[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]
P is for Profundity...the profoundness of the AD&D game.
It should be fairly obvious to long-time readers of this blog that I'm a pretty passionate guy, especially when it comes to D&D and (these days) particularly when it comes to the Advanced version of the game. If it's not, please allow me to be clear: I am passionate about the AD&D game. If my more than 2000 blog posts on the subject over the last eighteen years isn't evidence of the energy the game instills in me...well, I'm not sure what more you need. Another book or two, probably.
[still hopeful for those projects]
But while D&D generally (and AD&D specifically) has had a profound impact on my life and attitude, can I really say the game is profound? Again, let's be clear about what I mean; the M-W definition of profundity is:
1. Great depth. 2. Depth of intellect, feeling, or meaning. 3. Something profound or abstruse.
[and for the sake of completeness that 3rd definition is referring to something "beyond the obvious or superficial" and "not entirely understood"]
Certainly, in some ways, AD&D meets the terms of the definition. It is clearly a "deeper" game than other editions of the game (such as B/X) and offers more "depth" of game play than many other games that might be played around the kitchen table. As well, I'd say it most definitely has "hidden depths" that are only revealed over the long-term...one of the major reasons I'm such am advocate for long-form campaign play.
However, while the game may inspire depths of feeling and intellectual exercise, would I call the game particularly deep, in and of itself?
I would not. It is still just a game...and a fairly simple game when it comes to game play, despite the radical way in which it departs from other prior games. The DM creates a scenario and describes it to the players. The players describe their behavior in relation to the situation. Dice are rolled as/when necessary and resolutions are tallied...often literally in terms of the "points" of the game (x.p., g.p., h.p., etc.). That is all there is to it.
And at this point, I'm sure readers are asking "what does any of this have to do with the theme of this particular series?" Please, allow me to explain by quoting from my introduction:
Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it...
This post relates to the proper approach to running AD&D.
AD&D is a profoundly affecting game, one that tends to inspire passion in others...I am not the first person to gush enthusiastically about it. And yet we passionate AD&Ders...both DMs and players...often assign it more seriousness and depth than the game warrants or, indeed, benefits from. AD&D is not an altar to be worshipped at, and we DMs are not its high priests. It is still just a game to be run, no matter how high a regard we might hold it in.
Understand that I am writing this from my own experience of 40+ years of gaming. There have been PLENTY of times over the decades that I took the game too seriously, in which my approach to running the game was as one would something sacred. Doing this creates a myriad of problems, all of which are detrimental to the actual running of the game.Briefly they are the following:
- There is the tendency to over-analyze, over-think, and (Lord knows) over-story your campaign, leading to an actual stoppage in game design due to "analysis paralysis" and the vain seeking after "perfection." Since the latter is never obtainable, it can likewise lead to depression and disenchantment, ennui and (eventually) the chucking of one's campaign altogether.
- There is a tendency to curtail the agency of players and to subvert the game design, in attempt to mold play into something that is "more worthy" or creates "more meaning." This will eventually lead to resentment and disenchantment from the players and a breakdown in the game systems that will derail the entirety of the game...either one of which situations can (again) lead to depression, disenchantment, ennui and the binning of your campaign.
You laugh, I'm sure. JB, you just wrote how we can't take the game too seriously! And, yet, here you are talking about worrying that this will lead to the trashing of your campaign...isn't worrying about THAT the same thing as "taking the game too seriously?"
No.
AD&D is designed to be played over the long-term. The campaign is the vehicle for long-term play. World creation (which includes adventure/situation design) is the way the DM interacts with the campaign; the "character" is the player's vehicle for interacting with it. Ending your campaign is ENDING PLAY. No campaign, no play. Do you want your play to end? I don't...I'm pretty into playing the game.
Just one of the (several) reasons my campaign is PERPETUAL these days.
In order to explore the true "depths" of the AD&D game, you must have a campaign. You start it and then you run it, you build on it, you grow it. Like a master gardener, pruning here, grafting there, and providing plenty of fertilizer. You don't rip it up and start over ever few weeks or months. It is a constant work in progress, something you take satisfaction in, something you enjoy and share with others...the fruits of your labor.
Every time you end a campaign, you are starting from scratch. You are doing the OPPOSITE of "putting down roots;" you are ripping up whatever roots have grown. Instead of cultivating your garden, you are burning it down and salting the earth.
But perhaps you're only interested in a window box. And, maybe, dumping it out and re-starting it every season gives you all that you're interested in: a constant rotation of different veggies in an easily managed space. Not everyone is a master gardener, after all. And, perhaps, not every Dungeon Master has the taste for the kind of work I'm describing here...work that takes time and endurance.
