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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.

     1. Who's the source of adversity in Gamist play? This is a layered
        question based on the Step On Up and Challenge levels. Step On Up
        adversity simply means demanding high attention to System operation
        and the responding emotional "on-button" from the person. It's the
        "social heat," if you will, as well as whatever cognitive demands
        are imposed by the System. Optionally, as described above,
        person-on-person conflict of interest might be involved as well,
        bringing in competition at this level. Without the competition, the
        adversity needs to come from some extra-player source, whether a GM
        or a publication or some confluence of both. With it, of course, the
        source of adversity arises among the players; this is usually an
        add-on to the GM/publication adversity rather than a substitute.
     2. What are its imposed dangers? This seems more straightforward at
        first, as Challenge adversity means risk to the characters in some
        way. But about what? Options range from character survival to
        abstract Victory Points, with a huge range of possibilities in
        between. Also, optionally, character-on-character conflict of
        interest may be involved as well, again setting up the possible
        inclusion of competition as a "heater-up" for adversity.

    Clearly, these are not really independent! The Challenge adversity sets
    up all sorts of System demands and risks to the characters, which in
    turn can provide the motor for the Step On Up adversity to kick into
    action. That's a powerful phenomenon; arguably, it was the core of D&D
    play becoming a popular hobby at all in the mid-1970s, based on
    organized tournaments.

    But all the possible combinations are overwhelming - whose strategizing
    is opposed to whose? If a GM is the source of adversity, to what extent
    is he or she a potential competitor as well? What are the differences
    between GM as referee, as judge, and as player of opponents? Is
    player-effort a team thing or an "every man my enemy" thing? The general
    answer to these and similar questions can only be "Yes," then parsed
    very specifically both by game design and by group preferences. Social
    Contract issues such as whether maps, notes, and dice-rolls are hidden
    or open all rely on the answers. But those are only some of the possible
    questions. Here are others.

     1. How long is a "go"? Which is to say, what are the units of reward
        and loss, and how are they distributed through the time of play?
        Compare losing a round in a video game with loss in a football game,
        and consider whether a fight scene in a role-playing session is a
        piece of a very long conflict called a Delve, or whether it's the
        moment of truth, right there. Is player-character death, for
        example, like losing the ball for a first down for the other side,
        or missing a touchdown, or losing the whole game?
     2. How is Fortune involved, and when? Oh, there are so many ways:
        player-character creation, the typical resolution mechanics, any
        sudden-death resolution mechanics, reduction of abilities or
        resources, preparation for a crisis, the crisis itself ... To flip
        to the other side, what's the role, if any, of
        allocation-strategizing points or resources?
        Neither of the above can be considered without thinking about the
        relative importance of Effectiveness and Resource, and how they
        relate to one another, or, on a more imaginative/scenario level, the
        relative distribution and positioning of the Gamble and the Crunch.

     3. To what degree is conflict-of-interest involved, for both the Step
        On Up and Challenge levels? Similarly, and this of course is mainly
        a social question, what degree of ruthlessness is involved?
     4. What is the Challenge about? Further, how imaginatively committed to
        it, moment by moment, are people expected to be? I suggest with
        great fervor that combat is only one form of conflict, and character
        survival is only one in-game metric for success.

    A look at reward systems
    I generally refer to Stakes in Gamist play to discuss what's at risk and
    what stands to be gained at both the Step On Up and Challenge level. I
    think successful Gamist play needs to include both the loss and gain
    conditions for the Stakes, not just gain. This gets really tricky,
    because the "metric" of what's being assessed at the Step On Up level is
    only sometimes overt. Add to that the concept of Stakes relative to the
    competition within each level, if present, and things suddenly get
    complicated.

    So what constitutes "success" at the Step On Up and/or Challenge level
    during play? Is it the right to keep playing? Improving one's
    character's effectiveness, begging the question of what for? Getting
    some kind of "victory points"? The metagame/game relationship between
    these is phenomenally important. I think that, in Gamist play, the
    metagame-part is the key one - a completely informal Social Reward
    (e.g., "Killed more goblins than you!", even in a game-system which
    confers no consequence for doing so) can easily outweigh an in-game one.

    In taking this idea to design, my mind kind of balks at the tricky mix
    of Exploration and Competition, and how to keep them from being at
    cross-purposes. It is really hard to conceive of Gamist reward
    mechanisms that are both consistently satisfying across long-term play
    and meaningful at the Step On Up level. Abstract victory points are
    arguably quite weak; "you win" means nothing if it, well, doesn't do
    anything. The more-commonly seen metric of character survival is badly
    broken, in a variety of applications. If character death is temporary,
    it's not much of a loss condition, but if it's not, the game is often
    forced to abandon the loss condition such that people can continue to
    play.

    Character improvement ("advancement") is even more problematic. The
    basic issues it raises are:

      * How tough and effective should a starting character be? If it's too
        high, then there's no reason to improve; if it's too low, the early
        stages of play depend far too much on GM mercy.
      * What kind of rate is involved, relative to the challenges as time
        goes by? The effectiveness-increase can form an exponential
        interaction with the character's ability to increase further, which
        in most cases breaks the game or reduces all confrontations to
        statistical grinds rather than Step On Up crises.

    Reward systems remain the current most challenging sector of game
    design, for many reasons, not the least of which is no clear idea of for
    how long or at what scale "successful play" should be rated. I look
    forward to experimentation and debate that can help resolve some of the
    issues for Gamist play.

    The joys of Gamism
    It is way cool, in a game which utilizes point-construction of
    characters, to allocate them such that the character "hums" - that is,
    he (or she or it, henceforth "he") can do what you'd like him to do
    without running out of energy too fast, can go where he needs to go, and
    take a hit without crumpling - or, in games which are less about moving
    places and hitting one another, the character can actually get X done in
    a way which makes anyone else say, "Whoa, good one!" Nocturne, my
    Champions super-hero, steps through the wall and freezes the villain The
    Crippler in his tracks with a burning blue look. He glides straight to
    the uber-villain, the Blood Queen, where she stands before the
    technological cross (on whom is crucified Nocturne's buddy, Warp),
    ignoring the zots and shots of the henchmen, and says, in deadly tones,
    "Where ... is ... our ... son?" Presence attack roll!

    It is totally cool, in a game with a well-constructed IIEE component, to
    strategize one or more characters' actions such that their effect and
    timing delivers a phenomenal wallop, or more generally, has a
    distinctive and exciting effect on play. Demon-boy's acrobatic attack
    provides the diversion, as Hurricane-girl's wind-storm scatters the
    henchmen, opening up a channel for Metal-guy to hurl Claw-man straight
    into the Menace. As expected, Claw-man takes it on the chin, but that
    removes the Menace's saved action (which we all knew he had; he had that
    smirk), and that's when Eyebeam-man's blast hits, shattering the tank
    behind the Menace to release the wave of radioactive fluid and to wake
    the sleeping alien within ...

    The very meaning of cool beans is to husband resources intelligently,
    such that when you really need that Endurance, or the story points, or
    those hit points, or that final charge in the magic staff, they're
    there. Yzorn, the young mage, dodges once, twice, and again, eluding the
    jaws of the summoned wolf, costing Engarad more and more energy until
    the animal fades into smoke. Then, "Catch this!" he cries, at last
    loosing the lightning bolt and crisping his foe into an ashy column,
    which slowly fragments under its own weight.

    Nothing is more cool than putting the character or whatever at risk,
    whether in Gamble or Crunch circumstances, and seeing the system deliver
    its punch relative to your tactics. Roichi, my Blue Islands ninja,
    reaches into the folds of his black gi to produce, rattle-rattle the
    dice, a packet of Hot Sauce! Shimatta!

