Info dump 1:5

Last info dump, for this lovely Monday morning.

Before we talked about character classes, my local gaggle of gamers and storytellers discussed weapon proficiencies. What if Sword Guy wants to become Dagger Guy, or Hammer Guy?

The basic consensus was as follows.

Sword Guy should be better with daggers, then with hammers. He's a blades-oriented person, who's used to stabbing stuff, not mashing stuff.

He needs more dakka.

We went back and forth on various ways to articulate scores to similar attributes (well, if we take half of his sword skill, modified by his finesse with bladed weapons, and factor in the Coriolis effect...). It was quite a merry-go-round of gameplay ideas, some of which I've taken under consideration.

My idea was to use a flowchart of sorts. Starting with these categories:

• One Hand
• Two Hand

• Bladed
• Blunt
• Ranged

• Light
• Heavy

And so on, and so forth. Any weapon the players can find would have a tag, with the categories it's in. For example, a beer bottle is a one-handed, bladed, light weapon. A grenade launcher is a two-handed, ranged, heavy weapon. By having common statistics, a player can diversify their weapon choice without too much of a loss. Switching from rapiers to short-swords wouldn't be so bad, given they're both one-handed bladed weapons. Switching from garrote wire (Two-handed, bladed, light) to power fists (One-handed, blunt, heavy) would be much more difficult, demonstrated by their lack of similar distinctions.

It seems simple enough, and even has an added bonus- karate fits in nicely. (Any hands, blunt, light).

Melee Test (after karate test) just got much more interesting.

~

For being a good reader who slogs through all of the info dump posts, you get ice cream.

Stay frosty, comrades.

Info dump 1:4

FANBOY ALERT

I like Fallout.

FANBOY ALERT

As much as I play, and as much as I ponder past experiences, I still like it. Except, there is one thing I think is out of place. I don't like the leveling; I think I prefer how The Elder Scrolls does it more. Both games use a combination of skill, experience, and levels; just in different ways.

In Fallout, you get experience, then level up, and choose what skills to improve.

In Skyrim, you use skills, get experience, then those skills level up.

It sounds like the Mojave Wasteland would be less restrictive about this, but it's a realism point I'm forced to consider. In Fallout, you can shoot people until you're good at making persuasive arguments and operating computers. In Skyrim, you shoot people, then you get better with bows, for shooting people.

In another caffeine-addled discussion from last night, I talked with a few fellow players about leveling up, and its relation to difficulty. We decided on the following:

• We dislike level requirements. "You don't have enough levels to pick up a sword"
• We dislike level zones. "You don't have enough levels to try this level."
• We think levels should expand the character, not restrict them. As a level 1 with a dingy iron sword and a few loaves of bread, I want to be able to try to fight Azgoloth the Great Devourer. I'm going to die no matter what I try, but I'd at least like to try. Maybe once I hit level 9, I'll have enough cool skills to take him on, using my skill as a player to compensate for my inadequacies as a character.
• We're okay with needing certain items to go to certain places. Legend of Zelda was the key point in this one. "You need the iron boots to do the water dungeon." We're okay with this.
• We like it when games challenge the players over the characters. Legend of Zelda, again, provides a good argument. Every enemy requires your wits and abilities as a player, not what gear you're wearing or how many levels link has in throwing bombs at people.

Leveling up is a tedious, glorious pasttime. The quote I remember was, "I hate leveling up." In context, I think a better translation is "I hate grinding." Everybody likes levels, but nobody likes the tedious grind to climb them. I very handily agree with this.

To that end, I've made a level-up mechanic for the EE. You get an extra point in a statistic when you roll a critical success. No levels, no XP, just that sweet, mouth-watering natural 20.

It's something that I haven't seen in other games (just me, I'm sure it exists somewhere), and I think there may be a reason for that.

In a game where players can make challenges for themselves (I'm going to lift this big rock), it would be all too easy to farm levels out of this. A player-made grind. And without a difficulty scale, the necessity to do the grind in new places would vanish.

It's a fun idea, for sure- but it needs a lot of renovation done on it. I'll keep dredging for ideas, and see what I come up with.

Info dump 1:3

Last night, I got into a very circular conversation about the nature of re-specializing characters. What if someone makes a build, then realizes they don't actually like it that much, and want to do something else?

I'd like to expound a brilliant and thought-provoking essay about the nature of change, and how a re-spec is like a metamorphosis for a character, with potential characterization like a cocoon to emerge from. Maybe some other time, I remain hopeful.

Instead, one particular quote caught me off-guard. I don't even think I heard it in context. The caffeine rattling my veins made it a little difficult to focus on any particular thing for very long.

The quote was, "Class is a name."

Speaking as nerds, "class" means a concept for a character build. Fighter. Rogue. Paladin. Evil Paladin. Etc.

The basepoint of my argument against class systems is, "what if I want to be a sneaky wizard? What am I then?" Most games wouldn't allow a wizard to do anything remotely sneaky without multi-classing, let alone do it well. To that end, what's a sneaky wizard?

We didn't come up with any creative names, but another gem came up. A class name is the build concept in one word.

