Game Design Sins - Character-Skill over Player-Skill

Skill Challenges - A Rant

D&D 4e had this concept called the Skill Challenge. What's a Skill Challenge? OK, so imagine you are playing D&D. You and your fellow players are fleeing from a monster. You're probably thinking "chase scenes are tricky. How is the GM going to handle this?" Then, your GM speaks. *Imitates Kermit the Frog voice* "OK guys. We're doing a Skill Challenge."

He explains that you have to look at the skill list on your character sheet and you have to choose a skill, any skill, and think of a way to use it in the context that's being presented to you.

Player, looking and sounding confident: "OK cool. I use stealth to hide."

GM: "Roll."

Player: "I got a natural 30 or whatever. Yay! We did it!"

Then the GM describes how you use your stealth skill to hide successfully, then says "but you still have to pass two more skill rolls."

Player, looking and sounding confused: "Eh, what? But I passed the skill roll. You narrated that we hid. I don't understand."

GM: "It's called a Skill Challenge, that means you have to get X successes, and you have to avoid getting X failures."

Player: *Makes angry face*. "What?"

So, the first problem is that it's arbitrary. It's a mini game / sub-system with arbitrary point scoring in D&D! How bizarre, right? Here comes the second problem.

Player: "OK, so I just do stealth again."

GM: "Nope. You can only use one skill per skill challenge."

Player: "What! Why?! That makes no sense!"

GM: *Sticks finger in belly button and sniffs it*. "You pleb. You don't understand anything."

Other Player: "OK, I roll stealth then."

GM: "No, sorry, let me clarify: a skill can only be used once per skill challenge."

Other Player: *Makes angry face*. "What sense does that make? What else do we do to run away in a chase scene?"

That's the second problem. Arbitrary limitations. I'm sure there's a design reason for why skills can't be repeated, but I think it conflicts with the logic of a narrative. Why wouldn't I just hide, then run and hide again? Like, I don't know what the skill challenge is trying to describe within the logic of the fiction. You can't hide twice? Have you ever played hide and go seek before? I'm genuinely confused and frustrated.

Player: "OK, so what do we do?"

GM: "Try History."

Player: *Cocks pistol*. "What! How do I use history to escape during a chase!"

GM: "That's for you to come up with. You're the adventurer."

Player thinks: "I use history to remember if there are better hiding places. Then we hide there."

GM: *Shrugs*. "OK, roll."

And so that's the third part about this system that doesn't make any sense to me. You have to make very creative applications of game mechanics. Some of these you probably have to stretch. And uh, I can imagine that if you did your nineteenth skill challenge, all these stretched interpretations of skills would be familiar, and you wouldn't really struggle to work them out. You've justified nonsense enough already that you could just do it again. You would just describe how you use a skill, roll, and count points. It's very, very contrived.

I've never seen the designers who designed this mode of play comment about it. I think they were sitting around one day thinking up a reason to make skills be used more. This is it. This is what they came up with, and it makes me think that maybe skills aren't important anyway.

It turns a narrative scene into a series of pass/fail die rolls. It forces player creativity through a hoop or a strainer instead of letting players work out a solution naturally, which would be describing a plan and then the GM adjudicates. Therefore, this is a contrived mode of play. You've taken the very simple game-play loop and you've turned it into this weird thing.

Finally, that number of successes vs failures is arbitrary. Harder skill challenges mean you have to succeed 9 times and avoid 3 failures. Ugh. That means the possibly of 11 of these at once?

So, in summary: it's character-skill over player-skill, it's contrived, and it's arbitrary. It takes away the normal gameplay loop and imposes this new thing that's very not D&D.

I want the GM to present a problem. Then I want to come up with my solution. I don't want to be forced to come up with an arbitrary number of solutions and then outsource the results to the dice. Rolling the dice means there's a chance to fail. Rolling dice and failing isn't fun. I think if I come up with a good plan that works within the logic of the setting and the fiction, the consequences should be based on the merit of the plan, or whether or not it's just a functional solution.

I could sit here and roll a die ten times, adding a bonus from a random skill ten times, and ask a table to justify each use of the skill for me. I could do that in like 2 minutes. You've taken a game about creativity and roleplaying, and you've gamified it into a random outcome generator that gets loosely justified proactively. That's weird guys. It's not playing. That is not play. That isn't play.

It sucks and I forbid it.

For something opposite of a skill challenge, I wrote a soft-skills system supplement for Open 2d6. It's more player-skill over character-skill.

Anime Review: Ruin Explorers (1995)

Anime doesn't hit like this anymore.

In order to talk about this anime, I think I need to talk about how western fantasy became introduced to Japan. Here's a butchered summary.

Introduction of Western Fantasy to Japan

D&D was introduced to the Japanese market in 1985. There was a Japanese gaming group, Group SNE, who published summaries of their sessions called Record of Lodoss War Replay in a magazine. These replays were popular and so the group wanted to turn their stories into a book. TSR wouldn't license Lodoss, and so Group SNE created their own TTRPG called Sword World RPG in 1989. Sword World RPG overtook D&D in Japan. Lodoss influenced fantasy in Japan. Then fantasy in Japan went from niche to mainstream.

Japan's Version of Western Fantasy

Ask a Hollywood filmmaker to make a movie about shinobi, and you get the Hollywood ninja. The idea gets passed through an American lens and gets Americanized. Similarly, if you take western fantasy to a Japanese creator, the idea goes through a Japanese lens and gets Japanized. As it happens, the Japanese take on western fantasy in the 90's is actually really damn cool. Everyone has big ass shoulder armor, impressive silhouettes, and magic-users all have cool capes instead of robes and pointy hats.

Seriously, robes and pointy hats? Come on guys.

Japanese TTRPG Inspired Storytelling

I can criticize modern D&D for its lack of niche protection. Anyone can do anything. This trivializes some characters. I read Sword World RPG. I'm not kidding. I did! Sword World RPG uses a 2d6 + bonus, roll-over mechanic. This means the rolls form a bell curve. The way this math works, characters with a specialty reliably succeed at what they specialize in. Characters attempting something outside of their specialty reliably fail. This means niche protection.

Niche protection encourages collaborative group play. The party has to rely on the specialist and give them their moment in the spotlight. This game has an anime aesthetic, and this emphasis on defined roles and teamwork feels Japanese.

Ruin Explorers

In a harsh world filled with dangerous, treasure-filled ruins, adventurers who brave these ruins are called ruin explorers. Ruin Explorers begins with two ruin explorers named Fam and Ihrie in search of something called the ultimate power that can grant any wish. Fam is sweet and naive. Ihrie is more complex. Together, they have a sisterly dynamic with a generous amount of slapstick. They meet a merchant who sells them a dungeon map. They clear the dungeon but get stuck in the last room. Then there's a twist. That's episode one.

The anime starts with two characters but grows into an ensemble cast of six that feels like a group of TTRPG players. Everyone has a class, a quirk, and they want treasure. Everyone gets a turn to be special. Everyone gets their moment to contribute and be valuable. The characters' personalities outshine their adventuring classes. Together, they pursue an evil wizard who's also seeking the ultimate power.

Style

This is 90's Japanized fantasy before gaming conventions became ubiquitous. It felt fresh and new. It's much simpler and low key. Magic is uncommon, very flavorful, and it feels like it has rules. The fantastic elements do not overwhelm the setting. Nothing bugs me about fantasy more than ridiculously large swords, outrageous powers that are commonplace, overly designed outfits, and architecture that could slay a kaiju. With few exceptions, many clothes, objects, and pieces of scenery look practical and befitting a lived-in world.

This restraint separates old fantasy from new fantasy which treats fantasy like this familiar thing. When only a few things are fantastic, you want to see what else is fantastic. When everything is fantastic, what's left to wonder about? Too much extraordinary stuff diminishes a sense of wonder, and it's also cringy and nerdy in a bad way.

Summary

I'm not saying Ruin Explorers is great and deserves a place among the greatest of anime, but if you've only seen more modern anime, you should also see some older anime to round out your perspective. Ruin Explorers hits in a way modern anime doesn't because of its older influences, different storytelling priorities, and because older anime felt more about art than commercialization. Emotional moments feel earnest. It doesn't undermine them with comedy or self-awareness. The pace slows. Emotion isn't explained with clunky exposition, it's shown. It lingers and allows you to feel it. Its storytelling feels less mechanic and more artistic.

The anime is only four episodes so you can watch it in one sitting. It's compact, but it doesn't feel rushed. Nor does it feel like something's missing. Stakes aren't huge. Only one character has personal investment in the main conflict. That simplicity is part of the charm. I got hooked by the expressiveness of Fam and Ihrie. Once the story hits its stride, I got invested. The ending delivers with a cool fight. All in all, I would give it a six out of ten, and I would absolutely rewatch it to share it with a friend.

