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Fan Club “Blog” #8: "I'm not going in there"

Since the Mothership review my players and I have been going back for yet more Mothership.

It’s not the first time this has happened- with Wildsea I also finished the Quinns Quest review before my players and I had finished our campaign, so afterwards we met up for this sort of... loved-up swansong. The GAMEPLAY TEST is done, you know? But it’s a bittersweet sort of play where we’re saying goodbye to the world and our characters.

Honestly, it’s a weird time! On the one hand, right now I'm the owner of multiple anxiety-inducing lists of games I need to try (lists which only seem to get longer over time), so it doesn’t feel great pouring yet more time & love into games where my video is already out and spinning up views.

Then again, continuing to play after I’m “finished” also feels like a vital step to me and my players not burning out. For all of us to invest emotionally in a new system, we need to know we’ll see it through to a conclusion and get something like closure... which means taking the time to close the last one.

HOWEVER! Just because we’re playing for “fun” doesn’t mean we can switch our brains off and stop arriving at additional conclusions about the brand-new world of T.T.R.P.G.s.

In today’s blog I wanna talk about a fascinating thing we learned about dungeons.

(This is bound to be the first in a series of Quinns Quest blogs where I talk about dungeons. Within the TTRPG they’re altogether too important for me to ignore. Too elemental and ancestral, too popular, altogether too weird.)

You see, for the finale of our Mothership campaign I chose to gift myself and my players with a hike through Gradient Descent, one of the booklets you may remember me effusing about in the review. This module sees players exploring the "Cloudbank Synthetic Production Facility", an abandoned android factory that remains under the control of its superintelligent custodial AI. Except as players start poking around they’ll discover a whole lot of... other stuff... going on.

There will be no spoilers in this blog post at all (provided you snoops in the audience don’t read TOO much of the text in these pictures). Instead, I’m going be talking more generally about what running this module taught me.

And it’s hardly a surprise I’ve had the time to learn a thing or two, because this dungeon is ABSOLUTELY HUGE. Technically, you'd call it a "Megadungeon".

Above you can see the map I gave my players (please note the rules for random encounters that I chose to partially censor for maximum ominousness).

Each black rectangle is a room that takes about 10 minutes for the player characters to pick their way through. Each filled white rectangle is a vast “industrial-sized room” that takes them 30 minutes to cross. If you add the time the party spends backtracking, working on problems, eating, resting and sleeping (if you can find a place to sleep), a hike through the facility can last days.

At the time of this blog post, it’s looking like by the time we wrap up Gradient Descent it will have taken us about six evenings, and since we play for about 4 hours a night, that’s a ludicrous 24 hours we’ll spent in this place together. And ridiculously, in that time my players will have seen just 30-40% of the dungeon.

I wasn’t kidding in the Mothership review when I said this module was the size of a videogame. In terms of both scale and vibes, if you want a quick and dirty reference for what playing Gradient Descent feels like, it's a bit like playing through Bioshock for the first time, co-operatively.

So while I’m not a GM who’s run a lot of dungeons, Gradient Descent just BY ITSELF has given me awful lot of experience.

And actually, despite the intimidating scale of the thing it’s been a great companion to get some practice with. It’s full of ideas that make you look like a rockstar GM, the book is readable, it’s packed with tips, and the way the designer handles a lot of traditional systems (e.g. random loot, random encounters and quest-giving NPCs) is world-class. That’s super important, because once you see how traditional dungeon machinery like random encounter tables can work on a good day, you’ll know how and when to accept or disregard results you get when you’re running other dungeons. (Because while a key part of the OSR movement is giving GMs plenty of random tables to work with to generate a world that feels alive and surprising, a key part of being an OSR GM is knowing when to accept the results of a roll on a table, when to nudge the numbers a little bit, and when to simply pick what you want.)

No exaggeration, I could talk about Gradient Descent for tens of thousands of words. Each time we finish an evening of it my players and I sit around talking about what just happened for an hour.

But instead of talking about this whole thing, I’m just going to encourage you to buy it and read it yourself, and today I’m gonna blog about one of my biggest realisations while running it.

I dub this blog-within-a-blog “I'm not going in there”.

