*GNS and Other Matters of Role-playing Theory* by Ron Edwards Copyright Adept Press 2001 *Introduction* My straightforward observation of the activity of role-playing is that many participants do not enjoy it very much. Most role-players I encounter are tired, bitter, and frustrated. My goal in this writing is to provide vocabulary and perspective that enable people to articulate what they want and like out of the activity, and to understand what to look for both in other people and in game design to achieve their goals. The person who is entirely satisfied with his or her role-playing experiences is not my target audience. Everything in this document is nothing more nor less than "What Ron Thinks." It is not an official Dogma for the Forge. It is not a consensus view of members of the Forge, nor is it a committee effort of any kind. It is most especially not an expectation for what you're supposed to think or believe. However, it does stand as the single coherent body of theory about role-playing at the Forge, and its lexicon is definitive for purposes of discussion there. I am satisfied with it, but I'm not unreasonable either, so it is not immutable. Please deal with it in one of the following ways: identify an inconsistency, ask for clarification and examples, or otherwise address its content critically. I am perfectly willing to amend any content, if I'm given a substantive reason to do so, and to give credit for the insight. I request that all discussion of this material be based on careful consideration. Snap judgments, unsupported value judgments, neophobia, taking offense, and other juvenile reactions are not welcome. Furthermore, I am well aware that my GNS notions vary greatly from the original Threefold Model (or GDS), and that my categories of Stance differs from those originally proposed. Identifying these differences does not constitute a criticism. I have been extensively influenced by the work of others and have incorporated it in ways which make sense to me. Concepts that were originated and developed by others are credited in the acknowledgments at the end. *Contents* Introduction 1. Exploration 2. GNS 3. Stance 4. The Basics of Role-playing Design 5. Role-playing Design and Coherence 6. Actually Playing Acknowledgments *_Chapter One: Exploration_* When a person engages in role-playing, or prepares to do so, he or she relies on imagining and utilizing the following: *Character*, *System*, *Setting*, *Situation*, and *Color*. * Character: a fictional person or entity. * System: a means by which in-game events are determined to occur. * Setting: where the character is, in the broadest sense (including history as well as location). * Situation: a problem or circumstance faced by the character. * Color: any details or illustrations or nuances that provide atmosphere. At the most basic level, these are what the role-playing experience is "about," but to be more precise, these are the things which must be imagined by the real people. In this sense, saying "system" means "imagining events to be occurring." *Exploration and its child, Premise* The best term for the imagination in action, or perhaps for the attention given the imagined elements, is *Exploration*. Initially, it is an individual concern, although it will move into the social, communicative realm, and the commitment to imagine the listed elements becomes an issue of its own. When a person perceives the listed elements together and considers Exploring them, he or she usually has a basic reaction of interest or disinterest, approval or disapproval, or desire to play or lack of such a desire. Let's assume a positive reaction; when it occurs, whatever prompted it is *Premise*, in its most basic form. To re-state, Premise is whatever a participant finds among the elements to sustain a continued interest in what might happen in a role-playing session. Premise, once established, instils the desire to keep that imaginative commitment going. Person 1: "You play vampires in the modern day, trying to stay secret from the cattle and coping with other vampires." [See atmospheric, grim, punky-goth pictures] Person 2: "Ooh! Cool!" Person 2 might have liked the grittiness of the art, the romance of the word "vampire," or the idea of being involved in a secret mystical intrigue. Or maybe none of these and an entirely different thing. Or maybe all of them at once. It doesn't matter - whatever it was, that's the initial Premise for this person. Premise is a metagame concern, wholly different from the listed elements. They are the imagined (Explored) content of the role-playing experience, and Premise is the real-person, real-world interest that instils and maintains a person's desire to have that experience. At this early point, though, Premise is vague and highly personal, as it is only the embryo of the real Premise. The real Premise exists as a clear, focused question or concern shared among all members of the group. The initial Premise only takes shape and shared-focus when we move to the next chapter. *Why "genre" is not part of the lexicon* I do not recommend using "genre" to identify role-playing content. A "genre" is some combination of specific setting elements, plot elements, situation elements, character elements, and sometimes premise elements, such that by hearing the term, we are informed what to expect, or in role-playing terms, what to do. On the face of it, the concept would seem to be useful. The problem is that genres are continually being deconstructed and re-formed, with elements of one being re-combined with others. This is occurring as a non-planned or non-managed historical phenomenon throughout all media. Therefore "genre" may be a fine descriptive label for what is or has been done, but it's not much help in terms of what to do or what can be done. In many cases, a given genre label will convey to a close group of people a fairly tight combination of values for these variables. However, the same genre label loses its power to inform as you add more people to the mix, especially since most labels have switched meanings radically more than once. And even more importantly, new combinations of values for the key variables may be perfectly functional, even when they do not correspond to any recognized genre label. Therefore when someone tells me that a game (or story, or whatever) is based on a certain genre, I have to ask a few more questions - and sooner or later, I get real answers in terms of Character, Setting, Situation, or Color. Only then can an initial Premise be identified, and then the next step toward functional, enjoyable role-playing may occur. *_Chapter Two: GNS_* Talk to someone who participates in role-playing, and focus on the precise and actual acts of role-playing themselves. Ask them, "Why do you role-play?" The most common answer is, "To have fun." Again, stick to the role-playing itself. (The wholly social issues are real, such as "Wanting to hang out with my friends," but they are not the topic at hand.) Now ask, "What makes fun?" This may not be a verbal question, and it is best answered mainly through role-playing with people rather than listening to them. Time and inference are usually required. In my experience, the answer turns out to be a version of one of the following terms. These terms, or modes, describe three distinct types of people's decisions and goals during play. * *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 provide an arena for the competition. * *Simulationism* is expressed by enhancing one or more of the listed elements in Set 1 above; in other words, Simulationism heightens and focuses Exploration as the priority of play. The players may be greatly concerned with the internal logic and experiential consistency of that Exploration. * *Narrativism* is expressed by the creation, via role-playing, of a story with a recognizable theme. The characters are formal protagonists in the classic Lit 101 sense, and the players are often considered co-authors. The listed elements provide the material for narrative conflict (again, in the specialized sense of literary analysis). Collectively, the three modes are called *GNS*. Stating "GNS," "GNS perspectives," or anything similar, is to refer to the diversity of approaches to play. One might refer to "GNS goals," in which case the meaning is, "whichever one might apply for this act of role-playing." GNS is the central concept of my theorizing about role-playing. It is necessary for understanding how Premise is developed, and it provides the context for the later points in this essay. However, it is not sufficient, and the three modes themselves do not address any and all points about role-playing. I disavow either GM-centric or player-centric applications of GNS. The terms apply to real people engaged in the act of role-playing, and the distinction between GM and player is irrelevant for this purpose. However, the reverse is meaningful: given a GNS focus of play, GM and player roles take on specific shapes, or specific ranges of shapes. (This issue is discussed later.) *Labels* Much torment has arisen from people perceiving GNS as a labelling device. Used properly, the terms apply only to decisions, not to whole persons nor to whole games. To be absolutely clear, to say that a person is (for example) Gamist, is only shorthand for saying, "This person tends to make role-playing decisions in line with Gamist goals." Similarly, to say that an RPG is (for example) Gamist, is only shorthand for saying, "This RPG's content facilitates Gamist concerns and decision-making." For better or for worse, both of these forms of shorthand are common. For a given instance of play, the three modes are exclusive in application. When someone tells me that their role-playing is "all three," what I see from them is this: features of (say) two of the goals appear in concert with, or in service to, the main one, but two or more fully-prioritized goals are not present at the same time. So in the course of Narrativist or Simulationist play, moments or aspects of competition that contribute to the main goal are not Gamism. In the course of Gamist or Simulationist play, moments of thematic commentary that contribute to the main goal are not Narrativism. In the course of Narrativist or Gamist play, moments of attention to plausibility that contribute to the main goal are not Simulationism. The primary and not to be compromised goal is what it is for a given instance of play. The actual time or activity of an "instance" is necessarily left ambiguous. Over a greater period of time, across many instances of play, some people tend to cluster their decisions and interests around one of the three goals. Other people vary across the goals, but even they admit that they stay focused, or prioritize, for a given instance. *Developing Premise into practical form* Again, all three modes are social applications of the foundational act of role-playing, which is Exploration. Taking that into a social, role-playing circumstance, the people get more concrete about a shared Premise, and thus their decisions acquire a GNS focus of some kind. To play successfully, the members of the role-playing group must be, at the very least, willing to acknowledge and support the focused Premise as perceived by one another. The developed or focused Premise is no longer a noun ("vampire") or image, but has become a question, challenge, or provocative issue. Gamism and Narrativism each encompass a wide range of variation for Premise, including variations that differ drastically from one another. This is why "a Gamist," for instance, does not necessarily enjoy any and all Gamist play or have the same priorities as any and all other Gamist-oriented role-players. The same applies for Narrativism. Simulationism is a bit different in its details, but in its way also includes a wide range of variation and approaches to play; therefore the insight that not all Simulationist-oriented play is alike applies here as well. *Gamist Premises* focus on competition about overt metagame goals. They vary regarding who is competing with whom (players vs. one another; players vs. GM; etc), what is at stake, victory and loss conditions, and what particular sort of strategizing is being employed. Gamist play also varies widely in terms of what is and is not predictable (i.e. randomized), both in terms of starting positions and in terms of ongoing events. * Can I play well enough such that my character survives the perils? * Can I score more points than the