The Evolution of Superheroes

I’ve been a little quiet here of late, mostly due to venting my thoughts about gaming on Australian roleplaying boards in the great “system vs systemless ‘con game debate” that I seem to become enmeshed in annually. I’m not sure there’s much point in posting here about it, as I doubt folks reading this blog will care overly much about the issue.

Instead, I thought I’d document my process of setting up Reverie, a Superhero game I’ve now run a few sessions of, as an example of my current thinking about campaigns.

By way of introduction, I’ve been running superhero games on and off for a while now, but usually as short run games. My Council of Champions ‘con outings have been a lot of fun over the years – I designed a cast of powerful, famous, established superheroes with fairly complex relationships, and then let each group tackle the villanous challenge in their own ways, in as much of a sandbox style as possible. At the time these games represented what I thought were the best element of ‘con gaming. The ability to play complex characters, each with sufficient drama (incorporating both comedy and tragedy) to provide a satisfying interactions with the other PC’s and goals to drive them, as well as a powerful array of superpowers and the opportunity to devise unique and individual solutions to each challenge the game threw up.

Nowadays I see this style of character establishment as overly detailed and prescriptive – too brittle to be fit for purpose in a ‘con environment where I want to achieve 100% player activation. There is a danger the players feel they are being dictated to, and don’t ‘buy in’ sufficiently into the game space, or feel overwhelmed or confused by the complexity of the back-story. But, it was a useful exploration, and probably rates as the most consistently successful series of ‘con games I’ve run.

Next I ran ‘Potential’ a 3 part mini-series featuring a group of troubled youths who are experimented on whilst in juvenile detention, and develop superpowers. There were a lot of elements I was fairly proud of in this game, but it reinforced to me that a good origins story, which reveals meaning and purpose to seemingly random things like the development of superpowers, can really add to the depth of a game. I also borrowed an idea from Morgue, surveying the players about the kind of powers they wanted their characters to develop – without being specific – so I could reveal the powers during game-play. Ultimately, however, the anchors holding the group together were probably not sufficient to hold together the diverse and socially troubled kids the players developed meaning the 3 session limit was probably necessary without overly contriving the setup.

Then, in Australia I ran a year-long supers campaign ‘Mayhem’ using the M&M Paragons setup, with a lot of my own material. Again I surveyed for powers, but I also gave the players a second survey about the style of game they wanted to play, the level of system crunch, and a list of elements which they rated as either liking or disliking (robots, aliens, time-travel, realism etc.) This time I also designed a cohesive element to bind the players together more thoroughly, tied to the plot.

While this did prove more successful in providing a basis for the group to work together, the players (who did not really know each other before the game) designed characters whose individual plot interests often superseded the group action, meaning the characters frequently split, and gameplay suffered some pacing issues as I tried to juggle equal screen-time, and cater to individual stories. The crunch level of the system also proved challenging over a longer span game, as some players strongly engaged with the system, while others actively disliked it. I also tried casting a player as a supervillain – the idea was that the player wouldn’t go to most games but would be kept appraised of key plot elements remotely, send me what they wanted their character to do in response, and show up to key sessions for epic battles as appropriate. In practise however, the style of the game was a lot less over-the-top than I’d envisaged, and the supervillain player ended up playing most sessions, adding to the diversity of the game, but also adding to the load of individual scenes.

After Kapcon this year, and the enjoyable experience of running the 4th instalment of my Council of Champions game I thought I’d give it another shot. With Reverie I sent the two surveys I’d used previously (with some editing) and included a third to establish some basic character details which I’d use to include the initial plot.

As with Mayhem I wanted to create a sandbox experience, so the characters could choose almost any course of action, and be ready to plug an appropriate scene or encounter. But I also used the origins story to bring the group together in a way that would lead them to work together. Fortunately, this group was much more willing to embrace the group dynamic, probably due to their fairly extensive roleplaying experience. The group has also really engaged with making the characters their own – adding detail and even creating fictional Facebook accounts to interact outside the game space. I feel very privileged to have players willing to make that effort.

I've ditched M&M in favour of BASH Ultimate Edition - BASH does a good job of providing a simplified superhero system, but the math stemming from combat is still undersirable - it's probably on a par with the Difficult Check damage calculation in M&M, but I'd still like an even better fit...

