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Description
THIS IS THE GAME

An ethnographic study of a Fantasy Role Playing Game club

I walk along the wet inner-suburban pavement, past quiet houses and flats, in the early evening of a normal Friday, bound for a session of friendship and adventure. The door of my destination glows with light and I smell coffee brewing as I near it. Here, in a one bedroom unit among dozens of similar yellow brick apartments, four men are preparing to undertake a battle-filled quest for their adopted principles of good and evil. They call it ‘The Game’.

The host had cleaned his home and bought Burger Rings and Cheezels for his guests, ready for their arrival between 7 and 8 pm. In the lounge area, his computer provided background music, an eclectic library of alternative pop, techno, rock and metal played in random order. The plainly carpeted floor was thumping to a track by The Crystal Method as I set my backpack down on the vinyl lounge. A circular table on the old kitchen lino seemed to be the only unprepared section of the unit, though it had been pulled from the wall and four chairs positioned equally around it. Then I realised that the messy piles of books, pencils, papers and boxes on the table were the core of the event; the materials which the virtual adventurers would be using to structure and record their travels.

There were four people at this session, but between them they represented the world of Graguan, a gothic and magical realm in which The Game is set. One player is the Gamemaster (GM), a title suggested by the rulebooks they use. He tells the other players of everything they are not directly controlling. The weather, random encounters with animals, merchants or beggars, attacks from enemies and everything between is the domain and responsibility of the GM. He creates the problems that the others must solve or overcome. The same player has been taking this role since The Game’s inception, as is always the case. To change GM would be to change game. The other players use romantic characters to advance the story, each figure effectively possessing a life of their own. These complex and unique chess pieces are the PCs (Player Characters).

Everything that has a random element or which is out of anyone’s precise control (where that arrow lands, how much that apple costs, how many fish in the lake) is counted or determined using dice. These were the most obvious and vital tools of the game. Each player had a collection of dice, ranging between 4 and 20 sided. They were used to create the profiles of each character, as well as being necessary while playing. All actions; combat, manuevers (climbing, selling, stealing and so on) required a die roll. All of the players absently rolled pairs of 10 sided dice (the type usually required), even when performing no actions … it is as habitual and natural to them as puffing a cigarette is for a smoker.

‘Game Time’ was another noticeable custom. After everyone had arrived, the participants stood, moved or sat where they wished and chatted about their jobs, music and other things for a while. This lasted for 20 minutes or so, then the music was turned down and everyone moved to the kitchen area. Once all the players were seated at the table and ready with their papers and notebooks, talk of real life events stopped and a seemingly endless discussion of the fine points of the rules and character development began. At this point I saw one of the players remember something from the day before and divert the attention of the others back to real life. The faces of his cohorts showed clearly that this was an interruption … the point was quickly dealt with and the attention returned to the discussion of strategy and fantasy.

Once the dice were rolling and The Game underway, not all of the players or their characters were in focus all the time. Those not in full action or debate with the GM were quiet. They sat absently rolling their dice and listening, or helping the gameplay by looking up the numbers rolled by active players in the rulebooks constantly being passed and swapped over the table. They read out the resulting effect or event at the appropriate time, then remained still, with a finger in the book waiting for the next number that required a codified result. The idle players did not get up and wander about, talk loudly or make any other distracting movements. All were attentive, or none were. For the six hours of this Game session, all other things were subordinate. When they broke for pizza partway through, the conversation did not leave fantasy gaming, it merely returned to the informal and theoretical discussion which abounded earlier, when the dice were still and no actions were taking place.

The Game seemed dominated by males, both characters and players. I wondered about this and asked those present. I was told that all the participants have had female characters at different times, but most of the figures played by these men are male. This seems a function of escapism - most players see themselves in their characters and identify with them in some way, so make them in their own image. In the memory of the veterans at the table, four women have joined The Game in the past, but none still play. There have also been over a dozen males who have played for a while and left. Only two of the four present that night have been a part of this Game since it began, over 12 Earth years ago (aeons on Graguan).

This team of players was formed three years ago. Each of them has created many characters, and advanced some to a point where there is little challenge in having them face standard level dangers and events. When this happens, these strong characters become NPCs (Non Player Characters), and new PCs are ‘rolled up’. These younger characters make up the core of The Game in progress. But NPCs can often be encountered or called. So each of the players at this round table could represent several points of view, several PCs and NPCs. They are often required to consider formidable amounts of information, as they move (and keep track of) these differently motivated figures.