Let me start by telling you about a couple of high points of my group’s time in the Cloudbank Synthetic Production Facility, then we’re gonna reverse-engineer why they caused so much delight around the table.

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High point #1:

The PCs were in a carpeted and (unusually) well-lit corporate lobby. They had been hiking for hours around this haunted facility, but still hadn't found a single living thing. Their backpack straps cut into their shoulders. Their guns were heavy in their hands.

One of the PCs opened the automatic door in front of them and they suddenly heard... the laughter of dozens of children. The children sounded like they were running, laughing and playing. The PCs couldn't yet see what was making this noise, though, because beyond the door was only a carpeted corridor that took a sharp 90 degree turn to where the laughter was coming from.

“What do you do?” I asked the players.

The players then had a startled, panicked, whispered conversation about their immediate collective uncertainty &possible options. After a while, because none of them had moved a muscle since opening the door, I said that the automatic door closes again, cutting them off once again from the sound of children.

Immediately, all the PCs burst out laughing. “Yeah, fuck that!!” said one of them, and through their laughter they all immediately came to the same conclusion that they were NOT going in there. They began looking at the map and chatting about where they might head to instead.

High point #2:

The players had been told by an NPC that if they want an ally, they should find a creature nicknamed “The Minotaur” that lives in part of the water reclamation system that had been nicknamed “The Labyrinth”.

This NPC had been extremely explicit that while the Minotaur looks “very scary,” it is 100% trustworthy. 

So after crossing HOURS of dangerous terrain to make it to the Labyrinth, one of the PCs sent in a drone to see what was in there. This drone was, in fact, sending a direct camera feed to the PC’s eye. So I rolled on some random tables and sure enough, she found the Minotaur with her drone, so I then said “This is what you see,” and showed only that player the picture of the Minotaur in the Gradient Descent booklet.

I then had that PC roll a fear check, which she failed, and so the other PCs in the party saw her character have a visible fight-or-flight response as she turned pale and struggled to fly her drone back to the mouth of the labyrinth where they were all waiting.

The player took a moment and then she said: “Yeah. We’re not going in there. We’re not gonna talk to him.”

And without missing a BEAT, the other players were like “Absolutely, we trust you, we're not gonna go meet him. Where to next?”

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So, to summarise? In both of these moments my players simply decided to not engage with a big piece of content in front of them, and actually, these two moments were just the start. There were plenty of other times that my players simply noped out of content- times they didn’t search the room, approach the ominous NPC or listen to the tape they found. And without fail, these moments were some of our favourite moments of the night.

Let's think about why that is. (I’ll totally be interested in your suggestions in the comments, as well. The following is just my working theory.)

So, most obviously, there’s something VERY funny about your protagonists refusing to act like protagonists. In players placing their characters’ survival before their curiosity, it makes the PCs charmingly obstinate and shrewd AND it highlights the ridiculousness of genre conventions. Why would somebody chase down the source of the ghoulish noises in the basement? Leave it alone!

This then becomes doubly funny because in TTRPGs, moments like these have a punchline in the form of the GM - this person at the table with all of the power who is in the process of presenting this content - just sort of being... switched off. The GM describes a set-piece room, or one-half of a puzzle, or they flash a picture of an NPC who’s important enough to have their own artwork, and the players absorb all of this before essentially saying "No thank you!!". It’s an immediate, hilarious reversal of power.

But! There’s more to these moments than their ridiculousness. When my players and I recall moments like these, we do laugh, but then we also commence turning them over in our heads to view them from different angles, discussing our thought processes and what might have caused the PCs to act differently. In other words, these moments are as interesting as they are funny.

You may have heard the venerable nugget of wisdom from game designer Sid Meier that “A game is a series of interesting decisions”, right? Well, choosing not to engage with a piece of content is both about as big a decision as it’s possible to make in a game - it’s a protest vote that deletes an entire scene from existence - but it’s also a decision that’s unique to TTRPGs.

The entire reason you pay for a video game or board game is to enjoy all of the content contained therein. But one of my players (specifically the woman who piloted the drone and vetoed going into the Minotaur’s Labyrinth) had a really interesting observation that same evening- she pointed out that in a video game or board game, the limiting factor for the player is how much content is in the game. But in a TTRPG, the limiting factor is how much time the group of players has together.