Anime Un-Recommendation: Hunter X Hunter

I asked people for anime recommendations, and I had a few people suggest Hunter X Hunter. I looked it up. I saw the character designs. I cursed and cringed and cursed some more. Worst character designs ever. Embarrassing character designs. Who is responsible for this? What were they thinking? Ugh. Just ugh.

Anyway, I was really, really craving some good anime and I finally decided to give it a fair try. It's currently available on TubiTV. It took me two tries to watch episode 1 because the character designs are so ugly and stupid looking.

I hated this anime but I couldn't stop watching. Almost. I finally stopped at like episode 21 or something. Just shy of the end of season 1.

About the same time that I was progressing though season 1 of this anime, I coincidently saw this video on YouTube called "The Neuroscience of Addictive Storytelling (And How to Master It)" by @kallawaymarketing (link). I don't want to steal his work or his views, but I'll summarize the concept.

This video explains a story writing technique that is based on exploiting your brain's reward system. First, the story establishes a hook to get your interest. Then it asks you a big question to get your mind working and trying to predict what happens next. This creates investment. Then, the story surprises you by giving you something you wouldn't have guessed but is still plausible. This prediction and surprise is the thrill or the high that you feel. Then it re-hooks you with a hook for interest and big question for investment before you have a chance to come down from the high, setting it all up again. The loop then repeats.

Let me give you an example of this technique in action.

Let's say I'm writing a story. There's a dragon that eats all the livestock and wild game that's supporting a poor small village. Without the livestock to slaughter and without the wild game to hunt, the people will not have enough food to make it through the winter. So, the village hires a hero named Marcus to go deal with the dragon. Marcus is a poor young man from a poor little town, where he watched everyone suffer and die to disease and brigands and monsters while the greedy king did nothing! Now, he wants to be the greatest hero ever so that he can build his own kingdom with prosperity and security. Fighting this dragon is going to be the biggest accomplishment ever, and a major benefit for his goal.

That's the hook. Those are the stakes. I have introduced characters who are so far sympathetic because they're good people in need who are trying to do good things for good boy reasons. Yippie skippy.

Now, to reiterate the big question. Can the hero save the village from the dragon?

I bet your mind is working really hard trying to guess what's going to happen next. Marcus climbs the mountain and overcomes cold and hunger and blisters and fatigue. When he finally finds the dragon's lair, he enters. He smartly waits for the dragon to go to sleep. He sneaks in. He raises his sword to the sleeping dragon's neck. Victory seems assured, but the moment is tense! Then the dragon moves! The hero's sword misses, and Marcus has missed his chance! Now, the dragon is awake and angry!

Hold up, wait a minute! The dragon doesn't kill the hero. Instead, the dragon corners the hero and speaks. "I'll spare you if you help me." So, the hero agrees, and the dragon explains she's not actually a dragon. She's a beautiful princess and she was transformed into a dragon by her treasonous court wizard. "You must get him to change me back, or kill him for his evil deeds!"

Cool, so, do you see what I did? I faked you out. You were expecting an epic fight between a hero and a dragon. Marcus was going to kill the dragon, then he was going to return to the village as a hero, and his reputation would swell! He'd be off on his next adventure with an accomplishment in hand. Instead, I surprised you by giving you a completely unexpected, yet still plausible, alternative story. And I re-hooked you with new stakes and a new big question!

To reiterate the stakes: can Marcus save the village from the dragon by saving the innocent princess from her transformation? The new big question is can the hero Marcus get the treasonous wizard to reverse the transformation spell or kill him so that his evil can be stopped?

Now, what do you think is going to happen? By using this writing technique, I as the writer and going to say eff you, we're going into left field again. Here's what happens. Marcus climbs down from the mountain and explains the situation to the villagers. The villagers give him supplies and guide him to the wizard's tower. Then, the hero breeches the entrance, bypasses his magical traps, defeats his golem sentries and other magical constructs. Then, he solves a puzzle where he has to mix a potion and save himself from poison! Ooh, so tense! Then, the hero finally, finally gets to the wizard. Marcus raises his sword and demands that the wizard reverse the spell on the princess. Then, the wizard says he can't yet. 

YET!? Excuse me, what? Yes, that's right! Another damn plot twist! The wizard actually thinks of the princess as his own daughter. He loves her like family. The reason why he transformed her into a dragon is because she has cancer, and dragons are immune to cancer! Aw, dang it! I didn't see that coming!

So, the wizard is working to save the princess from her cancer first, then he'll reverse her transformation which will be easy. And you know what will help? If Marcus went on a fetch quest for some McGuffin medicinal ingredients that he can use to make a magical cure for cancer! But, the McGuffin is being guarded by a...

You get it. New states. New Big Question. New Surprise. Repeat ad nauseum.

Here's what I don't like about this storytelling technique. It feels like a lot of build-ups to nothing. Over and over and over again. If feels like the story keeps promising me a cool action scene and then denying it over and over and over. I'm being strung along without a payoff in sight. I want my conclusion already. Please give me my conclusion. Where's my conclusion? Where's the pay-off! This is frustrating! I'm getting really impatient! What the hell! Roar!

Go ahead and learn the technique to understand it if you want. It might genuinely be a blessing for you because maybe it'll give you the ability to recognize when some TV or comic series is doing it to you.

So, here's why I don't like Hunter X Hunter: It does this. I felt like I was promised an anime with fun, thrilling fight scenes with classical shonen style hero growth. There were no completed fights. By episode 19, the anime establishes a tournament. The hero loses in the first round. When he wakes up, the tournament is over. That subversion is incredibly disappointing. Then some side character summarizes what the hero, and the audience, missed, then the story sets up new stakes, new hooks, new questions, and I didn't have any more trust in it. If you promise something, you need to deliver. Also, the character designs are sh!t. 0/10. I do not recommend. You know what it's like? Calling the DMV and getting transferred, then getting transferred somewhere else, then getting transferred again, and again.

Want to know what anime I do recommend? Click here for a very positive review of There's No Freaking Way I'll Be Your Lover! Unless...

What if I was in charge of Netflix's Avatar the Last Air Bender

Season 1 of the animated series is 20 episodes. If every episode has a 20-minute runtime, that's 400 minutes of content. The Netflix season is 8 episodes which allows for 160 minutes of content. So, here's how I would convert the 20-episode animated series into the 8-episode Netflix series.

The first two episodes at the south pole for a strong beginning, possibly condensed into one episode, the final two episodes for the siege at the north pole for a strong ending. Priority in this order: the episode with Suki, the episode with the Blue Spirit and commander Zhao, and the episode with Jet and his freedom fighters because their characters need to be established for Season 2 and Season 3. There's seven of your eight episodes right there. Maybe they can be condensed or consolidated?

What else do we need? The scene where Aang discovers Monk Gyatzo's body at the Southern Air Temple is pretty powerful, also this is where the group finds Momo. We also need to have Avatar Roku teach Aang about the comet to set up the stakes. I would combine these to take place at the southern air temple!  Maybe, maybe Roku appears to Aang in a two-minute dream to teach him about the comet and maybe Momo is just added off-screen.

What else is really, really important for Season 1? There's a lot. I think the episode with Katara and Master Paku at the North Pole is also very, very important and it includes the sub-plot for Princess Yue and Sokka, also important. Anything else to establish the meaning of Katara's necklace is important. Anything to foreshadow the White Lotus is a yes. King Boomie and Omashu should be established somehow although I didn't really like this episode. Earthbenders Haru and his father are recruited for the day of black sun, so let's establish them if we can. Their episode established how the fire nation mistreats their colonists and prisoners. How Zuko got scarred in the Agni Kai is essential for his character, as well as Iroh's. If we can also work in episode 12 "The Storm" because this fleshes out Aang and Zuko and it shows their parallels. I think we need to introduce the engineer at the northern air temple because that guy's participation later is important, although that episode is frankly not one of my favorites. Some of this is getting left out, some of it is getting abridged, some of it is getting cut up and stuck together awkwardly. Lots of re-writes!

I don't think the episode with Jeong Jeong is that important, even though I really like his introduction and the scenes where Aang burns Katara and Katara discovering waterbending healing. Healing can be established at the north pole. Aang's learned hesitation for firebending is not that important except for his field trip with Zuko in Book 3, so I'm really hesitant to cut this completely.

I might take some pointers from abridged series of anime on the internet. Scenes from several Avatar animated series episodes might be mushed together in a slightly coherent way for the Avatar Netflix episodes. Each 20-minute Netflix episode might be structured like two 10-minute episodes or three 7-minute episodes. Key scenes are going to run together with a lot of suggestions that time passed in between shots or scenes.

Does anything need to be added or invented? No! We're going to have a lot of trouble making 400 minutes fit into 160 minutes.

A Blog Post About the Disney Star Wars Trilogy

If I invited you over to my house for dinner, and I promised to serve you spaghetti and meatballs, but served chicken alfredo instead, how would you feel? Pasta is pasta, right? Eat up! Yum, yum! Or, would you look at me with a furrowed brow and tell me you feel like you were tricked and lied to? I believe that if you're going to promise something, you should do your best to deliver it.

