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    Gamism: Step On Up

    by [8]Ron Edwards

    I owe thanks to Clinton R. Nixon, Rob MacDougall, Gareth Martin, Mike

    Holmes, Gordon R. Landis, Ralph Mazza, Jonathan Walton, Paul Czege,

    Jared A. Sorensen, Grant Gigee, Christopher Kubasik, Jake Norwood, and

    Peter Adkison for their comments on the draft version of the manuscript.

    All errors, misattributions, inconsistencies, whatever, are mine.

    This is the second of three essays on the three modes of role-playing

    collectively referred to as GNS, as presented in my essay [9]GNS and

    related matters of role-playing theory. The first of the three "support"

    essays was [10]Simulationism: the right to dream. These essays' purposes

    are to clarify many aspects of their parent essay, to present the ideas

    that have always awaited a more general understanding of my basic

    points, and also to refine and develop the concepts based on the years

    of discussion and input from others at the Gaming Outpost, RPG.net, and

    the Forge.

    This one's about Gamist play.

    Gamism was originally identified in the RFGA Threefold Model of

    role-playing styles, and I think from its first mention, nearly everyone

    has said, "Oh, yeah, Gamism," with little debate about its qualities.

    Moving through my own reconstructions of the Threefold into GNS, whether

    early or late, and through the GENder model proposed by the Scarlet

    Jester, both Gamist play as an activity and people's instant, easy

    acceptance of its category have received little attention. Apparently,

    one just knows it upon sight.

    But do we really? References to Gamism tend to be dismissive,

    superficial, and often backhanded ("except for the Gamists," "my inner

    Gamist," etc). With respect to the members of the RFGA discussion group,

    I think they categorized Gamist play mainly in order to sweep it out of

    the realm of further dialogue, in order to concentrate on issues that I

    would now primarily identify within Simulationist play. I also think

    that most, although not all, subsequent discussion has been similar. Yet

    that exceptional bit, here and there over several forums, indicates far

    less consensus out there than might have been expected or assumed.

    I'm going for a real look at the category for its own sake. In some ways

    I'm kind of a case study of the problem, but I hope also part of the

    solution as well; my own views have changed immensely since I referred

    to Gamist players as "space aliens" years ago on the Gaming Outpost.

    Here's what I wrote for my big and admittedly dry essay, "GNS and

    related matters of role-playing theory":

      Gamism is expressed by competition among participants (the real

      people); it includes victory and loss conditions for characters, both

      short-term and long-term, that reflect on the people's actual play

      strategies. The listed elements [Character, Setting, Situation,

      System, Color] provide an arena for the competition.

    And this needs revising for several reasons. First, "among the

    participants" is too vague, at least from the standpoint of most

    readers. I was thinking of anyone involved in the play of the game,

    permitting just who competes with whom to be customized, but most people

    seem to think I mean "players" in the widely-used, non-GM sense, and

    object to that. Second, the term "competition" gets right up people's

    noses. Lots of terms have cropped up: Struggle, Striving, Challenge, and

    more. Some of that debate seems to be procedural, some of it

    ideological, and some of it social. Although I can't hope for unilateral

    agreement about the fundamentals of Gamist play, I think I've managed to

    figure out where all of the consternation - and the hot emotions

    underlying it - comes from. It's not merely semantic. I hope this essay

    manages to clear up any confusions about my position on the matter and

    perhaps manages to set a better basis for continued debate.

    Some threads to check out include: [11]Gamism and Premise, [12]Gamism is

    not competition{/url], [13]All out for Gamism, and [14]Getting in touch

    with our inner Gamist. They include plenty of good points, but, my own

    posts included, I think they mainly illustrate the problems involved

    rather than offer anything concrete.

    So the first step is to renounce a judgmental and dismissive approach

    about "those awful Gamists." The second is to renounce the

    less-judgmental but equally-dismissive "those Gamists" attitude, which

    might be called the NIMBY view. And then, finally, to renounce the sort

    of guilty-liberal, halting, apologetic defensive line as well. Just

    bouncing among these, without ever coming to grips with the actual

    phenomenon itself, is enough to fill a few dozen thread-pages within

    days, so it's time to put all that aside and focus.