So when you view it like that, not engaging with a slice of content in a dungeon is both farcically countercultural... and inarguably logical. It’s almost like something out of the Stanley Parable. The GM narrates something horrible, and the players say “Well, obviously we’re not going in there,” and they simply don’t.

Also, decisions like these that pop the players free from the mould of Traditional Heroic Video Game Protagonist? Counterintuitively, I find they make the players more heroic. Because in demonstrating that the PCs in fact have enough freewill to simply not go in spooky rooms, it means that every time they stick their flashlight and/or gun barrel into a spooky room, it’s not because they were on rails and didn’t have an option. It’s that they did have an option and they chose to be brave.

So, what have we got so far? These moments are so entertaining because they're funny, while also showcasing the shimmering freedom that makes TTRPGs special.

I'm just gonna add one more reason why these moments tickled us so much.

In the future on Quinns Quest I'm sure I’ll be writing more on the commonalities between gambling and roleplaying. Brennan Lee Mulligan has talked about how roleplaying is “gambling with stories” (two activities so deeply entrenched in human culture that they pre-date history), and I’ve been riffing on that in my head recently by thinking about how you could also describe roleplaying as "gambling with intimacy." 

In any case, what I just want to end on is the idea that “nope”-ing out of content has an additional dimensional as interesting gamble. Because while players might refuse to enact the dim-witted behaviour expected of horror movie protagonists, the players do know, on some level, that they ARE in a game, and they know that in refusing to proceed down a path they might be losing out on information, treasure, quests or allies that would be extremely useful.

And so when players "nope" out of content in Mothership? They're doing that partially because it's spooky, but also because as players, they're running a cost-benefit analysis of a room that contains veiled horrors but also maybe something useful. And that's a trickier conclusion to try and synthesise than any of the actual puzzles or people in the dungeon! You’re second-guessing the dungeon’s designer based on the rooms you’ve seen so far, as well as second-guessing how spiteful your GM’s rulings will be, and on some level you’re trying to do it in character.

I think that's why my players laughed so hard when I narrated the automatic doors closing after none of them had moved a muscle to enter the room. It's because, as complicated as the calculation to enter the room was, they'd all silently come to the same unexpected decision in their head.

Just fascinating.

I’ll tell you what, running Gradient Descent has really softened my position on dungeons, which I previously felt were one of the dumbest things you could do with a TTRPG. We’ve got a genre of infinite possibility and you want to put the players in a SMALL CAVE?

I get it now. In a genre of infinite possibility, giving the players a hard-edged, limited environment can make it easier to materialise an environment that feels real and concrete. It means you can track every consequence of their actions in a way that makes a TTRPG feel more fleshed out, not less.

Lots to think about. Let's all keep thinkin'.

- Quinns

Comments

Definitely see the divide at our table when a story driven character would like to nope out of a situation, and an XP/loot driven character is down to plum every depth. It’s good friction!

Collin Hancock

The most fun me and my players have had in mothership is actively "missing" content. The nope it self is fun, but leaving something in a dungeon greats tension for us. The threat is still there, and might not stay there for long. The thing that really made dungeons click for me was when I finally started to run dungeons that was large enough to miss stuff in. Starting out, I tried to make my dungeons lean because I felt I didn't want to waste prep. But when I ran ANOTHER BUGHUNT and my players left in the second act it all clicked. The fun of them all discussing how far they could push on while brink of dying with dwindling resources really made the session. Even though it felt like an anti climax first at first, leaving a whole spaceship unexplored, my players kept talking about that moment for weeks after. Just knowing that there are more to see but you didn't made the whole world feel alive in a way no other TTRPG has done for us before.

arvid Törnquist

The history of modern probability theory can be traced back to gamblers wanting an edge in popular dice games. Everything that we formally know about dice rolling is implicitly tied up with our desire to better understand gambling.

