As I have the time to examine certain moments that occur in my online games, because the game is in text, I'm able to see things in retrospect that I would probably miss in the moment. I might get a sense for it intuitively, but definitively enough to deconstruct those moments? Probably not.
Below is just such a moment. The characters are in a dark forest, at night, and they can't see anything. Foolishly, they have not brought a light source, and have only just discovered they have no way to light a fire. Then, I explained this:
DM: All three of you get a sudden sensation that something has approached you; it is nearby, perhaps ten or twenty feet away, and breathing regularly. But a quick scan around reveals nothing.Josef: I drop my pack off my shoulder, and take my mace in hand, while looking around more carefully. I look specifically in the direction from which we came.Delfig: I’m going to retreat quietly – as noiselessly as possible – away from the now-arming Josef and the noise, shaking my head.
Dark forests are scary. Without a light, you look into the forest and see even less than what's shown, because the above contains an unnatural light source ... but I chose this picture because at night, you do get a little ambient light from the sky. Not much.
When Josef (a cleric) senses a threat, he arms himself. And when Delfig (a bard) becomes aware of the same threat, he gets himself away from Josef and shakes his head. Why?
Were you and I to be in this situation, we might be overwhelmed; but remember, player characters are at least partially combat trained. They have weapon proficiencies, so they have been trained in the use of weapons. If you or I had a gun in this situation, or a club, or any dangerous tool, we would certainly raise it to defend ourselves. We would not shake our heads at others doing so ~ we'd think, "Damn, that's a good idea," and we'd follow it. The only reason we would not have protected ourselves automatically would be that we were too damn scared to move. As well, we would NOT move away from our friends! Our friends are our best chance of survival. But Delfig gets away from Josef immediately. So what's happening here?
Delfig feels safe. He has judged the situation, he knows that he is talking to a DM, and that the DM isn't just going to kill him randomly, so there's no need to defend himself. Josef, he thinks, is way over-reacting here ... and if whatever's out there has intelligence, they're going to take offense at Josef and Delfig doesn't want to seem aggressive; seeming aggressive, thinks Delfig, is only going to draw aggression. So long as he keeps his hands empty, he thinks, he's fine.
Here is the actual difference between "roll-players" and "role-players." Josef assumes he's in danger. It's a forest, at night, in 17th century Germany, full of wolves, brigands, D&D monsters and who knows what else. Most of these things don't care if the prey is acting aggressively or not; quite a lot of these things are damn malevolent and prepared to kill whether or not they're offended. They don't care if you've drawn your weapon. They only care that you're made of meat.
Delfig, however, knows there is only one thing in this forest: the Dungeon Master.
Role-playing as it has been taught in the present-gaming culture is a disease, where the structure of the story-driven campaign makes the role-player an essential element that embues the character with plot armor. As the link says, "the rules of the world seem to bend around him. The very fact that he's the main character protects him from death, serious wounds and generally all lasting harm," until the principles of the plot are managed and resolved. Once this becomes known to the player ~ once the player feels certain of it ~ the player will see every apparent threat that presents itself as an integral part of the events that are to follow, no matter how they might appear.
 |
| Not the hand signal of someone about to die. |
On the other hand, if I restrain you into a coaster that's blatantly still in construction, which you can see with your own eyes is not finished, as you climb helplessly to the drop, you really are going to be goddamn fucking scared ... pretty much out of your mind, obviously not in a good way. Because you know you're going to die. Actually, what you're going to be screaming all the way to the top will be, "This is a joke! Tell me this is a joke! Stop fucking with me man! Oh shit, please tell me this is a joke!"
A hope you'll hang onto right up until the time that the rails disappear from under the car and you realize you're in free flight. At that point, for a second or less, you'll realize that even if this was supposed to be a joke, something has gone terribly wrong.
The question with role-playing is this: do you want your fictional character to get on the sort of roller coaster that will definitely let you out at the bottom, or are you interested in trying the option that might be a joke, or it might not? Because that, dear friends, is the difference between "role-playing," where you're assured that every scene is meant to be there, and "roll-playing," where the dice can hit the table and yes, you're dead. Seriously dead.