    It is the essence of coolness to see the legitimately avoidable twist be
    avoided, or fail to be avoided. "Boy, that troll was a lot easier to
    kill than I expected," says the player. I, the GM, smirk. "You're
    growing ... turning hairy ... your armor and clothing crack and stretch
    off of your body ... horns sprout on your -" "Hey! I'm turning into a
    troll, aren't I?" "Yup ... cursed to clean up the first level, just like
    your predecessor, who's turning into a dead human, by the way." "Shit!
    That makes sense! We should have figured that out!" Heh, heh, heh ...

    All of the above are fun during any role-playing, but from a Gamist
    perspective, the point is for one's acumen to be acknowledged - it's a
    matter of pure pride. You grokked the system just right for that
    particular situation; you took into account all the possible variables
    of the moment. If such a perspective, and all these events, are combined
    together and experienced as part and parcel of the Exploration - which
    is to say, the social, imaginative "scene" - then Gamist play is under
    way. I maintain this experience cannot be achieved through any physical
    sport, through any virtual interface, or through any medium whatever
    aside from table-top role-playing. The rush is, I think, unique to the
    medium.

    The Hard Core
    So far I haven't mentioned any negative connotations to Gamist play,
    despite my hints in the beginning of the essay. The time has come to
    explain why many people hate and fear any sign of Step On Up, let alone
    competition, in and among the adversity-situations of their
    role-playing. It's due to a possible application of Gamist principles to
    their "perviest" extreme, which is to say, the highest degree of
    person-to-System contact during play. When you sacrifice Exploration to
    get to this degree of contact in Gamist play, you have entered the Hard
    Core.

    The Hard Core occurs when Gamist play transmogrifies into pure metagame:
    Exploration becomes minimal or absent, such that System and Social
    Contract contact one another directly, and, essentially, all the
    mechanics become metagame mechanics. It's usually, although not always,
    the result of high competitive actions at the Step On Up level, which
    then "eats" the Challenge level such that it is literally and nakedly an
    extension of Step On Up and nothing else. Role-playing in the Hard Core
    is very much like playing competitive video games or, for that matter,
    like playing that old junior high school favorite, Smear the Queer, with
    egos rather than bones and blood on the line.

    I perceive four distinct Hard Core applications. They all very easily
    become dysfunctional, but, contrary to popular belief, quite a bit of
    Hard Core play may be functional if the Social Contract is being
    reinforced rather than broken. None of them combine well with secondary
    Simulationist or Narrativist priorities, which is one reason that people
    often confound the Hard Core with playing Gamist at all. That's an
    error, though, because the Hard Core is just as incompatible with
    high-Exploration Gamist priorities as well.

    It's time to introduce the "M" word too. The term "munchkin" gets thrown
    around a lot in reference to Gamist play, and one of the big points of
    this essay is to show that it applies to too many different things to be
    useful. I'll discuss this further in the Troubles with Gamism section
    below, but for now, just bear in mind that Hard Core role-players are
    often called munchkins by others, including non-Hard Core Gamists.

    Turnin' on each other
    Gamist play already presupposes some pressure among members of the
    group. Now add to that not only conflict-of-interest at the Challenge
    level, but open acknowledgment of one another's player-characters as the
    only engaging source of Challenge - and given the absence of
    Exploration, directly applying to a Step On Up struggle for dominance.
    So now you have both little red dials up to 11, and the arena of
    resolution is simply whose characters survive mutual attacks.

    Turnin' often arises from when the "official" Challenge parameters are
    shown to be uninteresting for one reason or another, such as when losing
    one's character to GM-run foes turns out not to mean much in Step On Up
    terms - i.e., when the GM kills characters at whim. It's typically
    dysfunctional when it arises from this or similar sources.

    However, I also think Turnin' is the least threatening Hard Core
    application, because when it's integrated into other enjoyable aspects
    of a system, it can actually be a wonderful addition to play, as
    illustrated by the wizard-economy of spells for rogues in T&T or the
    magic items rules in Elfs. After all, character conflict-of-interest is
    not necessarily Hard Core, nor is it even necessarily a Gamist issue at
    all. However, given that its extreme form is dysfunctional, many game
    texts have mistakenly urged various ways never ever ever to permit
    inter-character conflict of interest, in order to stave it off.

    Powergaming
    This technique is all about ramping a system's Currency, Effectiveness,
    and reward system into an exponential spiral. As a behavior, it can be
    applied to any system, but most forms of D&D offer an excellent inroad
    for it: after a certain number of levels achieved, the ability to
    deliver damage and remain invulnerable itself provides ever-increasing
    ability to achieve yet higher degrees of damage-delivery and hit-point
    resources.

    Like Turnin', Powergaming doesn't necessarily destroy the enjoyment of
    play, and unlike Turnin', it may even remain functional in full-blown
    Hard Core form. Some Exploration may well be maintained, at least
    minimally, and the effectiveness-spiral might play a strategic role
    rather than to dominate fellow players. However, it's fair to say that
    Powergaming is only functional if everyone is committed to it, and it
    carries dangers of leading to Breaking (see below).

    To prevent Powergaming, many game designers identify the GM as the
    ultimate and final rules-interpreter. It's no solution at all, though:
    (1) there's no way to enforce the enforcement, and (2), even if the
    group does buy into the "GM is always right" decree, the GM is now
    empowered to Powergame over everyone else.

    Calvinball
    This is the famous "rules-lawyering" approach, which is misnamed because
    it claims textual support when in reality it simply invents it.
    Calvinball is a better term: making up the rules as you go along,
    usually in terms of on-the-spot interpretations disguised as "obvious"
    well-established interpretations. It basically combines glibness and
    bullying to achieve moment-to-moment advantages for one's character. A
    Calvinballer may also be adept at bugging the GM about some rules-detail
    often enough that a goodly percentage of the time yields a reward for
    it, but not often enough to tip everyone else off to what's going on.

    The big trick of Calvinball is pretending to be still committed to the
    Exploration. That makes it especially well-suited to disrupting
    Simulationist play from the older traditions, because the other players'
    commitment to the integrity of the Dream can be co-opted into one's
    Calvinball strategy, exploiting the others' willingness to enter into
    the rules-debate in hopes of a compromise, which of course is not
    forthcoming. Calvinball then quickly transforms into a struggle for
    control over what is and is not happening in the imaginative situation.

    One mistaken solution to this tactic is to hide the rules from the
    players in some kind of laughably-secure "GM book" or "GM section," as
    well as to enforce the ideal of Transparency. The other, more common
    solution is simply to continue adding rules forever and ever, amen, in
    order to account unambiguously for any and all imaginable events during
    play.

    Breaking the game
    Here's the most extreme form of the Hard Core; it's the only one that I
    can't imagine is functional in any circumstances. Breaking the game is
    defined as rendering others' ability to play ineffective in terms of any
    metric that happens to be important in that group. Theoretically, any
    and all games are breakable: one can always sweep the pieces off the
    board. But I'm talking about doing so in the context of identifying
    internal inconsistencies or vulnerable points in the design, breaking
    the game by playing it and rendering the Exploration nonsensical.

    Here's the key giveaway in terms of system design: it is Broken (i.e.
    Breaking consistently works) if repetitive, unchanging behavior garners
    benefit. The player hits no self-correcting parameters and is never
    forced to readjust his or her strategy. The principle can be applied in
    multiple ways, both two common ones include:

      * Exploiting point-based games which rely on layered Currency, such
        that points may be spent cheaply for disproportionately high gain,
        often in a self-sustaining fashion. The classic example is the
        Recovery attribute in Champions, which was increased by spending
        points on Constitution and Strength, but could be bought down, and
        the points thus gained could be pumped back into Strength, thus
        raising REC to levels beyond the original value. Champions also
        featured a means of decreasing powers' cost by increasing a divisor
        value, and strategizing the relationship to this divisor with other
        means of point-reduction became an art form in many groups.
      * Exploiting announcement/order-of-action systems to acquire perfect
        can't-hit-me-I-hit-you combinations, multiple-action combinations,
        and similar. Most games which feature powers or advantages that the
        order of action are vulnerable to unforeseen stacking with these
        effects.