In Reverie the origins story forms a major part of the plot, and I’ve tried to create something complex enough that the players will be interested to investigate and speculate about, but hopefully not so convoluted they give up (it’s a delicate balance). To do this I’ve used elements of the players own creation, balanced against a range of day-to-day concerns for the characters, and sufficient immediate danger to spur super-heroics. Because of the skill of the players, this is often more like conducting the game, than facilitating it – each instrument knows its part and adds to the overall harmony seamlessly.

What remains to be seen is how the game will evolve, because ultimately, once the detail of the origins story is laid bare, the players will need to take a more active ownership of the game. I only hope the second phase will be as enjoyable as the first phase has been.

One Night as a Supervillain - Part 2

The night had begun well. I delivered my Best-Man speech, playing up on the idea that Thunderbird was a womanizer who hadn’t liked Kelly (the bride) from the beginning. I followed two heart-warming speeches from the groom and maid of honour, and could tell I had struck the right note when, as I sat down, there was a dejected, gloomy atmosphere amongst the wedding party. Then Jack (aka Thunderbird) went mingling with the guests, and to my delight made a number of jokes about how he could have sealed up the supposed victims of his organ harvesting with his ‘lazer gaze’.

Kelly, meanwhile, was sitting dejectedly on the stair with the remaining bridal party. Now I asked the ‘wait staff’ to deliver my note and folder to ‘Shadow’. I was testing Shadow to see if she was still capable of dark deeds, and the note instructed her to deliver the attached folder to the bride. The folder contained embarrassing pictures of the groom at a strip club, drunk and singing from the stag night (not the most incriminating - but it was what I had to work with, and I thought it might just tip the balance on her unhappiness with him). Shadow (aka Gwen) did so, and I was pleased.

Next my note was delivered to Kara, the cyborg who had defended Thunderbird from my malicious tabloid accusations, thus earning her a place in my plans. I sent her a note (supposedly from one of the magicians present) telling her that she had a virus in her system which would cause her to kill everyone present unless she delivered $5 million to the magician. To my delight she did, although I believe that the magician didn’t take the money. I had also sent a love note, supposedly from Kara, to one of the police detectives professing a desire to ‘interface’. This turned out to have broader ramifications than I had anticipated.

About this time Loki talked me (and Puck) into separating the wolf spirit from the superhero Fenris under the guise of a group wedding photo. I helped out, as it seemed likely to spread some mischief, and then made myself scarce as I didn’t want to be incriminated in the subsequent aftermath (there was quite a bit, and I did use this opportunity to voice my suspicions about ‘Lew’ the building manager aka Loki effectively double-crossing him).

I made sure to check in with Detective Bud Stone at regular intervals, to amplify the increasingly bizarre threats to the party (and world) and discuss the nature of Chaos Gods. Good times.

Now I made good on another of my objectives and spoke with ‘Shadow’ aka Gwen revealing that I was actually Coyote. Jackie had sent me some very cool fiction around how conflicted Gwen was before the game, before she knew my identity. Gwen had apparently just been dumped, and I tried to seize the moment to remind her how much fun being bad could be… It was the first of several encounters, where I tried, but ultimately failed, to talk her into coming to the dark side – but to be fair, it’s pretty hard to compete with an Angel cop.

About this time Loki told me that we had unwittingly brought about Ragnarok, by our releasing the wolf spirit. I told him that as it was his plan to cut the spirit free, it was down to him to fix things, and to my surprise, and his credit – he actually did, even though it alerted the party-goers to his identity and ultimately brought about his demise. At one time it seemed that we might need a willing human sacrifice to save the day, so I tried very hard to hint that only a true hero aka Thunderbird might be willing to make the supreme sacrifice, but alas he wasn’t biting and apparently another method was found. I did manage to arrange some media mischief, after I convinced Thunderbird to save some folks caught up in the wake of the devouring wolf.

The party was getting pretty wild now, with magical rituals galore, and I was getting nervous that I’d be rumbled soon, so I triggered my pièce de résistance, an arrest warrant for the groom’s father, Harry. I had taken pains to use a different envelope and format to the other letters, in case someone got wise to the sender, and hoped that Harry would be lead out in handcuffs, much to the distress of the groom. Unfortunately all the parties were very mature, and no immediate arrest was made. I even alerted to bridal party, lest they miss it, but alas it was not until the end of the night that this scene was played out, after Coyote had left.

