We honour the real when we make a decision in service
of the integrity of the in-game reality.
We honour the play when we make a decision in service
of the group having fun at the table.
We don’t need to choose. We can plan so that both of these
sides are honoured, conjuring realplay to the table, an experience that
is a fun game based within a world that feels real.
Honouring Real
We honour the real when we do what feels realistic, even if
it’s not all that fun. The dragon breathes fire, enough to fill the cavern.
200d6 damage, okay you’re dead. Well yeah, nobody could just stand there and
take that.
Honouring Play
We honour the play when we do what feels fun, even if it
doesn’t feel all that realistic. The dragon breathes fire. What’s your HP? 31?
Okay it does... 5d6 damage, rolling 16. Flame washes over you but I guess you
get mostly behind a rock. You’re down to half HP! What do you do?
Pursuing Realplay
Realplay is what we pursue when we try, in every element of
the game, to honour both the real and the play. This can be considered in every
part of the process, from system design to worldbuilding to adventure design to
running the game at the table.
It’s as simple as abandoning the false dichotomy between the
real and the play, and seeking the solution that honours both.
Going back to our strawdragon example, both are obviously
meant to be unsatisfying. Getting burned up before you can react makes sense if
we imagine a real, colossal dragon, but it doesn’t feel like much fun if it
happens out of nowhere. However, this excerpt could be a part of realplay if
the deadliness of this dragon had been properly signposted, and the players had
plenty of choices that didn’t involve going head to head with this
titanic threat.
Losing half your HP to this devastating attack feels much
more appropriate for a game, but it makes that dragon feel less like a real,
gigantic threat that would be a true monster of this world. However, this could
also have been part of realplay if we’re treating HP like Hit Protection or
Guard, and found a way to narrate it a bit more convincingly. Likewise, if we
know the dragon is unlikely to burn you away with a single burst of flame,
perhaps we adjust how that dragon is described in the world. Are they old,
losing their incendiary vigour? Does he always try to capture adventurers alive
so he can mess with them before he eats them?
Remember, we aren’t bound by the laws of our own reality. Mythic
Bastionland is full of examples where the fairytale-logic of the world
operates on an internal consistency that serves to make the game more
fun.
Now this post is at risk of just rehashing ICI Doctrine, but the main point I want to remember is that there are always two masters to please, and they are not mutually exclusive. If a decision only pleases one of these masters, then look for another way forward.
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