Let's talk MMORPGs for a bit. Specifically, WoW, that great sinking ship which inspired all others. The game has... something like over 10 classes by now. Warrior, rogue, mage, warlock, paladin, priest, blah blah blah. Each one has unique points to it, and favor certain play-styles. But, courtesy of the gaming community, there's really only three classes:

• Tank
• DPS
• Healer

At the end of it all, those are the available classes. Because WoW is such a combat-heavy game, there's no other gameplay that needs attention. Because of this, you are a tanker, nuker, or healer. I chose the kiwi-flavored one.

Looking at them as presented, the classes all have very different presentations. In a better game, these facades would carry over uniquely, giving each of them a truly different play-style and necessity.

Having angered every WoW player on this blog, I'm reminded of Guild Wars. It had six classes to choose from, but two slots to do this in. The character creation was meticulous, and the carry-overs gave so much definition to your play-style.

• Warrior/Monk: Unstoppable self-healing guy
• Necromancer/Mesmer: Deathly Trickster
• Elementalist/Ranger: Long-distance blaster... with a cool pet.

In a dungeon delve, it didn't matter who you had. As long as you had the basics covered (a healer. Good lord, bring a healer), you could run in with whatever pants you had on at the time. As long as the team could figure out the dynamic created by their interplay, the sky's the limit.

Between 10 classes, 3 specs of gameplay for each, and having a secondary class, there's 900 very distinct combinations of player.

God, I miss playing that game.

~

What's in a name? My studies indicate everything. Your class, or archetype, or trope, or what have you, is the glove you wear to interact with the world. It defines your options, and gives all participants a very detailed picture of your character.

To that end, the Escapade Engine character sheet is going to have a space- right next to the character's name- for the class they're playing as.

• Thief
• Paladin
• Archer
• Alchemist
• Tank Driver
• Taxi Driver
• Drifter
• Survivalist
• Tinkerer
• Scout
• Time Traveler
• Mad Scientist
• Mad Hobo Scientist
• Professional Human
• The list stretches on into infinity...

Info dump 1:2

... Guess who saw the LEGO Movie? This guy. Guess who's putting up a SPOILER WARNING? This guy.










Arr, matey, spoilers off the starboard bow!









~

On so many levels, the LEGO movie is probably the best damn movie I've seen all year. Appropriate animation, some interesting twists in the script, and messages about creativity, teamwork, conformity, and control. And it's adorable.

The scene that broke me into little plastic pieces was "the real world." At that point, given only a scant bit of foreshadowing, the audience believes our protagonist is going to stay in the LEGO world, comfortably surrounded by plastic blocks. Then he falls off the table, and sees a god in the form of a creative child.

If you're reading this, you've either seen it before, or don't care. So, I'll just dive straight into the meat of it.

On a simple level, it's about the fun. Building things is fun. Making new friends is fun. Going places and seeing things is fun. And, of course, stirring up trouble is a must. All of these things are the players (lego people) taking initiative in the GM's (Will Ferrel's) world. We could even think of his kid as the spirit of adventure, taking unlikely allies on a journey they'll never forget.

To contrast this, Krazy Glue is not fun. It stops everything, making it solid. There is no gameplay except for standing like a happy statue. The GM's mission is to use as little Krazy Glue as possible. Queue the expertly-named Micro-managers.

But with more Krazy Glue, the more we depress the multi-digited god-child. Our fun is getting in the way of his. With this realization biting at his heels, the GM should just go with it, and find a new kind of fun in the creative re-construction of a normally systematic and sterile world.

~

Or, maybe it's just a fun movie about plastic figures on a mission. The takeaway; Have fun, save the world. I like that.

Info Dump 1:1

The past weekend has been a flurry of activity and ideas. Some good, some great, some not-so-great. For this reason, I've decided there's too much info for one post. So, welcome to info dump.

~

Progress on karate test comes sluggishly, as usual. I have a rough idea for what I'm going to do, though. The player's choices are:

• Light attack
• Heavy attack
• Block
• Grapple

Okay, alright, so it works in fighting games. What of it? It seems like a good enough place to start. Might have made a good SNES game a few decades ago.

I'm going to flavor it up a bit by adding "stances" or "inflections." These are kind of like toppings, which add a certain mood to what they're doing.

• Aggressive (extra damage)
• Evasive (extra dodge)
• Composed (extra chance to hit)
• Defensive (negate some incoming damage)

And, possibly more. I wanted to Keep It Stupid Simple. With a fixed amount of AP, this should be just fine. The numbers will take a little bit of balancing, and some though... but won't they always? My only concern so far is keeping aggressive light attack useful, when heavy attack is available. Certainly a conundrum, and I plan to solve it by watching kung-fu movies, and clips of actual martial arts tournaments. You need to know the rules before you can break them.

Endeavors

Wow, I've been slacking on tags lately.

Just like I've been slacking on a few other things. The next few weeks will decide how volatile the end result is, and I'm hoping for as few burns as possible. Worst-case scenario is everything going up in smoke, because smart people make the stupidest mistakes.