The difference IS a matter of taste. But it is also the difference between people who consider themselves "thrill-seekers" because they ride roller coasters, and those who consider themselves "thrill-seekers" because they climb mountains with their fingertips.
 |
| God's roller coaster |
Now me, I have to say neither. But if I'm going to simulate the cortisone rush that either of these things will offer, I'm positive that I'm seeking the latter option. I'm not interested in players who hear breathing in the bushes, in the dark, in a late medieval forest, and decide it's time to get ready for some diplomacy ~ "For heaven's sake, Josef! Mind your manners ... we don't want to offend anybody!"
Coming back to the campaign, it happened that the player behind Josef quit immediately after this scene. The reason given was a lack of time ... but the Josef player had been participating erratically up to this moment. In any case, Delfig the role-player was left on his own (the other player, Kazimir, was unavailable for ten days), and so I decided to take advantage of Delfig's lack of concern, in the manner that best served the campaign.
For it happens that in the situation, Delfig was somewhat right; the entities breathing among the trees were not there to kill the party, they were there to talk. They had been following the party for some time and the darkness was a good cover for them. They would not have been offended at anyone drawing their weapons, however; they would have expected it, which was the reason for them remaining hidden.
I could just as easily decided that it was a good time for a night encounter with a wolf or some other creature ~ in which case Delfig would have lost precious time not pulling his weapon, which could have cost him his life. I want to stress, therefore, that he wasn't being a "good player." He was merely lucky that the events happened to be non-threatening.
Well, not overtly threatening. The creatures in the wood were anything but Delfig's friends; but if you're evil, and you want something complicated from a bard, with the bard's help, you pretend to be friendly ... and if the bard already thinks that he has plot armor, well, that makes it very, very easy to seem friendly.
In the scene, one doppelganger and three skulks (nearly invisible humanoids, described in the original Deities & Demigods), are helping a few of their friends execute important members of Dachau town's ruling class, in order to put themselves in power. This is a fairly standard science fiction plot; I think I first encountered it with 1976's Futureworld, the largely forgotten sequel to Westworld. These creatures are constantly on the lookout for dupes ... fall guys, people to blame shit on, because if you're murdering people in alleys, its good to have a few well-meaning idiots bumbling around and drawing attention. As well, these guys (Triskoon, Karl Ludd, Josef Mizer) are also interested in opening a gate to another plane of existence, to rain chaos on the town so they can move in. The gate requires the blood of a bard, willingly given (stolen flat out from the Goblet of Fire), and here's Delfig, all ready to be a trusting bard.
Now, I did pull a dirty trick as a DM at this point. Because Josef quit the game, and because I had already decided that the skulks (remember, nearly invisible) were already following the party, it made sense to just suppose that Josef had been a doppelganger from the beginning ~ as if I had said to the player, pretend to be normal and not a doppelganger, because I don't want the players to know. Now, some might say I stepped over the line; but really, what is the difference? I see it as verisimilitude. Having a doppelganger as an original member of the party is perfect. Before the campaign started, I described the players as a group of slackers who had hung out at a tavern for months ... why shouldn't a doppelganger hang out at the same tavern, get to know these guys, then accompany them as they get started adventuring?
I admit, I didn't think of the doppelganger plot at all until one of the players, Tiberius, got himself arrested, so that I needed a way out for him. Afterwards, the doppelganger idea continued to take shape in my mind as the campaign progressed.
If you remember this post, Hook, Tale and Sting, you should know already that Delfig is on the hook. He and the party earlier convinced themselves that the local merchants are evil and murderers (they're just ordinary greedy people of the 17th century) and that something ought to be done about them. So he was ready to take the bait. All he needed was to hear a tale.
I began with mocking him. The creatures speak to him from out of the dark, after some build up (see the campaign rewrite for complete context):
DM: There will come the chortle of laughter from several voices around you – they are uncomfortably close, though you cannot see anything. One speaks, from somewhere in front of you.1st Voice (npc): “Herr Kôlhupfer, you have nothing to fear from us.”
2nd Voice (npc): “We might have killed you at the farm.”
3rd Voice (npc): “It’s good that you let the Jew alone.”