other players? * And much more, depending on the arrangement and organization of the participants. The key to Gamist Premises is that the conflict of interest among real people is an overt source of fun. It is not a matter of upset or abuse, and it is certainly not a "distraction from" or "failure of" role-playing. * A possible Gamist development of the "vampire" initial Premise might be, Can my character gain more status and influence than the other player-characters in the ongoing intrigue among vampires? * Another might be, Can our vampire characters survive the efforts of ruthless and determined human vampire hunters? *Narrativist Premises* focus on producing Theme via events during play. Theme is defined as a value-judgment or point that may be inferred from the in-game events. My thoughts on Narrativist Premise are derived from the book The Art of Dramatic Writing by Lajos Egri, specifically his emphasis on the questions that arise from human conundrums and passions of all sorts. * Is the life of a friend worth the safety of a community? * Do love and marriage outweigh one's loyalty to a political cause? * And many, many more - the full range of literature, myth, and stories of all sorts. Narrativist Premises vary regarding their origins: character-driven Premise vs. setting-driven Premise, for instance. They also vary a great deal in terms of unpredictable "shifts" of events during play. The key to Narrativist Premises is that they are moral or ethical questions that engage the players' interest. The "answer" to this Premise (Theme) is produced via play and the decisions of the participants, not by pre-planning. * A possible Narrativist development of the "vampire" initial Premise, with a strong character emphasis, might be, Is it right to sustain one's immortality by killing others? When might the justification break down? * Another, with a strong setting emphasis, might be, Vampires are divided between ruthlessly exploiting and lovingly nurturing living people, and which side are you on? *Simulationist Premises* are generally kept to their minimal role of personal aesthetic interest; the effort during play is spent on the Exploration. Therefore the variety of Simulationist play arises from the variety of what's being Explored. * Character: highly-internalized, character-experiential play, for instance the Turku approach. A possible development of the "vampire" premise in terms of Character Exploration might be, What does it feel like to be a vampire? * Situation: well-defined character roles and tasks, up to and including metaplot-driven play. A possible development of the "vampire" premise in terms of Situation Exploration might be, What does the vampire lord require me to do? * Setting: a strong focus on the details, depth, and breadth of a given set of source material. A possible development of the "vampire" premise in terms of Setting Exploration might be, How has vampire intrigue shaped human history and today's politics? * System: a strong focus on the resolution engine and all of its nuances in strictly within-game-world, internally-causal terms. A possible development of the "vampire" premise in terms of System Exploration might be, How do various weapons harm or fail to harm a vampire, in specific causal detail? * Any mutually-reinforcing combination of the above elements is of course well-suited to this form of play. The key to Simulationist play is that imagining the designated features is prioritized over any other aspect of role-playing, most especially over any metagame concerns. The name Simulationism refers to the priority placed on resolving the Explored feature(s) in in-game, internally causal terms. *Controversy: is that third box really there?* It has rightly been asked whether Simulationism really exists, given that it consists mainly of Exploration. I suggest that Simulationism exists insofar as the effort and attention to Exploration may over-ride either Gamist or Narrativist priorities. Some of the following examples refer to RPG rules and text; I am referring to people enjoying and preferring such rules and text (i.e. the people, not the game itself). Concrete examples #1: Simulationism over-riding Gamism * Any text which states that role-playing is not about winning; correspondingly, chastising a player who advocates a character action perceived as "just trying to win." [This example assumes that the text/game does not state story-creation as an alternative goal.] * Using probability tables in character creation to determine appearance, profession/class, or race, based on demographics of the community of the character's origin. Converse: Gamism over-riding Simulationism * Characters teaming up for a common goal with no disputes or even attention regarding differences in race, religion, ethics, or anything else. * Improving character traits (e.g. damage that may be taken) based on the amount of treasure amassed. Concrete examples #2: Simulationism over-riding Narrativism * A weapon does precisely the same damage range regardless of the emotional relationship between wielder and target. (True for RuneQuest, not true for Hero Wars) * A player is chastised for taking the potential intensity of a future confrontation into account when deciding what the character is doing in a current scene, such as revealing an important secret when the PC is unaware of its importance. * The time to traverse town with super-running is deemed insufficient to arrive at the scene, with reference to distance and actions at the scene, such that the villain's bomb does blow up the city. (The rules for DC Heroes specifically dictate that this be the appropriate way to GM such a scene). Converse: Narrativism over-riding Simulationism * Using metagame mechanics to increase the probability of task resolution, with NO corresponding in-game justification. "Apply my bonus die to increase my Charm roll," in which the bonus die is not "will" or "endurance" or anything but an abstract pool unit. * A player is chastised for claiming a PC motive that "stalls out" story elements (conflict, resolution etc). Example: player A is pissed off at player B, who has announced "I say nothing," in certain interactive scenes, when player A is aware that the PC's knowledge would be pivotal in the scene. * Using inter-player dialogue and knowledge to determine character action, then retroactively justifying the action in terms of character knowledge and motive. "You hit him high and I'll hit him low," between players whose characters do not have the opportunity to plan the attack. [This example could also apply to Gamism over-riding Simulationism; the two are quite similar.] In conclusion, Simulationism exists as an established, real priority-set of role-playing, with its own distinctive range of decisions and goals. *Controversy: "But I'm story-oriented"* A great deal of intellectual suffering has occurred due to the linked claims that role-playing either is or is not "story-oriented," and that one falls on one side or the other of this dichotomy. I consider this terminology and its implication to be wholly false. "Story" may simply mean "series of caused events," in which case the issue is trivial. However, most of the time, the term is more specific. More specific meanings of "story" may be involved in role-playing in a variety of ways. Narrativism is a no-brainer in this regard, as it is defined by the metagame attention to creating a story of critical merit (i.e. "good"). But story-creation and its elements are certainly possible, although not prioritized, in both of the other modes. Most generally, there are (1) forms of Simulationist play with a strong Situation focus, which provide a story for the participants to imagine being in; and (2) forms of Gamist play in which dramatic outcomes are the stakes of competition, which produces story as a side-effect of that competition. More specifically, to observers who are not considering goals and decisions of play, the following three, very distinct sorts of play are superficially similar and often confounded. * Narrativist play with a Setting-driven Premise. * Simulationist play in which Situation is being preferentially Explored, perhaps with an elaborate published metaplot in the form of short stories or novels. * Gamist play in which Drama mechanics (see the fourth chapter) are used as a strategy-element, making use of a complex set of circumstances, Setting and Situation) for material. Similarly, the same confoundment may occur regarding the following (which share regions of potential overlap with the three above in terms of "story," as well): * Narrativist play with a Character-driven Premise. * Simulationist play in which Character and Situation are being Explored. * Gamist play in which Character improvement or other development is at stake, and character behavior or attitudes are limiting factors. Story-stuff and/or character stuff is so important to all these approaches that the differences in processes and point of role-playing are easy to miss, or, disastrously, easy to deny. Three people attempting to role-play with one another in a vampire-character game, but each representing one of (say) the first three perspectives, are going to have a hard time, even if they assured one another that they were fully committed to "the story." How and why the difficulties arise are discussed throughout the remainder of the essay. *Misunderstandings of GNS* By far and away, the worst misunderstanding of GNS, with the worst consequences, arises from synecdoche, confounding the part with the whole and vice versa. (I'll use Simulationism as my stand-in term, but any of the modes could be named here.) * Mistaking the whole for the part, within a mode: claiming that any Simulationist-oriented person must enjoy all Simulationist play. * Mistaking the part for the whole, within a mode: claiming that a particular sort of Simulationism is Simulationism (and nothing else is). * Mistaking the whole for the part, for all of role-playing: claiming that in role-playing at all, one must be engaged in Simulationism somehow. * Mistaking the part for the whole, for all of role-playing: claiming that a particular sort of Simulationism is role-playing (and nothing else is). Synecdoche may be committed by someone who has recently or imperfectly learned some GNS vocabulary, who in his enthusiasm is disrespectful to modes of play besides his favorite. However, it is also tremendously widespread among those role-players who do not know, or even who disparage, a critical approach to the activity, but commit synecdoche using terms like "realistic" or "story." In either case, this fallacy is disastrous. It results in bad feelings, fizzled games, and rejection of role-playing. Other common misunderstandings of GNS include: * Ascribing any sort of geometric shape or variable-space to these terms. Such ideas are often interesting but they are not formally part of the definitions. (For instance, there is no such thing as a "GNS Triangle.") * Confounding Simulationism with the term "realism." Much of Simulationist play and game design has indeed focused on generating realistic outcomes, but this is a historical subset of the mode rather than part of the mode's definition. * Stating "see what happens" as the definition for any of the modes. All role-playing is about "seeing what happens." This is a good example of whole-for-the-part synecdoche. * Mistaking the shorthand of "He's a Narrativist" (or either of the others) for a limiting statement that the person is incapable of any other mode of play. * Mistaking any of the listed elements for one of the modes, e.g., such that attention to character must be Narrativist, or attention to setting must be Simulationist, or attention to system must be Gamist. * Projecting judgment and value-judgments into the terminology, such that the speaker or listener perceives one of the goals to be placed higher or better than the others. Gamist play, for instance, is often unfairly marginalized. * Perceiving the terms' purpose as a means to classify game design. They are used relative to game design, but again as shorthand: calling an RPG a "Narrativist design," for instance, really means "This RPG's content facilitates Narrativist play." * Failing to understand the terms' actual purpose: to enable people to enjoy their role-playing more. Note: "synecdoche" is pronounced "sin-ECK-doe-key." Think Schenectady and vasectomy. If you can make a good limerick out of these three words, I'll give you a prize. *_Chapter