When I say the game isn't "profound," I mean it. It is a simple game, easily explained, easy to participate in. It is not meant to be worshipped or held on a pedestal. And while every DM should have self-respect...respect for their campaign, for their work (which, by the way, is only possible when one respects the game)...that doesn't mean the DM has any delusions of profundity for AD&D.
Respect for the game and approaching the game in a deliberate, serious fashion does NOT mean considering it to be something more than it is. The participants are playing a game of fantasy adventure. They are not curing cancer. They are not writing "the Great American Novel." They are having fun. Mistakes will be made...these are easily corrected (and sometimes ignored). Jokes will be made...my tables are often full of snark and wisecracks from the players. It's not an uncommon phenomenon to make nervous jokes when you believe death may lurk around any corner.
And I don't pull punches.
No. AD&D is not a "profound" game, except (perhaps) in relation to other games. But it can have a profound impact on those who play it. I can say this is true for myself, and I've read many anecdotes from others for whom this was the case (Sherman Alexie penned a rather touching tribute to the game in the 2004 retrospective 30 Years of Adventure...and he's not the only one). But there's a difference between respecting the game and running it in serious fashion and worshipping the thing or formulating attachments and meaning where none are required, or even wanted. And, unfortunately, when you spend a lot of time with something you love this much it is EASY to fall down that rabbit hole.
"Touch grass" might apply here, despite the game's analog nature.
We sit at a table with our fellow humans: hopefully friends but, at least, potential friends. We each have our role to play, whether it is "Player" or "Dungeon Master." The DM describes the situation; the players describe their actions. Dice are rolled. The game is played. And by the end, when the books and dice are put away and we stand up from the table, hopefully we will have enjoyed ourselves such that we will want to gather again, on a future occasion, and play once more.
That is as "profound" as D&D play gets. And, yet, there is so much more there...so much of the experience that is more than what people can find in other arenas of life. Just because it lacks profound, deep meaning, doesn't mean that the game's not worth playing. Quite the opposite, in fact.
That's all for today.
I'm noticing a bit of a pattern in this series of posts, maybe incorrectly, that after establishing the principles it is the social aspects where the depth of the game really comes through. The game builds social bonds in a way other hobbies don't I think.
ReplyDeleteI was trying hard to think of a hobby where you were expected to communicate, plan and work as a group and make decisions that have both immediate and longer-term consequences. Team sports tend to be more frantic and intense and communication is more challenging because of physical distance over the playing field. Board games tend to be competitive rather than cooperative.
(If this had been my series of posts - P would've been profanity - our games were pretty sweary - normally at ourselves as we made poor decisions or the throw of the dice went against us).
Haha! I had multiple ideas for "P" (including "punching down on players"), but "profanity" was not one I'd considered.
Delete; )
The pattern you're identifying (ha! "pattern recognition" would have been a good one, too) is pretty spot on. Yes, D&D *does* occupy a state between team sports and competitive board games...even games that have a team element to it. Games like Pictionary or Cranium, or even cooperative games like Forbidden Island are more akin to the short-term, frantic-ness of team sports with low-to-no long term play/development aspect.
However, that development bit IS rather important, even outside the bonds of camaraderie forged in the fires of the dungeon. Because of the PC development (leveling) the game evolves and changes as it is played, with new content becoming available based on the experience (player and character) of the participants.
So, yes...social dynamic is a big part of what makes the game play experience unique. However, the evolution of the campaign over time is ALSO a large part of D&D's uniqueness.
Another aspect of profoundity I think is the group memories that D&D, and other RPG set up. 40-odd years later there's still vivid and fond memories of particular groups of players and game situations that we faced. In the last 30y I've become convinced that humans really learn and bond through recalling stories either round fireside or in the pub, and that D&D offers a 100% hazard-free way of being able to do that. My kids also seem to be able to recall D&D game events more clearly than say Fortnite or Minecraft games.
DeleteA shared experience in the presence of others creates powerful memories that are only rarely (if ever) matched by experiences one has "solo," and this includes most video games, even those played in conjunction with others, unless played in the actual PRESENCE of another person.
DeleteIt is the 'being present...with others' that creates these memories. I could not telly you why, but our brains trigger different hormones when we are with other people...different hormones depending on the relationship we have with the person and the specific interaction that is occurring. I've read a bit about this, but I'm no neurologist/psychoanalytic research scientist. You'll have to look elsewhere for the factual skinny on the process.
Regardless: yes. Playing D&D with people around a table creates powerful memories that are talked about for YEARS afterward. Decades in some instances. I can recall many such instances from my childhood gaming to this day. Certainly this is reinforced by people sharing those stories back-and-forth over the years, but I can clearly recall many instances that occurred with people I've had zero contact with in nearly 40 years.
Pretty stark contrast considering ALL the experiences I've long forgotten (especially the ones that occurred while I was by myself).