Delfig: I gulp and slowly lower my arms into a non-threatening position. “I am … ahh … glad that I have pleased you enough that I’m not going to die for my mistakes. Who are you? Might I be allowed to gain shelter from the cold so that we can talk?”
For my money, the cheek here is astounding. Meeting three, perhaps more strangers in the night, Delfig is instantly ready to believe that they mean no harm and that it's a good time to ask for favors. There's a player who has played with soft-hearted DMs, for sure. Thing is ... if I put myself in the mindset of a con-artist (and is there a more perfect con-artist monster in the Monster Manual than a doppelganger?), telling me what you want only gives me power. Unless Delfig is also trying to mess with me (and he wasn't, though I've certainly messed with DMs this way as a player), he's in a lot of trouble. As can be seen, however, he's ready to take these fellows at face value.
1st Voice: “No, we will not give you shelter. We do not rest with humans. But we will ask a question: will you continue in the employ of those snakes who seek to swallow the people of Dachau? Or will you accept our coin?”
Delfig: Who are these snakes? The merchants? And who are you?
3rd Voice: “He’s not that bright, is he?”
2nd Voice: “He thinks we mean actual snakes.”
4th Voice (npc): “And he didn’t answer the question.”
Here's a tip. When you want to deceive your players, have the NPCs insult them. You'll get a range of responses to these insults, for sure, but how the players respond will tell you much about what the players are thinking, and what they think you're thinking.
Look at the above, assuming we take it literally. Right off, the 1st voice says something racist against humans; and with the very next sentence, insults the human masters of Dachau. Then Delfig buys into it, completely unfazed by the personal, racist insult. Whereupon he is insulted further.
We can see from Delfig's response that he's concerned he wouldn't survive a fight, so he doesn't want to start one. He's like a kid surrounded by four bullies; when they insult the kid, the kid tries to get on the bullies side ~ and that's what Delfig's base agenda is. Don't make this into a conflict, seek a conversation on their level, find how as much intel as possible.
He can't see them. He doesn't know who or what they are. He doesn't know he'd lose a fight with the four of them; he just knows he isn't going to try. They could be two feet tall kobald children, with 1 hit point each, hiding in the dark, but he has built them up in his head and he isn't going to test his assumption. That's why his answer is so obsequious.
Delfig: “I beg your pardons. I will answer. No, I do not wish to be a party to the merchants who would squeeze everyone dry of their wealth and then look for more. It’s the merchants who caused much of the bloodshed of recent past wars, and I have no small love for being played as a fool in a merchant’s game. I wanted to talk to Herr Meyer and find out what we’d gotten ourselves into. I count myself fortunate that Herr Meyer didn’t kill me.
“I didn’t mean actual snakes – but as I am talking to the wind and darkness, who sound as if they are opposed to the merchant, I wonder what powers the merchants may also have. As for whether I’ll accept your coin, while I am in need, I am also wary of things I cannot see, that speaks to me from the dark and asks if I will get involved in something that may leave me in the same condition as the innkeeper, with a rope around my dead neck. Before I accept any coin, I would like to know more.”
Most DMs will rate the success of role-playing upon the believability of the character's persona, the character's contribution to the overall story and the general feel of immersion the player is expected to demonstrate. My feeling is that these are standards for an acting performance in a play or presentation, and have nothing to do with playing a game! "Role-playing" ought to be measured by the player's ability to handle and manage the situation, overcoming the obstacles presented and providing themselves with the greatest possible number of opportunities and advantages.
On that scale, Delfig fails dismally. He's apologizes. He gives the enemy more information than he gets, and the information he gives is accurate, while he never considers that he's being lied to. He tells these strangers his intentions; he reveals that he's chickenhearted about disobeying the law. In short, from the point of view of a doppelganger and his cronies, Delfig is a bitch. Delfig is a coward. Make him feel like a friend, and he'll eat right out of your hand.
So, the doppelganger steps out of the darkness as Josef. Then he transforms into another acquaintance, a servant named Ells. Then into a third person, a stranger. He does it right in front of Delfig, as "proof" that he's being transparent with everything he says. He's effectively saying, "See, I've revealed what I am and I've said I'm not here to harm you, trust me." This the tale that I, the DM, want Delfig to believe.