Jak Marshall

New to the Patreon - hello! - so I'm a little late to the party. I just ran Gradient Descent and agree it's fantastic. It might be one of the best adventure modules I've ever played with. I intended to run it as a one-shot, but the players loved it and, after 4/5 of them escaped, they wanted to go back on a rescue mission. So they went back and I turned it up to 11. They managed to make it out...and now they want to go back...to blow it up. My players noped out of a couple of situations as well and I respect that. There's power in saying no and the players should feel like they're in control. Luckily GD gives wardens more than enough terrible things to throw at the players that it doesn't break the game when they do decide to nope out. I'd love to compare notes with other folks who've run GD because I know everyone's games would all be so completely different. Oh, and since I got ARKYVR, they want to go back again as a film crew.

Edward Stafford

Really wonderful piece of criticism. Curious if you've read philosopher Ted Cohen's Jokes, specifically his essay on humor as a form of intimacy; I think it can go a long way in explaining why ttrpgs, especially in moments like these, are so funny

nope

I’ve learned that to me, it’s important to use our limited time playing together to actually experience things. Too often situations like what you describe arise, where I’m afterwards just left with the bitter feeling that we could have experienced a much more interesting story than stopping at the door and not continuing. And as you say, dungeons are rarely reasonable things for our characters to enter in the first place - I submit that they are there for us as Players to experience.

Dan Strokirk

I’m playtesting a game about waking up with no memories and filing out your character sheet as you play, and this review inspired me to use Gradient Descent to play test it, and it rules. My game doesn’t interact with any of Motherships mechanics, but even as a system-agnostic scenario, I’m so hyped. They woke up in cryopods in zero g in complete darkness with no flashlights (or anything else) and it was a delight.

Brendan Albano

I have come back to the notion of dungeons after spending a long time avoiding them. It can be utterly paralysing for players to be presented with an ornate but actually _blank_ canvas. Boiling choices down to "direction with the sawing noise or "direction with the fetid smell" can help and they they automatically get to refuse to encounter either of those structures.

Tim

"Counterintuitively, I find they make the players more heroic." YES. This exact sort of thing happened to us in Another Bug Hunt (minor spoilers). I started GMing my first game of Mothership (and any TTRPG in earnest) and I'm trying it out on my (extremely anti-horror-genre) wife as the only player. Creeping around the station she noped out and definitely did not want anything to do with the digging marine in the garage, and pieced together the infection from scouring the rest of the base. Nowhere left to go she opened the APC in the garage and found the dude holding the frag grenade. Out of options and thinking "I NEED this vehicle" she says she GRABS the grenade out of his hands and throws it at the digging marine. I asked for a speed check, she nailed it, and so it happened effortlessly, whilst her player unloaded a rifle into Demar in the APC (she saw the "papercuts" on him). She dumped his corpse and blew out of there without even checking to see what happened to the digging marine (I did the rolls and because Sgt Abara was wearing a bandolier of more grenades, he was utterly obliterated). We cried laughing for 10 minutes straight.

hoodust

if you are looking at this as a microcosmic comment about dungeons then I think you need to recognize that this product was successful at having multiple paths to successfully enjoy the map and content in the style the Alexandrian gives a lot of props to Jennell Jaquays doing. (https://thealexandrian.net/wordpress/13085/roleplaying-games/xandering-the-dungeon)

gm_naahz

Will you be writing any more on your run through Gradient Descent? I’m starting a lunch hour run of it with my co-workers so I’ve been digging up play reports, etc.

Chris Peterson

I like dungeons (well space stations/ships because I only GM sci fi games) because it allows the players to become familiar with the area and npcs. it also gives them more of a feeling of effecting the world. If you design a 300 page sprawling lore bible of your entire world, it's 5 continents, it's dozens of factions, ect. You're going to put the players to sleep and they wont care, but also, players actions become mostly meaningless and insignificant. No place becomes special because it's just one tiny speck you likely only visit once. A confined area lets players develop emotional attachment to the cafeteria where several interesting scenes have taken place, or the chef there they've slowly learned more about each session they run into him.

daniel schmitt

This highlights how important it is to have character motivations that match player motivations. The players wanted their characters to survive, and their characters being regular humans just wanted to survive the horror they're unwillingly thrust into. Now take that same reaction but put it into a game of DnD where the players insist their characters are all superhuman-goody-good-hero-man-champion-main character, but the players act overly cautious and don't engage with danger, and it becomes eye rolling meta gaming.

