How Long is a Campaign?

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 25, 2009

Filed under: Tabletop Games 72 comments

die6.jpg
This is a variant on the “how long is a piece of string?” question, I suppose.

The games I’ve run last a few months. Ten to twenty sessions seems ideal. The last one I ran was fifteen sessions. I know some people have settings and characters that they play for years and years, their tale spooling ever onward as their rulebooks get dog-eared and their character sheets fade with age. As someone who loves inventing new settings and populating them with characters, I don’t want to be stuck in any one place for too long.

Changing systems usually means changing the setting, but a change in setting doesn’t always mean a new set of rulebooks. Anecdotes suggest that some groups are system-hoppers. They leap from one system to another, trying a little bit of everything like kids at a candy buffet. Other groups pick a rulebook and a setting, and then hunker down for a long stretch without possibility of parole. And if you can’t tell which approach I prefer from those descriptions then communication between us is simply not possible.

But as a connoisseur of anecdotal input on roleplaying games (and really, what other kind of data is there on stuff like this?) I’m curious how other people do their thing. How often do you jump systems? How often do you wipe the board clean and start a new setting? And how often do you end a campaign arc and begin a new one?

Bonus question: Assuming your campaigns end, what is the survival rate of characters going from the first session to the final one?

 


 

D&D Interview

By Shamus Posted Tuesday Feb 24, 2009

Filed under: Links 40 comments

Fantasy Magazine has a great interview with the Comic Irregulars, the team behind Darths & Droids.

David Karlov comments that making the comics has given him a new appreciation for Star Wars Episodes I & II. That’s interesting, since the opposite happened to me in making DM of the Rings. I can’t see the movies without thinking of the jokes connected to each scene.

The one question I would have asked them is how in the name of Yoda’s tiny lightsaber do they divide up the work between seven people? Most webcomic teams max out at two. I suppose you can divide this sort of comic into a few distinct jobs:

  1. Plotting, story arc. D&D is obviously much more elaborate in this regard than DMotR ever was.
  2. Coming up with individual jokes and writing dialog.
  3. Gathering up the required screenshots.
  4. Comic layout.

If these were stand-alone gag strips then I could see how they could all contribute jokes, but D&D is carefully plotted and each strip leads directly to the next. I can’t imagine how you could balance the workload without people getting in each other’s way. It would be like seven guys trying to move a single end table. I think D&D in wholly unique in this regard. I can’t think of another webcomic with such a large team or ambitious plan.

EDIT: Last time I talked about D&D, Henebry left the following comment, which nicely heads off arguments over which comic is “better”:

Daimbert: I've had the same thought (Shamus would have done it funnier) more than once while reading Darths and Droids, but as they rounded out the first movie I had a new thought: they're not really aiming to do what Shamus accomplished. Shamus' take on LoR is, at bottom, parodic, theirs not.

Both start with the same premise: given that this narrative has played such a seminal role in the consciousness of gamers, how would these narrratives have played out if current tabletop rpgs had given rise to them rather than the other way round? They differ, though, in their responses.

Shamus answers the question with the cynicism of a great satirist. His GM is a self-important fool who has crafted a campaign of unplayable complexity; his players are too engaged in petty rivalries and private obsessions to be interested in the epic story set before them. This produces a wonderful tension between the gorgeous screencaps taken from Peter Jackson's movies (in which the scenery and actions really are epic) and the low-comedy dialogue spoken by the players. We readers are led to expect that these images record what's going on in the imaginations of the GM and players, but this expectation is defeated, again and again. In this way the comic pokes fun at the grandiosity of tabletop rpgs, the notion (endemic among us) that in our raucous sessions we can achieve a narrative scope akin to the great work of Tolkien or Robert E. Howard. And we gamers laugh because we're geeks and we've learned to take joy in laughing at ourselves. That is our great strength, the thing that separates us from the jocks.