And Delfig does. Note his response from the campaign: "Okay, that's just damn cool."
This is partly because, in his head, it IS the Dungeon Master selling this idea, and the Dungeon Master won't hurt him, because he has plot armor. Right? Yeah. Except Delfig doesn't understand that as the DM, I'm expected to play lying, cheating, criminal, usurping, human-hating deceptive shape-changing doppelgangers accurately. Of course, I never say this is a doppelganger. That would be tipping my hand. Most genre-savvy players know doppelgangers are evil (look it up, not just in the books but in German literature ~ and this campaign is in Germany). So I don't want to name the beast, I want Delfig to make his own conclusions.
So as a DM, I pick my words carefully; Delfig is playing his character as a coward (or he is a coward as a player, it really makes no difference from my point of view or that of the doppelganger):
Josef/Ells/Other: “And now I approach you to ask you to do some small part in breaking the Merchant’s Guild in Dachau.”
Delfig: I look in astonishment as the darkness shapes into Josef, then Ells, then to the stranger in turn. “I’m sorry, Josef … or by whatever name you have for yourself. I meant no disrespect with my answers. I did not know.
“I have felt uneasy about the goings on in Dachau since I learned of the innkeeper and his wife. I did not go with my friends in service to Mizer to fulfill his wishes. I have no particular loyalty to the Merchants Guild. I live for my art.” I break off, gulp nervously, and continue. “What would you have me, a single person, do against the Guild?”
A "small part." Small. These words mean so much. The Fatherland has selected you to pour this container of powder into this small hole. It's not much. It's just a small thing. No big deal.
I don't point this out to show that Delfig is joyfully participating on the side of evil, but rather that evil couches its phrases into specific frames that make it possible for perfectly good people to innocently blunder into the most stupid of actions. I didn't know that switch would cut off all the power the neighborhood and cause several helpless people do die as their AC units stopped working, I was just following orders. I didn't know that 16-year-old girl would kill herself, I was just forwarding a tweet. I don't know why all these black people are rioting. I've never done anything to them.
What does Delfig emphasize as he offers to help? That he is just one person. That he's insignificant. That no one should expect very much from him. Especially considering he takes work without considering the wishes of his boss or that he has no loyalty to the town leaders. He's innocent. He lives for his art.
As a DM, we do best when we HEAR what the player emphasizes ... if the player is talking to someone who is good and earnestly wants what's best for the players, we can point out the flaws in the player's statements and encourage them to be steadfast, braver, more dutiful, more honorable, more of a mensch ... and when we play an NPC is who a complete rotter, we can take advantage when the player is none of those things.
Josef/Ells/Other: “You may call me Triskoon … when we are not in the company of others. In company, call me ‘Hans.’ And what I want is for you to take a journey. Not to any place in particular, except that it should be away from Dachau. If you will give me but a sample of your blood – and a single personal item – your disappearance from the town will make an excellent frame.”
This is something that Delfig can do right now, safely, and Wow! Do we want to emphasize the safe part of this action. What's more, once he does it, he's being asked to run away. Seriously. I'm asking a player who is acting like a coward to do something in the dark and then to run away after doing it.
To which Delfig seeks to get something for himself:
Delfig: I shiver in the chilling air and rub my arms. ”Forgive me, Triskoon, but the air begins to affect me poorly. I was seeking shelter in these buildings, in order to make it through the night. Could I please have some shelter before we talk further?”
Triskoon [with pity]: “Come with me.”
And, with pity and plenty of security, Triskoon takes him to a shed that he knows to be empty, which isn't his, and let's Delfig rest there and get warm. Then he asks,
Triskoon: “If you climb down into the hay, you may pass the night more comfortably. What say you to our bargain?”
Delfig: I thank him gratefully as I rub my arms and legs to get warm. Then I look at him curiously. “A drop of blood and a personal item. You say those will serve as an excellent frame. How will my blood, my essence, and an item of mine, give you a ‘frame’ - the murders of the horses seem to have already gotten attention enough. A drop of my blood won’t be so unusual.”