Now things were getting downright hostile at the party. Puck was destroyed, and Loki fled, to return for a brief showdown – the ‘omnipotent’ gods were going down like flies. Gwen urged me to leave, and given that the newly reincarnated Galahad and Merlin were actively searching for me, not to mention her Angel cop boyfriend, Coyote did just that, leaving Justin Mallone with a killer hangover and no memory of what had happened.

In review; it was a brilliant game and great fun. Jenni and Paul did a fantastic job, especially as I learn about the other plots that were taking place. I am a little disappointed that I failed in my primary goal of messing with Thunderbird, as his own account seems to indicate that a love triangle caused him much more grief than all my efforts combined. I’m also torn as to whether I should have revealed myself, and faced Thunderbird down, forcing him to destroy Justin. But leaving the party when I did, just felt right for the Coyote.

One Night as a Supervillain - Part 1

On Saturday I attended the Super Reception, a one-night superhero LARP created by Paul and Jenni. I played the part of Justin Mallone, the Best Man, soldier and government liaison to the League of Heroes. Of course, I was also Coyote, a Native American trickster-god who was the arch nemesis of the groom (Thunderbird). I had capriciously possessed Mallone, in order to humiliate Thunderbird, at the stag night before the wedding, and cause trouble at the reception.

That was pretty much the brief. I was told I had nearly unlimited power, and that two other chaos gods (Loki and Puck) would also be attending undercover, presumably each with their own agenda. I was given a little information about the Grooms family (parents Harry and Melissa) and also told that Coyote’s old flame Shadow would also be attending, but that she had turned over a new leaf, although might be up for some fun.

Clearly I didn’t want to ruin the game for the other players by doing anything too spectacular, but equally, it seemed that to achieve my goals I would need to spoil the reception for the newlyweds. If my identity was discovered too soon, it seemed likely that Thunderbird and the other heroes would likely attack, and at the very least, I’d need to leave the party (and thus the game). I was also told that I was ‘looking forward’ to my Best-Man speech.

It seemed the best way to cause havoc would be to have the bride and groom distrustful, even perhaps at each other’s throats. So with that premise, I started by creating a number of fictional tabloid stories in the lead-up to the wedding. I didn’t actually have any information about the contemporary Thunderbird, so I just assumed he was like Superman, and made up a story about how he might have been implicated in a black market organ trading racket (based on real-life civic corruption). Then, as I wanted to start Kelly distrusting his integrity, I framed him for a Tiger Woods style scandal story.

For the night itself, I pre-prepared a number of messages, almost all lies, to be delivered by the wait staff (GM’s). That way I could watch the messages being delivered, and then try and amplify their impact as Mallone (I even sent one to myself to avoid suspicion). I targeted the bride, and the grooms family with a message that Coyote had possessed the groom and planned to do terrible things to the bride later that night. When this was delivered I even arranged for the groom to be ‘tested’ for possession by a magician guest, who confirmed that he was possessed (Thunderbird is also a Native-American spirit), but I tried to make the most of this diagnosis, hoping someone might attack or imprison the groom. Sadly no-one wanted to take action.

To be continued...

Who's Bad? - Part Two

So in my original post I tried to illustrate what I have observed as a potential problem in some old-school style games; the idea that sometimes the villain becomes too powerful, as a result of the GM conflating their own knowledge of the PC’s actions, with the notion that the main villain should be more powerful and intelligent than the GM would be in a similar circumstance, leading to a very high degree of difficulty for the PC's possible victory.

To the mailbag, Mash asked: “Looking at your example: if the PCs don't really understand how powerful the villain is, then is there scope to downgrade him without creating a continuity error with what they do actually know?”

I think there surely is, my point on this topic is that the GM is not willfully nor consciously doing this. It is a problem that creeps in, often undetected except in the final throes of conflict after a TPK. Let me go to an example:

I have primarily experienced this in older D&D games, where the villain’s level was a predictor of his or her relative powers, and as such, far exceeded that of the any given PC (as a way of equalizing the cumulative power of all of the PC’s fighting the villain at the same time). However, the actual manifestation of this was that as PC’s, we encountered the villain’s hench-people and defeated them without really understanding much of the why’s and wherefore’s of the situation. The consequence of that action would be terrible and extremely powerful revenge visited upon us, usually through a pre-prepared ambush, which would often defeat or kill the PC’s.

The result from the player’s perspective was a degree of confusion: ‘why did we just get our asses kicked? That sucked!’ and the response from the GM would often be ‘that’s the consequence of meddling in the villain’s schemes, you guys should have been smarter’ and also ‘had your characters actually survived, you might have learnt your lesson’. This might be a 'fair' outcome from the GM's perspective, but because we didn't ever undertsand all the variables involved we couldn't assess the fairness, only the fun-ness, and it was not 'fun' (for me at least).