To that end, I'm taking on a new project called Millie. It's a horror game, done in the medium of a google presentation.

The original idea was a choose-your-own adventure, where the players took turns making decisions regarding the character; without informing anyone else. Originally I wanted to use a paper binder (flip to page X), but I think electronic is the way to go.

~

The players will take on the roles of the voices in Millie's head. Their job isn't so much to control her, but to interact with her- and to decide what happens to her in the end.

The mechanics will be designed in such a way that more players makes it harder. As the number of players increases, they all see fewer things less frequently. Each one is given a "snapshot" into the action being created by all the others, and a limited input into Millie's posture.

Along the way, the equivalent of HP is "red marks." These represent damage to Millie's childhood psychology, which will shape her as an adult. Seeing a dog die, falling through old floorboards (which gives her a fear of heights later on), etc, will all give her a "Red Mark." At the end of the game, all the marks are added up.

A perfect game- 0 red marks- results in amnesia. She forgets about the events of the story, and goes on to live a normal adult life, unaware of her week-long adventure when she was ten.

None of the endings involve Millie's death. I am not going to kill a child.

The gameplay is relatively simple. Choose-your-own adventure, and Millie can find items along the way. Flashlight, radio, candles, crayons, dog food, etc. These will make new options available.

The setting is going to pose a hard challenge. I'm thinking of going for a 1960s alien/paranormal shindig, but I'm still a little bit undecided. For now, that's what I'm running with.

~

The "message" of the game is that the players are ruining Millie's life. By having her do "gamey" things, they're having very serious consequences on her.

The beginning of every slide will describe Millie's current position, in the most dangerous and precarious language possible- describing her doubt about the voices in her head.

I still have to pen out a rough script, but I'm confident the gameplay to follow will be relatively simple.

~

Karate test is still on. I'm making it a goal to work on both projects, erryday. We'll see how things are in a week. Thanks for sticking around so far.

Mechanics, cont

So, I wanted to talk about how the real world informs the dice mechanic. Specifically, rolling dice on a table to generate a scripted series of events.

For this example, I'll use an amateur blogger.

Roll 1D8
1-3: Blogger does not make a weekly update. Forgets, procrastinates, etc.
4-7: Blogger updates late, with mediocre content
8: Blogger updates on time, with good content

As we can see, the tendency is for the blogger to fail at his blogging. With a few modifiers he could at least get out of the 1-3 zone, leveling him out between the middle and upper echelon of results. But this leaves him with too much success. Let's try something a bit more devious.

Action- RPG Test
Once per month, the player can attempt to make a basic mechanical structure, meant to grow into a fully working RPG system. Roll 1D1. On a 1, the system fails, and the player is back where they began.

~

Persistence is a virtue. I feel I've gotten to know it more familiarly over the course of this escapade, though there's still so much more to accomplish.

Accomplishment feels mostly unfamiliar at this point. Now that I've proposed... five tests? Six? And all of them have fallen to ground before takeoff. At least now I can try to focus on something else, ha ha.

At least I have a good reason for it this time, instead of just "I don't feel like doing it." Hack test was a very, very far-flung foray into electronic mischief, a field which I barely understand. Add to this a dubious set of mechanics, and a mostly impractical toolset, and I'm in the middle of scotch nowhere. Fabulous.

I don't feel like doing it.

~

On a positive note, karate test looks much more appealing now. Out of the fire, into the frying pan.

C'mon, natural crits. Don't fail me now.

RPG-Ball

Like most nerds, I just don't get sports. Do the thing. Win the points.

Like most Americans, I watched the Superbowl. I'm from Washington State, so it kinda came to me.

Recipe for disaster. Nerdy kid watches the big game... and likes it? Someone, somewhere, just made a lucky die roll.

~

As I watched it, I analyzed the match for the gameplay in it. I thought of it as an RPG.

First up, the stupid approach. All players spend all rounds making Skill: Football checks on this table:

1: Injury
2: Wildly ineffective, lose points to other team
3: Fail
4-8: Marginal success
9-12: Average success
13-18: Good success
19-20: Critical

Just do that for 2 hours. Whee. Fun.

~

The less crappy approach would be to look at the common traits, used by (theoretically) everyone.

• Throwing
• Catching
• Running
• Tackling
• Blocking
• Dodging
• Showing Off

Any football fan can point out there's more, but hey- I'm new here. Different players in the party have different skill distributions: QB is mostly throwing, Linebacker is mostly Blocking, wide received is running/catching, etc. Fighter, rogue, and ranger analogs all around, with the cheer team as clerics.

The analogies reinforce the idea of adventurers doing the same thing, in different ways. He hits people. He runs really fast. She yells and waves pompoms. Everyone draws from the same pool of skills, but in different aspects. How boring would it be, if everyone was good at everything?

"Hey, can you be QB? I want to go hit people with my titanesque man-shoulders."

To me, personally, this just goes even further on the theme of character size/weight. I really wish I could D&D the thing and have everyone be whatever neutrally, but this is good. A character's representation actually affects what they can do, and defines them further as a character. The scrawny guy actually does scrawny-guy things, instead of taking bullets like a champ.