Three: Stance_* Chapter Two was about what a person wants out of role-playing; this material is about specific acts and moments of role-playing, that is, what a person does. *Stance* is defined as how a person arrives at decisions for an imaginary character's imaginary actions. * In *Actor* stance, a person determines a character's decisions and actions using only knowledge and perceptions that the character would have. * In *Author* stance, a person determines a character's decisions and actions based on the real person's priorities, then retroactively "motivates" the character to perform them. (Without that second, retroactive step, this is fairly called *Pawn* stance.) * In *Director* stance, a 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. In most of the stance-discussions, we've considered players rather than GMs because the player:character relationship is usually 1:1 and very intimate. I think that GMs employ stance too, however, that discussion awaits development. *Stance and GNS* Stance is very labile during play, with people shifting among the stances frequently and even without deliberation or reflection. Stances do not correspond in any 1:1 way to the GNS modes. Stance is much more ephemeral, for one thing, such that a person enjoying the Gamist elements and decisions of a role-playing experience might shift all about the stances during a session of play. He or she might be Authoring most of the time and Directing occasionally, and then at a key moment slam into Actor stance for a scene. The goal hasn't changed; stance has. However, I think it's very reasonable to say that specific stances are more common in some modes/goals of play. Historically, Author stance seems the most common or at least decidedly present at certain points for Gamist and Narrativist play, and Director stance seems to be a rarer add-on in those modes. Actor stance seems the most common for Simulationist play, although a case could be made for Author and Director stance being present during character creation in this mode. These relative proportions of Stance positions during play do apparently correspond well with issues of Premise and GNS. I suggest, however, that it is a given subset of a mode that Stance is facilitating, rather than the whole mode itself. Some forms of Simulationism, for instance, may be best served by Director Stance, as opposed to other forms which are best served by Actor Stance. Similarly, some forms of Narrativism rely on Actor Stance at key moments. Consider the previous example of a group who has arrived at the agreement to role-play a vampire-character game, with three members who have radically different GNS and Premise approaches but share a superficial commitment to "story," undefined. What sort of Stances might be most common during play, from each of them? (In this example, each person represents one possible approach within each of the modes, and does not represent the entirety of a mode.) * One player is interested in competing, using his or her real-person influence and strategizing about dramatic outcomes to "score higher" than the other players, so he or she spends a lot of time in Author/Pawn Stance. * Another is interested in experiencing and Exploring the nuances of the story as it is presented from an external source (perhaps a sourcebook and/or a GM), and spends a lot of time in Actor Stance. * The third is interested in generating climactic and conflict-resolving moments derived from his or her character's decisions, and so those decisions are most likely going to be determined from Author Stance (but not Pawn). Conflicts may well arise among these players as their decisions regarding their characters and expectations of one another disrupt the various goals. Stances and their impact on both the outcomes and experiences of play may be understood as part of the mechanisms of achieving GNS goals. Let us take pity, though, and suggest that they do happen to share enough Stance preferences, of some sort. They don't have to be exactly alike! Getting the most out of a GNS mode of play does not mean cleaving unswervingly to a Stance, but arranging Stances relative to specific types of scenes, decisions, and moments of play. Again, speaking historically rather than by definitions, * A Gamist approach to Stances usually involves preserving the Author-power of Pawn Stance in competitive situations, such that the player is not hampered in the range of possible options. * A Narrativist approach to Stances usually involves keeping Actor Stance confined to limited instances, such that Author and Director Stances may generate a lot of metagame impact on the storyline. * A Simulationist approach to Stances usually involves designating when Actor Stance, the default, may be exited. So our vampire-interested players may take individualized approaches to Stance within one of these goal-orientations (or some other GNS-reinforcing conformation). Insofar as those differences facilitate similar goals, and hence cannot be too different in the crucial instances of play, all is well. *Misunderstandings and complications* A great deal of attention and rhetoric is devoted to "in-character" (*IC*) and "out-of-character" (*OOC*) role-playing, but I think that this topic is not related to Stance. IC role-playing, at its most literal, means that the role-player is using first-person diction to communicate the character's actions, and OOC role-playing means that he or she using third-person diction. However, that issue and the decision-making aspects of the Stance issue do not precisely correspond. Otherwise-excellent discussions and guidelines can be derailed or muddied by this problem. In the text of Nobilis, for instance, IC/OOC terminology is consistently used to indicate, as far as I can tell, Actor vs. Author Stance. Another common misunderstanding of Actor Stance is to confound it with "acting" in the histrionic, communicative sense - using a characteristic voice, gestures, and so on. The communicative and demonstrative aspects of "acting" are not involved in Actor Stance at all, which only means that the player is utilizing the character's knowledge and priorities to determine what the character does. Taking the above two points together, Actor Stance may be seen in the most technical-realist style play (which may use entirely third-person diction) as well as in the most channel-the-PC Turku play (which may use entirely first-person, in-character-voice diction). *Immersion* is another difficult issue that often arises in Stance discussions. Like "realism" and "completeness" and several other terms, it has many different definitions in role-playing culture. The most substantive definition that I have seen is that immersion is the sense of being "possessed" by the character. This phenomenon is not a stance, but a feeling. What kind of role-playing goes with that feeling? The feeling is associated with decision-making that is incompatible with Director or Author stance. Therefore, I suggest that immersion (an internal sensation) is at least highly associated with Actor Stance. Whether some people get into Actor stance and then "immerse," or others "immerse" and thus willy-nilly are in Actor stance, I don't know. The term Audience Stance has been proposed elsewhere, but at this point I am not convinced that the phenomenon exists. It remains as a potential topic for discussion. *_Chapter Four: The Basics of Role-Playing Design_* System, system, system. Or more appropriately, design, design, design. The listed elements in Chapter One (character, situation, color, setting, system, initial premise) may be organized to facilitate greater *coherence* in Chapters Two (GNS, developed Premise) and Chapter Three (Stance), and thus to facilitate more enjoyable play. This principle is often summarized in the catch-phrase, "System does matter." By "coherence," I mean the degree to which a group of people can hit upon and sustain a shared Premise (or topic for Exploration, in Simulationist play) - and by definition, continue to enjoy the social role-playing activity consistently. The people do not need to agree in every detail or event of play, and they certainly do not have to conform to a single, immutable Stance or GNS profile. However, to role-play together most successfully, their shared agreements do need to go beyond simply sharing the initial Premise. To whatever extent they do this, they are cohering. At the last check-in, our vampire-friends have turned out to be a coherent bunch. Now their attention turns to the actual, physical item called the role-playing game. What is in it? This chapter is devoted to a lexicon for discussing the mechanical components of role-playing, in the service of eventually addressing how design affects coherence in the following chapter. I see two interrelated elements of design: *Character* and *System*. *Character* This terminology is intended to dissect out the procedural components of the imaginary entity called "my character." The idea is to form a basis for character creation that is integrated with the game's general design goals, whatever they may be. As I see it, there are three very large components to a character. I also think they always apply; in other words, role-playing necessarily demands all of the three to exist. Design, on the other hand, sometimes leaves one or more unstated, in which case the missing elements are overtly or covertly inserted during play. *Effectiveness* includes any numbers which are used to determine success or extent of an action. In Fortune-based systems, these include the familiar to-hit, skill success, damage rolls, and anything like these. In Karma-based systems, it would be the basic values, e.g. Everway's Element scores or Amber's attribute scores; in Drama-based systems, Effectiveness is governed by rules of dialogue. (See below for discussions of Fortune, Karma, and Drama.) In looking over a character's Effectiveness material, you get an idea of their "niche" or sphere of influence, what they're good at and what they aren't. Effectiveness is often "layered." In discussing Effectiveness, one needs to be careful to distinguish between the actual value and the means by which it is derived, because often a step of the process is named instead of the Effective value itself. For instance, the points spent on basic attribute scores in Champions pass through an exchange rate, such that three points result in one more unit of Dexterity. Furthermore, the Dexterity score itself passes through a division by three or five, and in some cases an addition of 11 as well, in order to arrive at a value that is actually used in play (an Effective value). In contrast, a non-layered Effectiveness value is determined, recorded, and used as such without derivation. The scores for Earth, Air, Fire, and Water in Everway are divided up from 20 points or less, and they are used at their respective values during play. The score for Focus is set from 1 to 10 when making up a character in Zero, and that value is used as such during play. Three descriptions of a puppet's abilities ("This puppet can shout really loud") in Puppetland are determined during character creation and are used without modification during play. *Resource* includes any available usable pool upon which Effectiveness or Metagame mechanics may draw, or which are reduced to reflect harm to the character. The obvious ones are Endurance, Sanity, or Hit Points (or even "lives" in frequent-resurrection games), but this category also includes breadth and depth of spell knowledge, for instance, or even the character's cash resources. Experience points, in some system, act as a resource for certain mechanics. In looking over a character's Resource material, you get an idea of how tough, (un)stoppable, and "fueled" they are. *Metagame* includes all positioning and behavioral statements about the character, as well as player rights to over-ride the existing Effectiveness rules. Thus it includes stuff like relationships ("Hunteds" in Champions) and limitations on behavior (Psychological Disadvantages, alignment), as well as *metagame mechanics*, like Trouble or Luck Points or what-have-you, which permit re-rolls or other overrides of the baseline resolution system. Clearly, material within metagame may directly affect Effectiveness and Resource, as with Trouble giving bonus dice in Orkworld, or in other games it does not, as with a Code Vs. Killing in Champions being taken to limit a character's actions without a formal effect on any other