    Every reader of the first draft wanted me to define Gamist play right

    here, in this spot. I refused, to the wrath of Lit-101 teachers

    everywhere. You gotta go through the next sections to get there.

    Back to Exploration

    Just as in the Simulationism essay, I'll start by considering the big

    picture in which GNS issues are embedded. It might be written out like

    this in a Venn diagram:

    [Social Contract [Exploration [GNS [rules [techniques [Stances]]]]]]

    Every inner "box" is an expression or realization of the box(es) it's

    nested in. For example, Exploration is a kind of Social Contract, and a

    given GNS mode is a kind (specifically, an application) of Exploration.

     1. Everything occurs embedded in the Social Contract, which includes

        many things about play and not-play, especially the Balance of

        Power.

     2. Exploration is the primary act of role-playing, composed of five

        parts with some causal relationships among them.

     3. The "modes" of play (because they have to be expressed via

        communication and play itself, not just "felt") are currently best

        described as Gamist, Simulationist, or Narrativist play. Play (as

        opposed merely to hanging out with friends) cannot occur without

        such an agenda. I'm now using the term "creative agenda" to refer to

        the three modes as a concept, replacing the small-p "premise" term

        in the older essay.

     4. Techniques of play include many different relationships among rules,

        people's decisions, announcements, and similar. "System" (or rather

        textual system) interacts with Techniques all the time, in terms of

        things like Currency, Resolution (including DFK, IIEE; see

        Glossary), and Reward systems. Which of these is inner or outer is

        debatable and probably variable, although I've diagrammed it in

        keeping with the idea that techniques are applied within a framework

        of rules. In keeping with the Venn concept, techniques are local

        expressions of Social Contract, Exploration, and GNS modes, just as

        rules are.

     5. Actual play shifts quickly among Stances. Stances, unsurprisingly,

        are very local applications of rules and techniques, all in the

        service of Exploration and the larger-scale GNS mode in action.

    So to talk about any GNS category, the place to start is that box.

    Exploration is composed of five elements, no sweat: Character, Setting,

    Situation, System, and Color ... but it's not a hydra with five equal

    heads. These things have creative and specific dependencies among one

    another, and now's the time to reveal a filthy secret about them.

    It's this: Situation is the center. Situation is the imaginative-thing

    we experience during play. Character and Setting are components that

    produce it, System is what Situation does, and Color can hardly be done

    without all this in place to, well, to color. Situation is the 400-lb

    gorilla of the five elements, or, if you will, the central node. It's

    central regardless of how much attention it's receiving relative to the

    other components.

    Gamist play, more than any other mode, demands that Situation be not

    only central, but also the primary focus of attention. You want to play

    Gamist? Then don't piss about with Character and/or Setting without

    Situation happening, or about to.

    The definition at last

    A few paragraphs back, I promised a definition for Gamism and here it

    is. It operates at two levels: the real, social people and the

    imaginative, in-game situation.

     1. The players, armed with their understanding of the game and their

        strategic acumen, have to Step On Up. Step On Up requires

        strategizing, guts, and performance from the real people in the real

        world. This is the inherent "meaning" or agenda of Gamist play

        (analogous to the Dream in Simulationist play).

        Gamist play, socially speaking, demands performance with risk,

        conducted and perceived by the people at the table. What's actually

        at risk can vary - for this level, though, it must be a social,

        real-people thing, usually a minor amount of recognition or esteem.

        The commitment to, or willingness to accept this risk is the key -

        it's analogous to committing to the sincerity of The Dream for

        Simulationist play. This is the whole core of the essay, that such a

        commitment is fun and perfectly viable for role-playing, just as

        it's viable for nearly any other sphere of human activity.

     2. The in-game characters, armed with their skills, priorities, and so

        on, have to face a Challenge, which is to say, a specific Situation

        in the imaginary game-world. Challenge is about the strategizing,

        guts, and performance of the characters in this imaginary

        game-world.

