This is the first video in a short series that’s titled (as the reader can see): “Gaming for a Non-Gamer.” The concept is simple: Razbuten, the YouTuber making these videos, plays lots of video games but his wife (a.k.a. The Lady He Lives With) does not. So he hands her a controller and queues up some games, and records her struggling to get through.
It’s done with a bit of cheekiness, being a wry sort of “let’s laugh at the newb” kind of thing, but overall Razbuten treats the topic seriously enough that it doesn’t come across as mean or unkind. It’s entertaining, is what I’m saying, but more than that, there are some observations in these videos that I find worth applying to RPGs.
Starting at 14:30, for instance:
I found the disconnect between how she thought the games worked and how they actually worked to be pretty intriguing, and as I focused more on those differences, I started to notice a sort of trend with every title she played. That being:
Thinking Games Would be Cooler.
When most people talk about what any video game is like, there is often a greater focus on the general actions players can do rather than the limitations that make it possible for the game to function.
For example, Mass Effect could be described as a role-playing game where, among other things, players get the opportunity to talk to and form relationships with various characters across the universe. People who play a lot of games, will most likely go in understanding that this actually means players will be able to form relationships with a predetermined cast of characters by choosing responses from a set of limited dialogue options.
As it turns out, this formula makes for a really great series, but there is a gap between what a game sounds like and what it actually looks like.
. . .
Where I know to apply this sort of video game logic to any title I play, I found that the Lady I Live With was always trying to apply real world logic. Like, in the DOOM tutorial there is a Gore Nest that the player needs to destroy. A waypoint marker shows up on it, which when I first played I knew meant I needed to go up to it, and most likely hit a button prompt. When my wife played, she didn’t know what the marker meant so her initial instinct wasn’t to walk right up to it. Instead, she noticed while messing around that the red barrels exploded, so she had the idea to try to push one of the barrels towards the Nest to blow it up . . .
This is, of course, one of the primary advantages that TTRPGs have over virtually all other games: if we can think of it, we can do it, often by virtue of merely saying it.
That is . . . this is the position you’ll find in our online communities. Regardless of the rules you use, or who you play with, or what sort of game you’re playing, or what standards or conventions you apply . . . ultimately, there is only one limitation to a tabletop role-playing game: convincing your friends that the thing is true.
Consider this example:
The answers to this question basically come down to 1) whatever feels good for your game or 2) this is what we know about the physical limitations of our world, let’s start there and brainstorm ideas. For myself, as readers of this blog are aware, the latter is the preferable solution, for at least two reasons. First, given that our experiences are limited by this physical, real world, it stands to reason that we should start from that place of familiarity. We can get as crazy and fantastic as we like, naturally, but it helps to have a point of reference so that our players stay as invested and interested in the action as possible. Second, quite frankly, the answer is incredibly interesting. Spend a few minutes on Google and you’ll find that the altitude sickness kicks in around 2,500m (8,200 feet), that effects can manifest after anywhere between 6 and 24 hours, and that the impact of low-oxygen, high altitude environments provides some very real, very deadly hazards for your players. Further, if you take the time to figure out the specific game mechanics, you can apply those to other environments. What happens if you set a dungeon on the moon? Will the atmosphere be the same as it is on your world? What if the players travel to the Negative Energy Plane? Can you use the same rules as for low-oxygen, high-altitude or vacuum-like conditions? Once you have those rules nailed down, is it possible to reverse them? Would that give you mechanics for the Positive Energy Plane?
How much is your game enriched by taking a moment to learn about the real world, to apply those principles, to think through the processes and rules that govern our existence in such a manner that you can give your players a concrete answer beyond merely shrugging and saying, “Sure, there’s air up there, I guess.”
I’ve been puzzling over climate, terrain and biomes recently. I’ve got a post in a draft format, the beginning of a “system” that I think will ultimately lead to some interesting options for my world. I don’t want to share too much right now ~ as I feel it’ll better serve the reader to have it presented in more formal format ~ but the concept is the same: when I ask myself, “What sort of terrain and weather should be in this part of the world?” I’m looking for something that will enrich my game. Something that will give my players options and choices. That will intrigue them because I’m intrigued and I’m the one feeding them the ideas, images and words that describe my world.
The Lady I Live With is a prime example of this near-child-like innocence in approaching the game: no preconceived notions about what can or cannot be done, except what one has already learned about life in the real world. And we would think, given the open-ended nature of TTRPGs, that this sort of approach would be perfect for any given table.
Except for when the GM doesn’t know the answer to the question and isn’t interested in learning the answer.
Because the real limitation to a role-playing game isn’t the rules you’re using, the dice you’re rolling, or even what the players will accept as being true (or not).
It’s your ability to imagine something fantastic and communicate it to your players.
Crossing the 'Verse 
One interesting thing I’ve noticed is that people who seem to have some experience with games (perhaps modern computer RPGs such as skyrim or even mainstream tabletop RPGs such as 5e) seem to keep following the percieved rules of such games even in a completely open-ended tabletop RPG world. Sometimes they think in terms of combat enounters vs. friendly NPCs in the way that it might work in world of warcraft (either a creature has a green or a red circle). In some regards, this makes completely inexperienced people “better” at such freeform “do whatever you want” RPGs, as they are more likely to think of it as a fully fledged world to interact with in the same way you would in real life, rather than as constrained options from a list. While this isn’t necessarily a hard and fast rule, I feel it’s worth noting how some amount of experience with certain things can get you stuck in a confined space of your own creation, so to speak.
(Also: hello again)
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