mechanics of play. Metagame issues are intimately related to *Balance of Power*, which is defined as the relative degrees to which players and GMs are privileged to have an impact on the events of play. In looking over a character's metagame material, you get an idea of the behavioral parameters within which the player is at least nominally committing to stay, and the rights to over-ride the system via metagame mechanics. Regarding all three components, named features on character sheets may find themselves in one or another category from game to game. Money, for example, is a Resource in a game of GURPS, an Effective value in Call of Cthulhu, and Metagame in Champions 3rd edition. *Currency among the three character components* *Currency* represents the relationship among the three components, both during character creation and during play. Its name comes from the observations that (1) "amounts" may be shifted and exchanged within and across the three components during character creation, and (2) that features or use of one category may have an impact on the use of the others during play. These exchange mechanisms among the three categories may or may not be overt (e.g. a system of points to spend). We can look at two different RPGs and compare how the three categories are distributed, and under whose control. Character creation varies tremendously across role-playing games. We see tons of methods, distributed in tons of ways even within single games: random vs. point-allocation, layered vs. not-layered, explicit vs. implicit currency, fixed vs. flexible relationship among the three elements, and more. I do not claim that there is any one best way. I do think that most character-creation design has been imitative and tweak-oriented, rather than conceptually integrated with any general goal of the RPG's design. I also think that certain designs are fundamentally flawed, at least for specific modes of play; my attributes/skills argument is an example. Some games are practically defined by the open spendability of an overt currency, e.g. GURPS. Others are fixed solid as rocks among and within the categories, e.g. D&D of whatever vintage. "Class," for instance, usually refers to a specific way to affix currency among the categories; having different classes means standardizing different "nodes" of currency combinations. Looking across RPG designs, I see that many games permit "trading" both within and between the categories during character creation, often with a rate of exchange. * If you drop your Strength, you can buy up your Dexterity or if you drop your Strength, you have more points to buy skills. These examples remain within the general category of Effectiveness. * If you drop your Strength, you can buy up your Endurance or Hit Points or whatever. This would be crossing categories from Effectiveness to Resource, as would be increasing your Luck Points at the expense of points for abilities. I suggest that such trading (with or without an overt, generalized Currency) is fraught with peril, for two reasons. The first is the existence of breakpoints of Effectiveness, and the second is that soybean trading is almost impossible to avoid. Both of these are greatly heightened when the mathematics of character creation include ratios. Here's an example of breakpoints: effectiveness in Champions is largely based on division of scores, like 1/3 of your DEX or 11 + STR/5, or stuff like that. Therefore breakpoints are crucial - everyone ends up with DEX of 20, 23, or 26, for instance; any other score is only minimally useful and wastes points that could be spent better elsewhere. Soybean trading occurs most often when "derived attributes" are involved. The famous Champions trick is certainly familiar to many of us: buy up your STR (1:1) and END (1:0.5), which automatically raises your REC 1 point. Now buy down your REC, which gives 2 points back. Net gain: 0.5 points. Do this 10 times, and your gross is 10 points of STR, 20 points of END, and 5 points of pure profit. Currency applies during play as well as during character creation. At the most obvious, the expenditure or loss of Resources may affect Effectiveness, as when one runs out of spell points or when damage accumulates such that ability scores are reduced. Metagame may be similarly affected by Resources, as when one must draw upon a point pool in order to re-roll dice, and that pool is used up. More subtly, multiple other relationships occur in multiple RPGs, such as a Meditation ability that permits recharging a Resource more rapidly. Currency is also related very intimately to Reward System and (for lack of a better term) Punishment System, because these feed back into the elements of Currency at every moment during play. Improvement processes are a common sort of Reward System, but not the only kind; damage and death for the character are a common sort of Punishment System, but not the only kind. Reward systems have been very deeply researched by me, but they await a rigorous discussion, as the baseline concepts of GNS, Stance, and the components of Currency must all be integrated. Some of the issues include: * What is being rewarded? Attendance? Role-playing per se? Player actions? Outcomes of conflicts? In-game moments? * Who is being rewarded, the player or the character? * Are reward systems necessary? At what scopes or time-frames of play are they more or less important? * If we are talking about character improvement, how does it proceed? Linearly or exponentially? If exponentially, is the exponent positive or negative? * Do changes in the values and aspects of the character affect the exchange rate of Currency itself? Given the astounding importance of Currency among the various components of Character, designers of role-playing games would do well to consider all of the following. * What the three categories are. * All of them do exist in the act of "playing" a character. * How, when, or if exchange is involved among the categories, which is to say, not just among the "named items" on the sheet. * Subdivisions, nuances, and layering within each one. Unfortunately, I think that many RPG designers were and are flying entirely by the seat of their pants. Their attention was on in-game named elements like "strength" and "percent to hit" rather than Effectiveness. Such an approach to character design allows latitude for all sorts of emergent properties, such as the point-mongering in Champions or the mini-maxing in most late 80s games, or any number of other "take-over" elements of play that subvert the stated goals of the design. I think that a more fundamentals-based approach to the design process would yield less problems of this kind. Without a vocabulary of the fundamentals, we'll end up with endless permutations of the same currency-mismatches and confusions with nearly every "new" game. In fact, that's exactly what we do have. *System* RPG resolution systems are a daunting topic, and the following is limited only to the broadest issue, Event Resolution. For Event Resolution, the relevant terms are Drama, Fortune, and Karma (often called DFK). These terms describe the mechanical and social means, among the real people, by which an imaginary action or event is determined to occur. * *Drama* resolution relies on asserted statements without reference to listed attributes or quantitative elements. * *Karma* resolution relies on referring to listed attributes or quantitative elements without a random element. * *Fortune* resolution relies on utilizing a random device of some kind, usually delimited by quantitative scores of some kind. Each one of Drama, Karma, and Fortune deserves massive dissection. My on-line discussion of Fortune-in-the-Middle as a facilitator of Narrativist play is a good example; so is my comparison of flat/linear curves with separate/incorporate effects. These three types of resolution may be combined in a near-infinite variety across the various elements of RPG design; few or no RPGs fail to make use of at least two of them. I also claim that they may be combined in near-infinite variety across the various GNS goals. No particular one of them corresponds to any (entire) one of the GNS goals. Most importantly, I do not think that Drama methods necessarily facilitate Narrativist play. However, I do suggest that a game system may be organized such that a GNS subset and developed Premise are more understandable; this topic is developed further in the next chapter. Resolution systems often include metagame mechanics, as mentioned above, which permit a player to over-ride the "usual" resolution system of the game. These are found in a wide variety of combinations in functional terms as well as DFK terms. * The over-ride may occur before, after, or in place of the regular system mechanic. * The over-ride may or may not rely on resources of some kind. * The over-ride's version of DFK may mirror the usual system's version of DFK, or it may differ dramatically. Example #1: a certificate in Prince Valiant may be redeemed (lost) for a player to state that the character instantly subdues an opponent. The mechanic replaces the usual resolution system (comparing tossed coins), which is simply ignored. This illustrates a Drama metagame mechanic replacing a Fortune baseline mechanic and relying on an irreplaceable Resource. Example #2: a bonus die in Over the Edge may be added to a player's roll, increasing the chance of success. The die is not permanently lost, but may not be used again during the same session. This illustrates a Fortune metagame mechanic added into a Fortune baseline mechanic, relying on a replaceable Resource. By definition, the character's role in the "decision" side of the over-ride is retroactive, and therefore the very existence of metagame mechanics is linked to Author or Director stance. *Switches and dials* The organization of the components of resolution, considering both Character and System together, may be thought of as *switches* and *dials*. Switches are discrete elements (values or terms) of the character that are set in place; they may have different settings but once set they are fixed. Dials are continuous elements (values) that may vary from high to low along a range. Switches and dials may be completely separate, or they may contain one another as well. Most character creation methods that include classes or clans, or that involve picking one item each from two lists, are utilizing large-scale switches, in which smaller dials are embedded. By contrast, most character creation systems that include a pool of points which may be freely distributed about options are utilizing a large-scale dial, in which smaller switches (e.g. behavioral limitations) are embedded. Plenty of other possibilities, as well as overlaps between these two, are in evidence as well. I am happy to provide examples as part of an ongoing discussion. (In either case, the method of "setting" may be either through personal choice or through randomized methods; for purposes of the current discussion, it doesn't matter which.) In looking at the diversity across RPGs, one may contrast what's held constant and what's permitted to vary, during character creation. What elements affect one another during play? What pieces may trade among one another during character creation? Even more fun is the hidden stuff, such as how Drama methods ("saved actions") are employed to change the order of action in the middle of combat resolution in an otherwise highly Fortune-driven system, or when Metagame (calling attention to another player's character's "alignment") is used to limit a competitor's options. I think that we are nowhere near arriving at a meaningful taxonomy for understanding how these combinations are organized across existing and potential RPGs, and furthermore that the discussion is long overdue. The following chapter begins a discussion of how the combinations relate to Premise and GNS. *Even more stuff to discuss later* The following topics have all been researched by me across the vast majority of role-playing game designs since the invention of the hobby. Some of them have been broached in public forums, and others have not. I have avoided discussing them to any depth, given the general lack of understanding of the foundational principles of this essay, but I would very much like to develop them in the future. * The relationship among announcing an intended action, initiating but not completing an action, determining the completion of the action, and determining the