    Breaking the Game isn't quite the same thing as Powergaming, because
    once a game is Broken, the group rarely continues to play. However, the
    latter often leads to the former, because Powergaming reveals vulnerable
    points in game design that are then Broken. Trying to prevent this
    one-two combination of behavior has led many game designers mistakenly
    to provide endless patch rules, full of exceptions to cover the
    exceptions, none of which accomplishes anything except to open up even
    more points of vulnerability.

    Diversity of Gamist design
    Considering all these different concerns, perhaps finally the variety of
    Gamist role-playing design can get its long-awaited, long-denied day in
    the sun. I've taken a few variables from the Structural Basics section,
    mainly the ones that can be ascribed to specific game texts rather than
    the less-tangible, more locally-defined ones.

      * The degree of Exploration relative to Step On Up
      * The role of Fortune in resolving Stakes-relevant conflict in the
        game
      * How much Gamble vs. how much Crunch
      * The length of a "go," or unit of play necessary to see how well
        someone does
      * The local units of local loss - how you can tell when someone
        doesn't do well
      * The degree of metagame mechanics available

    Mano a mano
    These are duelling games. They're generally written as self-governing,
    which is to say, no GM necessary, although sometimes a gentleman's
    agreement about some things is necessary. For instance, in Wizard duels,
    a player is expected to be truthful when his character's illusion spell
    is disbelieved. Also, sometimes a Referee or "monster player" is
    recommended if people want to play in teams rather than against one
    another.

    Melee/Wizard - Exploration is low, role of Fortune medium, Gamble even
    with Crunch, "go" length = one fight, units of local loss = PC death,
    degree of metagame is nil

    Lost Worlds - Exploration is low to medium, role of Fortune medium,
    Crunch slightly higher than Gamble, "go" length = one fight, units of
    local loss = PC death, degree of metagame is nil (or high if choosing
    the character in the first place is considered)

    Dungeon crawl
    The classic Exploration paradigm, and arguably the progenitor of the
    multi-bezillion dollar computer-game industry. The characters must
    traverse and navigate a dangerous environment and reap the rewards of
    their discoveries and combat acumen relative to the spiralling risk.

    Dungeons & Dragons 3rd Edition - Exploration is medium, role of Fortune
    is high until after 10th level, fair Gamble and later mainly Crunch,
    "go" length = a delve, units of local loss = death, degree of metagame =
    nil

    Deathstalkers (System & Setting) - Exploration medium-to-high, Fortune
    high at low levels especially, Gamble at lower levels with more Crunch
    at higher ones, "go" length unknown, units of local loss = character
    death, degree of metagame is nil

    Forge: Out of Chaos (Character & System), - Exploration is a solid
    medium, role of Fortune is medium, Gamble mixed evenly with Crunch, "go"
    length = expedition, units of local loss = PC death or lack of
    levelling, degree of metagame is nil

    Rune - Exploration is low, role of Fortune is medium to high, Gamble
    mixed evenly with Crunch, "go" length = expedition, units of local loss
    vary across several variables, degree of metagame is nil (or high if the
    GM-round-robin is considered)

    Donjon - Exploration high, role of Fortune is high, high Gamble vs. low
    Crunch (almost all Abilities are really the same thing - a mechanical
    way to win), "go" length is a delve, and individual "Donjon Levels",
    units of local loss = destruction of equipment and character
    inconvenience (death is extremely rare), degree of metagame = quite high

    Elaborate setting
    This brand of Gamist play evolved almost instantly, beginning with maps
    and supplements like the World of Greyhawk. It offers a few special
    problems, the main one being an ongoing Simulationist "creep" in the
    evolving texts, edition by edition, which can trip up the Gamist
    priorities of special interest ... in other words, GNS-based
    Incoherence. One reader even proposed the term "Power Simulationism" for
    such games, and stated, "These games are the least rewarding to me
    because they feel like kicking a man when he is down."

    Stormbringer 1st edition - Exploration is high, role of Fortune is
    extreme, both Gamble and Crunch at different instances of play, "go"
    length = adventure scenario, units of local loss = death, degree of
    metagame = nil (perhaps a bit in demon creation)

    Rifts (with some Simulationist design as hybrid support) - Exploration
    is medium-low, role of Fortune high at low levels, low at higher levels,
    mixed Gamble and Crunch, "go" length = firefight, units of local loss =
    death (or perhaps loot), degree of metagame = nil

    Shadowrun (also a Simulationist hybrid) - Exploration is high, medium to
    high Fortune, mixed Gamble and Crunch (higher Crunch in longer-term
    games), "go" length = a black-ops mission (a "shadowrun"), units of
    local loss = character death, loss of profit, degree of metagame varies
    by edition

    Age of Heroes - Exploration is high, role of Fortune is strong but
    easily assessed, mainly Crunch, "go length = set pieces, loss =
    characters' agenda per set piece, degree of metagame = nil [note: This
    game is not based on a canonical setting, but rather on procedures and
    rules-categories corresponding to a setting type, relating to "adventure
    fantasy" much as early Champions relates to comics; as such, it is
    probably the single representative in the category without Coherence
    problems]

    Deadlands - Exploration is high, Situation, role of Fortune is medium,
    mainly Crunch, "go" length = adventure scenario, units of local loss
    aren't well defined, degree of metagame is minor but consistently
    present

    Whimsical whackiness
    These are usually humorous spinoffs of dungeon crawls.

    Tunnels & Trolls - Exploration medium, role of Fortune high, emphasis on
    Gamble, "go" length = level, units of local loss = PC death or
    diminishment of abilities, degree of metagame is low except for some
    whimsy

    Kobolds Ate My Baby / Ninja Burger (Situation & System) - Exploration
    low-to-medium, role of Fortune is extreme, extreme emphasis on Gamble,
    "go" length = one dinner/mission, units of local loss = victory points
    (less so, PC death), degree of metagame is medium (often obstructive to
    others)

    Elfs - Exploration is medium, role of Fortune is high, mixed Gamble and
    Crunch, "go" length = adventure scenario, units of local loss =
    immediate advantage, degree of metagame = medium.

    Gimme some story
    These games shift the venue of Step On Up from in-game character action
    resolution to metagame narration rights, which may or may not entail
    greater character effectiveness.

    The Adventures of Baron von Munchausen - Exploration = medium, role of
    Fortune is nil, mainly Crunch, "go" length = one tale, units of local
    loss = control of the narrative, degree of metagame is total. Arguably,
    this game is more appropriately placed in the "almost role-playing game"
    category along with Bedlam, De Profundis, and Once Upon a Time.

    Pantheon - Exploration = high, role of Fortune is minor, mainly Crunch,
    "go" length = one story, units of local loss = points, degree of
    metagame fairly high

    Is d20 Gamist?
    D&D3E is certainly strongly oriented toward Gamist play, but as for d20,
    what is it, structurally?

      * levels to describe character attack-options and hit points - but not
        necessarily levelling-up as a major feature of play
      * classes and possibly races, but these are meaningless on reflection
        - a game can have one or twenty classes; they are strictly a method
        for establishing resource categories
      * Six attributes - but with any relationship to effectiveness that you
        want; one can even tack on another system for primary Effectiveness
        variables, as in D&D3E

    All one really has is a flat-curve resolution method in 5% increments
    against target numbers, with (a) possible re-rolls (which is what "extra
    attacks" are), (b) a resource mechanic relative to character survival,
    and (c) lists of powers. I've concluded that d20 takes on a
    game-identity to the extent that a designer customizes Resolution,
    Currency, and Reward into a particular shape. Therefore to "use d20"
    means one of the following:

      * to imitate or augment an existing form (supplemental material for
        D&D3E)
      * fundamentally to write your own game (Mutants & Masterminds)
      * and I should mention some attempts at the latter which look more
        like the former (Star Wars d20, Spycraft)

    No wonder it's impossible to discuss d20 sensibly! There's no game
    there, not even a System. Therefore it passes out of the range of topics
    for this essay; d20 presents a fascinating economics and marketing
    phenomenon, but I think it's only meaningful in those terms.