        For the characters, it's a risky situation in the game-world; in

        addition to that all-important risk, it can be as fabulous,

        elaborate, and thematic as any other sort of role-playing. Challenge

        is merely plain old Situation - it only gets a new name because of

        the necessary attention it must receive in Gamist play. Strategizing

        in and among the Challenge is the material, or arena, for whatever

        brand of Step On Up is operating.

    Gamist play and design is very diverse, partly due to the relative

    emphases of these two layers, as well as how they are best met in that

    particular game. At the crudest lens-setting, one can contrast those who

    emphasize Challenge and drop the Step On Up to a faint roar, as opposed

    to those who diminish the Challenge - it's always there, though - and

    focus on the Step On Up.

    Terms 'til you squeak

    The game to the Gamist

    What does "game" mean, anyway? Wouldn't that be good to know before

    talking about Game-ist? As it turns out, not really, no more than

    "simulation" helps with discussing Simulationist play. The term "game"

    is good enough for our purposes (as a root for the "ist"), but not

    especially rigorous or interesting. So many different things get called

    games that it's hardly worth considering a blanket definition. To call

    all of role-playing a "game," the term must be so broadly defined that

    it excludes any agenda beyond socializing.

    There's one specific aspect of the term that needs some scrutiny, though

    - its judgmental content. Phrases like "It's a game," or better, "It's

    just a game," or, "It's the game" illustrate that the term tells us

    nothing; the meaning lies in the inflection. The phrase might be saying

    that "it" is utterly trivial: "it's just a game." Or it might be saying

    that "it" demands our constant and committed attention: "that's the

    game."

    So, I think more sensibly, it's good to look inside Gamism to see the

    game there - what is it? It's a recreational, social activity, in which

    one faces circumstances of risk - but neither life-threatening nor of

    any other great material consequence. All that's on the line is some

    esteem, probably fleeting, enough to enjoy risking and no more. Think of

    a poker game among friends with very minor stakes, or a neighborhood

    pickup basketball game. Taking away the small change or the

    score-counting would take away a lot of the fun, because they help to

    track or prompt the minor esteem ups-and-downs. This is Step On Up. It

    is "just a game," yes, but "it's the game," too.

    With any luck, now that I'm claiming two things are being labeled rather

    than one, perhaps some of the debate about the label in question can

    settle down. At the Step On Up level, what's at stake? A bit of esteem,

    as stated above. But what about? Here's point #1: what's really at stake

    can be totally overt (the basketball score), or it can nonverbal or

    otherwise subtle (who sinks the best single hoop, regardless of which

    team wins). All that matters is that it must exist embedded in the

    real-life social interaction.

    Think of the following:

      * how performance is assessed, including a range of severity for

        joshing, praise, and criticism

      * the parameters of engagement - rules you do not break, in order to

        enjoy playing changes in the field of play, whether in space or

        time, making it impossible to stay with a single approach

    The competition boogeyman

    Competition is best understood as a productive add-on to Gamist play.

    Such play is fundamentally cooperative, but may include competition.

    That's not a contradiction: I'm using exactly the same logic as might be

    found at the poker and basketball games. You can't compete, socially,

    without an agreed-upon venue. If the cooperation's details are

    acceptable to everyone, then the competition within it can be quite

    fierce.

    Role-playing texts never get this straight. For them, it's always either

    competition or cooperation, one-other, push-pull, and often nonsensical.

    The following is from Fantasy Earth, Basic Rules (1994, Zody Games,

    author is Michael S. Zody):

      ... while board games and wargames have winners and losers,

      role-playing games do not. Rather than being competitive, role-playing

      games are cooperative. The players all work together and win and lose

      as a team.

    I consider the above text to be inherently contradictory. Versions of it

    can be found in quite a few role-playing games, especially those with

    fantasy settings and a fairly high risk of character death.

    So what is all this competition business about? It concerns conflict of

    interest. If person A's performance is only maximized by driving down

    another's performance, then competition is present. In Gamist play, this

    is not required - but it is very often part of the picture. Competition

    gives both Step On Up and Challenge a whole new feel - a bite.