daniel schmitt

I think the observation made by the player who decided against dealing with the Minotaur really is key to this, yeah. Like, if I’m playing a cRPG— we’ll just say Baldur’s Gate 3– and I learn a dangerous monster has kidnapped someone, well, I am going to try and save them. And that may be heroic and brave in the fiction, but from my perspective, what’s my other option? Not do the quest? That’s a waste of my money and time! Even in an expansive game with lots of variance like BG3, at a certain point you just have to keep moving forward and open the damn door. (Similarly, this is why I dislike the way a lot of video games handle ‘evil routes’— lately it seems the way to do that is to have some sinister NPC say “I’ll give you a lot of money if you just kill that NPC and don’t do their quest line” and what that translates to is a decision that’s already a hard sell becoming stupid out-of-game because you’re just going to get less content out of it.) But in a TTRPG, even a module, a GM can respond to your choices in the moment, so instead of the game just grinding to a halt when you don’t want to do the Protagonist Thing, the game can respond, it can treat it as a real choice. It’s not “well then nothing happens,” it’s more “okay, that thing is still ticking in the background while you do this other, safer thing— it’s gonna come up later.” Depending on the design of the module or the approach of the GM that can be true to a greater or lesser extent, but nonetheless it is still a choice, rather than a terminus. I’ve heard video game designers say that the best way to get players to do something is to reward it, and the best (but most expensive) reward is usually more content. And since there’s going to be content either way in a TTRPG, every decision— even the decision to walk away— starts equally viable. Then you can just think about it from your characters’ perspective and treat it as a real choice. Part of me also wants to try and see how that fits into the ‘fail forward’ design philosophy that TTRPGs are increasingly trying to favor, but I’m going on too long. Nonetheless, this is an awesome topic, and one that I think always exists at the edges of any game about choice.

Jack Kerger

Love this. I'm running mausritter with my kids and it was so satisfying to see them immediately turn and run away when they encountered an underground tunnel and heard ominous skittering noises. Seeing their imagination create something probably way more horrific than I had in mind was really fun.

Jacob LaBruzzo

I regret canceling my kickstarter pledge a year ago seeing all your posts about the game 😅

Lamont A-R

Quinns

Quinns

Quinns

Quinns

Quinns

Tom, you nailed it. I think that was what Quinn was suggesting and you crushed it with your comment - that's the risk in the relationship between the players and the characters they embody. Who's gonna take the lead (risk)? I find this analysis paralysis a real issue among groups in ttrpg gaming, and a game like Mothership really exposes it because those laughing children likely will eat your face off. The reality is, no body wants to get it wrong and have dolls eat everyone faces off, right? Or do they... Because when that happens that's a game nobody will forget - but how do we facilitate that kind of trust as Wardens with our players while running a horror game like Mothership? Maybe when we GMs are running games we need to "give permission" for players to embody their characters a bit more and embrace the narrative of who've they've been to that point in the collaborative story telling process! That's what I meant 👆 when I wondered about that decision to break the forth wall and take a second to process what's happening with the players and how that filters down to their characters....whoa... That shit is getting deep!

Craig Pressley

My first time GMing (which was a couple of weeks ago, thanks to this channel!), I was running the intro "Stumpsville" scenario of Mausritter. I made sure to emphasize how small and powerless the mice were, like the manual suggests. At the first sign of danger in the adventure site, my players (who are also my kids) just noped out of there and headed back to their village. For me it was basically that Michael Bluth "I don't know what I expected" meme. We ended up having a few smaller, less intimidating adventures for the next few sessions until they worked up the courage to head back to Stumpsville. I also had to have their dad get kidnapped by the rats. Thankfully that ended up being sufficient motivation.

Jonnie D

Those "nope" moments are great!!! I think it also shows that you are skilled enough as a GM to convince the players that the situation they are in IS terrifying. They have enough information in-character to say "that is bad and will probably kill me" - and as the GM acts as the eyes and ears of the characters (mostly), I think this shows you're doing an amazing job!!!