As well as creating them, the players have driven and guided their characters through adventures and situations, both random and of the GM’s invention. Each PC is actually an extremely complicated spreadsheet of numbers and facts, slowly computed and enhanced in accordance with his/her/its experiences as well as the ideas and hopes of the player. An inordinate amount of time has been spent on particular characters, as they have been played/used since the Game’s beginning. Killing another player’s PC is apparently a good way of earning EP (experience points - this is the mechanism by which the PCs improve). This does not seem to be the done thing however, and may be considered unsportsmanlike or antagonistic because of the quantity of work often invested. Some players seemed even take affronts or injuries to their characters personally while in the ‘Game Zone’.

The game system itself is also hellish in complexity. These players use the RoleMaster Standard System, a structured fantasy of magic, arms, creatures and society contained in 6 books (that I could see), together the size and height of three phone books. The ‘Gamers’ know the basics of everything in these reference volumes, but they regularly disagree on specifics, requiring one or more to look up various rules or conditions. It apparently takes months of regular play and discussion before a new player learns the system enough to stop The Game being about the rules for them. Strategy, escapism and the creation of an imaginative reality and plot can become the focus; and this is the environment the players are here to enjoy. Newcomers are generally welcomed and the existing players help, teach and shepherd new players through the rules and conventions. This is to help them learn, but also to accelerate the return of the game to the fluid and exciting momentum the veteran players enjoy. Proper game speed can only be reached when everyone understands the peculiarities of the game system without constant reference to the books.

As I watched, smiles broadened as one player rolled a 0 and a 3 with his pair of 10 sided dice, and all knew what was coming next. This was a result of 03, a very low number (out of 100) which meant that the character had just ‘fumbled’, or failed in whatever he was doing. The GM made a roll with his dice (at which he frowned, apparently not the high number he was hoping for) and looked up the result on a chart. He grimaced and said that in this case, the fumbling character had merely dropped his sword. The GM told me afterwards that he often considers it his task to hurt, impede or kill the characters without breaking any of the copious rules or conventions.

Later, the GM described a hissing and scratching movement, heard in an underground tomb complex decorated with runes. The players reacted strongly, looking at each other with alarm-wide eyes. “We have to leave…” said one in a dread voice. The GM smiled as the three PCs announced that they were moving away from the sound. I looked at them mystified and was told that a noise like that, in this type of environment (dark, underground and magical) could be caused by a creature called a Vile. Suitably named, I thought, as they described the Vile to be akin to the Alien, from the movie of that name. This type of recognition happened constantly throughout the evening. It was obvious that these players knew the realm in which The Game was set exceedingly well.

Player #1 is Calin (an acrobatic elf), Player #2 is Hasoc and Jimmi (a 9’ mutant and a 4’ thief), Player #3 is Rowax (an herculean highwayman) and the GM controls Saila (a magical knife thrower). Here is a condensed sample of the dialogue at the table:

GM: “Okay, you’ve come out onto a plateau, there is a ravine 70 foot across you'll have to get over if you want to keep going north. There is no way around it as far as you can see.”

Player #1: “I can jump that”

Player #2: “Hmm, yeah so can Hasoc, but Jimmi can’t.” (looks through the character’s record before him) “I've only got 50’ of rope, damn. Anyone got any more?” (glances around table at shaking heads, frowns) “I suppose I could splice this rope into a longer one…” (searches through papers again)

Player #1: “What's Saila doing?”

GM: “Nothing, she's afraid of heights.”

(general laughter, then smiling groans as the players realise they will have to figure out how to get their companion across the ravine)

Player #3: “I'm not, I’ll check out the pit - how deep is it?”

GM: “You can’t tell.”

This is more like what the players see:

Calin and Hasoc didn’t think there was a problem. The chasm was only 70 feet wide, after all … an easy jump. Jimmi disagreed and began searching his pack for a suitable length of rope, but only found one 50’ length. The halfling frowned and shambled around the clearing, asking the others for contributions of rope or ideas. Saila was staring wide-eyed at Rowax, who was peering over the precipice into the depth of the chasm. The rogue turned and chuckled, “I can’t see the bottom!” Saila sat down where she was, 20 feet from the edge, looking like her breakfast had just moved.

To an observer it seems as if The Game is about dice, detailed character biographies and laughter. But to the players it is an ongoing story, a vicarious experience of heroism, bloodshed and fantasy. It stimulates and excites much like a movie or a book, but the experience is far more personal, for these extemporaneous authors are controlling the cast throughout every step of their role. It is easy to see why many book and film stories have originated from this type of imagination rich environment.