    Historical perspective
    How is Gamist design distributed across games throughout the hobby's
    history? I'm now talking about explicit design features and facilitative
    text in game-books, not play itself. My essay [17]A hard look at
    Dungeons & Dragons addresses some of the factors that underlie this
    section.

    The most striking feature across role-playing history is the astonishing
    shift in the late 1980s from assuming that Gamist play was the default
    to practically nothing - limited mainly to "old AD&D," various D&D
    imitators, Shadowrun, or Rifts.

    I think this rarity is mainly a matter of rejection by texts that
    facilitated other preferred modes of play. I specifically include AD&D2
    to be included in this shift, as I consider it to be mainly incoherent
    with various and sometimes-contradictory doses of Simulationist design
    scattered throughout, going all the way back to the Wilderness Survival
    Guide and the Dragonlance modules. I also think that the various
    setting-derivative AD&D2 boxed sets of the early 1990s (Al-Qadim, Dark
    Sun, Planescape, et al.) explicitly facilitate Illusionist Simulationist
    play.

    A similar textual rejection can be found in the publications of Lion
    Rampant and later (same company) White Wolf, many of which explicitly
    condemned Gamist play in subcultural terms. In many ways, this can be
    seen as a reclamation of "hip" for role-playing, or at least for a given
    company's role-playing products.

    In spite of all the textual rejection, I also think that the dearth of
    texts reveals nothing about the commonality of Gamist play - I suspect
    that Drift has kept Gamist play alive and quite active, even in the
    absence of coherent games to use it for, especially for AD&D2,
    Champions, Amber, and Vampire (see the GNS section below). Discussing
    why such an overt, accessible, and functional brand of play did not act
    as a solid demand on the marketplace of game design must await more
    discussion of game-industry economics.

    Then again, perhaps my surprise is a matter of my own subcultural
    limitations, if related hobbies are considered. Gamism remained alive
    and well among computer games like Rogue, Nethack, Ultima library (later
    to become Ultima Online), Zork, Advent(ure), MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs,
    Everquest, Amethyst, and many more. Unfortunately, I'm an ignoramus
    about this entire hobby, and any insights into its history, play
    preferences, economics, and what-all would be very welcome at the Forge.

    Oh, and let's not forget that card game that showed up at the game store
    counters a decade ago. I think that Magic: the Gathering is best
    described as a portable, customizable wargame - and that part of its
    popularity may be ascribed to the fact that the customers of the day had
    never seen a wargame before. Unsurprisingly, a whole sector of people
    who were involved in role-playing suddenly discovered the hobby they'd
    been looking for.

    From a role-playing design perspective, Magic and many other
    customizable card games reminded people of a principle that had been
    abandoned for almost a decade: (1) that competitive Step On Up is
    actually fun, rather than automatically Broken; (2) that elegant and
    highly-prioritized game design permits easier entry and more
    satisfaction in play; and (3) that Exploration may be customized to
    taste, rather than considered an all-or-nothing variable.

    Finally, Gamist play has also cropped up across many products which are
    sometimes called role-playing games, but are just a little off my
    personal undefined cognitive space for that label, mainly due to the
    role of "character" and certain aspects of how resolution is addressed.
    All of them utilize control over narration as one of the variables of
    play, thus shifting around the privileges of a traditional GM role, and
    all of them are explicitly about winning the game much as one wins a
    traditional card game. They include Once Upon a Time, The Adventures of
    Baron von Munchausen, and Bedlam, and many others seem to be on the way
    as well. As with the customizable Magic-type games, already they've
    prompted many changes in role-playing, most notably in terms of
    formalizing and permitting shifts among who gets to narrate the outcomes
    of a given resolution mechanic.

    GNS issues
    Memetic power
    Nothing beats Gamism - once you have Step On Up in action, it takes
    over. The main reason is simple: Step On Up is a recognizable, common,
    coherent, and rewarding aspect of human behavior, which is why we see it
    all 'round the place. Role-playing is just another venue. So, basically,
    everyone gets it, and once present, Situation becomes Challenge, and the
    cognitive fascination with esteem relative to performance becomes the
    order of the day. It doesn't rely on any particular game mechanic to be
    present - consider that any metric for social esteem is a candidate for
    Step On Up, and that any element of in-game content is a candidate for
    Challenge. You're bound to find someone's own personal profile for these
    in the game-content somewhere!

    It also takes over easily mechanically in many instances of game design,
    especially in Simulationist-facilitating games, in two ways. The first
    way is to perceive system-based opportunities for advantage: breakpoints
    in point-allocation design, stacking of options into unique effects, and
    similar. Such things are often offered as neat add-ons in
    otherwise-Simulationist designs, but they take over fast when character
    niche-protection switches into literal character-defense. The second
    way, unsurprisingly, is through reward systems: a traditional
    character-improvement system can switch to a fully-social Step On Up
    reward system any time anyone wants, especially since it's
    self-perpetuating.

    Clinton provided this example:

      ... find a copy of Player's Option: Skills and Powers for AD&D2. It
      took the broken Simulationism of that game and added a huge layer of
      Gamism to the construction of characters. I remember making up some
      serious monstrosities with this book.

    The most common Gamist-Drift events in my experience are found in the
    following games:

      * Gamist-Drifted Champions falls into two types: point-strategizing or
        movement/action-strategizing. The reward metric is plain old success
        in in-game conflicts, or demonstrated "superior knowledge" of the
        game's mathiness.
      * Gamist-Drifted Amber is characterized by Drama-bullying toward
        Situation-control, essentially an unstructured version of Pantheon.
        It can also include point-mongering depending on certain
        rules-interpretation. The reward metric may be in-game social
        advancement (e.g. Throne War) or simply moment-to-moment struggles
        over who's in charge of the narration.
      * Gamist-Drifted Vampire consists of extensive breakpoint
        exploitation. The metric is Champions-like character effectiveness,
        specifically who can ignore as well as deliver the most damage. More
        subtly, it's also coolness, whoever gets to be perceived as the most
        real-Goth of the bunch. Many Vampire LARPs tend in this direction as
        well, with the added benefits of singles-bar interactions.

    All of the above tend toward Powergaming as well, with attendant shifts
    to the other branches of the Hard Core over time.

    The common reaction to this easy transition, for non-Gamist-inclined
    players, is pure terror - it's the Monsters from the Id! In-group
    conflicts over the issue have been repeated from group to group, game to
    game, throughout the entire history of the hobby.

    One such thing is a tug-of-war regarding following rules vs.
    not-following rules. What the rules actually say becomes yet another
    variable even as people argue about whether they should be followed, and
    when both of these issues are firing at once, nothing can possibly be
    resolved. The result is always to consider either following or ignoring
    rules to be "right" when it goes your way.

    Another tack is for some groups and game designers to treat Gamism's
    easy "in" as a necessary evil and to take an appeasement approach. The
    "Id" can be controlled, they say, as long as the Superego (the GM) stays
    firmly in charge and gives it occasional fights and a reward system
    based on improving effectiveness. This approach may rank among the
    most-commonly attempted yet least-successful tactic in all of game
    design. It will never actually work: the Lumpley Principle correctly
    places the rules and procedures of play at the mercy of the Social
    Contract, not the other way around. Therefore, even if such a game
    continues, it has this limping-along, gotta-put-up-with-Bob feel to it.

    Hybridization
    Simulationist play is an excellent "subordinate" mode for Gamist play. A
    game designed toward this sort of play is also open to functional Drift
    toward Sim-only as people toss out that "weird stuff" or that
    "powergamer" stuff. See Rifts, Shadowrun, and Age of Heroes.