    How does conflict of interest relate to Step On Up and to Challenge? The

    crucial answer is that it may be present twice, independently, within

    the two-level structure.

      * Competition at the Step On Up level = conflict of interest regarding

        players' performance and impact on the game-world.

      * Competition at the Challenge level = conflict of interest among

        characters' priorities (survival, resource accumulation, whatever)

        in the game-world.

    Think of each level having a little red dial, from 1 to 11 - and those

    dials can be twisted independently. Therefore, four extremes of

    dial-twisting may be compared.

     1. High competition in Step On Up plus low competition in Challenge =

        entirely team-based play, party style against a shared Challenge,

        but with value placed on some other metric of winning among the real

        people, such as levelling-up faster, having the best stuff, having

        one's player-characters be killed less often, getting more Victory

        Points, or some such thing. Most Tunnels & Trolls play is like this.

     2. Low competition in Step On Up plus high competition in Challenge =

        characters are constantly scheming on one another or perhaps openly

        trying to kill or outdo another but the players aren't especially

        competing, because consequences to the player are low per unit

        win/loss. Kobolds Ate My Baby and the related game, Ninja Burger,

        play this way.

     3. High competition in both levels = moving toward the Hard Core (see

        below), including strong rules-manipulation, often observed in

        variants of Dungeons & Dragons as well in much LARP play. A risky

        way to play, but plenty of fun if you have a well-designed system

        like Rune.

     4. Low competition in both levels = strong focus on Step On Up and

        Challenge but with little need for conflict-of-interest. Quite a bit

        of D&D based on story-heavy published scenarios plays this way. It

        shares some features with "characters face problem" Simulationist

        play, with the addition of a performance metric of some kind. Some

        T&T play Drifted this way as well, judging by many Sorcerer's

        Apprentice articles.

    Things get more complex than this, because different roles for GM and

    players lead to combinations of the above categories within a single

    game. For instance, players can cooperate as a party and compete with

    the GM, for instance, given a rules-set that limits GM options (a

    combination of #1 and #2). This shouldn't be confused with cooperating

    with one another, cooperating with the GM, and competing against the

    GM's characters (#4).

    Reality check

    I might as well get this over with now: the phrase "Role-playing games

    are not about winning" is the most widespread example of synecdoche in

    the hobby. Potential Gamist responses, and I think appropriately,

    include:

    "Eat me,"

    (upon winning) "I win," and

    "C'mon, let's play without these morons."

    I'm defining "winning" as positive assessment at the Step On Up level.

    It even applies when little or no competition is going on. It applies

    even when the win-condition is fleeting. Even if it's unstated. Even if

    it's no big deal. Without it, and if it's not the priority of play, then

    no Gamism.

    Textually, so many games say "it's not about winning" and then

    immediately provide extremely clear win/loss parameters for play.

    Sometimes I think it's because people believe that players are

    inherently Gamist and have to be appeased in some way. This uneasy

    waffling or endless qualifying shows up most often in fantasy games

    whose authors would like play to be about something else, but just can't

    quite believe that players would agree.

    From the introduction to RuneQuest, second edition (The Chaosium, 1978,

    1979, 1980; specific author for this text unknown; game authors are

    Steve Perrin, Ray Turney, Steve Henderson, and Warren James):

      The title of the game, RuneQuest, describes its goal. The player

      creates one or more characters, known as adventurers, and playes them

      in various scenarios, designed by a Referee. The Adventurer has the

      use of combat, magic, and other skills, and treasure. The Referee has

      the use of assorted monsters, traps, and his own wicked imagination to

      keep the Adventurer from his goal within the rules of the game. A

      surviving Adventurer gains experience in fighting, magic, and other

      skills, as well as money to purchase further training.

    Now all that's pretty Gamist stuff of a late 1970s vintage, right? Get

    this, which follows immediately:

      The adventurer progresses in this way until he is so proficient that

      he comes to the attention of the High Priests, sages, and gods. At

      this point he has the option to join a Rune Cult. Joining such a cult

      gives him many advantages, not the least of which is aid from the god

      of the cult.