So, Star Wars is a film franchise with the themes of family, faith, and mythology. If someone tells you they're making a Star Wars movie, and the themes are not these, would you feel like you were promised spaghetti and delivered alfredo? In other words, have your expectations been unmet leading to disappointment? For some people, the answer is yes.

Now, what happens if I offer you spaghetti and meatballs, but I actually serve you chicken alfredo, except underneath the chicken alfredo is shepherds pie with pickled beats? Ok, that's a little weird, right? And certainly not what you were expecting. Now, you're disappointed and also confused.

To break it down, Star Wars 7 is spaghetti with meatballs. Star Wars 8 is the chicken alfredo. Star Wars 9 is shepherds pie with pickled beats. I regret that the problem with my food analogy is that I've picked foods that I like to eat. In reality, Star Wars 7 is spaghetti with cucumber spirals instead of noodles and tofu for meatballs. Star Wars 8 is rotten fish. Star Wars 9 is trail mix on top of pizza that's still frozen in the middle. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong. This trilogy does not have a feeling of consistency or cohesion. It's like the Mona Lisa with pasta and glitter glue. As a result, it's less than what it could have been.

Thank you for patience. Let's talk about the themes in Star Wars 7, 8, and 9.

What is / are the theme(s) of Star Wars episode 7? The movie begins with Poe doing spy-guy things, then Kylo-Ren does villainous things, and then we introduce Finn who does traitor things. Then Poe and Finn crash on a desert planet. Thematically, what do we set up? A sort of a found-family in the making? Cool. I like that.

Then we introduce Rey. She's alone on a desert planet and counting the days. She's unhappy with the world as she finds it. I see where we're going with this, and I'm getting excited! The first real weakness with the theming is that Poe goes missing until one of the final scenes of the film. This right here is the promise of spaghetti and meatballs and the delivering of the cucumber spirals instead of noodles. Darn.

So, let's speed this up. Rey does not have any family. You might say she's desperate for a family. Then she meets Han Solo. She might as well ask, "will you be my daddy?" And Han Solo being a guy with a rough exterior, but a heart of gold takes her under his wing. OK, I love it! What could possibly go wrong?

Skip ahead, and Kylo-Ren kills Han Solo. D'oh! So close!

OK, so the theme of family is still on the table (pun intended, see my food analogy above)! Very, very much so! How do we tie this knot? Well, let's discuss the family. The family in question is the Skywalker family; Or rather, the Skywalker-Solo family! Yes, these families are tied together via the marriage of Han and Leia. Kylo-Ren's real name is Ben Solo. Cool! That means Han, Leia, Luke, and Kylo-Ren are all family. Yippie!

But what about Rey?

Rey was 100% intended to be a Skywalker! I'm not privileged to the behind-the-scenes information, but how could you not piece this together based on episodes 1 through 7? Let's review. Luke Skywalker went missing. Why? Unclear; but if Luke went missing, does it not stand to reason that maybe he also wanted to hide his baby? Gasp! Rey is Luke's daughter? Can it be true? Well, why the @#$%! else would Leia Organa-Solo snub Chewbacca and hug Rey at the end of episode 7, you twit! And why the @#$%! else would Rey be so gifted with the force if she wasn't a descendent of Anakin Skywalker whose midi-chlorian count (bleh, I threw up!) was the highest ever recorded! Duh!

So why was Rey later revealed to be the daughter of a no one in Star Wars 8 and then re-revealed to be a Palpatine in Star Wars 9? That's the rotten fish dish and the half-frozen pizza topped with trail mix that I previously told you about. There really isn't a pay-off to wild changes like this, and it means we need a new reason for why Leia would hug smelly Rey Palpatine.

If Rey is the daughter of Luke, then she would be Kylo-Ren's cousin, and thus, the family theme could be salvaged! Rey's goal would be to save / redeem her cousin like Luke's goal was to save / redeem his father. Insert the clip of the interview with George Lucas talking about the prequels when he says, "it's like poetry, it rhymes." Ta-da! Instead, the way movies 7-9 work out, Rey turns out to be a Palpatine who survives when all Skywalkers and all Solos die, and Rey Palpatine, daughter of the villain of 7 movies, inherits the name and legacy of the heroes. She ends up alone in a desert without Finn and Poe. So, the found family concept is dropped, and Rey ends up as alone as she was at the start of the movies except for force ghosts. She has no kids or family of her own.

Now, let's talk about theme conceptually. What is a theme in a literary context? Well, stories are as much about entertainment as they are about teaching a lesson. The lesson is therefore the substance of your story. The lesson is the theme; the theme is the lesson. In stories, the lesson is communicated to the audience through the hero who must learn the lesson. The value of the lesson is communicated through the hero using that lesson to overcome the conflict (and presumably win or survive or achieve their goal). If the hero fails, it's usually because they didn't learn the lesson. So, if there is no lesson, there is no literary theme, and your story is entertainment with no substance. It's hollow and unfulfilling. It's unsatisfying, like  the 2021 Mortal Combat movie. It's just an excuse to watch people fight and blow stuff up for 90 minutes, and it's lacking the human element.

What lesson did Rey have to learn on-screen in order to achieve her goal? @#$%! if I know.

So, I invite you over for spaghetti and meatballs, but I serve you something else. Is my analogy working? OK, let's change it; what if I promise you spaghetti and meatballs, but it's all tofu and it's chemically altered to taste like spaghetti and meatballs, but it's not very accurate, and it leaves you feeling like something is missing. You're unfulfilled. You just sort of scrunch up your nose and try not to think about what you could have eaten instead. You regret your meal. It was a waste of time. But worse than that, you don't know if you can ever appreciate pasta again. That is the Disney Star War trilogy.

Novelty Has No Inherent Value

I think Final Fantasy 7 was a great game. It felt fun to play. It was satisfying to play. You gain experience points for fights. When you reach a threshold, you level up. When you level up, your stats improve. You can customize your characters with equip-able magic stones called materia. You can swap them freely among your characters to make all kinds of combinations for your playstyle. When you fight, you also gain AP for your equipped materia. When your Materia reach an AP threshold, they level up and you gain more utility or power. When you fight, you get money. When you get to a new town, new weapons and armor become available for purchase that make your characters tougher. In dungeons, you can find unique weapons and armor and materia. Really simple gameplay loop. Make some progress to make more progress. You could see and feel how you get tougher. You could watch numbers go up. It was simple. It was elegant.

Then Final Fantasy 8 came out, and it was nothing like Final Fantasy 7. They changed almost everything. You earn experience points, and you can level up, but your stats barely increase! Worse yet, the monsters' levels scale to your levels, and their stats and powers do improve! It means that leveling up is disadvantageous! You can find these monsters called GF that you can equip, and they gain levels with exp, but they don't have stats that you can see. Instead, you're mostly keeping an eye on their AP. When AP is earned, they learn abilities. There's a hidden ability tree where certain abilities are prerequisite to others. What abilities are going to be valuable? You don't know till you get there! Instead of finding magic stones that you equip for magic, you have to go stock spells with a tedious, slow combat action called drawing, or by using special abilities to modify playing cards or refine various items you collect from monster drops. You had to collect items to use to upgrade your weapons, some of which were rare to find and rare to drop! Armor was gone. Instead, you equip magic spells to your specific stats, and the level of the spell, and the quantity of the spell effected the amount that the stats increase. It was a very micromanage-y, it was complex, and it was intimidating to learn. Mastery meant playing the game in a very controlled way to efficiently earn AP without getting so much exp. Ugh.

But it was different, so that means it was OK? Right?

Remember the Nintendo Wii and its nunchaku controller? Eff that. Sometimes I hear people praising games for being new and different. What was wrong with Final Fantasy 7? Give me more of that! I want more of that! I wish I was into sports games and FPS games and Assassin's Creed because those game devs look like they figured this out. People like the formula, keep it! How do you go from FF7 to FF8? It's madness! What a wild change!

So, my central complaint is novelty for its own sake sucks. Is the game good? I have heard people praise FFX for being a non-standard fantasy setting. Boo! It was the ugliest setting ever. The costumes were ugly and stupid looking. The unique hair styles were dumb and ugly. Machines were ugly and dumb looking. Monsters were OK. Buildings and boats were dumb when they were unique. How many people cosplay as characters from FFX? Better yet, when people cosplay as FFX characters, which ones do they pick? Auron, and the main girl characters. That's it. The game is so ugly, no one cosplays as any other character. Ronsos were in the game. Ugly effing game.

So for some reason, people think FFX is a really good game. It's not. They did some cool stuff. Being able to swap characters in and out mid-combat? Cool. Having to swap your characters in and out mid-combat because all the monsters in the game are functionally a rock-paper-scissors game? Meh. I just want to pick my favorite characters and use them. The game's best mechanics don't get fully utilized until late game if you fill out the monster arena, which is effortful, but I think you have to be into grinding to really enjoy yourself. It so happens that I am into grinding. Why can't the whole game be more like the late game? The equipment customization system doesn't even matter until this late portion of the game. You might be able to manage to make a few useful things throughout the main game, but that's it. Mostly, you would put elemental damage on weapons so you could do double damage. By the way, Str + 5, +10, +20, etc. in FFX is a trap when using the right element doubles damage! A trap I say!