    However, Gamist play is a terrible "subordinate" mode for Simulationist
    play, because it takes over in a heartbeat, for all the reasons listed
    above. I should clarify, however, that I'm talking strictly about play
    itself, not texts. Looking at texts through several editions, the
    overwhelming tendency is to Drift toward Simulationism. I think this
    phenomenon has several causes, including pseudo-solutions for trying to
    prevent Gamist play, specifically the Hard Core.

    Gamist and Narrativist play have an interesting relationship, but it's
    hard to see or understand unless you have experience with solid
    non-Simulationist game play, which very few role-players have. Nearly
    all of us have dealt mainly with Sim-design and Sim-assumptions, with
    both Gamism and Narrativism as semi-dysfunctional interfering
    priorities, and resulting in a lot of compromises rather than solutions.
    We know that when Simulationist play is involved and either or both
    Gamist and Narrativist play crops up, then a terrible struggle emerges
    among the modes. The entire White Wolf line of games represents a
    fascinating case study of the phenomenon, starting with Vampire and, in
    my view, culminating with a Narrativist direction with Adventure!.
    Another case study is the history of the Hero System, which by
    fourth-edition Champions was resolved in favor of Simulationist design.

    But if Simulationist-facilitating design is not involved, then the whole
    picture changes. Step On Up is actually quite similar, in social and
    interactive terms, to Story Now. Gamist and Narrativist play often share
    the following things:

      * Common use of player Author Stance (Pawn or non-Pawn) to set up the
        arena for conflict. This isn't an issue of whether Author (or any)
        Stance is employed at all, but rather when and for what.
      * Fortune-in-the-middle during resolution, to whatever degree - the
        point is that Exploration as such can be deferred, rather than
        established at every point during play in a linear fashion.
      * More generally, Exploration overall is negotiated in a casual
        fashion through ongoing dialogue, using system for input (which may
        be constraining), rather than explicitly delivered by system per se.
      * Reward systems that reflect player choices (strategy, aesthetics,
        whatever) rather than on in-game character logic or on conformity to
        a pre-stated plan of play.

    Which is a really long-winded way of saying that one or the other of the
    two modes has to be "the point," and they don't share well - but unlike
    either's relationship with Simulationist play (i.e., a potentially
    hostile one), Gamist and Narrativist play don't tug-of-war over "doing
    it right" - they simply avoid one another, like the same-end poles of
    two magnets. Note, I'm saying play, not players. The activity of play
    doesn't hybridize well between Gamism and Narrativism, but it does
    shift, sometimes quite easily.

    Obviously, if the group is disinclined to do this, it can't happen. So
    in Gamist vs. Narrativist play, absent Simulationism, it may be a matter
    of "what we wanna do," and a very easy adjustment to system to reflect
    that in many cases, because how we "do" things is very similar already.

    The key to the shift seems to be the reward system, not resolution - not
    about "how we decide what happens" so much as "how we decide that we're
    having fun." How a group plays Toon, for instance, depends wholly on
    whether Plot Points are used for scoring or whether they're employed as
    a multiple-author cartoon-story creation device. Similarly, the weak
    endgame of Once Upon a Time is resolved locally per group based on
    whether the group acceptance of the Ending card or the emptying of one's
    hand is the metric for ending the game.

    If the reward system is less abstract and embedded deeply into the rest
    of the game, as with Sorcerer and Rune, shifting priorities becomes less
    easy. The Dying Earth provides a phenomenal example of Narrativist play
    using previously-Gamist methods, minimizing Drift with three things:
    non-spiraling game interactions (rock-paper-scissors), limiting returns
    (e.g. negative exponential improvement), and overwhelming rewards that
    promote an alternative metagame priority better suited to Narrativism.

    The history of Tunnels & Trolls offers, I think, one of the most
    powerful examples of the phenomenon in the theory of game design ever,
    back around 1980. I cannot recommend reading and playing T&T highly
    enough to the student of Gamist and Narrativist play. I also recommend
    reading all of their solo adventure scenarios, with special reference to
    date and author, and also as many copies of the magazine Sorcerer's
    Apprentice as possible. Here's a conceptual hint: the T&T reward system
    doesn't award experience points for finding or spending money, but that
    design feature has nothing to do with "realism" at all. It's set up to
    prevent double-dipping, which is to say, gaining both attribute
    improvement and better weapons, armor, and spells through one metric.
    Thus "money" in this game is really a parallel Adventure-Point system
    for improving character features that are not attributes.

    Balance: the sort-of issue
    "Balance" is one of those words which is applied to a wide variety of
    activities or practices that may be independent or even contradictory.
    (See the linked threads in the Glossary.) The word is thrown about like
    a shuttlecock with little reference to any definition at all. That's the
    current state of the art. So I'm taking time-out on the Gamism-only
    discussion to go on a full GNS balance rant, because the assumption that
    Gamist play is uniquely or definitively concerned with "balance" is
    very, very mistaken.

    Overall

     1. Compare "balance" with the notion of parity, or equality of
        performance or resources. If a game includes enforced parity, is it
        is balanced? Is it that simple? And if not, then what?
     2. Bear in mind that Fairness and Parity are not synonymous. One or the
        other might be the real priority regardless of which word is being
        used. Also, "Fair" generally means, "What I want."
     3. Are we discussing the totality of a character (Effectiveness,
        Resource, Metagame), or are we discussing Effectiveness only, or
        Effectiveness + Resource only?
     4. Are we discussing "screen time" for characters at all, which has
        nothing to do with their abilities/oomph?
     5. Are we discussing anything to do at all with players, or rather,
        with the people at the table? Can we talk about balance in regard to
        attention, respect, and input among them? Does it have anything to
        do with Balance of Power, referring to how "the buck" (where it
        stops) is distributed among the members of the group?

    They can't all be balance at once.

    Within Gamist play

     1. Parity of starting point, with free rein given to differing degrees
        of improvement after that. Basically, this means that "we all start
        equal" but after that, anything goes, and if A gets better than B,
        then that's fine.
     2. The relative Effectiveness of different categories of strategy:
        magic vs. physical combat, for instance, or pumping more investment
        into quickness rather than endurance. In this sense, "balance" means
        that any strategy is at least potentially effective, and
        "unbalanced" means numerically broken.
     3. Related to #2, a team that is not equipped for the expected range of
        potential dangers is sometimes called unbalanced.
     4. In direct contrast to #1, "balance" can also mean that everyone is
        subject to the same vagaries of fate (Fortune). That is, play is
        "balanced" if everyone has a chance to save against the Killer Death
        Trap. Or it's balanced because we all rolled 3d6 for Strength,
        regardless of what everyone individually ended up with. (Tunnels &
        Trolls is all about this kind of play.)
     5. The resistance of a game to deliberate Breaking.

    Within Simulationist play
    I am forced to speak historically here, in reference to existing and
    widespread Simulationist approaches, not to any potential or theoretical
    ones. So think of Call of Cthulhu, GURPS, and Rolemaster as you read the
    next part.

     1. One fascinating way that the term is applied is to the
        Currency-based relationship among the components of a character:
        Effectiveness, Resource, Metagame. That's right - we're not talking
        about balance among characters at all, but rather balance within the
        interacting components of a single character. I realize that this
        sounds weird. Check back in the Sim essay to see how important these
        within-character interactions can be in this mode of play.
     2. And, completely differently, "balance" is often invoked as an
        anti-Gamist play defense, specifically in terms of not permitting
        characters to change very much relative to one another, as all of
        them improve. This is, I think, the origin of "everyone gets a
        couple EPs at the end of each session" approach, as opposed to
        "everyone gets different EPs on the basis of individual
        performance."
     3. Rules-enforcement in terms of Effectiveness, which is why GURPS has
        point-total limits per setting. Note that heavy layering renders
        this very vulnerable to Gamist Drift.

    Within Narrativist play
    This gets a little tricky because I can't think of a single coherent
    Narrativist game text in which balance as a term is invoked as a design
    or play feature, nor any particular instance of play I've been involved
    in which brought the issue up. But I'm pretty sure that it's a
    protagonism issue.