By contrast, the Comic Irregulars answer the question with the idealism of true believers in the promise of tabletop rpgs to elevate poorly conceived plotting through occasional flashes of insight. Sure, in Jim (Qui-Gon) and in Pete (R2D2) we get satirical portraits (the gung-ho treasure-seeker and the superstitious min-maxer). But with the others (and even sometimes with Jim and Pete) the outcome is a story with moments of dramatic tension far more interesting than the original movie. Case in point: Sally's Jar-Jar, who (far from Lucas's oafish Stepin Fetchit) exhibits the wild inventiveness of a child's imagination. The Phantom Menace storyline in Darths isn't a preconceived epic crafted by an overambitious GM, but rather something produced organically by a group of people working interactively, and often with surprising but brilliant results. True, the story which emerges is too convoluted to make a good movie â€" but we already knew that, right? :) And the storyline that matters is at least as much the story of Sally and Ben and Jim as it is of Jar-Jar and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. As if in response to Shamus' satire on tabletop rpgs in DM of the Rings, the Comic Irregulars demonstrate that the real aim of tabletop gaming is not the simulation of cinematic epic, but rather the collaborative enactment of epic action.

 


 

Stolen Pixels #67: A Place for Pie

By Shamus Posted Tuesday Feb 24, 2009

Filed under: Column 17 comments

This may not be 100% accurate, but this is how I remember my Wii Fit sessions.

 


 

New Site Ads

By Shamus Posted Monday Feb 23, 2009

Filed under: Notices 44 comments

It is quite strange and disorienting to see ads for myself on my own website. Rest assured this is just a temporary thing. Soon those will be replaced by regular ads for things that are not me. My site is joining Themis Media ad network – the company behind The Escapist – as part of their ad network. This shouldn’t affect the content of the site in any other way, although if you’ve been coming here every day in the hopes that I’ll start posting hate speech and pornography, you’ll be sorry to hear that is no longer an option. (Note that they don’t own the site or anything. They’re not hosting it. I’m just flying under their flag. This is a deal either of us can walk away from if it doesn’t work out, so you don’t have to worry about me “selling” my own site.)

I’m doing this out of naked greed. I’m trying to amass a mountain of riches so that I may live in the sort of opulence befitting someone of my epic magnificence. All will fear me and tremble at my power. No one can…

Whoops. Sorry, I’ve been playing Overlord recently. I’m suffering occasional bouts of megalomania as a result.

Anyway. New ads. Hope you don’t mind my smiling mug looking at you while this thing gets rolling.

 


 

Quick Review: Lego Indiana Jones

By Shamus Posted Monday Feb 23, 2009

Filed under: Game Reviews 31 comments

Oh wow! It’s Harrison Ford! Oh wait. No.  It’s just a Lego guy. Had me going there for a second.
Oh wow! It’s Harrison Ford! Oh wait. No. It’s just a Lego guy. Had me going there for a second.
Lego Indiana Jones came with my Xbox. I thought I’d say a few words about it.

I played Lego Star Wars a couple of years ago, and found it to be a very stereotypical casual game: Easy to learn. Charming. Playable in little ten to fifteen minute bursts. Mildly humorous. Fun.

The thrust of a Lego game is to take a movie series and transport it into the Lego reality of plastic bits and bright colors. There’s no dialog. The characters all emote with gestures, facial expressions, and very simple grunts. “Uh-oh!” is the closest thing you’ll hear to English. The movie will be broken up into a few distinct chapters. You’ll watch a little cutscene to set the stage for a chapter, and then the game turns you loose in a series of rooms where you bash up the bad guys until they shatter into plastic nobs. Usually you have two characters in your party, and you will need to occasionally shift between the two in order to solve some mild puzzles. There are a bunch of secret parts to find, which you can use to build secret objects that unlock various rewards. That’s pretty much it.

The formula doesn’t work quite as well with Indy as it did with Star Wars. (Spaceships are easier to envision with plastic bricks than jungles or Cairo.) The levels here are longer. Each chapter is about twenty to forty minutes long, and you can’t save. You also can’t die or fail, so you don’t have to worry about getting sent back to the beginning of the chapter. If you fall, you just pop back to life again. But I often found myself thinking I’d had enough Lego fun about ten minutes before I reached the end of the chapter, but was obliged to keep going to get to the next save. The game is a bit like cotton candy. It’s fluffy and fun, but I can only take so much of it at one time.

