This chronological rundown of how I approach RPG design will go over the most universal principles I’ve learned or copied from others.
Attitude
All rules are bad, but some rules are worth it.
The rest of the ideas here will talk about technical implementation, but the core thought, riding alongside every notion, is that every rule slows down the game, makes demands on people’s time, and creates a barrier to crafting a narrative.
Therefore, every rule must justify its existence, and the more difficult the rule, the more it has to improve the game in order to be allowed in.
I was once attacked by a horde of kobolds, and it taught me a lesson.
These attacks weren’t uncommon, when playing the old Baldur’s Gate computer game.
I threw a poison cloud spell at the kobolds, and they started randomly falling over, getting up and walking a few steps, then falling over again.
As the dozen little sprites did this falling-over dance, my archers picked them off one by one, which gave me lots of time to think.
And this is what I thought:
A ‘fair’ RPG game immediately cuts the believability from a game.
It slays engagement far more than a golden dragon, or a mushroom-man.
A ‘fair’ game takes the fear out of the players, which robs RPGs of one of their unique abilities among games - death.
Let me tell you about the ‘unfair’ things my world did to my players.
I say ‘my world’, because I don’t consider myself responsible.
RPGs should avoid asking people to roll dice more than once for any result.
Aesthetically, multiple rolls don’t feel right.
Rolling dice should feel like casting rune-inscribed bones across a table.
Multiple Rolls Guarantee Success
The door is locked, but can be picked with a roll of 18 or higher.
This sounds like a tough lock to pick!
…unless we have 5 people pick it, in which case it will almost definitely open, because with enough players rolling dice, someone’s going to roll 18 or higher.
This means all doors open, but only on the condition that people sit around a table, rolling Maths-rocks repeatedly, until someone gets a high number.
Railroading chat devolves into nonsense, as people are working with unclear definitions.
Here’s the solution:
‘Railroading’ means that an out-of-game white-list constricts in-game actions.
A ‘white-list’ is a complete list of things one can do.
A ‘white-list of websites’ would mean that someone can only connect to those websites, and no others.
Conversely, a ‘black-list’ is a list of things which one cannot do, such as a list of websites which one cannot visit.
Referring to elves as a ‘race’ makes perfect sense.
They’re clearly different from the other humanoids, have their own features, and biological properties and oddities.1
But ‘sylvan elves’?
The elves who live in forests, but generally act like any other elf?
They’re clearly just elves living in a different climate.
Likewise, gnomes who lives deeper underground may well call themselves ‘deep gnomes’ (or be called that by others), but the D&D stats show no reason to consider them physically distinct.
Even Tolkien’s different types of elves, who had plenty of physical differences, gained those differences mostly due to different lived experiences.2
All magic systems imply some ontology, and most of the European ontologies come from Aristotle’s view of the world.
This is why someone turned into stone might retain their vision, motion, and thoughts.
In Aristotle’s view, everything has:
form (the shape)
substance (what it’s made out of)
telos (what it’s for)
first-cause (where it came from)
For example:
Rain forms drops, is made out of water, it’s for watering plants, and it comes from the sky.
People have people-shapes; flesh, sinew and bone constitute their bodies; people exist to praise the gods and achieve glory; and mothers provide the first cause.
Fireballs have rain-drop shape but fire for substance, they exist to burn, and come from angry wizards.
Anyone transformed to stone would retain their organs with the same telos, meaning that a liver would continue to process toxins, and the eyes continue to see, because that’s what eyes are for (regardless of their ‘substantive cause’ (meaning, the substance they are made from).
RPG worlds need histories, so I had to write some history for BIND’s world, Fenestra.
This was a big mistake.
The writing smelt bad, in that peculiar way that most fantasy writing is bad, before half a page went down.
The problem came from having to write - every word was vestigial, nothing really mattered; it wasn’t fun.
So when large sections of the rules needed to be rewritten, I took the opportunity to go through every book with a new attitude.
Like King Hagard in the Last Unicorn, I destroyed everything that didn’t make me smile, including the whole history of Fenestra.
The new vision of Fenestra only has one historical event.
With BIND’s redesign, I’ve been thinking about options for religions.
I don’t know if the old gods will survive the redesign.
Polyamorous Polytheism
I’ve always felt a missed note when I read D&D-style fantasy books where a country has many gods, but priests worship only one.
Couldn’t a priest love many gods?
Wouldn’t they get on better by invoking the god most related to what they want to do?
I call upon Hermes to give me speed, Apollo to give me insight, and Zeus to help me select the perfect gift for the baron!