     1. "Balance" might be relevant as a measure of character screen time,
        or perhaps weight of screen time rather than absolute length. This
        is not solely the effectiveness-issue which confuses everyone.
        Comics fans will recognize that Hawkeye is just as significant as
        Thor, as a member of the Avengers, or even more so. In game terms,
        this is a Character Components issue: Hawkeye would have a high
        Metagame component whereas Thor would have a higher Effectiveness
        component.
     2. Balance of Power is relevant to all forms of play, but it strikes me
        as especially testy in this mode.

    That's the end of my balance rant, but I beg and plead of anyone who
    reads this essay: I would very much like never to hear again that (1)
    Gamist play must be uniquely obsessed with balance, or (2) if play is
    concerned with any form of balance, it must be Gamist. These are
    unsupportable habits of thought that pervade our hobby and represent
    very poor understanding of the issues involved.

    Pitfalls for Gamist design
    Elegance is the key - which is to say, each piece of the system does
    what it does, has the implications that it has, and doesn't create wonky
    spirals or novel relationships that devalue the Step On Up or Challenge
    parameters. Easy to say, eh? Well, it's damned hard to do, as many an
    inventor of a new board game or new card game can attest.

    Defend against Breaking through elegance, not through patch rules.
    Eliminate, from the ground up, all recursiveness, nonfunctional layers,
    and mathematical ratios.

    Fortune should be present for a Gamist reason, for instance, to
    introduce uncertainty at specific points, for specific impacts on the
    goals of play. It can be very rare to absent, or wildly and constantly
    present, but whatever it is, it needs to "spike" the play-experience
    rather than dilute it. Using Fortune to model the statistical vagaries
    of in-game physical effects should be a secondary concern, if present at
    all.

    A Double-Hose occurs when features of a character are forced downward by
    a low score in some other feature, and when both features are important.
    In Tunnels & Trolls, for instance, a low Strength and Dexterity limit
    one's choice of weapons to lower-damage items, as well as lower the
    "adds" (bonuses) for attacks. If you must have a Double-hose, make it
    easy to replace or recoup "losses," and also make it easy to escape the
    Hose soon through character improvement.

    Beware of end-runs which permit a Challenge to be solved without the
    requisite Step On Up ability or competence. Playtest the game multiple
    times with people who are determined to beat it.

    Do not confuse character improvement for "winning," especially if the
    process is slow and painful. On a related point, do not set the venue
    and length of a "go," which is to say a unit of success or failure at
    the Step On Up level, equivalent to the entirety of a long-term,
    no-set-end, many-session game.

    Don't be a weenie - include loss conditions that can be recognized and
    that do not undercut play. Decide whether such a loss ends the game as a
    whole or permits it to continue, but do not commit the common mistake of
    "loss means sit out" - this is not viable for roleplaying. As soon as
    you have to let people win so that they'll keep playing, the
    relationship of Step On Up to Challenge dies nastily, leaving no
    alternative but to reinvent the game in Hard Core form.

    Beware of Heartbreaker design, particularly the Fantasy ones. Such games
    are wonderful to write and often very enjoyable among one's group, but
    ultimately of little interest to anyone else. More subtly, don't fall
    into the trap of providing Gamist design-features as an appeasement
    strategy - do it or don't.

    Here's my current shot at a little Gamist design: [18]Black Fire. It's
    even more alpha-alpha than Mongrel was, for the Simulationism essay, so
    let's see what happens.

    Troubles for the Gamist
    GNS incompatibility
    The basic hassle arises due to Gamism's "easy in" during play. If one or
    two people get the bug, so to speak, and no one else does, then GNS
    incompatibility disrupts play. This specific problem - the
    Drifted-to-Gamist ensconced in an otherwise-oriented group - is so
    common among Simulationist play especially that it, like the Hard Core,
    gets labeled with munchkinism. It's usually seen in texts from bitter
    non-Gamists and their "grow up from munchkinism" rants.

    The following is from the GM section of Arrowflight (2002, Deep 7,
    author is Todd Downing):

      Dealing with Munchkins The other side to the "cheating" coin is the
      competitive gamer, a breed also known as "Munchkin." Munchkins are
      players who dilute the experience through a combination of
      rules-mongering and overt cheating.

      [alarming rant snipped; includes examples of lying about dice rolls -
      RE]
      The best games are those where everyone is playing a role, striving
      for a goal and working as a unit (that doesn't mean that every
      character must like every other character, but player must at least
      properly play the role they've chosen). If you find a Munchkin in your
      midst, there are numerous ways to deal with him, depending on the
      offense:

      [methods follow, all relying on the GM having final say in any aspect
      of the game - RE]
      ... most players are at least conscientious and intelligent enough not
      to harm their own playing experience as well as that of the other
      players, but the exceptions are out there. As they say, "there's one
      in every group." You don't have to tolerate them in yours.

    Downing's prose is clearly angry. To him, any degree of striving for
    advantage among players, for anything, constitutes breaking the Social
    Contract, to the same degree as lying about dice outcomes. Let's break
    that down, though. He doesn't mind striving for a goal, as long as it's
    an in-character, in-game goal, and much Gamist play can be consistent
    with that. And much Gamist play also prioritizes working as a unit with
    other players. All that's left is the "playing a role" distinction, and
    Downing's real beef seems to be that "playing a role" is not these
    players' first priority, i.e., they are not Simulationists in the mode
    that is reinforced throughout the text of Arrowflight.

    Although I understand where he and many other authors are coming from,
    which is GNS-synecdoche pure and simple, this and similar anti-Gamist
    texts go too far - Step On Up play, even with a dose of competition,
    does not deserve being labeled unconscientious and unintelligent.
    Basically, the authors confound two things.

      * The player who turns any instance of play into social
        power-tripping, rivalry, rancor, and disruption. I shall call this
        person "the Prick." The important thing to realize is that this
        person is not a Gamist at all, and that Pricks disrupt any form of
        play; a Simulationist-Gamist mismatch is one thing, but stubborn
        disruption is another. The fault lies at the Social Contract level,
        not at the GNS level.
      * The person who really wants to play Gamist but is in the wrong
        group, giving rise to secondary dysfunctions of various sorts. This
        person is usually derided as "the powergamer" or "the munchkin" by
        the others, but I hasten to add that the fault lies with the GNS
        mismatch, not with the person as a social human, and that his or her
        mode of Gamist play may not even include the Hard Core.

    This section is perhaps harsh on the Simulationist approach and
    assumptions. I also need to acknowledge that a bored Gamist-inclined
    player, seeing no engaging Challenge, has been known, on occasion, to
    turn his attention toward the Hard Core, specifically Turnin' and
    Breaking the game. If it's clear that the other individuals don't
    appreciate this, and if he or she continues, then what's happened is the
    Birth of a Prick that some better understanding of contrasting GNS goals
    might have prevented. I used to see this all the time in Champions
    groups, and it's horrible. I can at least sympathize with where
    Downing's coming from.

    Troubles within Gamism
    Now I'm talking about troubles within Gamism rather than with it. All
    three modes boast an array of specific dysfunctions, and here are the
    sorts that Gamists encounter among their own. (Side point: Simulationist
    dysfunctions include The Impossible Thing, Transparency, and placing
    "realism" as the core value; Narrativist dysfunctions include
    railroading, sizzle over steak, and interfering through deprotagonism.)

    The core problem in Gamist dysfunction is not knowing what the Step On
    Up is actually about. It results in all kinds of things, most usually
    ramping-up the competitive levels and shifting to the Hard Core, usually
    in the form of Turnin' and Calvinball beyond what other members of the
    group want to do. A related problem concerns Author vs. Pawn Stance,
    which is to say, differing standards for moment-to-moment Exploration of
    Character. When I see a player completely abandon all Stances but Pawn
    through several scenes of play, it's like the sinister drumming
    emanating from the leafy jungle the night before the massacre. Many a GM
    in a Gamist-oriented group strictly enforces justifications of
    characters' behavior in an attempt to stave off the problem, although
    frankly, if he has to resort to decrees, threats, and pleas, it's
    probably already too late.