Zak K

Quinn, I like this concept "gambling with intimacy and story" you referenced. This is the stuff of games. The stuff between the players and the. Collectively in relationship with the warden, in this case, right? But it's not just a collective relationship with the gm, it's also the players relationship with the gm and the characters relationship with the context of the environment and narrative. Mothership is great because it really strips the heroic out of the character, unless that's who they are. Mothership says that this setting is dangerous and death is on the line if you engage in any combat scenerio. There is no healing spell to hide behind or bring back from dead mechanic, I guess unless you're an android in this case. In game when running Gradient Decent did you consider breaking the forth wall with your players and ask, "Okay, why did you not go explore those creepy children voices? Is it me, or is it because your characters are truly scared and don't want to die? When I run games I've unfortunately gotten the reputation with my players that there is a trick waiting in the shadows - we typically run D&D, so I do amp up the risk because their characters are just so powerful and almost unkillable. I've never pulled back the curtin in game with them and asked, "why did you not do this or do that?" This gambling with intimacy has really got my brain thinking and I need to explore this a bit more. I'd love more of your thoughts and the thoughts of your readers on this as well. Thanks for sparking this question in my tiny brain. Very helpful!

Craig Pressley

Great write up Quinns! Ran my first mothership session today and I can't wait to run even more!

Charles Woody

Also, since I believe you said in a podcast that you're considering reviewing the new edition of D&D so you can recommend people new games, have you considered also talking about the various styles of play and RPG's? Questing Beast did a video on a great blog post from the Retired Adventurer on the six "cultures of play" (stuff like Trad, Nordic Larp, OSR, etc..) that I found very enlightening. This wouldn't really be aimed at new players as they don't know what they like, but instead at those people who have been playing D&D for years and never branched out. I know that I never even really realized how diverse not just the theme of RPG's, but the very style of play was until I on a whim decided to try out 2nd edition AD&D with some friends just for the heck of it, and discovered I actually enjoyed OSR style way more than Trad (which I just assumed was what everyone was running regardless of system).

75 Million Inferior Goods

Funnily enough, I just started a Gradient Descent campaign last night, and I had one of those "Nope"ing out moments at the end of the session. As for dungeons, I think a huge part of their popularity is unfortunately just the tradition, and little else. However, dungeons have huge potential to be thematic. Being stuck in a dangerous environment that really leans into the survival horror is, I think, really cool and something certain types of players (like myself) really crave, and I think Mothership does a better job than most OSR systems at making it feel dangerous and scary both because of the thematics, but also because stress gives a very mechanical representation of why this place is scary.

75 Million Inferior Goods

I love this so much. I remember in earlier dungeon delving days where my fellow players and I would absolutely go through every nook and cranny in a dungeon, and a moment that we're still laughing about decades later was a door labelled "do not open, this is a trap" in a language we'd just deciphered. We, naturally, opened it, just to make sure! KABOOM!

Roger Leroux

While GMing or playing a game (or basicaly doing anything) you work setting up boundaries and a framework. You can bend and shape those, but you role is still to set them up and govern them. But at the same time what is very important is that you set your players free within those boundaries. It doesnt matter if its a dungeon, a space station, a hexmap region, continent or kingdom. As long as you (and your adventure location) provides the possibilty of acting freely within certain boundaries you give them support but also freedom. These boundaries/framework can be the rules as well, and its super necessary to bend them and adjust them to your group, but they still give you some framework on which players can go crazy on. You can go on and put that concept onto the theme, the Lore, the length, the size etc. Good Videogames in my opinion can achieve that but have very narrow possibilities, a lot of factors, down to how you control your characters, are very limited. A good videogame can trough its game design give you back creative freedom but RPGs are way more flexible in those terms. Even if you run a premade adventure, if its good its not gonna railroad your group but give them freedom within a set framework. So basicaly you as a GM are a fascilitator but not neccesary a story writer, your player will trough their play create and experience a personal and unique story

Irgendwaslanges

This is a side thing, but I like how you’re keeping words like “OSR” out of the proper Quinns Quest reviews. As useful as these terms are for discussing differences between games, I feel like getting hit with the alphabet soup of OSR PBTA FITD CFB can scare newer players back to DnD 5e.

