So, I’m torn. I was reviewing everything I still have yet to do with Martian Cycle, and I’m feeling overwhelmed.  But more than that, I’m not sure which direction to go in.

I’ve been working on my RPG for a long time, and in the last year or so, I’ve learned a lot more about the table-top RPG industry—well, as much as you can learn from the Internet, with fairly infrequent gaming sessions, and without actually going to gaming conventions like GenCon and the like (logistics don’t allow it, currently).

The field more or less shapes up roughly like this: You’ve got your standard, post-Dungeons and Dragons games, and your Indie games. The first type of game is designed for competitive or semi-competitive play in immersive worlds, using rule-sets that tend to be on the complex or “crunchy” side—that is, they spell out most conceivable situations that might arise. These games are usually set up to be universal—a basic game engine that can be adapted to any setting you might try to inject it into; and with any given setting you can expect a large number of supplementary books to be produced in addition to the core rules. They follow a standard, big publisher distribution model; with a development team working for or selling their game to a publisher, who then prints and distributes the finished game through standard retail channels.

Then there are the independent games. As with other forms of expression, the “Indie” label connotes innovation and experimentation—small, one-off projects with very focused designs. They often have simple, or at least, succinctly defined rules—they don’t define everything, tend toward more freeform play, and tend to follow a more “narrativist” creative agenda.

Now, the term narrativist is taken from the Big Model of RPG Theory, which was developed chiefly by Ron Edwards and other contributors on The Forge. Narrativism represents one of three main “creative agendas” proposed by the big model, the other two being simulationism, and gamism. A creative agenda means the style of play that an individual person, or his gaming group will gravitate toward. You really have to read the articles to understand the nuances of each agenda, but I will try to describe them each in turn, as well as I understand them. (If anyone familiar with Forge theory is reading, feel free to correct me, as I’m sure I’m flattening the picture somewhat).

In a nutshell, simulationism is a focus on the depth or realism of the simulation that the game produces—exploration of a well-defined character and/or a well-defined world is key. Those with simulationist preferences are bothered when one of these things feels logically inconsistent or unrealistic.

Gamism is a concern with achievements of one sort or another, both in the game and beyond it. Those with a gamist agenda play to win. They may seek out high scores in experience or wealth earned as the game progresses. They may also play for the thrill of defeating powerful in game enemies, or that of out-competing other players or outwitting the GM.

Narrativism means wanting to create a good and meaningful story—in the literary sense—and in a collaborative fashion. Someone with a narrativist agenda may not mind letting her character lose a conflict or even die, as long as it serves the needs of the story. These players play to be moved and informed by a meaningful story that they helped create.

There’s nothing right or wrong about any of these agendas; everybody has their own personal blend of the three, and just hopes they can find a gaming group where everybody’s personal creative agendas are compatible. The theory also goes that different game rules facilitate play under particular creative agendas, and hinder play under others.

This isn’t the only theory of role-playing out there, and in some ways it’s even controversial, but you have to admit, it’s quite compelling—at least compared to the seat-of-the-pants approach that game designers have traditionally taken. You also have to admit that a lot of really interesting and innovative designs have been made by Forge contributors.* Indeed, if you spend any time lurking on the Forge forum like I have, it’s quickly apparent that it is really an online school of game design—both in the sense of a system of thought, and a place to learn a skill. I haven’t formally joined the forum yet because I have only recently pried my eyes away from my own seat-of-the-pants designs long enough to discover it and start absorbing the theory and reading the relevant games.

But it’s exciting to look at things from a fresh perspective. And it’s that spark of fresh understanding which is my problem. Most of the games that follow the big publisher model have tended to facilitate a simulationist and/or gamist approach, while many Indie games, or at least Forge games, are typically more narrativist.

For years, I have committed myself to creating a game that was hopefully better than a lot of the games that I had played or studied, but which was more or less following their conventions. Now I can see more possibilities, and I’m really drawn to the simplicity and ease and focus of design that Indie games tend to convey. I mean, some of them are flat out elegant—works of art. And to top it off, I’m really drawn to the narrativist style… it really appeals to the writer in me—and beyond the writer part, there isn’t much else of me to look at.

So my dilemma: do I go the distance with the system I’ve been working on for all these years, or do I put that on the back burner and do something tighter, simpler, maybe more original, and more in keeping with my interests in fiction?

I try to bear in mind that the system I’ve been working on is designed to compete with systems that usually have teams of five or ten people, with additional support staff, working on them. Maybe that’s really my problem: I’m daunted by the scale of what I’m trying to do, as well as realizing that it may not get me where I really want to go. Maybe there’s a happy medium—I can scale back the system as it is, it’s not too late, but there’s still a lot of work ahead of me.

Wish me luck!

* Games developed by Forge contributors include  Dog’s in the Vineyard, Sorcerer, My Life With Master, The Shadows of Yesterday, and others.

Addendum:

Before my site was hacked and I lost the original database, Joshua A.C. Newman, the designer of Shock: Social Science Fiction, stopped by and left a comment:

Joshua A.C. Newman
July 14th, 2009 on 17:04

Hey, Andre, there are some real problems with the G/N/S terminology,
in that they lead you down specious alleys.

I find that people grok the theory better when I say that there are
three (recognized) modes of play:

Challenging play is where the primary form of enjoyment for the
players comes from overcoming obstacles, competing, and the like.
Players make choices that are strategically and tactically optimal for
the resources in their possession.

Thematic play is where the characters in the story take a moral stance
and the players are empowered to make meaningful moral choices with
those characters (irrespective or success or failure, mind).

Beautiful play is where the experience of the environment — whether
it’s reproducing Star Wars or making your own from scratch — is the
primary form of enjoyment for the players.

(These are GNS, but with the confusing names stripped off.)

If you’re reading the Forge at all, you already know the Forge itself has done away with the original G/N/S terms, calling them instead Step On Up, Story Now, and Right to Dream. I hadn’t quite understood that when I made the original post, but now that I do, it should definitely be pointed out. I think I like Joshua’s terms a little better, but the point is: What’s in a name? These modes are best understood in actual play, of course, but failing that, it helps to have a few different ways of looking at the concepts.   Anyway, thanks Joshua, if you’re reading!

—Andre, September 27, 2009.