I hate the story and characters in FFX. OK, I don't hate the story and characters, but it was a very, very delayed appreciation and even then, I don't actually like them. I just don't care. I enjoy Lulu's cleavage though. More of that please. Also, bring back the customization of materia. Powers are contained in objects that are tracked separately from characters, and they can be freely moved around. And there weren't that many fiddly bits. Very simple, very fun. You dumb dumbs at Square came up with a cool idea, you used it once, then that was it. The hell is wrong with you?

What's wrong with them is they pursue novelty for the sake of it. As if reusing something that works is a bad thing because we already did it. So in FFX, they give you this thing called the Sphere Grid instead of experience and levels. What is the sphere grid? It turns character improvement into a process of moving your character along a path on a game board and activating nodes with consumable items you collect after battle. The problem is it's linear, so why? What's the point? Again, it's something in FFX that only gets good late game when you can move freely around the sphere grid and earn whatever you want. It's undercooked.

Anyway, if you've stuck with me this long, thank you. Believe it or not, I am not here to complain about the Final Fantasy series, it just happens to be what I'm very familiar with. I'm here to complain about novelty. I don't care about new things because they're new. New is not a virtue. How about I get you a new turd? And so understandably, I get a little annoyed when I hear people praise something for being new. I could get you a new car or I can get you a new scratch on it. The new car is valuable if it's in new condition because that means its quality is intact. But a new car that's used is less valuable. But what if the used car still works better than the new one?

I think innovation must be a value to some people. I don't share it. Can I say I'm tired of people trying to be innovative? Are we done trying to invent new stuff? Or make old stuff seem new by adding a twist to it? Are we done? Can we just embrace tradition yet? If you don't like tradition, then by all means make something different, but be honest that you don't like tradition. Many of us just like being a male, human, fighter, with a sword, and that will never get old to us. When you eff with the thing that works, you alienate the people who come for something familiar. I think this is why media has generally sucked for the last ten to fifteen years. Especially Final Fantasy games. The FF7 remakes sucks too. Can we cut out the ten-to-thirty-minute cut scenes? I don't want to watch an effing movie! Oh, and bring back timed hits and defenses from Super Mario RPG Legend of the Seven Stars. Those were fun!

I think I made my point without ruffling too many feathers. Newness does not automatically mean good, quality, or fun. We have decades of good stuff we abandon. What happened to side-scrollers? Video games were 90% side-scrollers once upon a time. They didn't stop being fun! And isometric perspective games are missed. Did I piss off the FFX fans? Who cares. Wakka's hair sucks and you suck for liking it. Insert the Titas Ah-ha-ha laugh. Cue the outro. DUN da da dun dun dun duuunnn.

The Nerd-Brain Problem

Hayao Miyazaki, regarded as the Walt Disney of Japan, said anime (animation) was a mistake and that Otaku (the Japanese word for nerd) ruined anime. I want you to think about that. Not because I want to comment on anime or Miyazaki, but because I want you to consider why an artist might think that fans spoiled art.

First, what does it mean to spoil something? Imagine going into a mystery story and trying to solve it yourself before the protagonist, then some thoughtless a-hole spoils the ending for you. You can't have fun solving the puzzle because someone gave the answer away already. The fun is spoiled.

So for some of us, we don't pursue art for the style alone, we pursue it for both the style and the substance. What nerds do is they enjoy art for what it is, both the style and the substance, and then they do what with it? What if they collectively misunderstand it and indulge in the wrong aspects of it. Then they want more of the style and don't appeciate the substance, or they appreciate the substance disproportionately less. For example, Gundam is an anime and its message is that war is bad, so it's ironic that everyone liked the mechs so much that they just wanted more mech stuff, and thus the original mech story that wanted to tell an anti-war message is known for being the first of the mech stuff. Mech stuff is commercialized, and the original artist and his message are left behind. There are several mech animes and video games and etc, now. It's not immoral but you could image how that artist could be disappointed.

Back to Miyazaki, he says anime used to be created by artists, now its created by nerds who only know how to imitate art but can't make it. And so nerds have spoiled anime for him by turning it into an art form known for imitation and that is slowly degrading in quality and substance. I think this is a fair observation because I watched all of Naruto and while it's admittedly really fun for a while, it's also really inane. Ninja fights for the sake of ninja fights. What's the substance? Believe in yourself? Never give up? OK, sure. That's fine. I guess. I didn't watch the other Naruto series and I won't. The 2021 Mortal Kombat movie was style over substance and I didn't enjoy it.

This is all leading to a point about playing D&D. I hate everything about modern D&D. Not because I find the lack of substance to be disturbing or sad, I mean it's D&D. Historically it's about killing monsters for treasure in a conflict of law vs chaos so you can build your own kingdom and rule as a hero-king and create fun and exciting stories of daring-do. The problem is partially when people bring their dumb nerdy OC to bear, and boy is that just the peak of what makes nerds nerdy and exhausting and embarassing.

But seriously, how pretentious is it to complain about D&D and a lack of high art? Or maybe isn't this just part of the hobby? If you're thinking that, you've missed the point. The point is that like nerds ruining anime for Miyazaki, the wrong crowd ruins D&D for others. There is an incompatibility. What modern D&D does is it encourages all manner of silliness and goofiness with its sanitized kitchen sink setting for everyone and wide, wide catalog of player character options for everything. Be anything you want. Imitate things you like. Bring multi-page backstories. Get tons of mechanics! Can't you just be an ordinary dude who falls on hard times and becomes an adventurer? I would like it if you could turn off your nerd-brains when you engage with the game. 

Star Ocean Till the End of Time's @#$%! Plot Twist

If you never played Star Ocean 3 AKA Star Ocean Till the End of Time on the PS2, there's a plot twist. It's controversial apparently. It shouldn't be controversial; it should just be hated.

The plot twist in SO3 was unsatisfying for two reasons. It comes down to placement and how spontaneous it is. By placement I mean it's in the middle. The end of Act I (about 10%-15% mark) is a good spot for a twist b/c the audience hasn't committed to anything too strongly yet, and they're more open to a story pivot. By spontaneous I mean it wasn't set up or foreshadowed at all. The plot twist wasn't done well because it was abrupt, without satisfying reasoning, and at the expense of the investment of the audience; By audience investment, I mean by the midpoint of the story we are invested in the story in-progress. When you get the audience's investment and then THROW OUT the thing we're invested in, that's an absolute rug pull and that makes it a, ahem, Richard Relocation, for a writer.

I think that was really concise. Go me.

Hyper-Gratuitousness in Fiction and TTRPGs

I like Berserk and I liken my interest in its gratuitous violent imagery and dark themes as the literary horror-enthusiasts equivalent to adrenaline seeking behavior. Adrenaline junkies do not want to be in real danger because they can get hurt, but they want the sensation of it. They seek the sensation of it in a safe way. Similarly, I as a Berserk reader don't want to be a butcher. I have a passing interest in the macabre, but I don't want to work in a museum of horrors.

In case you don't know, Berserk is a long running manga (comic) that has been adapted into an anime multiple times. It's a dark fantasy about a man who kills demons with a massive sword. It is firmly in the seinen genre. Seinen means "young men", not boys. Its target audience is adults with male interests. It has mature themes; it has some nudity and lots of violence. It's horror. Some of the horror is very mundane; for example, the evil deeds of regular men include torture and various cruelties. Some of the horror is more cosmic. For example, the setting has a generic western religion like Christianity, but the religion is false within the setting. The god in Berserk is indifferent to human suffering, and there is no heaven. Further, God is responsible for the presence and empowerment of man-eating demons who's physical might far exceeds ordinary men. This is dark stuff.

One of my favorite parts is when they introduce Farnese. She's a young noble woman who was assigned to this symbolic position as a leader in an army that answers directly to the setting's equivalent of the Vatican. The story slowly reveals that she's a pyromaniac because they used to burn witches alive outside her bedroom window when she was a little girl and so now, she has a cruelty-streak because of it. As an adult, she thinks she understands God's divine order for the world - then she meets the hero who's perpetually stalked by things that should be an abomination to that divine order. This is tantamount to forbidden knowledge, and encountering demons causes her to go temporarily mad and lose her faith. I consider loss of faith a form of cosmic horror in a way that loss of a hand is body horror. It's interesting. There also may or may not also be a scene where she grinds her groin on the hero's sword which is neither here nor there. Don't worry about it.