effects of an action. * The order in which the above events are conducted by the real people, rather than by the in-game causality. This general principle is illustrated in a local way by the Fortune-in-the-middle concept. * Search time and handling time, as defined in my essay "System Does Matter." * Probabilities in general, including issues of flat vs. linear curves, separate vs. incorporated effects, replacement vs. non-replacement results, and more. This discussion would include the interesting sub-topic of the critical and fumble concepts. * Target number methods in contrast to opposed-resolution methods. * Task vs. conflict resolution; i.e, what precisely is being determined by a unit of effort (system) by the participants. This issue is central to the design of many Narrativist-facilitating games, but could well be developed, in distinct ways, across all three modes. * Scene resolution vs. action resolution, which is not the same as task vs. conflict resolution. Scene resolution first appeared as a Gamist device in Tunnels & Trolls, disappeared from design philosophy for over a decade, then was resurrected as a Narrativist device in Story Engine. * Distinctions among systems for symbolically-significant actions (e.g. magic), as well as between them and systems for mundane actions. *A popular misunderstanding* The term "diceless" entered the role-playing lexicon with the appearance of the revolutionary RPG Amber, but it almost instantly acquired nuances of meaning far beyond its literal content. Dicelessness has been associated with story-orientation (so-called), with creativity, with "mature" abnegation of "power-gaming," and generally with anything that the user of the term happens to like and in which dice are not involved. This use of the term is nothing more nor less than a value judgment and is properly ignored. Even more confusingly, the term seems to be applied across extremely different things in the text of role-playing games. To call Amber or Puppetland diceless is literally correct, and it happens to correspond with their reliance on Karma and Drama methods; however, to call Castle Falkenstein diceless is literally correct but functionally meaningless, as its system is wholly Fortune-based. The text in the game undergoes many gyrations to extoll the nuances that cards bring to role-playing, but the fact remains that its card system is a Fortune system. The text of Everway, on the other hand, openly acknowledges that its optional card use is also the game's Fortune component. And most importantly, I see no particular reason to associate "dicelessness" or even the lack of any Fortune methods with Narrativism. Again, and as discussed in more detail in the following chapter, the range of DFK variants and combinations within each of Gamism, Narrativism, and Simulationism is very broad. The otherwise excellent game Theatrix mistakenly identifies the lack of dice with a heightened focus on story creation, and this patently absurd identification spread rapidly through role-playing culture in the early 1990s. *Where's our vampires?* The example used so far has taken a brief rest for this chapter, because the players are making the horrendous mistake of buying, without consideration of any technical issues presented so far, the most widely advertised, best-illustrated RPG available - that is, strictly on the basis of Color. Their fate will be presented in the next chapter. *_Chapter Five: Role-playing Design and Coherence_* This chapter investigates how role-playing design is involved in facilitating or inhibiting coherence. I think that all three modes of play have been present in role-playing since its invention in the 1970s. But design is a different issue. Because most of the history of RPG design proceeds from variation among what already exists, with changes usually appearing in discrete features rather than in foundational principles, the priorities and goals facilitated by the designs show extremely recognizable trends. It may fairly be asked, how can GNS be applied to design features, when few if any RPG designers know about it, or even care? I use a physics analogy: prior to the insights of Newtonian physics, bridges could be built. Some of them were built rather well. However, in retrospect, we are well aware that in order to build the bridge, the designer must have been at the very least according with Newtonian physics through (1) luck, (2) imitation of something else that worked, (3) use of principles that did not conflict with Newtonian physics in a way that mattered for the job, or (4) a non-articulated understanding of those principles. I consider the analogy to be exact for role-playing games. Therefore, the theory-principles or stated intent of the designer, if any, are irrelevant to the analysis of the RPG designs. For instance, John Wick had no interest in GNS or any other theory when writing Orkworld. However, he has a keen sense of practical role-playing and a clear vision of the "ways" he envisioned Orkworld play to proceed. In order to produce that game, he utilized and developed principles of Narrativism, metagame mechanics, and focused Premise on Character and Situation, precisely as outlined in the theory. He just did not articulate them overtly. In terms of design, the issue is incoherence, defined here as failure to permit any Premise (or any element of Exploration) to be consistently enjoyed. I think that any and all RPG designs have some identifiable relationship with the GNS modes, out of the following possibilities. * Focused: the design facilitates a specific, identifiable Premise (or area of Exploration). * Semi-adaptable: the design is at least compatible with more than one Premise and/or Exploration across GNS goals. (Whether this category even exists, or whether it merely reflects correctable incoherence, is debatable.) * General: the design facilitates a specific mode, but permits a range of Premises or Explorations within that mode. * Kitchen sink: the design utilizes layers and multiple options such that any specific point of play may be customized to accord with GNS goals. (This design often ends up being a general Simulationist one, however.) * Incoherent 1: the design fails to permit one or any mode of play. In its most extreme form, the system may simply be broken - too easily exploited, or internally nonsensical, or lacking meaningful consequence, to pick three respective possibilities for Gamism, Simulationism, and Narrativism. * Incoherent 2: more commonly, the design presents a mixed bag among the modes, such that one part of play is (or is mostly) facilitating one mode and other parts of play facilitate others. In terms of actual play, yes, one "can" bring "any" GNS focus to "any" RPG - but I argue that in most cases the effort and informal redesign to do so is substantial, and also that the effort to keep focused on the new goals as play progresses is even more substantial. This chapter discusses why that effort needs to be there at all. Throughout this chapter, cut me some slack on the terminology. Saying "Gamist design" or "Gamist RPG," is a short way of saying, "RPG design whose elements facilitate, to any recognizable degree, Gamist priorities and decision-making." *Design and Premise* Facilitating a metagame concern (a developed Premise) differs greatly from Exploring a listed element as a priority. To address a Premise, the imaginary, internal commitment to the in-game events must be broken at least occasionally during play, to set up and resolve the issues of interest in strictly person-to-person terms. To Explore the topic in the Simulationist sense, breaking the imagined, continuous in-game causality is exactly what to avoid. The at-first attractive idea that a system could easily encompass, say, Character-based Premise and prioritized Character Exploration is actually utterly unworkable. To illustrate this principle, let's take just one aspect of role-playing design: the terms and qualities used to denote a character. How are these things involved in Premise or focused Exploration? Facilitating Simulationism is all about Exploring the designated element(s). The most important priority is that the stated features express linear, in-game-world causality. That is why the most prevalent version of Simulationist character design relies on Nature-Nurture distinctions, using layered qualities, for a large number of attributes and abilities. Other sorts of Simulationist design may employ different methods, but the commitment to in-game, linear causality remains the priority. Facilitating Narrativism relies on bringing specific Premise and the ability to have an impact on it into the foreground, over and above any "descriptive" or "explanatory" elements. Distinctions between attributes and skills, for instance, is irrelevant. A big tough fighter and a small lithe fighter may well be described, in game terms, with a single identical "fight" value, perhaps modified retroactively during play for especially-appropriate situations. A character may have features for completely metagame concerns, such as "plot points" or similar things. Facilitating Gamism is a matter of knowing what is relevant to the stakes, competition, and conditions of victory or loss. Features of a character are either complicators or focusing points of the character's strategic possibilities. (Side note: Gamist character design may be very complex, in which the complication is itself part of the competitive arena, or it may be very streamlined if the competition concerns other issues.) Rules regarding both Character and System also facilitate a GNS goal by facilitating (or even demanding) particular Stances. For instance, an explicit metagame mechanic automatically entails using Author or Director stance, whereas a Psychological Limitation of the GURPS/Champions tradition automatically entails using Actor stance to some degree. Secondarily, these Stance-directing mechanics affect GNS focus. As always, synecdoche confounds the issue. Historically, certain combinations of DFK and Character building, with their attendant impact on Stance and GNS, have become so entrenched that many people actually identify them as "how role-playing is done," without realizing the range of design that they are missing. *RPG design and GNS, historically* Pending a really good history of role-playing games, this brief and GNS-based summary will have to do. Arising as it did from wargaming in the middle 1970s, the earliest RPG design reflected its Gamist + Simulationist roots. However, within a year, design philosophies split very fast across a brief Renaissance of largely-forgotten games that spanned nearly all of the GNS spectrum, and then two trends "settled out" to remain stable until the early 1990s. The first of these trends was an ongoing series of imitations of post-tourney D&D, with its halting and incoherent mix of Gamism and Simulationism. The second was a development of Simulationist principles in several trajectories, based on different models, including the following. * The RuneQuest system from the Chaosium (extremely coherent, emphasizing System and Setting), developing both in the series of games from that company as well as in its imitators. * The interesting mutual relationship between four editions of Champions and effectively two of GURPS (moving from incoherent to coherent, emphasizing System), which provides the model for the vast majority of new games. * The AD&D 2nd edition (mainly incoherent, emphasizing Setting and Situation), developing in the huge setting-based proliferation of TSR products into the early 1990s, as well as in a host of small-press imitators. Around 1990, first Narrativist-facilitating methods became widely established, and then full-bodied Narrativist games appeared in 1994. About five years later, simultaneous with the appearance of innovative competitive games (not RPGs, but rather Cheapass Games), overtly Gamist RPGs appeared. (A fascinating story of economics and industry hassles underlies this history, but I regretfully have to stay on-topic. Another time.) Or to put it another way, RPG design through most of the hobby's history has been largely devoted to Simulationist priorities. This is not to say that the full range of this mode has been represented or all of its potential developed. The sub-set of Simulationism most fully developed during the 1980s was "realist" (a form of Situtation) and "genre-faithfulness" (System with strong and various other co-emphases). Some conventions of