Description
THIS IS THE GAME

An ethnographic study of a Fantasy Role Playing Game club

I walk along the wet inner-suburban pavement, past quiet houses and flats, in the early evening of a normal Friday, bound for a session of friendship and adventure. The door of my destination glows with light and I smell coffee brewing as I near it. Here, in a one bedroom unit among dozens of similar yellow brick apartments, four men are preparing to undertake a battle-filled quest for their adopted principles of good and evil. They call it ‘The Game’.

The host had cleaned his home and bought Burger Rings and Cheezels for his guests, ready for their arrival between 7 and 8 pm. In the lounge area, his computer provided background music, an eclectic library of alternative pop, techno, rock and metal played in random order. The plainly carpeted floor was thumping to a track by The Crystal Method as I set my backpack down on the vinyl lounge. A circular table on the old kitchen lino seemed to be the only unprepared section of the unit, though it had been pulled from the wall and four chairs positioned equally around it. Then I realised that the messy piles of books, pencils, papers and boxes on the table were the core of the event; the materials which the virtual adventurers would be using to structure and record their travels.

There were four people at this session, but between them they represented the world of Graguan, a gothic and magical realm in which The Game is set. One player is the Gamemaster (GM), a title suggested by the rulebooks they use. He tells the other players of everything they are not directly controlling. The weather, random encounters with animals, merchants or beggars, attacks from enemies and everything between is the domain and responsibility of the GM. He creates the problems that the others must solve or overcome. The same player has been taking this role since The Game’s inception, as is always the case. To change GM would be to change game. The other players use romantic characters to advance the story, each figure effectively possessing a life of their own. These complex and unique chess pieces are the PCs (Player Characters).

Everything that has a random element or which is out of anyone’s precise control (where that arrow lands, how much that apple costs, how many fish in the lake) is counted or determined using dice. These were the most obvious and vital tools of the game. Each player had a collection of dice, ranging between 4 and 20 sided. They were used to create the profiles of each character, as well as being necessary while playing. All actions; combat, manuevers (climbing, selling, stealing and so on) required a die roll. All of the players absently rolled pairs of 10 sided dice (the type usually required), even when performing no actions … it is as habitual and natural to them as puffing a cigarette is for a smoker.

‘Game Time’ was another noticeable custom. After everyone had arrived, the participants stood, moved or sat where they wished and chatted about their jobs, music and other things for a while. This lasted for 20 minutes or so, then the music was turned down and everyone moved to the kitchen area. Once all the players were seated at the table and ready with their papers and notebooks, talk of real life events stopped and a seemingly endless discussion of the fine points of the rules and character development began. At this point I saw one of the players remember something from the day before and divert the attention of the others back to real life. The faces of his cohorts showed clearly that this was an interruption … the point was quickly dealt with and the attention returned to the discussion of strategy and fantasy.

Once the dice were rolling and The Game underway, not all of the players or their characters were in focus all the time. Those not in full action or debate with the GM were quiet. They sat absently rolling their dice and listening, or helping the gameplay by looking up the numbers rolled by active players in the rulebooks constantly being passed and swapped over the table. They read out the resulting effect or event at the appropriate time, then remained still, with a finger in the book waiting for the next number that required a codified result. The idle players did not get up and wander about, talk loudly or make any other distracting movements. All were attentive, or none were. For the six hours of this Game session, all other things were subordinate. When they broke for pizza partway through, the conversation did not leave fantasy gaming, it merely returned to the informal and theoretical discussion which abounded earlier, when the dice were still and no actions were taking place.

The Game seemed dominated by males, both characters and players. I wondered about this and asked those present. I was told that all the participants have had female characters at different times, but most of the figures played by these men are male. This seems a function of escapism - most players see themselves in their characters and identify with them in some way, so make them in their own image. In the memory of the veterans at the table, four women have joined The Game in the past, but none still play. There have also been over a dozen males who have played for a while and left. Only two of the four present that night have been a part of this Game since it began, over 12 Earth years ago (aeons on Graguan).

This team of players was formed three years ago. Each of them has created many characters, and advanced some to a point where there is little challenge in having them face standard level dangers and events. When this happens, these strong characters become NPCs (Non Player Characters), and new PCs are ‘rolled up’. These younger characters make up the core of The Game in progress. But NPCs can often be encountered or called. So each of the players at this round table could represent several points of view, several PCs and NPCs. They are often required to consider formidable amounts of information, as they move (and keep track of) these differently motivated figures.