The point is there's a lot of complex and inappropriate stuff in this series. Before you judge me, let me explain. Given all this wild stuff, it's done artistically. That is to say, there's artistry in the choices made for when and where and how to depict this stuff. It doesn't show nudity for its own sake. It's not used to please the audience. It doesn't show gore for the sake of it. It shows these things with an intent of evoking a sensation in the audience. Some scenes are intended to be disturbing or sickening. If doesn't show blood and gore insipidly, it's precise. There's a scene for instance where the hero stabs a very attractive, naked villainess though the stomach and she derives sexual pleasure from this. It mixes the sensations of horror and sexual thrill. The result is a weird sickening sensation that you feel in your gut. This is why I liken the horror of Berserk to adrenaline seeking behavior. Berserk does the sensation of horror like skydiving does the sensation of adrenaline.

Like I said, the series does this with precision. It picks its moments. It does not indulge. If every panel had something horrifying, you would become desensitized and it would lose its effectiveness. There are quiet contemplative moments where characters sit around a fire and talk about their dreams. Real life years and years of content later, some of those characters get eaten alive and it's shocking. So, in summary, I read Berserk for this artistic use of this subject matter, not the (over) indulgence of it.

Now, would I put this subject matter explicitly in my TTRPGs like Dungeons & Dragons? The answer is a firm no. Why? Because I know that it's not for everyone. Also, even I would probably be uncomfortable. That said, I refuse to overly sterilize or over sanitize my setting as I believe this is infantilization and kitsch. I would be happy to say that some of these darker things exist in my setting, because their absence would be conspicuous. By conspicuously absent, I mean it would be distracting and immersion breaking if something wasn't present. In other words, how can you believe there is danger in the world if the world is too nice and safe? Therefore, some of it exists implicitly in the setting. Let me use a very safe metaphor to illustrate my point. Puppies die. When I say puppies die, this is code (or a euphemism) for any horrible thing you might imagine. Implicit means yes, there are puppies that die in the setting, but we don't need to show puppies die. Sometimes, it's good enough to hint that puppies die off-screen. We don't need to indulge in puppies dying, but they do. 

Even Star Wars, a franchise considered to be intended for children, has torture, sexy dancers, war, slavery, murder, dismemberment, brother-on-sister kisses, use of deadly poisons, no bras in space, and off-screen youngling slaying. In conclusion, we're not doing gore-fest, but you do need to pick moments in fiction to absolutely splatter someone.

Story Structure in TTRPGs

TL;DR, never call Act I an introduction. That's massively underexplaining what Act I is. Also, I worked out a really good reason not to play 5e D&D.

In story structure, Act I is the set up, Act II is the execution, and Act III is the resolution. 

In Act I, you set up the story. By the end of Act I, the themes, major characters, setting, conflict, stakes, and the goal should be established for the audience (or participants in TTRPGs). Act I ends when an event or action forces the hero (or by choice of the hero, but usually it's not their choice) to put their normal life on hold to engage with that conflict and pursue that goal. The number of choices available to the hero are greatest in Act I.

Act II is where you execute that story set up in Act I. If you set up a mystery, you execute the mystery, etc.  Act II is the longest act. Act II is about the hero engaging with escalating obstacles and risks in the setting as he pursues his goal. Obstacles (AKA trials) prepare the hero for their goal, first by testing the hero's skills and revealing his weaknesses or flaws, then by taking away his resources or nullifying his strengths, and by giving him lessons that make him stronger or wiser. Obstacles force heroes to confront failure; they force heroes to change or grow. Throughout Act II, minor characters and subplots may be expanded on or introduced, and are resolved before the end of Act II. During Act II, the hero's choices are narrowed down. By the end, the hero commits to one path. Act II ends when the tested and tried hero has overcome the obstacles and has learned from them, and is finally ready to confront the main antagonist.

Act III is where you resolve the story set up in Act I. It begins with a final confrontation with the primary antagonist that shows the hero's growth and how that growth made them worthy of their goal. Act III ends showing the audience the consequences of the hero's choices on the world; the world is not reset.

In good TTRPGs, Act I looks a bit like this: You ask the players what they want, give them some opportunities to get it, establish the obstacles that each choice will force on them, let them choose their preferred opportunity, then set them loose. I might even suggest working this into the ending of the previous adventure so that you start the next adventure with momentum. In D&D 5e, you pick one pre-written campaign book with a preset path and story.

In TTRPGS, Act II depends on the game you're playing. In 5e, you smash things, level up, gain powers, smash bigger things, level and gain more powers, and smash bigger things. Repeat until the second biggest thing is smashed and the players get some McGuffin. All while following a story that's already been written and is intended for general audiences.

In TTRPGs, 5e specifically, Act III is an obligatory fight with a damage sponge and a whole lot of cheap powers. Then you win the D&D. Seriously, why are you playing 5e? Stories are fundamentally about showing a character growing from a state of immaturity to maturity and imparting a lesson (a theme). Ever wonder why they call the moral of the story a theme? Stories are satisfying when a need for the growth is established in Act I, when the growth is earned through struggle in Act II, and when Act III reveals the results of that growth in a way that reinforces the lesson of the story. This character growth themes the story.

The Problem isn't the Experts

If there's a pool of knowledge, e.g. medicine or fry cooking, an expert is someone with a higher degree of knowledge (or expertise) compared to others who have general knowledge (subject matter generalists) or no knowledge of the subject (an ignoramus, used affectionately). 

I have a profession where I am considered a subject matter expert. I prepare data and information for others without expertise so they can make decisions. The decision makers can be other experts or generalists, or ignoramuses with or without competency in other fields, and they have the ability to reject your expert recommendations. They can instead fish for different experts who can provide them with a recommendation that they prefer or that suits the decisions they want to make.

The problem isn't experts; it's the decision makers who present the experts as authorities to substantiate their decisions. In other words, it's not a matter of whether we should trust experts or not; we should be cautious of the people who tell us which experts to trust. Everyone is fallible. Even the experts. Please see the two screen captures of both Bing results and Google results for the definition of fallible below and a very appropriate example of its use in a sentence.

The solution is critical thinking, more high-quality information, and waiting for the high-quality information to beat the low-quality information before committing to a decision. Recognize that not all decisions need to be made urgently. If someone presents a situation to you and requests a quick decision, consider the actual urgency and recognize that this might be a manipulation tactic. Have higher standards for proof. Ask questions. Make people show their work and don't take their word for it. Scrutinize it. Have others who are knowledgeable scrutinize it.

How to Play a TTRPG - A Practical Guide to Grounded, Immersive Play

How to Play
The game is played through conversation. First, the Game Master (GM) describes the scene, setting, or situation. Second, either in turns or free form, the players describe what their characters do or say, and how. Players should track the position of their character in a room or scene. For example "I move from the doorway to the bookshelf" or "I stand in the center of the room under the chandelier." This helps us to track and even envision the scene. Third, the GM determines and describes what happens. Repeat until a scene is resolved, then the GM establishes a new scene.

How to Personify Your Character
You the player personify your character based on how you conceive them (with respect to the tone and setting of the game). Game mechanics and character statistics are just numbers. A low intelligence statistic does not mean you have to portray your character like an idiot, and nor should you portray your character as too dumb for self-preservation or as self-sabotaging. A low personality statistic does not mean you can't be effective in a conversation. It is OK to ask what you would do if you were in your character's place and do that.

How to Use Descriptions
Everyone should use deceptions like a narrator in a story. Avoid using game terminology. Use as much natural language as possible. For example, instead of saying "I use 30 ft of movement to move to the front of the troll and I use my action to attack him", say "I run across the room and swing my sword at the troll's head." Try to say everything you're doing on your turn in a single fluid sentence like reading a line from a novel.

How to Use Dice
Dice do not tell the story, we do. The setting determines the limitations of the fiction (of fantastic elements like magic). Once those limitations are established, the rest of the fictional world is assumed to default to realism as this is our common frame of reference. The difficulty of actions should therefore default to our expectations of believable reality and should not be arbitrary for the sake of game design or balance. In effect, if an action can reasonably succeed, it does. You don't need game rules, mechanics, or dice to tell you what happens. Just apply logic of a believable make-believe world. Dice are for combat and sometimes for traps.

Would my character know anything about the monster? A wizard might a few things, a ranger might know a few things, a county bumpkin might know a few things. You don't need a line item on your character sheet for this, it's all in how you can justify having the knowledge within the logic of the setting and the story. You may argue "my character is a ranger of this frontier, this monster is a common threat here, so I would know a little bit about their behavior and weaknesses." A wizard might know something about their history or lore. A country bumpkin might know a few local scary stories.

Interactions with non-player characters (NPCs) are resolved similarly, but through roleplay. Players should never say "I try to persuade him" or "insight check." Treat NPCs like real people. Say hi. Tell them about yourself. Ask about their troubles or services. Treat them as resources for news and rumors. Offer them something that will make them happy in exchange for what you want or find something that gives you leverage over them and threaten them with it. If you tell a lie, it should be a plausible one to avoid suspicion. You WILL earn a reputation that will follow you around.