      Acquiring a Rune by joining such a cult is the goal of the game, for

      only in gathering a Rune may a character take the next step, up into

      the ranks of Hero, and perhaps Superhero.

    All right, that bit about joining cults still seems kind of Gamist,

    right? About getting more effective and so on? Great ... except that the

    GM controls the High Priests and sages. Why would he, whose job was just

    stated to be to "keep the Adventurer from his goal," have them recognize

    the Adventurer in the first place? Either they do, and the GM must

    abandon the stated goal, or they don't, and that whole paragraph becomes

    gibberish.

    Bear in mind as well that "Hero" and "Superhero" are never defined, and

    indeed never again mentioned anywhere in the rulebook. See what I mean

    about waffly and uncertain text? Such text is the default explanation

    for role-playing, with very few exceptions, until the publication of

    Vampire in 1991. Even since, though, it's still the standard for fantasy

    games. The following is from Legendary Lives, second edition (1993,

    Marquee Press, authors are Joe Williams and Kathleen Williams):

      The players are impromptu actors within the scenes created by the

      referee ... The fun comes from interacting with the other characters

      and with the imaginary world created by the refereee. For the duration

      of the game, try to immerse yourself in the role. [Sim so far - RE]

      ...

      The first goal of a player is survival. Yes your character can die

      during an adventure, and a dead character is completely gone. If your

      character is smart enough, bright enough, or lucky enough, he or she

      will survive to reap the benefits of becoming older, wiser, and more

      powerful.

      [Wowsies, eh? Then text follows which backpeddles rapidly and tries to

      explain why character death isn't losing. -RE]

    As a contrast, some texts make no bones about this issue and indeed leap

    in with both feet, as in Kobolds Ate My Baby! third edition (2001, Ninth

    Level Games; authors are Christopher O'Neill and Daniel Landis):

      How to win!

      ... unlike your average role-playing game, KOBOLDS ATE MY BABY! Third

      Edition has winners (and losers). Truth be told, it mainly has losers!

      Anyway, the winner is the player who, at the end of the game, has the

      most Victory Points. Most games continue until a certain condition is

      met, generally when all the babies are gone ...

    Yee-ha! But that's a recent example. To get back to the dark and

    steaming roots of the first wave of role-playing innovation, check this

    out from The Basic Game chapter in Tunnels & Trolls, 5th edition (1979,

    Flying Buffalo Inc; author is Ken St. Andre, with possible edits or

    additions by Liz Danforth):

      Every time your character escapes from a tunnel alive, you may

      consider yourself a winner. The higher the level and the more wealth

      your character attains, the better you are doing in comparison to all

      the other players.

    From the Adventure Points chapter in the same text:

      As long as a character remains alive - regardless of how many

      adventures he or she participates in - you are "winning." If ill fate

      befalls the character, or if you overextend yourself in playing your

      character's capabilities, the character dies and it is your loss. Of

      course, these games allow you to play any number of characters

      (sometimes referred to as a "stable of characters") and some will

      survive and advance, and everyone wins in the end.

    This seems a bit softer, until one notices that although winning is

    qualified by quotes and extra text, loss significantly is not.

    Further text in the Adventure Points chapter of the same game repeatedly

    provides big payoff for rash, risky, but tactically-imaginative action,

    if the character survives. One small part rewards role-playing, but:

      Any points awarded in this category should be given to those players

      who are doing an exceptionally good job only, thus making the game

      more of a challenge to all.

    In other words, "challenge" is the first priority and immersion (for

    lack of a better word), cooperation with the GM or his story-plans, or

    in-character consistent play, are to be conducted and evaluated in that

    context. They are, as well as anything else like character survival or

    achievement, to be competed about.

    I love the T&T and Kobolds texts. They are refreshing, spunky, and even

    inspiring: "Step on up, buddy!" Open Gamism is completely accessible,

    completely functional, and extremely fun. You see, it all goes back to

    how the Step On Up social stuff is perfectly capable of enjoying the

    in-game Challenge, Situation stuff, and how they're not the same thing.