    These "core" issues should look similar to the GNS-mismatch issue
    described above, because it's the Birth of a Prick all over again, only
    within the Gamist mode.

    The other, more extreme dysfunction arises from the player who is
    basically a poor sport, or, "the Wimp," which is unfortunately the most
    common dysfunctional Gamism. It has its parallels in other Step On Up,
    non-role-playing activities; people are sure to recognize them from
    their hobbies.

      * Critical commentary that goes beyond simple joshing or observation
        into abuse: "You suck," delivered to someone who happened to roll a
        1 rather than a 20; this is often combined with an inability to
        tolerate joshing oneself. (What degree of verbiage counts as abuse
        varies from group to group.)
      * Manipulating the others' parameters for how-to-play, e.g., tattling
        to the GM that so-and-so is violating his or her character's
        alignment.
      * Stating what another player "should have done" as a form of constant
        criticism. This is a bigger deal than it looks, as in Gamist play,
        it's all right not to make the best choice all the time, but
        personal choice in the Crunch or Gamble is sacrosanct. Essentially,
        it constitutes protagonism in Gamist play. The Wimp de-protagonizes
        other players' characters all the time by de-valuing the players'
        decisions from his armchair. Breaking the Contract: if I can't win,
        I'll take my football and go straight home; or lashing out at allies
        as if they were foes; or being socially obnoxious until granted an
        advantage or perceived entitlement.
      * Plain wussy-cheating: stating it was "in" when it was "out," and
        similar, and pouting when the tactic doesn't work, usually escalates
        to breaking the baseline cooperative Social Contract that underlies
        the Step On Up in question.

    Bluntly, in any context besides role-playing, this kind of behavior will
    get your ass kicked for you, or at the very least, instantly excluded
    from the activity. It's simply not socially tolerable. The real question
    is why it's widely observed in the role-playing hobby, for which I can
    see two reasons.

     1. Wimpiness is often observed among young people as they work out the
        "rules of life" through all sorts of play-activity, among other
        unpleasant behaviors such as bullying. This is why adults usually
        don't play with kids unless they can enforce certain social
        standards, i.e., act as social mentors in addition to playing the
        game.
     2. I think that the Social Context of role-playing is currently in
        disarray. It's out of the scope of this essay to go into the issue
        in detail, but see the [19]Social Context discussion on the Forge
        for some notions. The short version is that friendships cannot be
        placed at stake based on in-play events - if they are, then Step On
        Up places way too much pressure on the agreement to play together at
        all.

    Confusingly, many Gamist-oriented players call Wimpiness "munchkinism,"
    making three distinct uses for the term so far.

    The bitterest role-player in the world
    Meet the low-Step On Up, high-Challenge Gamist, with both "little red
    competition" dials spun down to their lowest settings.

    This person prefers a role-playing game that combines Gamist potential
    with Simulationist hybrid support, such that a highly Explorative
    Situation can evolve, in-game and without effort, into a Challenge
    Situation. In other words, the social-level Step On Up "emerges" from
    the events in-play. This view, and its problematic qualities, are
    extremely similar to that of the person who wants to see full-blown
    Narrativist values "just appear" from a Simulationist-play foundation.
    It's possible, but not as easy and intuitive as it would seem.

    His preferred venue for the Gamist moments of play is a small-scale
    scene or crisis embedded in a larger-scale Exploration that focuses on
    Setting and Character. In these scenes, he's all about the Crunch:
    Fortune systems should be easy to estimate, such that each instance of
    its use may be chosen and embedded in a matrix of strategizing.
    Point-character construction and menus of independent feats or powers
    built to resist Powergaming are ideal.

    As for playing the character, it's Author Stance all the way. He likes
    to imagine what "his guy" thinks, but to direct "his guy" actions from a
    cool and clear Step On Up perspective. The degree of Author Stance is
    confined to in-game imaginative events alone and doesn't bleed over into
    Balance of Power issues regarding resolution at all.

    Related to the Stance issue, he is vehemently opposed to the Hard Core,
    even to any hints of it or any exploitable concepts that it seizes upon
    most easily. For instance, reward system that functions at the metagame
    level is anathema: not only should solid aesthetics should be primary,
    but he is rightly leery of the Hard Core eye for such reward systems.
    "Balance" for him consists of the purity of the Resource system and
    unbroken Currency. It's consistent with the Simulationist Purist for
    System values and represents further defenses against the Hard Core.

    He probably developed his role-playing preferences in highly-Drifted
    AD&D2 or in an easily-Drifted version of early Champions, both of which
    he probably describes as playing "correctly" relative to other groups
    committed to these games.

    This man (I've met no women who fit this description) is cursed. He's
    cursed because the only people who can enjoy playing with him, and vice
    versa, are those who share precisely his goals, and these goals are very
    easily upset by just about any others.

      * His heavy Sim focus keeps away the "lite" Gamists who like
        Exploration but not Simulationism.
      * The lack of metagame reward system keeps away most Gamists in
        general.
      * Hard Core Gamists will kick him in the nuts every time, just as they
        do to Simulationist play.
      * Most Simulationist-oriented players won't Step Up - they get no
        gleam in their eye when the Challenge hits, and some are even happy
        just to piddle about and "be."
      * Just about anyone who's not Gamist-inclined lumps him with "those
        Gamists" and writes him off.

    I've known several of these guys. They are bitter, I say. Imagine years
    of just knowing that your "perfect game" is possible, seeing it in your
    mind, knowing that if only a few other people could just play their
    characters exactly according to the values that you yourself would play,
    that your GM-preparation would pay off beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
    Now imagine years of encountering all the bulleted points above, over
    and over.

    At present, I have no suggestions to help them, just as I cannot help
    those who expect to see "story" consistently emerge from play that does
    not prioritize it. I hope some dialogue at the Forge might come up with
    some solutions.

    What I like about Gamism
    Gamist-inclined players tend to be unashamed regarding their
    preferences. Their role-playing is easily understood, diverse in
    application, unpretentious, and often perfectly happy with its role
    relative to the person's social life at large. The Gamists have a lot to
    teach the rest of the hobby about self-esteem.

    Some folks seem to think that Gamist play lacks variety, to which I say,
    "nonsense." Scrabble is "always the same," and it's fun as hell; simple
    games do not mean simplistic, shallow, or easy. What matters is whether
    the strategy of the moment is fun. Well-designed, multiple-edged Step On
    Up activities with fully-developed competition are endlessly diverting
    and provide an excellent basis for friendship. Anyone who thinks that
    such things in role-playing necessarily cannot be fun and will
    necessarily destroy social interactions is badly mistaken - what's
    needed is better, more diverting, and more multiply-angled design. D&D3E
    and Rune are just the start, and their overt roots in 1970s-style
    dungeon crawls indicate, I think, that the hobby's efforts in Gamist
    design are so far limited to getting its first steps re-created
    properly.

    What I'm calling for is a better appreciation for functional Gamist
    role-playing, overtly and even joyfully stated in the games' design and
    texts. Given the introduction of D&D3E, I think this long-unmet need is
    being satisfied without my help, but I also think that lots of people
    might enjoy Gamist play that's not D&D style fantasy. Why not whole new
    venues, such as romance, or sports!

    Good new designs remind largely unexplored. Where are the sensible
    reward systems that integrate Challenge and Step On Up in some way, and
    are not wholly defined by increasing Effectiveness values or promoting
    tug-of-war over narration? Where are the loss conditions that are not
    recursive regarding continued play?

    The Hard Question
    Each of these three essays concludes with a challenge to the role-player
    who prefers the mode under discussion. For the Gamist, the question is,
    why is role-playing your chosen venue as a social hobby? There are lots
    and lots of them that unequivocally fit Step On Up with far less
    potential for encountering conflicting priorities: volleyball, chess, or
    pool, if you like the Crunch; horse races or Las Vegas if you like the
    Gamble; hell, even organized amateur sports like competitive martial
    arts or sport fishing.