There is no die roll to search a room. The GM describes the room, and additional information is revealed to the players as they describe how their characters interact with it. 

Danger Should Be Obvious
There should be no sneaky tricks by the GM. No gotchas. Danger should be obvious. If player characters get hurt, it should be due to their own decisions. Listen to GM descriptions. Ask questions.  You are entitled to any information that would be obvious to your character. Rely on your creativity and critical thinking.

Metagaming
Here's how I define metagaming at my table: Metagaming means thinking about the game like a game. Instead, approach the game like a roleplay exercise rather than a tactical exercise. Your character doesn't have a concept of game rules like "Sword skill +5" or "luck dice". Assuming game balance and making decisions based on that is also metagaming. Embody your character. Put yourself in their place.

"You pass through a heavy wooden door that wants to slam shut behind you and you enter a cold, cramped, stone room. The torch in your hand is your only source of light. You hold your breath and listen but hear nothing. To your left is an old dusty bookshelf with only a few dilapidated books. To your right is a small, worn looking table connected to the corner walls by cobwebs. Across the room is a messy desk with a few crooked drawers. The floor in front of the desk has new and old footprints in the dust. What do you do?"

You don't know if there are any traps or hidden dangers, and your character does not have a concept of saving throws to automatically avoid harm. Your character does not have a concept of random encounter checks either; Whatever you do, time is passing, and the longer you're in a dungeon, the more likely you are to encounter danger. Your torches are limited. They limit how far you can go. As they burn away, they give off light like a beacon and smell of smoke. So far, you think you've avoided detection by enemies, but they've left signs of their presence with their footprints in the dust on the floor. Consider that you don't know if they're already tracking you. Don't think about how many hit points you have and how much damage dice something might do. Think about the potential wounds or injuries your character wants to avoid. Getting ambushed does not mean the GM rolls a bunch of damage while you do nothing, it means you're getting shot and stabbed in the back and for a moment you're helpless. Combat might be fun for you, but for your character, it's deadly. It's not about winning or losing, it's about surviving and staying safe. Combat rounds represent a few seconds of time; Your character has to think fast and act fast to survive! Once you're in a fight, it's too late to talk strategy. Prepare ahead of time!

Rules Talk
Absolutely no rule books or rules discussion during the game. If you don't know how a spell or weapon or etc. works, the GM will tell you how it works this time. Game time is for playing. Learn or work out the rules outside of game time. All that being said, the GM is mortal and cannot guarantee rules mastery, and should use the honor code when in doubt. If a player declares and attack with a long sword and rolls a d8 for damage, we can trust they're being honest and we don't need to question that midgame. Do you have 30 feet of movement or 35 feet? Do you have a +1 or a +2? Does a torch burn for 6 exploration turns or does it burn for 1d6+2 exploration rounds? Who cares. Make a ruling and play.

No Do-Overs, No Ret-Cons
Once you declare your action, you can't change it. As they say in golf, play the ball where it lies. I know that your character would ordinarily have known to do something or not to do something, but this time, for some reason, they didn't. If you forgot something, maybe you'll remember it next time.

The Monsters Want to Win
Do not think that any fight or dangerous situation you find yourself in will be balanced and fair. That would be metagaming by the way. Assume the bad guys will fight dirty. Assume they will cheat and use every advantage. Assume no mercy. The bad guys want to survive, and they want to win with the least cost (wounds, injuries, and casualties). Fighting is deadly, and fighting fair is deadlier.

How to Make a Player Character
Character creation should begin with the character concept and end with choosing stats, mechanics and powers. Character concepts must suit the setting and tone of the game, so have a few character concepts in mind in case one doesn't work. Who was your character before becoming an adventurer, and how did they fit in the setting? Why did they give up their life to become an adventurer? Finally, what is their goal for adventuring? Some GMs consider it necessary for player characters to have goals! When in doubt, create an ordinary person who becomes an adventurer.

How to Set Expectations
General: GMs set the rules for their game, like table etiquette and general courtesy, but they also define the scope of the game. What genre, subgenre, setting, tone (mood), etc. Give an elevator pitch that sums up the kind of game you intend to run. Consider "I'm running a dark, low fantasy game in a grounded setting that is vaguely period and Mediterranean. Fantastic elements like magic and monsters are unordinary but present. Stakes are less epic and the conflict comes from diegetically occurring obstacles that appear on the player characters' paths as they pursue their own goals in play. Don't do anything you wouldn't do in real life. Play your character like you care what happens to them." Consider referring a movie or tv show that people can relate to.

Setting: Offer the players seven pieces of information their characters would know about the setting. They can be mundane, or they can be exciting or concerning news. "The King is dead. His heirs are fighting over who rules, and factions are forming among the nobility. The church has announced the appearance of a miracle worker for the first time in one hundred years. Monsters have been seen on the frontier by military scouts. Barbarian tribes who were once enemies of the empire are petitioning to join it. Rumors say that the merchant class is trying to create a revolution. Mages are leaving the empire without explanation." You don't need answers for these questions! All these ideas describe a setting where things are changing fast, and they make players wonder why. Wonder is a sensation, and it creates interest.

Create a central tension for your setting. This is an amazing tip from the Matthew Colville Youtube channel. It is a single dramatic conflict that is present in and affects your entire setting. For example, the king is dead, his heirs are fighting over who rules, and factions are forming in the nobility. Another example is that the kingdom has been conquered by another kingdom, and a new religion has been imposed on the people. Maybe the central tension is a natural disaster? This is the flavor of your setting that your players don't need to engage with. Every NPC everywhere has a different perspective on the central tension, and it forces you to consider these multiple perspectives which helps you create opportunities for conflicts. It creates a logic to your setting; All you have to do is understand this logic and worldbuilding easy and flavorful.

Why TTRPG Combat Feels Slow (How to Fix!)

The reason why your TTRPG combat feels slow is because I'm waiting for my curse word turn!

Playing TTRPG combat is like watching a documentary about one action scene from an action movie. It takes one hour or more to show a 1-minute fight scene, and it chops up that action scene and scatters its pieces throughout the documentary. If you are watching the documentary just to see the action scene, it's going to feel like you're doing fifty-nine minutes of waiting.

To solve this, first you need a game system with rules that allow for short turns with faster action resolution. If turns are short, that means less waiting for your turn. Pathfinder 2e for example gives players the option to do up to three things on your turn. Three actions on a turn means longer turns and more waiting. D&D 5e is a game where I hear the Dungeon Master asking the players "is that it for your turn?" a lot because it's not clear in 5e when someone's turn is done (absolutely a flaw, not a feature!). Worse yet, this question often prompts the player to stop and think about what else they can do (aw crap, you still have bonus actions!). Any game rule that lets the GM or the Player spend a reaction or similar action to interrupt (or disrupt) the flow of turn order is a momentum killer and should be purged from the game!

Second, you need to cut down on the "documentary" parts of your game. The documentary parts are the parts of a TTRPG where players count squares, ask for rules clarification, ask what they see, hear, etc., ask about lore, ask "would my character know this?", request do-overs or retcons, suggest or discuss strategy, ask for a recap because they weren't paying attention, aren't ready on their turn because they were on their phone or making side conversation, and so on. All of these things are examples of either breaking character or being a bad player. Breaking character absolutely leads to slowing the game down. To solve the second problem, implement a no breaking character rule. Implement other rules and incentives to pay attention and be ready on their turn. Courtesy unfortunately sometimes needs to be enforced by the GM. 

Third fix: Everyone (yes, players too!) needs to narrate their movement and actions better. Where are you at the start of your turn, how do you move, where do you end up. What are you doing, how are you doing it, what is your intended outcome or effect? Use natural language instead of game terminology. For example, don't say "I do a sneak attack to monster A", instead say "I sneak up to monster A and stab them in the back with my short sword". It's not for the sake of having pretty sounding game descriptions. There's a function to it. Game terminology is abstract, and so it feels abstract. It's vague. It's hard to visualize and remember. Natural language is clear and describes something in a precise, literal way we can visualize and remember. This will save us from asking for clarification about what you're doing in the moment, and it will save us from any discussion after the fact about what you stated and what your left out of your action. You didn't say you jumped over the puddle of acid, and you didn't say you ran around it, so you ran through it. I know your character isn't ordinarily stupid enough to make that mistake, but for some reason he did. No do-overs or retcons because this slows the game down. Next time, pay more attention to the scene and describe your action better.

Revision 4/19/2026: Here's another observation. Substance. What is the substance of a scene or a session to you? Do you like cool minis and terrain and music? That to me means that you find satisfaction in things that appeal to sensation and aesthetics. Do you like hitting monsters and using your various skills and powers to beat opponents in a contest? That to me means you find satisfaction in things that appeal to challenge and system mastery. What I like about a game is the narrative. That means I want to know what happens next. What happens next is the substance that I have been waiting for this week, and then you say "roll initiative." That is very unsatisfying for me because combat is the slowest way to find out what happens next. I have waited all week to find out what happens next only to spend an entire 4-hour session in one combat encounter. As an aside, that is one reason why I hate D&D 5e.  When you get a bunch of people together and you run this slow, clunky game that takes 30 to 40 mins (I have played in even slower games) to get through a round of combat because it's so complex, ugh. It makes me go ugh. Finding out who wins a skirmish is not that interesting. Go ahead and TPK us so we can start a new campaign and maybe even a different game.