    In these games, the idea is to keep the Challenge whimsical enough that

    its occasionally-extreme consequences don't reflect proportionally on

    the player's emotional stakes of the moment.

    T&T is not the be-all and end-all of Gamism, although it was probably

    the first utterly explicit Gamist role-playing text. Not all Gamist play

    is alike! It ranges across a great deal of structural, social, and

    imaginative diversity, which is why this essay still has a long way to

    go.

    Structural basics

    Grant Gigee provided some comments that I think speak more closely to

    the issue than anything I could come up with:

      Conflict and choice: Clearly, both terms can also be applied to

      Narrativism, but I think they are very evocative and, combined with

      challenge, concisely convey the important values of Gamism. Conflict

      is crucial to narrative, but while one can explore the back-story or

      the setting, or whatever, and while one can explore the moral

      ramifications of those choices, folk like myself would rather get

      right to the high points - the points of greatest tension which lead

      to the greatest accomplishment. [emphasis mine; that's where the Step

      On Up lives, right there - RE]

    Choice is important because only through choice can there be

    consequences. The reason most Gamists play wizards over fighters lies

    not in avoiding conflict but in having choices. The fighter's choices

    are all front-loaded - which sword (the best one), which armor (the best

    one), etc - while the wizard's are more immediate: which spell at what

    time.

    Valid Gamist conflict and valid Gamist choice lead directly to strategy

    and tactics, which I like to think of in two ways. The first way is the

    interplay of resources, combined arms, either-or decisions,

    effectiveness, point-husbanding, and similar game-mechanics acumen. Two

    articles to review regarding these sorts of strategy and tactics in

    Gamist play are [15]Elements of tactics and [16]Elements of strategy by

    Brian Gleichman. The second way is all about bending parameters, lateral

    thinking, and occasional banzai, which is to say, one's ability to shape

    the actual play, or the importance of its parts, through sheer

    interaction with it and with other people.

    In trying to back up a little and look at things more generally than

    individual moments of successful tactics, I came up with two new terms.

    I'm not sure whether they're profound or just obvious, so consider'em

    informal at this point.

    The Gamble and the Crunch

    Challenge is the Situation faced by the player-characters with a strong

    implication of risk. It can be further focused into applications, which

    individually tend toward one of these two things:

    The Gamble occurs when the player's ability to manipulate the odds or

    clarify unknowns is seriously limited. "Hold your nose and jump!" is its

    battle-cry. Running a first-level character in all forms of D&D is a

    Gamble; all of Ninja Burger play is a Gamble. More locally, imagine a

    crucial charge made by a fighter character toward a dragon - his goal is

    to distract it from the other character's coordinated attack, and he's

    the only one whose hit points are sufficient to survive half its

    flame-blast. Will he make the saving roll? If he doesn't, he dies. Go!

    The Crunch occurs when system-based strategy makes a big difference,

    either because the Fortune methods involved are predictable (e.g.

    probabilities on a single-die roll), or because effects are reliably

    additive or cancelling (e.g. Feats, spells). Gamist-heavy Champions play

    with powerful characters is very much about the Crunch. The villain's

    move occurs early in Phase 3; if the speed-guy saves his action from

    Phase 2 into Phase 3 to pre-empt that action, and if the brick-guy's

    punch late on Phase 3 can be enhanced first by the psionic-guy's

    augmenting power if he Pushes the power, then we can double-team the

    villain before he can kill the hostage.

    The distinction between Gamble and Crunch isn't quite the same as

    "randomness;" it has more to do with options and consequences. Fortune

    can be involved in both of them, and it doesn't have to be involved in

    either (see Diplomacy for a non-RPG example). Also, look out for jargon:

    "Crunchy" is a gamer term for detailed and layered rules; "crunching" is

    a long-standing term for maximizing Effectiveness by manipulating a

    system's Currency. Neither of these are Crunch as I'm defining here.

    Who vs. whom: the source of adversity

    Adversity is necessary to role-playing; without it, nothing happens. The

    term requires two analyses.