these approaches include identifying Fortune methods with the imaginary physics of the setting and a commitment to extensive search and handling times. The sub-set developed later used the previous one as a foundation, but lightened the details and concentrated on Character, Setting, and Situation in its most external form of published metaplot, as a determinant of large-scale events during play. Quite a lot more has occurred in Simulationist design, of course. Not surprisingly, the variety among coherent Simulationist design is extensive, indeed, vast, because the key to design is which elements are being Explored. * Character: Unknown Armies * Setting: RuneQuest, Pendragon, Usagi Yojimbo, Jorune * Situation: Call of Cthulhu * System: GURPS, Champions 4th edition (or rather, the Hero System), Fudge, Multiverser * Situation and Setting: Feng Shui, Cyberpunk 2020 * Character and Setting: Legend of the Five Rings, Nephilim, Albedo, Ars Magica, Nobilis This is not to say that any RPG will illustrate one of the above categories so clearly; the listed titles are among the shining lights of coherent Simulationist design. Most RPGs are cobbled-together pieces of these and other games, generating a vague and internally-incoherent Simulationism with, at best, isolated design features or Color that are interesting. The topic of incoherence is developed more fully below, but for now, consider Kult - how can archetypal (fixed) character design be compatible with Character Exploration? The answer is that it can't, and that nearly all of the character development material in the basic rules is scrapped in application, which turns into pure Setting Exploration instead. Much Narrativist and Gamist play during the 1980s occurred as "rebellious" play in groups using primarily Simulationist systems. This is probably why elements of Narrativist and Gamist play are often perceived as cheating by those who are strongly committed to the Simulationist designs of that period, or mistakenly identified with "ignoring the rules." Overt Gamist RPG design is very rare. I think it takes a central role only in D&D well before it acquired its "A," in Tunnels & Trolls also in the late 1970s, and, less coherently, in Shadowrun and Rifts. Arguably, quite a lot of live-action role-playing of Vampire, Amber, and other games has drifted into Gamism in application, but not in the texts. Only very recently has overt, even enthusiastic Gamist design been resurrected, in D&D3E, Rune, Pantheon, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, and Ninja Burger. Gamism clearly includes a wide range of the role of Fortune, such that some games have a high random element and in others it is very low or absent. Also, the GM's role varies widely, up to and including being completely absent. I look forward to the continued appearance and widely-ranging development of Gamist RPGs as well as to informed discussion of the principles that are involved in playing them. Overt Narrativist RPG design is a latecomer, with the exception of the few glimmers appearing in the late 1970s and early 1980s, of which Marvel Super Heroes is the sole survivor. The first thoroughgoing Narrativist game since then was Prince Valiant, in 1989. Although both games were based on source texts, their designs did not recommend Exploring the canonical settings so much as using the texts' authors' philosophy of story creation as a model for creating new stories entirely. A veritable Renaissance of Narrativist design occurred in 1993-1994 and continues to this day. Its published pioneers include Over the Edge and Everway; then Theatrix, Zero, Castle Falkenstein, Extreme Vengeance, and The Whispering Vault, as the next wave; and then Maelstrom/Story Engine, followed by Hero Wars, as games which provided utterly novel approaches at the metagame level. But the published games are only one side of the story, given the proliferation of Narrativist development in the underground, beginning with The Window and Wuthering Heights and setting the stage for the publications of games like Sorcerer, Orkworld, and Little Fears. In most Narrativist designs, Premise is based on one of the following models. * A pre-play developed setting, in which case the characters develop into protagonists in the setting's conflicts over time. Examples include Castle Falkenstein and Hero Wars. * Pre-play developed characters (protagonists), in which case the setting develops into a suitable framework for them over time. Examples include Sorcerer, Everway, Zero (in an interesting way), Cyberpunk 1st edition, Orkworld, and The Whispering Vault. I have observed that when people bring a Narrativist approach to Vampire, Legend of the Five Rings, or other game systems which include both detailed pre-play character creation and a detailed, conflict-rich settting, they must discard one or the other in order to play enjoyably. Given the widespread use of Author and Director stance in Narrativist role-playing, the functional result is to spread tasks and creative roles left for the GM in most other play among all participants. These systems may accurately be considered GM-full, rather than GM-less. Finally, several of the games mentioned above as well as others are probably best considered "abashedly Narrativist" rather than thoroughly focused on this mode, insofar as the overt philosophy of play in the texts is about creating stories, even about the players having co-author status, but various elements of design stop short of the goal. The aforementioned Marvel Super Heroes, Cyberpunk 1st edition, The Window, Everway, Obsidian, UnderWorld, and Little Fears are good examples. *The new revolution* Recent directions in RPG design are breaking new ground across GNS, especially in terms of how Stance relates to the modes. Only now are we seeing such things as mechanics-driven Director Stance in Simulationism and in Gamism. It's also nice to see Narrativist design following up on the precedent set by Prince Valiant, with Premise based on Situation (The Dying Earth). Fortune methods may clearly be employed extensively in the service of metagame goals. I specifically disavow the popular notion that these methods serve only for in-setting probabilistic modeling, and the associated notion that they have little place in Narrativism or Gamism. I would very much like to participate in a discussion of Fortune systems acting as a "springboard" for metagame priorities in Narrativist play, as suggested by the designs of InSpectres, The Pool, The Framework, Munchkins, and others. Another new development is an explicit opening statement about the social context of play, often with a fairly strong GNS focus. I think this is an astoundingly important element of game design and presentation, and it's interesting to review older games to see how they did or didn't manage to communicate it. The typical trends among them are the following. * The purpose and perspective of the game is scattered across several places, rarely at the beginning, and is often referred to rather than addressed directly. * The purpose and perspective of the game is justified because it corresponds to what, according to the authors, role-playing obviously is (i.e., the synecdoche fallacy). * The purpose and perspective of the game claims to satisfy anyone, in blatant contradiction to the game's content and design. One of the benefits of the GNS perspective is the willingness to accept that other outlooks or priorities exist besides one's own. Therefore, in many of the new games, the social contract is both more explicit and less dismissive, which I think is functional, honest, and fair. Dozens of topics remain, many of which have been researched by me but have not been broached in public. * DFK combinations across RPG design history, in both basic resolution and metagame mechanics. * The history and development across RPGs of trading within components of Currency or across them. * Random vs. nonrandom elements of character creation contrasted with those of event resolution. * Distinctions between successful actions and significant consequences. * Personality mechanics, divided into two main schools derived from, respectively, Call of Cthulhu and Dungeons & Dragons. * Fundamental aspects of character-player relationship based on levels of remove. * The consequence of character death or incapacity on the player's participation in the game. I would very much like to host a sort of "Discuss this game" exercise at the Forge regarding given RPGs, not to label them "G, N, or S" in a superficial way but rather to dissect their function in the full knowledge of the listed elements, Stance-facilitating features, all aspects of design including the issues listed above, comparisons with ancestral, contemporary, and derivative games, and much more. *Metagame considered further* Metagame mechanics appeared mainly as Narrativist "coping mechanisms" when playing games that were largely 80s-Simulationist designs (which does not mean these games were "bad" or represented the whole of Simulationist potential). An extreme, early example would be TORG's character-card privileges; a more typical example would be Over the Edge's bonus dice. In later RPGs with overtly Narrativist resolution systems, metagame mechanics have again become rare. For instance, in Hero Wars, neither bumping success levels nor bidding Action Points are metagame mechanics, but simply the basic resolution system. They most resemble metagame mechanics from earlier games, but now, in an overtly Narrativist design, they are front-and-center rather than secondary overrides. *Balance, so-called* "Balance" may rank as the most problematic term in all of role-playing. What in the world does it mean? Equality of some kind? Fairness of some kind? Whenever the term is brought up, the discussion cannot proceed without specifying further regarding the following issues. * Balance of what? Components of the characters? Specific sets of components? * Or perhaps it's balance of actions, in which case, is it of opportunity, or of consequence? * Balance among whom? Players or characters? Both in some way? * To what end? (Citing "fairness" is tautological.) * Shifting the issue, perhaps it's a matter of balance within a character, rather than among characters. * And extending the issue, should balance be concerned with initial starting points of characters or with the processes of change for the characters, or both? Currently little insight arises from discussions of balance, as it inevitably wanders about these issues without focusing. The issues themselves, on the other hand, are very interesting. Therefore the term is much like "genre," in that discussion might as well focus on the real issues in the first place and never use the term at all. Finally, a common misconception is to identify any concern with equality or "even-ness" among characters with (a) balance per se and (b) Gamism. I disavow any suggestion that Gamism as a whole is necessarily concerned with balance, or that concerns with balance (of some kind) necessarily indicate a Gamist approach. For instance, the parity of starting point totals across a group of GURPS characters most likely indicates a commitment to the consistency of the Explored Characters with their Situation and Setting, rather than to any concern with "fairness" or "leveling the playing field." *Hybrids and drift* Can multiple GNS goals be satisfied by a single game design? It may be possible, but it is not easy. As mentioned before, merely aligning topics of Exploration with those of Premise is probably not effective. I conceive of two types of *hybrid*: (1) two modes are simultaneously satisfied in the same player at the same time, of which I am highly skeptical; and (2) two modes can exist side by side in the design, such that differently-oriented players may play together, which might be possible. Some possible candidates for the latter include these. * G + S: Rifts. * N + G: Champions 1st-3rd editions; I'm interested as well in seeing the upcoming Elfworld and a proposed game from Hogshead Publishing regarding fantasy weaponry. * N + S: Little Fears and UnderWorld (these games' degree of "abashedness" exists squarely on the border of the two modes). *Drift* is a related issue: the movement from one GNS focus to another during the course of play. I do not think that "drift" reflects hybridized design (in which both modes are indeed present), but rather correctable incoherence (moving toward coherence in one mode). Historically, drifting