To be fair I have run a similar situation myself; several instances of Delta Green come to mind, where the villains in question were a race of sentient insect fungus from space. Possessing advanced technology they are able to easily spy upon the PC’s without detection, and while their motives and actions should be appropriately abstract in terms of plot, I had difficulty in having them overlook the PC’s plans for violence or disruption of their plans. I tried to give some clues of this infiltration, but what occurred in the most recent game of Delta Green I ran was that the players acted hastily (in the context of the government agents they were playing, not in terms of some tired gamers around a table) and enacted a raid that was a spectacular failure due to the villains having made preparations along the lines of the Branch Dividian in Waco (one of the villains listed ambitions was to cause the federal authorities significant embarrassment to back off future operations). I’m not sure the players enjoyed the experience, and we didn’t play Delta Green again.

Which brings me to the next point of discussion. If the GM might sometimes attribute additional intelligence, perception or power to the villain’s interaction with the game-world, then who exactly are the PC’s?

To illustrate this point with an example, a friend of mine recently complained that despite having a high Charisma score in his recent D&D game, the GM often belittled his attempts to elicit information or charm NPC’s because the GM did not find the player’s strategy for achieving this to be successful, irrespective of the characters ability. He was equally miffed that the other PC’s did not treat his character in a manner that befitted the natural charm and charisma that his character should exhibit in the game-world. His argument was that the PC’s and NPC’s should all act as though his character was the extremely charismatic and charming individual the system said he was, largely irrespective of his own personality at the table.

Obviously the same argument can be leveled at investigation games, where the PC’s are playing expert and professional investigators, yet the players are often stumped in situations that their characters would not be (enter the GUMSHOE debate).

I know that when I run a game I try and keep a mental picture of each character distinct from the player, and try to overlay one with the other when they interface with NPC’s, but I suspect I’m not always successful in doing this.

To be continued again...

Who's Bad? - Part One

I have observed, over the years, the power creep of creeps. Or, to be more specific, how hard can be for GM’s to distance themselves from their villains. It’s a problem I can understand only too well. When you create an adventure or dungeon or campaign, you usually arrange for there to be an adversary for the players, a villain, or in special cases even a super-villain (being an especially successful villain). This NPC is vested with dastardly schemes, and likely a range of accomplices/underlings/hench-people that can be deployed to achieve these ends. Often the villain’s actions which do not involve the PC’s directly are unscripted, left to the imagination of the GM, as this NPC interacts with the game world through his or her imagination alone initially.

Naturally, during the course of the game, the PC’s will encounter some aspect of the villain’s plan, either by accident or intent, and inevitably confront underlings or allies in a manner which will either thwart, or otherwise inconvenience the villain’s schemes. It is, therefore, only natural that the villain will take measures to stop/eliminate or distract the PC’s once they become aware of them. It’s pretty much the plot of any bulk-standard Hollywood action flick right? So far, so good?

Here’s where it gets tricky. The GM has watched events unfold, probably with a smug look, as PC’s bicker and blunder their way through plots (by which I mean quality roleplaying of course!). The GM is aware of just how lucky they have been to this point, whereas the NPC villain may only be aware of something going awry with a plan, or the sudden death of a minion in a very remote way. Can the GM adequately separate his or her own knowledge and intellect from that of the villain?

The problem is that most villains are extremely successful operators within the game-world. Where players have fluked or blundered their way through encounters and survived often by luck (or the use of GM fiat), villains have risen to their position through force of personality, ruthlessness and cunning. They are wealthy and powerful in a way that is remarkable. In most cases, they are more successful in these ways than the GM, so it is somewhat natural for a GM to justify superior reasoning and capability to the villain.

What does this mean? Well, sometimes it means that no matter how clever or well thought out the actions of the PC’s the villain will be neither surprised nor prone to sudden defeat. It sometimes means that the villains will lways achieve their major aims because they can tap into the game-world better than the PC’s. It also can mean that the villain will rarely suffer a major defeat or die in a non-epic way. It might even lead to the GM berrating or belittling the PC's due to perceived shortcomings, when their actions are compared with the villain's.

It might even have serious consequences for a game, but is there anything we can actually do to combat this phenomena?

To be continued…