Who is the Main Artist for Avatar the Last Airbender?

I got compared to the Dai Li on the internet because I said Avatar the Legend of Korra (ALOK) was not canon. Thank you but no. That's an oversimplification and an inaccurate analogy. The Dai Li tried to usurp their own leader, the earth king. They undermined whatever legitimacy their king might have had to rule and turned him into a puppet. They did this because they were trying to preserve their earth kingdom culture. It required being sneaky and violent, and using intimidation and coercion. Not even remotely close to what I'm doing or how I think.

Avatar is art, not a family or rulers or a county of people. Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA) had as a head writer a man named Aaron Ehasz. Aaron did not conceive the show idea, the Avatar setting and characters and plot, but as the head writer, that series is his interpretation of those ideas and his labor. When you swap a major creative out of a major role, you get a different product. ALOK is a show written without Aaron, and so it art by different creators. It would be as Rembrandt took an idea and painted a masterpiece, then some lesser artist came in after him and painted the sequel. You get that meme of the horse drawing that starts out really good and gets poorer and poorer. The lesser artists have ruined the art, and I reject their product.

What's Wrong with the 5e Ranger?

First concept: playstyle. There are only three pure playstyles: martial, magic, skill. The quintessential classes are fighter, magic-user (or wizard), and thief (or rogue). Every other class is a hybrid or variation. Paladins, barbarians, and rangers were once variations or subclasses of fighter.

Second concept: specialties. What makes you special is that you can do something that no one else can do. When you take something special about one class and make it available to others, it is no longer a specialty and is trivial. For example, fighters were once the only class who could regularly hit for consistent damage. Now everyone has a way of doing consistent damage such as cantrips. Wilderness survival skills such as tracking were once unique to rangers.

Third concept: niche or identity. What is a ranger? A ranger is a character who defends civilization by fighting the evils that threaten it on the boarders of the wilderness. They are in essence a fighter who has traded heavy armor for wilderness survival skills. This is easily stolen from them by the Survival skill becoming available to other classes and by a lack of emphasis on the exploration phase of the game. A Rogue can put expertise into survival and out survival the ranger.

To summarize, Rangers were once a fighter subclass that is no longer special and they're part of a class roster in a game that underemphasizes exploration which is their brand.

What has modern WotC done for the ranger? Made the ranger a combination martial, magic, skill character, which we have plenty of, with features most players won't use such as nullifying difficult terrain when hexcrawling, or features that aren't as valuable as another feature from another class, like how favored enemy is not as good as sneak attack. Animal companion is not a worthwhile feature imo because why couldn't anyone have an animal companion when bloodhounds and game hawks ought to be a commodity you can buy from a trainer? Hunters mark? Why not just give the ranger bonus damage die on all attacks since they'll be using it constantly, and so it will simplify the Ranger player's turn? Call it a built-in hunter's mark damage die.

To fix the problem, you need to take the ranger's things away from the other classes and give them back to the ranger. It's like giving anyone else unarmored defense, battle rage or an inspiring voice that gives bonuses orcsneak attack. And they have to put in some really good exploration rules and instructions so people understand hexcrawling or point crawling and want to use these rules. I've had 5 GMs now, and none of them understand hexcrawling. They all handwave it. Even Matthew Mercer, celebrity GM, doesn't do hex crawling. Maybe hexcrawling just isn't that fun? Alternatively, make ranger a subclass of fighter or rogue.

Restructuring Act I of The Last of Us Part 2

I had an epiphany today, and I decided to restructure Act I of the game The Last of Us Part 2. The structure of this story is a mess. Let's go.

First, Act I is not the introduction. Act I is the set up. What's the difference? An introduction is "Hello, my name is Joshua." A set up is "Joshua has this goal, this motive, these stakes, these obstacles, these resources, etc." The set up is your promise to your audience that this is the story you are going to tell. You are not introducing the story to them; you're setting it up for them. Act II is the execution where you deliver on promises you make in Act I. Act III is the resolution where you resolve the major conflict, answer any questions, and reestablish the new norm for the surviving characters, in other words, the consequences of the story.

So, the opening of the game features Joel and Tommy on horses and they're walking through beautiful AAA game studio scenery. Cool. No complaint from a game design perspective. This is a beautiful way to show off your art to the players. Cool. But from a story perspective, this is a weird way to start the narrative. Why? Because Joel isn't the point of view character in the game. He dies in the beginning. Ellie is the point of view character. Let's tell the players what they can expect right away so they don't feel like there was a bait and switch. So far, I think only George R. R. Martin did a good job at that. It's tricky to do. Whatever you drag the audience through, they have to have a good time. That's it. If they're not happy with the execution of an idea, then they will reject or resent the rest of the ride, and the author.

I'm going to turn Act I into 6 scenes. There are gaps in each scene and in between each scene to be filled with dialogue and gameplay, but I'm not worried about that now. I'm just structuring right now. 

SCENE 1

I would start Act I with that scene were Ellie is studying, and she receives a late-night visit from Joel, and he teaches her a song on the guitar. Why? To set up the point of view character, and to establish what knowledge she possesses about the deed that Joel is going to get punished for at the end of Act I. It's also a sweet scene, and here's what else I like about it. This scene is the epilogue for the first game. After the first game, the audience might want an epilogue to show what it was all for, for the sake of certainty, id est, is Ellie happy? The first game ended on a note of uncertainty, which was great. Don't change it. But, for the second game, give the audience the satisfaction of that delayed epilogue. Then, you want to use the epilogue to segway into the introduction of your point of view character in her new normal life. She's a teenager, she's in a new house, it's a nice house. She's in a new town. It's a nice town. They have a nice life. Her surrogate dad has the luxury to bring her a guitar and sing her a song and teach her the guitar, and this guitar becomes a skill that Joel passes down to Ellie that isn't violent or utilitarian. It's human and it's art. This helps emphasize the tragedy later. Good call. This is setting up that Ellie has her happily ever after, or as close as it could be.

Now we add the deep seeded doubt that spoils this happily ever after and calls everything into question again, and shows the audience that the point of view character is not satisfied. While Joel is playing the guitar, Ellie has flashbacks to the moment when Joel told her his false version of events at the Fireflies HQ, and we see doubt and uncertainty in Ellie's face. Ellie will then mask this doubt and lie to Joel. This hints at an inner conflict caused by betrayal of Joel's lie which can be developed later in Act II.

That's your introduction scene. Do not show Joel revealing the story to Tommy like the game did. Why? First, the audience does not need to see this. If you're coming to Part 2 from Part 1, it's redundant. If you're coming to Part 2 and you never saw Part 1, let the new audience be pleasantly surprised, or horribly surprised, later. Second, there's no point in the audience having confirmation that Joel told Tommy what happened. It doesn't have any significance to the story of Part II.

SCENE 2

I'm going to be honest, I forgot how the game went. I think they show a whole bunch of scenes out of order. But we need a time skip. Ellie 14 years has been introduced. Now, Ellie 18 years, or however old she is now, needs to be introduced. We need to establish some general story conflict or a general goal for Ellie. She has obligations to serve the town as some sort of defender or soldier or ranger thing. We are establishing for the audience that the zombie plague is still very much a problem, and we're showing how it affects the characters today. Ellie has a day-to-day routine. There's people she talks to, and things she does. I recall her being visited by a handsome friend and I recall a conversation about her wearing tennis shoes instead of boots for the snow, which is dumb. Also, there was a snow ball fight that might have been endearing to someone on staff, but I have no investment in the NPC children so cut this scene cause it's slow and boring.

Then, we have something called the inciting incident. The inciting incident is the event that causes the chain of events that set up the upcoming call to adventure and begins the story. What's the inciting incident? It's not the gay kiss and it's not the bigot sandwich. It's Joel going missing. Joel's life is at stake. This matters to Ellie. Joel's death is the catalyst for the story in TLoU Part II, and so the inciting incident should lead to this catalyst. It also works here because of the themes of this story, which we're not ready to touch yet. No one cares that Ellie is gay or that the town has a bigot sandwich purveyor. 

So, because Joel is missing, either he hasn't checking in yet, or he's late for returning from his job, or whatever, and a blizzard or storm is due to hit, this causes Ellie to change her routine and go to work with urgency. In fiction, heroes act. If the hero doesn't act, why is the story about them? When the need for action comes, the hero responds. Anyone who wants to subvert this does not need to justify it, they need to make it satisfying to the audience. Period. Moving on.