Blizzic

In a past campaign of mine I had the - very fresh - heroes being tasked with cleaning out a tavern where *something* had happened, but no one really talked about it. Upon arrival and when entering the tavern they were confronted with a sort of interdimensional-visceral-horror of something having reshaped everything inside. All of my players fell silent after the description - there was no enemy inside, no npc nothing just the room with some tables and a staircase leading upstairs and a whisper from somewhere. And after a moment of silent one said “Well this probably will wait until tomorrow”. Another one said “We’re going back out, right?” And they turned around, walked out of the tavern past a guard that was very understanding to come back another day. It was hilarious. And wonderful. A moment I’ll never forget.

Raptorendame

I think Quinns' comparison to video games is helpful: I want to see everything in Elden Ring, including the big, scary rooms. But in TTRPGs, where I can't just respawn (sort of), the things I choose to not engage with are significant, and not knowing what's down there makes the world bigger and stranger. I ran the OSE module The Hole in the Oak and the party missed about a third of the dungeon because they started a very unfortunate series of events with some chaotic gnomes and their experience of the dungeon became one of being lost and trying to get the hell out of there. While they missed some 'content', the adventure became much more evocative than if they had carefully mapped and explored every inch at their own pace

Mervyn Robinson

"Even if the players don't interact directly with the source of the fear, the situation it creates will stay with them." I really like this point. It's not simply a gamble, it's a recognition that this moment in itself is a worthwhile experience, and worth the expenditure of their time.

Ads

I'm playing in a Forbidden Lands campaign that has recently taken us down into a dungeon-type site that has repeatedly kicked our ass, and it's led to some long and interesting discussions - both IC and OOC - as to whether and why we need to back in there again.

Brian Schoner

Dungeons sound like the “Bottle Episodes” of TTRPGs.

Keith Houston

I think the useful thing about dungeons is that they can reduce players' options which is sometimes a good thing. In my experience analysis paralysis is a very real thing in games - nobody wants to take the lead and they're making all of the decisions without the inputs of others. People want to have a consensus on everything so everybody is happy. Limiting the decisions to 'Do you go into this room?" can be very freeing.

Backpack Boom Bap (Tom)

I'm reminded of a trip to a fairground my family made when I was wee: there was a haunted house, basically a trailer, that you walked in one end, got suitably spooked, and went out the other. Except I never went though, cos there was a fish tank with a big rubber severed head in it, and a door beside it, and I wanted nothing less than to open that door. I still don't know what was beind it, but I remember that moment vividly. Even if the players don't interact directly with the source of the fear, the situation it creates will stay with them. I wonder what it would be like if, later on, they found they NEEDED to go into the room the childrens' laughter was coming from...

Mervyn Robinson

Love this. I think it's really interesting how OSR games have this whole entire seperate pillar of experience (pushing your luck, making canny decisions and weighing up cost and benefit) that a more story heavy or more improvisational experience can struggle to muster. Like you have to know that there's actually something meaningful down the corridor (which I find story games can struggle with because inevitably every path is the 'right' path - you may face worse/better consequences but you can't set a foot wrong) but you then also have to feel comfortable reacting to it like your character rather than as a player (e.g. in D&D where I know the GM will have prepped this thing for hours, eschewing the story is a much more socially fraught decision). Having myself come from a decade of exclusively playing story games, I've been absolutely obsessed with OSR and Mothership because I find their procedural nature results in Consequences. Story games have consequences but I often find as a GM they can feel a little ephemeral, even if the players don't notice or care. Don't get me wrong, one of our Apocalypse World PCs absolutely beefing the roll to open their brain which built the narrative groundwork that resulted in their freshly deceased bruiser coming back to life with a vendetta was incredible, but anything they did was going to result in something equally incredible. I quite like that in OSR you can make The Wrong Choice. Because when they make The Right Choice, it feels more earned. Though I'm not sure how much of that feeling I'd have if I was a player instead of the GM.

John Willcox-Beney

You've obviously got a load of things going on and are playing and reviewing new games. Is it ever tricky on you and your players if you or players want to revisit a particular universe? Eg, "No, we can't play any more Wildsea, I need to do review of Mothersip?"

Backpack Boom Bap (Tom)


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