Role Playing in the Wastes

In addition to my normal videogame consumption, for the first time, I am facilitating a tabletop RPG. Being new at game and story creation, I am fearful of making mistakes, cautiously developing a cohesive and welcoming story environment. This has me thinking about character development and what it takes for players to feel comfortable in an alternate persona. Fortunately, this process has been coinciding with my Fallout 3 experience.

Fallout 3 seems to welcome players into a world of nearly endless possibilities. The previous games in the series allow players to do almost anything they want, and Bethesda has put in a good effort in maintaining this trait. Endless options, the game suggests, give players a deeper connection with the avatar they develop. The outcome, theoretically, is a role playing game in which the player feels at home in the body of a Vault 101 resident, immersing the player not just in the game but in their persona.

There are some important character creation tools at a DM’s disposal. Players commonly choose play styles before the game begins. They often have character goals in mind before their persona even has a name. Players may also choose a character alignment (Chaotic Neutral, Lawful Good, etc.) to map out how their avatar may behave in certain situations. DMs will frequently supplement these decisions with a personal history for the player. Not only does the history provide a brief overview of knowledge, but it provides an experience the player can interpret to develop their avatar’s long-term motivations before in-game events transpire.

My Fallout 3 character was created in a similar way. I chose to play “evil”, deciding to blow up megaton as soon as I knew it was an option. But I also wanted to see how complex of a character I could develop, deciding I would contextualize and justify my actions.
As a baby, I needed to assign ability points, divorcing these decisions from my character's motivations. I had no personal history to shape these decisions. I did not invest points into intelligence because my character had a history in the public education system, but because of its mechanical relevance later in the game. This is similar to character creation in tabletop gaming, but without an established personal history or knowledge of the world around me, I could not easily contextualize these early decisions.

Fallout 3 quickly gives the player dialogue choices that color who the character is, rather than a giving the player a sense of who their character is beforehand. Why was I behaving like a little Vault punk, other than the fact it was in line with how future me might behave? An early example of contextually removed choices is the G.O.A.T. exam, a silly test clearly designed for the players benefit, not the avatar’s.The answer to these questions have no in-game effect. The results of the exam determine which skill points the game suggests you tag, not binding you whatsoever to the outcome. Any motivation for choosing one option over another comes from the player alone.

Despite these barriers, I had fleshed out my character to my liking and came out of the vault comfortable with my decisions. My evil actions would be driven by mistrust, paranoia and a desire to find my father. Yet the game design did not facilitate this interpretation. I stole to survive, yet for every Stimpak I would steal, I would lose Karma points. At one point, my negative karma allowed one "shady" gentleman to view my character as a potential compatriot, despite the fact he had never seen me steal or kill. The personality I gave my character was not the personality Fallout seemed to be shepherding me towards.

My character’s desire to find her father also collided with quest decisions. I rarely felt justified setting aside the main quest line to accomplish any of the many side-quests available. Even loathsome acts are committed for the benefit of NPCs I would not normally interact with. When I did finally find my father, my character's story arc was essentially complete, making the rest of the game moot.

At this point my character’s motivations have changed dramatically and I am having an easier time contextualizing my actions. Yet the difference between role playing in a open world tabletop environment and role playing in the confines of an open world videogame are still stark. A role must be created before it can be filled, something endless choices do not facilitate. Despite having significantly less depth than Fallout 3, I found is much easier to play the role of a comically evil villain in Fable II.

Options may not facilitate role playing, but this might not be a bad thing. Character creation and development is an exciting prospect for many players. What this implies however, is that this entire experience could be my fault. Maybe I was playing it wrong. If a game is created in which player interpretation and choice are fundamental to story progression, could the player be to blame when the game does not live up to its narrative potential?

A Lesson from the Tabletop

Since last week's feature, I've been thinking more about shared narratives. Imagining what a unique cooperative experience would look like if participants were incorporated into the story, I tried to think of templates that would be helpful for designing such a game. Sadly, there are too few examples to draw from. One thing did come to mind however, and that was Dungeons & Dragons.

Despite logistical trouble, tabletop gaming succeeds in bringing fairly large groups of people who are willing to commit to a potentially long-term narrative. If we take some time to look at what I consider to be a very close relative to videogames, we can learn how a story may be built and shared in a digital medium.

I am not ashamed to say I play tabletop RPGs, two of them in fact. I'm just one of many within a subsection of gamers that play pen and paper games on a regular basis. In fact, some of my most memorable gaming moments were dependent on the roll of a D20. This is no fanciful hobby; I have shared some truly "hardcore" gaming moments with my tabletop friends.

DND is often misunderstood as a game of pretend in which players huddle around a family-size bag of cheetos relying solely on their imagination for the adventure. The universe is actually in large part controlled by a huge set of rules and pre-created content. The settings and story arcs found in campaign modules are often as grand and fleshed out as some of the best videogame worlds. The unique characteristics of tabletop gaming allow players to interact with this environment in an interesting way.

DND has what no videogame will ever have: the participation of a flesh and blood storyteller, the DM. The DM is the facilitator of the entire experience and is empowered to alter the game rules and environment as they see fit. No matter how much I would love to have Team Ico with me in the living room, it's just not going to happen. By having this arbiter between players and narrative, regardless of what bold or idiotic decisions players make, the DM can alter the story accordingly.

Every experience that comes out of a DND session is unique because each player will act differently according to their motivations. Though progression will always take place, the malleable nature of tabletop gaming allows players to act independently from the other participants. The narrative outcome is the result of each players' unique choices along the way; thus, they build a shared story.

To design an interesting cooperative experience in a videogame will mean some of these characteristics should be emulated. I'm no game designer. I have no idea how difficult this might be, so keep in mind all of this is a beautiful dream-land in my head.

Let's say we are making a four player coop game in which each participant is crucial to the story and can shape how the game progresses independently of the other players. Already, this is no easy feat. To start with, the cast of characters should be diverse.

Many tabletop RPGs rely on character classes that come with their own background stories, motivations, and abilities. This encourages the player to shape the story according to their individual view point, which will include their perception of the other players and their actions. There are already enough unshaven marines coming out of the videogame industry as it is. Indigo Prophecy does a good job of incorporating a diverse, albeit stereotypical, cast into the plot.

Secondly, each player should be free to leave and join the party at will. In fact, it would be ideal if players can choose to work with or against the others, even if they are oblivious of the fact. I'm a big fan of making someone evil on a whim. Fable II is purportedly incorporating this free roaming type of play style, and I'm interested to see how it plays out.

Lastly, our imagined game should have a diverse set of choice options. The more choices available to a player, the more ways they can see their own involvement change the game world. Likewise, other participants should feel the repercussions of your decisions, be they selfless or selfish. I think we can look to Bioware for a history of success in this regard. Their games are well known for dialogue options can drastically change the situation you find yourself in. I could see a great multi-player coop experience coming out of their studio.

Don't get me wrong. I love the single player narratives and multi-player modes that are out on the market already. As we continue to see titles that emphasize user created content, I become increasingly interested in the potential for a storyline that the players can mold in a similar way. Even if this does come to fruition, I'll likely be rolling twenties, or ones, for a long time to come.