toward Gamism is very common; it isn't hard to understand that a frustrating and incoherent context can be turned into an arena for competition. Internet play has illustrated some distinctive drifting: Amber moves from abashed Narrativism either to Simulation with Exploration of Character or to Gamism with the emphasis on interpersonal control; Everway moves from abashed Narrativism to Simulationism with the emphasis on Exploration of Situation. The 1990s transitional game offers a good example of driftable design: Simulationist resolution with strong metagame mechanics, highly customizable character, setting, and situation, with or without exhortations to "story." Fudge and The Window are perfect examples, on either side of Simulationism or Narrativism, respectively, as the stated emphasis. *Incoherent design* Unfortunately, functional or nearly-functional hybrids are far less common than simply incoherent RPG designs. The "lesser," although still common, dysfunctional trend is found among the imitators of the late-1970s release of AD&D, composed of vague and scattered Simulationism mixed with vague and scattered Gamism. Warhammer is the most successful of these. Small-press publishers pump out these games constantly, offering little new besides ever-more baroque mechanics and a highly-customized Setting (Hahlmabrea, Pelicar, Legendary Lives, Of Gods and Men, Fifth Cycle, Darkurthe: Legends, and more). Another, similar trend is the never-ending stream of GURPS imitators. The "dominant" dysfunctional system is immediately recognizable, to the extent of being considered by many to be what role-playing is: a vaguely Gamist combat and reward system, Simulationist resolution in general (usually derived from GURPS, Cyberpunk, or Champions 4th edition), a Simulationist context for play (Situation in the form of published metaplot), deceptive Narrativist Color, and incoherent Simulationist/Narrativist Character creation rules. This combination has been represented by some of the major players in role-playing marketing, and has its representative for every period of role-playing since the early 1980s. * AD&D2 pioneered the approach in the middle 1980s, particularly the addition of metaplot with the Dragonlance series. * Champions, through its 3rd edition, exemplified a mix of Gamist and Narrativist "driftable" design, but with its 4th edition in the very late 1980s, the system lost all Metagame content and became the indigestible mix outlined above. * Vampire, in the early 1990s, offered a mix of Simulationism and Gamism in combat resolution, but a mix of Narrativism and Simulationism out of combat, as well as bringing in Character Exploration. The design is hugely imitated, ranging from Earthdawn, Kult, and In Nomine, to the mid-1990s "shotgun attack" of Deadlands, Legend of the Five Rings, and Seventh Sea. All of these games are based on The Great Impossible Thing to Believe Before Breakfast: that the GM may be defined as the author of the ongoing story, and, simultaneously, the players may determine the actions of the characters as the story's protagonists. This is impossible. It's even absurd. However, game after game, introduction after introduction, and discussion after discussion, it is repeated. Consider the players who were excited about the vampire concept for role-playing. What happens when they try to play Vampire: the Masquerade? Well, they try to Believe the Impossible Thing, and in application, the results are inevitable. * The play drifts toward some application of Narrativism, which requires substantial effort and agreement among all the people involved, as well as editing out substantial portions of the game's texts and system. * The play drifts toward an application of Simulationism in which the GM dominates the characters' significant actions, and the players contribute only to characterization. This is called *illusionism*, in which the players are unaware of or complicit with the extent to which they are manipulated. o Illusionism is not necessarily dysfunctional, and if Character or Situation Exploration is the priority, then it can be a lot of fun. Unknown Armies, Feng Shui, and Call of Cthulhu all facilitate extremely functional illusionism. However, it is not and can never be "story creation" on the part of all participants, and if the game is incoherent, illusionism requires considerable effort to edit the system and texts into shape. * Most likely, however, the players and GM carry out an ongoing power-struggle over the actions of the characters, with the integrity of "my guy" held as a club on the behalf of the former and the integrity of "the story" held as a club on behalf of the latter. The players of the vampire example are especially screwed if they have Narrativist leanings and try to use Vampire: the Masquerade. The so-called "Storyteller" design in White Wolf games is emphatically not Narrativist, but it is billed as such, up to and including encouraging subcultural snobbery against other Simulationist play without being much removed from it. The often-repeated distinction between "roll-playing" and "role-playing" is nothing more nor less than Exploration of System and Exploration of Character - either of which, when prioritized, is Simulationism. Thus our players, instead of taking the "drift" option (which would work), may well apply themselves more and more diligently to the metaplot and other non-Narrativist elements in the mistaken belief that they are emphasizing "story." The prognosis for the enjoyment of such play is not favorable. One may ask, if this design is so horribly dysfunctional, why is it so popular? The answer requires an economic perspective on RPGs, in addition to the conceptual and functional one outlined in this essay, and is best left for discussion. *The one true game* What a wonderful ideal: an RPG design that satisfies any participant, with no stress, no adjustment of any part, no potential for interpersonal disagreement, and no unnecessary preparation. The "universal game." Bluntly, it's a moronic concept, existing only to whet frustrated consumers' appetites for an upcoming product. GNS goals differ among people, preferred variants of each GNS mode differ among people, and system mechanics necessarily facilitate a limited range of these preferences, or facilitate nothing at all. All of us would do well to look in the mirror every morning and state, "There is no universal role-playing game." However, the term "universal" is also used for a rather sensible and functional RPG design option, which is much better described by the term *general*. A general game design holds constant one or two of the listed elements of role-playing (Character, Setting, Situation, System, Color) and provides guidelines for customizing the other elements. GURPS and Fudge are perfect examples, as are the plethora of their imitators: System is held constant and made very clear; Setting and Color are specified prior to play by the GM and similarly made clear and specific; and then Character and Situation are customized. A general game design is really no more than extending the original notion from AD&D of System, Setting, Situation, and Color being highly fixed, with Character being the main thing to customize. Other combinations are possible, as in Sorcerer and Orkworld, in which System is highly fixed, then Character and Situation are customized, and finally Setting are customized (Color's place differs between these two games). In other words, the so-called "universal" model for RPG design is really a general design, and a coherent general game sits as firmly in its GNS orientation as any other. The key issue is to avoid confounding it with "universal" in the sense of "satisfies any and every possible role-playing participant." *Misunderstandings* A number of code-phrases to describe RPG system and goals have arisen as role-players struggled to match their interests with the spectrum of available games, but most of them lack substance. * Rules-heavy vs. Rules-light: this dichotomy is vaguely oriented toward high vs. low search and handling time, but it is confounded a great deal with so-called realism and so-called story. (This confusion is a product of the transition design period of 1990-1991, exemplified by Fudge and The Window.) The concept of rules-focus, in terms of goals and modes, has not entered the popular understanding of the hobby. * Completeness: as far as I can tell, this term relies on as thorough a presentation as possible of all the listed elements, apparently such that Simulationist play of any emphasis can pick and choose which aspects to emphasize, by elimination rather than by creation. *_Chapter Six: Actually Playing_* It all comes back to the social situation, eventually, because role-playing is a human activity and not a set of rules or text. Coherence is expressed as a social outcome; it must apply all the way into and through actual play. I suggest that preparing for and carrying out the role-playing experience in social terms, well above and beyond considerations of system mechanics, is most coherent from a GNS and Premise perspective. Role-playing is carried out through relying upon the real, interpersonal roles of living humans, yes, even of opponents. If people do not share any degree of either Premise focus (either Gamist or Narravist) or an Exploration focus (Simulationist), then their different assumptions, different expectations, and different goals will come into conflict during play. When that happens, the uber-goal of "Fun" is diminished. Perhaps the people continue to play together solely to interact socially, but the actual role-playing is, effectively, gone. *But it's just a game!* This phrase is an alarm bell. Oh, it looks like an attempt to reconciliate disagreements by calling attention to fun and the shared, social context, but it disguises something far more unpleasant. The first tip-off is that the phrase is not literally meaningful. What's the "it?" Role-playing, of course, but dismissed, via the singular short pronoun, as simple, straightforward, intuitively grasped, and singly defined. And what's a "game?" Not defined at all. The use of "game" to refer to role-playing is completely historical and carries no informational content beyond its indication of a leisure activity. The ugly truth is that this phrase is not reconciliatory at all. Rather, it is code for, "Stop bothering me with your interests and accord with my goals, decisions, and priorities of play." I strongly urge that individual role-players not tolerate any implication that their preferred, enjoyed range of role-playing modes is a less worthy form of play. *What's a GM and what's a player?