As well as creating them, the players have driven and guided their characters through adventures and situations, both random and of the GM’s invention. Each PC is actually an extremely complicated spreadsheet of numbers and facts, slowly computed and enhanced in accordance with his/her/its experiences as well as the ideas and hopes of the player. An inordinate amount of time has been spent on particular characters, as they have been played/used since the Game’s beginning. Killing another player’s PC is apparently a good way of earning EP (experience points - this is the mechanism by which the PCs improve). This does not seem to be the done thing however, and may be considered unsportsmanlike or antagonistic because of the quantity of work often invested. Some players seemed even take affronts or injuries to their characters personally while in the ‘Game Zone’.

The game system itself is also hellish in complexity. These players use the RoleMaster Standard System, a structured fantasy of magic, arms, creatures and society contained in 6 books (that I could see), together the size and height of three phone books. The ‘Gamers’ know the basics of everything in these reference volumes, but they regularly disagree on specifics, requiring one or more to look up various rules or conditions. It apparently takes months of regular play and discussion before a new player learns the system enough to stop The Game being about the rules for them. Strategy, escapism and the creation of an imaginative reality and plot can become the focus; and this is the environment the players are here to enjoy. Newcomers are generally welcomed and the existing players help, teach and shepherd new players through the rules and conventions. This is to help them learn, but also to accelerate the return of the game to the fluid and exciting momentum the veteran players enjoy. Proper game speed can only be reached when everyone understands the peculiarities of the game system without constant reference to the books.

As I watched, smiles broadened as one player rolled a 0 and a 3 with his pair of 10 sided dice, and all knew what was coming next. This was a result of 03, a very low number (out of 100) which meant that the character had just ‘fumbled’, or failed in whatever he was doing. The GM made a roll with his dice (at which he frowned, apparently not the high number he was hoping for) and looked up the result on a chart. He grimaced and said that in this case, the fumbling character had merely dropped his sword. The GM told me afterwards that he often considers it his task to hurt, impede or kill the characters without breaking any of the copious rules or conventions.

Later, the GM described a hissing and scratching movement, heard in an underground tomb complex decorated with runes. The players reacted strongly, looking at each other with alarm-wide eyes. “We have to leave…” said one in a dread voice. The GM smiled as the three PCs announced that they were moving away from the sound. I looked at them mystified and was told that a noise like that, in this type of environment (dark, underground and magical) could be caused by a creature called a Vile. Suitably named, I thought, as they described the Vile to be akin to the Alien, from the movie of that name. This type of recognition happened constantly throughout the evening. It was obvious that these players knew the realm in which The Game was set exceedingly well.

Player #1 is Calin (an acrobatic elf), Player #2 is Hasoc and Jimmi (a 9’ mutant and a 4’ thief), Player #3 is Rowax (an herculean highwayman) and the GM controls Saila (a magical knife thrower). Here is a condensed sample of the dialogue at the table:

GM: “Okay, you’ve come out onto a plateau, there is a ravine 70 foot across you'll have to get over if you want to keep going north. There is no way around it as far as you can see.”

Player #1: “I can jump that”

Player #2: “Hmm, yeah so can Hasoc, but Jimmi can’t.” (looks through the character’s record before him) “I've only got 50’ of rope, damn. Anyone got any more?” (glances around table at shaking heads, frowns) “I suppose I could splice this rope into a longer one…” (searches through papers again)

Player #1: “What's Saila doing?”

GM: “Nothing, she's afraid of heights.”

(general laughter, then smiling groans as the players realise they will have to figure out how to get their companion across the ravine)

Player #3: “I'm not, I’ll check out the pit - how deep is it?”

GM: “You can’t tell.”

This is more like what the players see:

Calin and Hasoc didn’t think there was a problem. The chasm was only 70 feet wide, after all … an easy jump. Jimmi disagreed and began searching his pack for a suitable length of rope, but only found one 50’ length. The halfling frowned and shambled around the clearing, asking the others for contributions of rope or ideas. Saila was staring wide-eyed at Rowax, who was peering over the precipice into the depth of the chasm. The rogue turned and chuckled, “I can’t see the bottom!” Saila sat down where she was, 20 feet from the edge, looking like her breakfast had just moved.

To an observer it seems as if The Game is about dice, detailed character biographies and laughter. But to the players it is an ongoing story, a vicarious experience of heroism, bloodshed and fantasy. It stimulates and excites much like a movie or a book, but the experience is far more personal, for these extemporaneous authors are controlling the cast throughout every step of their role. It is easy to see why many book and film stories have originated from this type of imagination rich environment.