Reading this, as an outsider, you ought to be a little ... disturbed by this. Speaking for myself, I never imagined it would be this easy. I was sure he would hem and haw; I hoped he would key on the word "frame." This, too, is an old trick. In the midst of a description, you use one word that isn't immediately clear (though you think you know what it means, you feel compelled to ask). The mind will focus on that word, because it is uncertain ... and as it draws your attention, you forget the rest of what it said. Right now, the reader will remember that I used to word "frame" near then end of the paragraph. Without scrolling up, how much can you remember about the rest of what Triskoon said, immediately in relation to that word?
One reason to use odd words, or slang, is that it confuses the meaning for an outsider. This puts the outsider in the position of having to ask, which enables YOU to control the conversation. This is what Triskoon does. He explains that the blood will be used to "frame" Johann Mizer, by making people think that Mizer killed Delfig. See, we have the blood to prove it. Delfig then responds,
Delfig: My eyes widen. “That is an audacious plan and would indeed be a serious accusation against the merchant, especially with the involvement of a cleric. You have some powerful friends. I must admit reluctance at having that much blood taken from me. I have little wish to find myself sickened from an imbalance of my humours. How will you keep Herr Mizer or his companions from simply carting me off to the jail or worse?”
DM: Triskoon will change shape again … and Herr Mizer takes your wineskin from you and has a pull.
Triskoon: “Why would Mizer need to be involved at all?”
This astounds Delfig (who has, once again, expressed his cowardice), though at no time does Delfig wonder why Triskoon doesn't just choose to look like Delfig and have someone who is disguised as Johann Mizer kill him. Even if we assume Triskoon is the only shapechanger, it wouldn't be hard to dress someone in Mizer's clothes, add a little makeup and then be sure that a dozen people or so hear the fake Delfig call the fake Mizer by his name. That seems an easier plan, and doesn't require Delfig at all ... which ought to be a clue that this isn't Triskoon's plan, that the whole thing is bunk and that what he really wants is a vial of Delfig's blood. Which he has to get willingly.
Ah well, Delfig asks about money, they haggle, the money is promised and the exchange is made for Delfig's blood, which he takes from his own arm. Mission accomplished. And the fallout from that decision would drive a lot of the campaign afterwards, eventually causing Delfig to believe that his character needed to suicide in order to make amends. No, I'm not kidding.
Conclusion
Suppose, for argument's sake, Delfig had refused to listen to any of this. Suppose he had drawn his weapon with Josef, and then Josef had quit the campaign ... as a DM, what would I have done?First, because it might have initiated a fight, I would have suspended the campaign those 10 days so that Kazimir would have been able to run, and Delfig wouldn't have been alone. I only created the parley and let it go on despite Kazimir's absence because Delfig made it so clear he was no at all interested in fighting.
But suppose that after a few statements, after the insults, Delfig had changed his mind and had decided to offer a fight to the voices he couldn't see? What if there had never been a Kazimir? What would I have done then?
To my mind, any creature that lives by virtue of hiding or pretending to be someone else is, itself, a coward. The skulks, likewise, depended on not being seen. These were not bold, brave creatures who appeared and threatened Delfig; they were cowards who insulted him from the darkness.
If he had taken a bold stance, at any point in the conversation, they would have simply melted away. After all, the doppelganger could simply become someone else; could think of a different way to get the blood of out Delfig; or gone after another bard. There was nothing to be gained by participating in a direct fight. That would not have served the doppelganger's requirements at all.
Delfig's mistake was in thinking that I, as the DM, was telling him the story he needed to follow, just as thousands of DMs think it is their role to do, and tens of thousands of players willingly concede. We make an endless series of adventures where the DM and the players participate in this silly charade, where there's no real conflict because the players trust the DM and the DM does not betray that trust. As though the purpose of this game is to ensure that everything remain open and on the table.
It is interesting that the "stories" that get told in D&D have none of the uncertainties that exist in real stories. Just as it is funny that players are not expected to demonstrate their moral courage, their insight, or their ability to survive, being asked to do little more than act as paper tigers who are allowed to roar only because they know they will not be torn to pieces.