    Do you play Gamist in role-playing because it doesn't hurt your ego as
    much as other venues might? Is role-playing safer in some way, in terms
    of the loss factor of Step On Up? Even more severely, are you sticking
    to role-playing because many fellow players subscribe to the "no one
    wins in role-playing" idea? Do you lurk like Grendel among a group of
    tolerant, perhaps discomfited Simulationists, secure that they are
    disinclined to Step On Up toward you? In which case, you can win against
    them or the game all the time, but they will never win against you?

    I accuse no one of affirmative answers to these questions; that's the
    reader's business. But I do think answering them should be a high
    priority.

    Glossary
    See the Glossary in the other essays as well as definitions and
    explanations in the "GNS and related matters" essay.

    Actor Stance
       the real person determines the character's decisions and actions
       using only knowledge and perceptions that the character would have.

    Author Stance
       the real person determines the character's decisions and actions
       based on the real person's priorities, Author Stance includes two
       sub-categories
       in "Author" Author Stance, the person then retroactively "motivates"
       the character to perform the acts in question; in "Pawn" Author
       Stance, he or she does not. Pawn Stance is often identified with
       Gamist play, but this identification is false for either Stance or
       Mode.

    Balance
       this term is undefined. See the discussion in this text.

    Balance of Power
       how the "buck stops here" authority regarding resolution in play is
       distributed among members of a role-playing group. This term was
       first applied to role-playing interactions by Hunter Logan.

    Breaking the game
       a dysfunctional technique of Hard Core Gamist play, characterized by
       rendering other participants' efforts ineffective without recourse.

    Calvinball
       a potentially-dysfunctional technique of Hard Core Gamist play,
       characterized by making up the rules of a game as it is played,
       especially in the immediate context of advantaging oneself and
       disadvantaging one's opponents. "Tagged you! Tags mean you're out!"
       "It's Tuesday! Tagging doesn't work on Tuesdays!" This term,
       obviously, is pulled from the comic strip Calvin & Hobbes.

    Challenge
       the Situation of play in the Gamist context, specifically, adversity
       or imposed risk to player-characters of any kind. It's the
       imaginative arena for the more general Social Contract of Gamist
       play, called Step On Up.

    Character Components
       the features of a role-playing character. All are present for all
       characters, even if one or more is not explicitly part of the textual
       rules. See Effectiveness, Metagame, and Resource; also see Currency.

    Coherence
       any functional combination, including singletons, of GNS priorities.
       Please note that "coherency" is not a word.

    Congruence
       refers to play in which two or more different GNS modes may be
       expressed in such a way that they neither interfere with one another
       nor are easily distinguished through observation; the term was coined
       by Walt Freitag in [20]GNS and "Congruency". I am revising the term
       to "congruence" in the interest of grammar.

    Creative agenda
       the aesthetic priorities and any matters of imaginative interest
       regarding role-playing; replaces all uses of "premise" in the
       original essay aside from the specific creative agenda of Narrativist
       play (for which the term "Premise" is retained); Step On Up, The
       Right to Dream, and Story Now represent the creative agendas,
       respectively, of Gamist, Simulationist, and Narrativist play.

    The Crunch
       an application or type of Challenge, based on high predictability
       relative to risk.

    Currency
       the rate-of-exchange relationship within and among Character
       Components.

    DFK
       specific resolution mechanics; see Drama, Fortune, and Karma

    Director Stance
       the real person determines aspects of the environment relative to the
       character in some fashion, entirely separately from the character's
       knowledge or ability to influence events. Therefore the player has
       not only determined the character's actions, but the context, timing,
       and spatial circumstances of those actions, or even features of the
       world separate from the characters. Director Stance is often confused
       with narration of an in-game event, but the two concepts are not
       necessarily related.

    The Dream
       commitment to the imagined events of play, specifically in-game cause
       and pre-established thematic elements. As a top priority for
       role-playing, the defining feature of Simulationist play. See my
       essay [21]Simulationism
       the right to dream.

    Dysfunction
       simply, role-playing which is not fun. Most Forge discussions presume
       that un-fun role-playing is worse than no role-playing.

    Effectiveness (a Character Component)
       any quantities used to determine success or extent of an action.

    Exploration
       social and personal imagination, creation of fictional events through
       communicating among one another.

    The Gamble
       an application or type of Challenge, based on high risk relative to
       predictability.

    The Hard Core
       Gamist play with minimal or even absent Exploration; see Breaking the
       game, Calvinball, Powergaming, and Turnin'.

    Hybrid
       role-playing with two identifiable GNS priorities in action;
       empirically, one is apparently always subordinate to the other, and a
       threesie game is as yet unknown.

    IIEE
       Intent, Initiation, Execution, and Effect - how actions and events in
       the imaginary game-world are resolved in terms of real-world
       announcement and imaginary order of occurrence.

    Incoherence
       incompatible combination of GNS priorities, applies by definition to
       play, but often applied secondarily to game design. Abashedness
       represents a minor, correctable form of Incoherence.

    The Lumpley Principle
       "System (including but not limited to 'the rules') is defined as the
       means by which the group agrees to imagined events during play." The
       author of the principle is Vincent Baker, see [22]Vincent's standard
       rant
       power, credibility, and assent and [23]Player power abuse.

    Metagame (general) - all aspects of play that concern non-Explorative
    matters or priorities; in terms of my layered model, Social Contract and
    GNS (creative agenda).

    Metagame (a Character Component)
       all positioning and behavioral statements about the character, as
       well as player rights to over-ride the existing Effectiveness rules.

    Metagame mechanics
       where System and Social Contract meet, without Exploration as the
       medium.

    "Munchkin"
       a derogatory term used in several different ways, including by
       non-Gamists vs. Gamists in general, by Hard Core or heavy-Step
       Gamists vs. Wimps, and by high-Exploration Gamists vs. Hard Core
       play.

    Powergaming
       a potentially dysfunctional technique of Hard Core Gamist play,
       characterized by maximizing character impact on the game-world or
       player impact on the dialogue of play by whatever means available.

    Resource (a Character Component)
       any available usable pool upon which Effectiveness or Metagame
       mechanics may draw, or which are reduced to reflect harm to the
       character.

    Reward System
       enjoyability payoff that prompts further play, usually expressed in
       Explorative terms but not restricted to Exploration.

    Screen Time
       the extent of attention afforded to a given player's Explorative
       contributions from the other participants.

    Social Context
       positioning of one's role-playing hobby relative to other humans
       outside one's gaming group, whether they are role-players or not. See
       [24]Social context.

    Social Contract
       all interactions and relationships among the role-playing group. All
       role-playing is a subset of the Social Contract.

    Stakes
       what stands to be lost and/or gained during Gamist play; the term may
       be applied at either or both Step on Up or Challenge levels of play.

    Stance
       cognitive position of real person to fictional character (see Author,
       Actor, and Director Stance definitions). Coined by the RFGA on-line
       discussions.

    Step On Up
       social assessment in the face of risk. As a top priority of
       role-playing, the defining feature of Gamist play.

    Story Now
       producing, heightening, and resolving a Premise. As a top priority of
       role-playing, the defining feature of Narrativist play.

    System (character creation, resolution including IIEE, reward system,
    metagame mechanics)
       the means by which imaginary events are established during play (see
       the Lumpley Principle).

    Turnin'
       a potentially dysfunctional technique of Hard Core Gamist play,
       characterized by treating one another's characters as the primary
       source of Challenge.

    Wimpiness
       a dysfunctional form of Gamism characterized by poor sportsmanship,
       i.e., the unwillingness to accept a loss.

    The Forge created and administrated by [25]Clinton R. Nixon and [26]Ron
    Edwards.
    All articles, reviews, and posts on this site are copyright their
    designated author.

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