* Like it or not, among any group of people contributing to some constructive activity, there exists a the aforementioned Balance of Power: some hierarchy and way to organize who gets to influence and approve of outcomes. For the activity to succeed, some form of *social contract*, or reciprocal obligations, must be in place. In role-playing games, the issue of the social contract becomes quickly confounded with the distribution and difference in the roles of GM and players. Entirely aside from any formal rules-oriented or procedure-oriented authority, what kind of authority or status does a GM have over or with the players anyway? Is he or she the physical host, using physical living or work space for the game? If not, does that change or limit the GM-ness? How about a faculty member running games with students in a campus club? How about romance issues; if single, is he or she automatically the focus of personal attention from other single people in the group? Most of these issues cannot be addressed from the perspective of game design, but they are real nonetheless. Where the game design and GNS-based approach to play can help is in putting all the issues of the role-playing itself above-board. Given clear roles, purposes, and respective obligations of GM and player - which in most RPG designs are left open or badly mis-stated - the group may avoid getting its role-playing issues mixed up with its social ones. How might a GNS perspective help keep that GM/player understanding clear? Historically, the terms cover very diffferent ranges within each of the modes. * The range in Gamism: GM as referee over players who compete with one another, GM as referee over the players competing with a scenario, GM as opponent of the players as a unified group, or even no GM at all among a group of competing players. * The range in Simulationism: GM as channeler of external source material, GM as the fellow Actor responsible for the landscape and NPCs, GM as referee of the physics and internal consistency of the imaginary universe, GM as covert author. * The range in Narrativism: depending on the degree of coauthorship of the players, the traditional tasks of the GM may vary all the way from one centralized GM to a situation in which all the players are mini-GMs. Interestingly, this is the one mode in which, throughout its range, no role for an "impartial referee" GM is possible. One last note about Gamism: the shift from tourney play, in which many groups of players competed for time and kill-count as they were "run through" identical adventures, to single-group play led to many design holdovers that often lead to frustrating experiences. These are almost all based on the shift from the GM as referee, with the opponents being other groups, to the GM as opponent - and the players, rather sensibly, turning from competing with an invincible opponent (the holdover from the referee status) to competing with one another. A final issue about GM and player(s) concerns who is expected to be entertaining whom, in some kind of dichotomous way. Evidently this is a matter of some emotional commitment, prompting the same defensiveness and hurt feelings as the mention of "immersion." Therefore I am personally willing to let it lie. *Organizing a role-playing session* With a few exceptions, most role-playing texts completely ignore the actual human logistics of play, although these are hugely important in application. How can one possibly participate in a social, leisure activity without considering all of the following? * The number of participants and the extant relationships among them. * The time to be spent playing, in terms of hours per session and the number of sessions per unit of real time (week or month, e.g.), the anticipated number of sessions, and so on. * The event-scope of play; that is, when and how often units of satisfaction for the participants occcur (here the GNS perspective is tremendously useful, because it identifies the instances of satisfaction). * The necessary time and effort to be spent in preparation, and by whom. When AD&D was released in its late 1970s form, its content encouraged a "more is better" approach. The more players, the better. The more time spent, the better. The longer the sessions, the better. The longer the sessions continued, the better. Nearly all role-playing games used AD&D as the starting point for presentation purposes, even those with vastly different systems and philosophies of play, and so this dysfunctional approach remains with us to this day. The term "campaign" is especially misleading, as in wargaming it denotes a specific set of events from point A in time to point B in time, whereas in role-playing it denotes playing indefinitely. For those forms of role-playing that emphasize "story" in the general sense (see Chapter Two), this approach is completely unsuitable. What is a "story" to be, in terms of individual sessions and all-sessions? In role-playing culture, one is often assumed either to be playing a "campaign," which means it should go on forever, or a "one-shot" session which aside from the connotation of being superficial is simply too short for many sorts of stories. The functional intermediate of playing the number of sessions sufficient for the purpose of resolving a story is nowhere to be found in the texts of role-playing. On the smaller scale, successfully preparing for individual sessions is especially integrated with GNS and Premise. Consider the historical tendencies among the modes, in terms of how a series of events emerges through the course of play. (These do not represent either a complete or definitional list, but simply historical examples.) * Linear adventures, in which the GM has provided a series of prepared, in-order encounters. * Linear, branched adventures, in which the GM has done the same as above but provides for the players proceeding in more than one direction or sequence. * Roads to Rome, in which the GM has prepared a climactic scene and maneuvers or otherwise determines that character activity leads to this scene. (In practice, "winging it" usually becomes this method.) * Bang-driven, in which the GM has prepared a series of instigating events but has not anticipated a specific outcome or confrontation. (This is precisely the opposite of Roads to Rome.) * Relationship map, in which the GM has prepared a complex back-story whose members, when encountered by the characters, respond according to the characters' actions, but no sequence or outcomes of these encounters have been pre-determined. * Intuitive continuity, in which the GM uses the players' interests and actions during initial play to construct the crises and actual content of later play. (This is a form of "winging it" that may or may not become Roads to Rome.) Roads to Rome and Linear/Branched play are extremely common in published scenarios with a strong Simulationist approach. Linear play relies on extreme commitment to the Situation, and thus works best for Situation-intensive Simulationist play, as in many Call of Cthulhu scenarios. Bang-driven (formalized in Sorcerer and Sword) and Relationship map (formalized in The Sorcerer's Soul) are best suited to Narrativist play. Intuitive Continuity may do well for a variety of modes that emphasize either Character actions being pivotal (Narrativism) or Character Exploration (Simulationism). Again, all of this is speaking historically and not at all in terms of potential. Gamist play was not included above, mainly because it has been so badly marginalized during most of role-playing history. To date, most scenario construction oriented in this direction has fallen back on the late-1970s tournament model or the survivalist model found in many video games. The Hogshead family of Gamist RPGs ('Baron Munchausen, Pantheon) has broken this mold and I have no doubt that much more variety remains to be developed. *Dysfunction: when role-playing doesn't work out* Great Googley-Moogley, let me count the ways. The clearest case is straightforward. People do exist who will habitually disrupt a role-playing group for whatever reasons of their own, and the only solution for dealing with such people is to exclude them from play. But let's consider people who do want to role-play together, and have even established an interest in the most basic, embryonic form of an initial Premise. What dysfunctions may arise? Emotional tensions between people may override the role-playing. It can be romance, or money issues, or who's giving whom a ride home, or any number of similar things. My claim is that a lot of times, people get all upset at one another about game stuff (tactics, rules, etc) when the real problem is this people stuff. Such problems must be dealt with socially and above-board, because no in-game mechanisms can help; in-game issues are symptoms rather than causes. I think the most common dysfunction, however, is GNS incompatibility. At the highest-order level, if the people simply have entirely different goals, then actual play continually runs into conflicts about priorities and procedures based on those different goals. I think everyone who's familiar with the theory knows that this is a "no fault, no blame" criterion. I like potatos, you like pink lemonade, have a nice game with your own group. More difficult incompatibilities also exist within each of G, N, or S. People may share the the large-scale GNS goal, but be accustomed to or desire different standards for Balance of Power, preferred stances, notions of character depth, the distinction between player success and character success, and many related things. In this case, dysfunction arises from (a) trying to resolve the differences during play itself, and (b) anyone being unwilling to compromise about the differences. Drift is the usual method for dealing with this level of discord. It is a fine solution for resolving within-mode differences, if everyone is willing to give a little. However, drift has a dark side, or degeneration, the disruption or subversion of the social contract such that what is happening is not more fun, at least not at the group level. Gamism is often pegged as the culprit when players shift from the stated or agreed-upon mode of play and turn upon one another as opponents, but it's better considered degeneration with Gamism merely being the direction. The usual effect of degeneration (any kind, not just this one little Gamist sort), if people continue to play, is to play without committing to anything at all. The tragedy is how widespread GNS-based degeneration really is. I have met dozens, perhaps over a hundred, very experienced role-players with this profile: a limited repertoire of games behind him and extremely defensive and turtle-like play tactics. Ask for a character background, and he resists, or if he gives you one, he never makes use of it or responds to cues about it. Ask for actions - he hunkers down and does nothing unless there's a totally unambiguous lead to follow or a foe to fight. His universal responses include "My guy doesn't want to," and, "I say nothing." I have not, in over twenty years of role-playing, ever seen such a person have a good time role-playing. I have seen a lot of groups founder due to the presence of one such participant. Yet they really want to play. They prepare characters or settings, organize groups, and are bitterly disappointed with each fizzled attempt. They spend a lot of money on RPGs with lots of supplements and full-page ads in gaming magazines. These role-players are GNS casualties. They have never perceived the range of role-playing goals and designs, and they frequently commit the fallacies of synecdoche about "correct role-playing." Discussions with them wander the empty byways of realism, genre, completeness, roll-playing vs. role-playing, and balance. They are the victims of incoherent game designs and groups that have not focused their intentions enough. They thought that "show up with a character" was sufficient prep, or thought that this new game with its new setting was going to solve all their problems forever. They are simultaneously devoted to and miserable in their hobby. My goal in developing RPG theory and writing this document is to help people avoid this fate. *_Acknowledgements_* Thanks are due to everyone who has taken the time to discuss the issues with me over the years. Specific intellectual debts are owed to the following people. In no particular order: The members of the rec.gaming.faq.advocacy discussion group, most especially John Kim, for the Threefold Model and Stance. I owe an immense debt to all members of these discussions for raising all the right issues. However, I have altered just about everything very drastically, and "Director stance" is my contribution. Robin Laws for his essay regarding Art vs. Game in the text of Over the Edge, as well as for nearly single-handedly revolutionizing RPG design throughout the 1990s. (And he's still going, too; it's really frightening.) The Scarlet Jester (real name withheld) for the concept of Exploration. However, I acknowledge that he does not approve of the definition and use I've made of it, and any problems or inconsistencies with the listed definition and use are solely my responsibility. Jonathan Tweet for DFK, from his text in the game Everway, as well as for many other things. My re-statement of the definition of Drama has been approved by him. Christopher Kubasik for his "Interactive Toolkit" series of essays. Lajos Egri for his 1946 book, The Art of Dramatic Writing, for the foundation of my thoughts on Narrativist Premise. Logan Hunter for his original compilation of the theories from a variety of discussions and for his construction of Balance of Power. Jim Henley for his term "abashedly Narrativist" regarding Everway, which admirably describes a whole family of RPG designs. Gordon Landis for his input regarding Drift. The FUZION Lab Group for their presentation of switches and dials in the text of Champions New Millenium. I have expanded their Simulationist/general material into a much broader scheme regarding all of DFK diversity. Jesse Burneko for his input regarding illusionism. Gareth-Michael Skarka for his description of Intuitive Continuity in the text of UnderWorld. If I have overlooked anyone's input, please remind me and I'll include you in the acknowledgments.