You thought he was getting out his whip, but no! He accidentally pulled out a BANANA instead. It’s funny because you weren’t expecting it! Or maybe you were! Either way, you can’t skip it! Wheee!
You thought he was getting out his whip, but no! He accidentally pulled out a BANANA instead. It’s funny because you weren’t expecting it! Or maybe you were! Either way, you can’t skip it! Wheee!
The cutscenes are unskippable. This is a crime. There are entire scenes of Lego people grunting and mugging at each other, trying to convey an entirely dialog-driven stage-setting scene via pantomime. It’s not entertaining or funny. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll get the gist after about ten seconds. If you haven’t, it will just be meaningless jibber-jabber. The humor is bonk-on-head level comedy, so if you’re over six you’re probably not going to find these scenes very entertaining. But even if they were, I thought we had grown out of the unskippable cutscene by now?

But in the end, it’s pretty much the same formula and the same fun. I’m afraid there are no Deep Truths about game design to reveal here. Nothing offensively bad to get worked up about. No revelations about what makes gaming great. It’s a very formulaic series, and this isn’t the best example of the formula. If you’ve never tried the whole Lego thing before but want some amusing low-key fun, start with Lego Star Wars. (I suggest the game based on the prequel trilogy, as it lets you smash up little plastic Jar-Jar with your lightsaber as many times as you like.)

 


 

Unskippable: The Darkness

By Shamus Posted Saturday Feb 21, 2009

Filed under: Movies 23 comments

I remember Yahtzee covered this game back in his pre-Escapist days and he mentioned how slowly the main character loaded his shotgun during the opening cinematic. At the time I thought it was a strange and incongruous thing to bring up. Okay, it’s slow. It’s a cutscene. So what? But now that I realize that the loading sequence comprises nearly the entirety of the opening scene his criticism makes a lot of sense.

This one was interesting because it’s a semi-interactive scene. They actually had control of where the camera would point. From the video, I can’t actually tell what sparks the conflict. They’re driving through the tunnel, then they see a police car and start driving like madmen. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t tell if it wasn’t explained in the scene at all, or if some detail was missed because they had the camera pointed in the wrong direction.

I agree that the tunnel was just preposterously long. I understand that for technological reasons they needed to not attempt to render New York in all of its framerate-smashing glory, particularly not for a single throwaway scene. But it feels sort of odd to pretend to be in New York and then just have a long tunnel scene. If nothing else, they should at least have had an establishing shot of the city (a still frame or whatever) before chucking the player into a tunnel. Another approach would have been to set the thing at night. They could have alternated between tunnel / bridge / expressway scenery with just city lights in the background.

“Well, things must be pretty desperate if they’re giving the cameraman a shotgun.”

It stimulates my laughter gland. Once again, nice going to Graham and Paul.

 


 

Experienced Points: Excuses on the High Seas

By Shamus Posted Friday Feb 20, 2009

Filed under: Column 67 comments

“Piracy” has been this week’s topic at The Escapist, and I jumped on the bandwagon with my run down of common reasons given to excuse piracy and why they (mostly) don’t work. (Although there are a few reasons (surprisingly, DRM doesn’t dominate the article, hooray for self-restraint) to which I am sympathetic.)

For contrast, self-professed pirate Lee Evans at Downwards Compatible has posted a list of common reasons for piracy. On Monday he plans to offer some suggestions on how piracy can be reduced.

I’m always glad to read the thoughts of clear-headed pirates who are honest with themselves about what they’re doing. I’ve said before that piracy is a social problem, not a technological one. I still think piracy is wrong, and I take no part in it myself, but I also don’t like the common practice of lumping pirates in with muggers, carjackers, or scam artists. I’m not suggesting that pirates are downtrodden victims and that if we listen to their reasons and have a hug that everything will be just fine. I’m saying that unlike crime in meatspace, you can’t fight piracy with guns, lawsuits, or DRM. It’s a social problem that can only be mitigated, never eliminated. Step one in solving a social or cultural problem like this is understanding what motivates people. Some are dedicated pirates who are lost to publishers, but some can be turned into customers. I think publishers would have better luck ignoring the former and wooing the latter, instead of ineffectually attempting to punish both.