[Cross-posted from Cultures of Play, because this is really more of a statement of position on design than a discussion.]
In the last three weeks or so, I’ve realized that I’ve come to a place in my gaming thinking that I didn’t expect to. That is, I think that good rules and game design can help a group form a healthy social dynamic, but they can’t replace it. The rules give you a starting point for the group to coalesce, but they aren’t the whole story.
Last night, the group I play with had a conversation about the rules for In a Wicked Age. Ted objected that the action sequence rules allow whoever has narration to make big decisions that potentially effect other players not involved in the conflict. (The specific case was answering, “Yes, and then two weeks later…” when one of the characters was scheduled to be executed the next day.) My response was that if someone does something that you’re not cool with, you should say that and ask them to reconsider. In a Wicked Age explicitly allows this, but to me that’s beside the point. This something that I think you should do in any game, regardless of what the rules say. In my ideal world, the social dynamic of the group is such that sort of input is expected and encouraged.
What this revolves around for me is contribution. It should come as no surprise to anyone that I love collaborative storytelling. That’s why I do this. I totally buy into the idea of Story Now: that what we do at the table shouldn’t be planned beforehand, that everyone should contribute, and everyone’s contributions should be transformed by their interactions with others’. I think I loved this before I started doing improv; I keep doing improv because it does this. (To be fair, right now roleplaying does it a lot better for me, simply because its storytelling aesthetic better matches my own, but that’s a separate issue.)
Which gets us to the players-around-the-table level. I’ve come to realize that the mere existance of a mechanic for, let’s say, introducing a fact about the world, doesn’t mean that any given person will necessarily use it. If the social dynamics of the group are such that you, for whatever reason, feel uncomfortable contributing like that, you won’t. Similarly, I feel like the lack of an explicit rule to do that doesn’t mean that you can’t, provided that the group is open to those sorts of suggestions. I’ve come to realize the that relationships of the people around the table matter a heck of a lot more to the game than what the book actually says.
This not at all where I was in my thinking about games even a year ago, and certainly not where I was when I first encountered these things that we now call Story Games. The idea that we couldn’t just engage the rules and fix everything? Sacrilege. Player empowerment would save us! All we needed was good game design, and we’d overcome all of those messy interpersonal problems. If that wasn’t working, it must be a “social contract problem.” (I kid because I love.)
Now this isn’t to say that there aren’t games that push groups in the right direction. In fact, I think the best designed games are those that explicitly acknowledge that the game is played by people and focus on the design as (to continue stealing a phrase from Paul Czege) social architecture. Recently, more games have focused on how their rules are used, not just what the rules say. I think games like Primetime Adventures, where the scene-framing rules both don’t allow you to not contribute and don’t allow you ignore what people put out there, do what I want. It sets the expectation that people will contribute and that their contributions are to be built on. (Again, no big surprise, but my own current design, A Penny For My Thoughts, has this an explicit feature.) To keep on the PTA bandwagon for a minute, its use of Fan Mail to acknowledge and encourage contributes by others furthers this idea. As Christina has said elsewhere, the great success of much of PTA is in “invisible elements of player participation visible.”
So I think where I’ve come to is that I’m not as interested as I once was in rules that help us determine what happens in the fiction, though they clearly do need to do that. Instead, I’m more interested in how game design can help point us down the road to forming a collaborative, supportive social dynamic. And that’s a weird realization for me, but I think a useful one.