Now that Ellie's surrogate father is in danger, we get her to express her inner conflict. It's an expression, not a revelation. She hints at the inner conflict; she does not explain it. What's bothering Ellie? Here's one way she can suggest to the audience that there's a conflict. She can say "that liar is missing." Maybe she says it under her breath. Maybe she says it out loud. This reveals to the audience that she strongly doubts what Joel told her, and that it's bothering her a lot, and she's been coping with it.

SCENE 3

The Call to Adventure is when the hero actually has to answer the call. Ellie is given the opportunity to leave town in spite of the signs of danger. She takes it. Why? Because she's tough and kick ass, and she cares about Joel. Also, again, if Ellie's not going to do it, why would we tell the story from Ellie's point of view? Why wouldn't we pick another character?

We'll also introduce Dina in scene 3 as she's Ellie's sidekick / romantic interest for a significant portion of the story.  We'll also show that a trap is being set for Ellie. What is the trap? In fiction, it means the hero is going to walk into a shit situation in the course of pursuing their goals, and this situation is going to trap her into the rest of the story. We're setting it up and we're hinting at it. Drop a line that some strangers or foreigners have been spotted. This refers to Abbey and her crew. This is ominous and foreboding, and Ellie's going to disregard it because she's brave and she has to get her surrogate guitar dad home safe.

Notice that I'm not writing dialogue or breaking down the scenes down into moments or actions? I'm just structuring broadly. When writing, it's easy and find to deviate from the structure at bit, but a good structure helps to write.

SCENE 4

Develop the relationship Ellie has with her friends including Dina. Especially Dina. Don't interrupt the pacing with flashbacks and conversations about the gay kiss or the pregnancy or the bigot sandwiches. Sprinkle it in if you can fit it without ruining the pacing of your action or sense of urgency. Remember, we're writing people, not caricatures like Captain Ahab. Captain Ahab was a maniac and he didn't act like a real person. Ellie and Dina and that other handoms fellow are real people. They don't stop for drugs and sex in the middle of a search and rescue unless they intend to call it off temporarily and wait out the storm; otherwise, this creates unbelievable or unlikable characters. Seriously, no drugs when you're on a search and rescue. It's negligent.

Seriously, no. Change my mind. Get rid of the drugs and sex. Maintain the urgency for the sake of building tension. Keep the pacing of your action consistent or increase it. We can establish that Dina and Ellie have romantic or sexual tension in other ways. Maybe they're already girlfriends? Seriously, we're cutting the drugs and sex scene. Completely breaks the pacing. Completely boring. Moving on.

Ellie takes a risk and pushes on. "One more check point. One more check point. We can make one more checkpoint." "But the blizzard's coming!" "One more checkpoint, dammit!" And of course, Dina being the good side-kick, is loyal to the hero and follows her. Note that the difference between the hero and the sidekick here is that the hero in this story, Ellie, has personal stake in the success of the search and rescue, but the sidekick does not. Instead, the sidekick is simply loyal to the hero. Further, the hero is the one who acts when others don't. This establishes the dynamic of friendship, loyalty, and dedication if not romantic love between Ellie and Dina. Dina may not ordinarily risk this much, but she's doing it for Ellie.

SCENE 5

Reveal the hero's desire. Ellie loves Joel like a dad. We need to communicate this to the audience. Dina says once "I get it, he's like your dad." This is not clumsy dialogue. It's subtle. It says all you need to say. People who have good dads who like their dads will get it. Trust me.

Now, we do more foreshadowing of danger and bad stuff. Abbey and her friends have left some zombies and some footprints behind. There are signs of several people, and Ellie and Dina have the tracking ability to be able to discern this by the signs in the environment. You also want to use some environmental storytelling to show that there's more stuff going on than anything that just Joel and Tommy can do.

Ellie approaches the room where Joel is being beaten to death.

SCENE 6

Ellie has entered the room where Joel is being beaten by Abbey, and she promptly gets restrained. Dina too, why not? We are about to end Act I with a twist. Joel is murdered, but not by zombies or a storm. This is personal for Ellie who declares she'll kill the mystery killers, and this is the trap. The mysterious people all get nervous and finally say "the town will know we're here soon, it's time to go." Note that these characters have spared Ellie and Dina. That in and of itself suggests they are more complex than they seem, but we know that these people are in reality just trying to give the town less reason to come after them by doing less harm. That said, why wouldn't they kill Ellie and Dina to preserve their secrecy? Did they just assume Ellie wasn't a threat? Make a note of this for later, you're going to need to answer it for the audience with a clue or throw away line.

I've heard that the oldest law in the world is the law of retaliation. That is the law of "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." Note that this law is not a mandate to retaliate, but a limitation on retaliation. If someone pokes out one eye, you cannot poke out two. The punishment must fit the crime. Joel has committed many questionable actions or crimes, but the crime he committed against Abbey was shooting and killing Abbey's dad. Abbey is the villain of the story because she has broken the law of retaliation by both torturing and then killing Joel. Abbey has taken justice for the crime against her father, but she's also committed a new injustice. Torture is a punishment that is disproportionate to Joel's crime against Abbey. And of course, two wrongs don't make a right. In addition, she and/or her friends also injured Tommy with a gunshot. I think I would show Abbey looking down at herself, bloodied, and show her face with a look of disgust and regret as if she realizes "what have I done?" This is of course because torturing and killing someone is surely a traumatic experience for a normal person, and for which Abbey may not have been prepared for. And like I said, we're writing relatable people, not Captain Ahab.

Now to establish the through line of story. Ellie is going to hunt down this mystery killer and she's going to get justice for Joel's murder. Ta-da. That's Scene 6.

WHAT ELSE?

If we established Abbey as this young woman who was moments ago running through the snow and getting rescued from zombies by Joel, we would take away the mysteriousness of her from the audience, and we would spoil the impression of her as a villain. Audiences like a good villain. Also, giving us Abbey's point of view in Act I has the effect of disconnecting Ellie from the Audience because now the audience knows things Ellie doesn't know. Ellie doesn't know Abbey is actually a dog lover who saves good people from bad people. Ellie hates Abbey, but we don't. Actually, that's not true, it's complicated. The audience hates Abbey but for reasons unrelated to the narrative.

We can always make Abbey a sympathetic villain later, but the idea of writing a story with a protagonist and deuteragonists who end up fighting in the finale and stopping short of death, that is avant-garde. I like avant-garde, but The Last of Us Part II is a poor example of avant-garde because it doesn't work. It doesn't create consistent tension or suspense. It doesn't have good pacing. There are a lot of good moments and also a lot of moments I'd like to skip even on a first play-through. It doesn't have good structure. One moment, Ellie and Abbey are pointing guns at each other, the next minute we're flashing back to Abbey in an aquarium with her boyfriend for six hours. That's what it felt like anyway. You had all this tension, then you broke it. Then you had to build tension back up again with characters I am not interested in, or not as interested in, or don't care about at all if you wrote them out of the story.

The fact that the story tries to make Abbey a sympathetic second main character even though she killed the beloved protagonist from the first game is also a very big ask. The story might have been able to pull that off by bonding the audience to Abbey first, then Abbey kills Joel. And I mean really bonding the audience to Abbey. In that case, I would have told the story from Abbey's point of view from the very start, and ended Act I with Joel appearing, then Abby killing Joel, then Ellie shows up, and I would have done my best to make it a surprise.

The audience doesn't hate Abbey because Abbey killed Joel. The audience hates Abbey because this was not done in an emotionally satisfying way or narratively interesting way. Rather, it was done because the writer wanted it to happen, and he put in a bunch of other stuff for context because he was trying to be fair to all the characters. Too much context for too many perspectives all at once killed the chances for an emotional set up and pay off. Or maybe it just wasn't done well? Stick to one character's limited perspective! Also, we all feel that this decision to have Abbey kill Joel was done for shock value or for some message or theme, and that's not a satisfying reason to kill off a beloved character. People like art for the feels, not the themes. Prioritize the feels, not the themes. Also, I don't think the leaks mattered that much, but it definitely spoiled the game for first timers.

What have we lost? I cut the scene where Joel rescues Abbey. I think it's delightfully ironic for Joel to rescue his own murderer and thus give his murderer an opportunity to murder him, and I also think it's excellent for character development to show Joel doing good deeds. This suggests change, possible redemption, that the man is more complex than you might guess. I love the idea of this scene, but I do not want to change perspectives from Ellie to Joel or Abbey in the middle of Act I. Here's why.

Ellie is the point of view character in LToU Part II. That's it. Anything that causes the point of view to change in the middle of these scenes has the potential effect of taking away from the audience's opportunity to bond with the point of view character. And it breaks tension. I can also cut this aforementioned scene because it has no significance to the plot or characters because Abbey never expresses conflict or remorse for murdering the father-slayer who saved her life. I also love the thought that Joel made choices effecting the life or death of two members of one family and they were both complete strangers to him on both occasions. There's something oddly poetic that's being lost by cutting this, but a good writer needs to cut their darlings. This scene does not help the building of tension or the pacing.