on it's own. Once weening the Players off of the numerics the rest falls pretty much into place.

 I *do* think it's somewhat hard -- perhaps because I'm addicted to playing games with numbers, and so I can't wean players from them because I like them too much.

My current GURPS game is pretty darn light on the numbers -- we only need the GURPS Lite rules.  The thing is that's not enough to really fire my descriptions.  My players aren't immersed in steampunk.  At best they can compare the world to Final Fantasy games of various descriptions.

Digression: I have one player who disdains rules on the tabletop, but plays PSP games like Final Fantasy Tactics, which are absolute orgies of point-stacking and bonus-twiddling, as far as I can tell.  So he *likes* numerical games, but not on the tabletop.

Postscriptum: This is not just a D&D issue. I've definitely seen high-powered campaigns in other rule systems (such as Rolemaster) get bogged down in a treadmill of endless advancement that didn't advance the depth of characterization or gameplay.