Catch Your Hare

So here’s this thing that happened. Again, it’s something that I would post on I Would Knife Fight A Man, but it wouldn’t get a sympathetic reception. It may not here, of course, but let’s see.

It’s a dinner around Christmas, not Christmas dinner, but perhaps Boxing Day dinner. There’s me and my girlfriend, my mother and father, my brother and his girlfriend.

We’re drinking tomato juice and begin talking about Bloody Marys: the cocktail with tomato juice, vodka and other things). Naturally, the conversation leads to the other Bloody Mary: Mary I, who hounded Protestants.

My brother’s girlfriend says “I bet they wouldn’t call her that if she was a man”.

We pause until the comment passes and continue the conversation. Later, me and my girlfriend grumble about that comment.

In retrospect, I should have replied. Here’s how the conversation should have gone:

Brother’s girlfriend: I bet they wouldn’t call her that if she was a man.

Me: Why?

Brother’s girlfriend: Well, think about it. How many kings are there with derogatory nicknames?

Me: Oh. Um. Ethelred the Unready?

Brother’s girlfriend: Hardly in the same league as ‘Bloody Mary’, though.

Me: Fair point.

Or alternatively:

Brother’s girlfriend: I bet they wouldn’t call her that if she was a man.

Me: Why?

Brother’s girlfriend: Well, think about it. How many kings are there with derogatory nicknames?

Me: Sure, but Elizabeth, who followed her, was nicknamed Good Queen Bess. So it’s hard to argue that it was a general anti-woman attitude.

Brother’s girlfriend: Fair point.

Now, in either case, we’re not arguing. Neither my “Why?” or her “How many kings are there with derogatory nicknames?” is an attempt to silence the other person. It’s not about being right or wrong.

What’s happening is we’re talking. One person says “I think this thing!” and the other goes “But what about this thing?” and the first one goes “Well, if you consider this thing too” and the other goes “Yeah, OK”.

And there’s no attempt to enforce viewpoints on the other. When either of us says “Fair point”, we’re not saying “I admit I’ve lost the argument”. We’re saying “Interesting. I’ll think about that”.

This conversation helps us both to understand the other’s viewpoint.

That’s why I hate the idea that you shouldn’t question other people’s viewpoints. If someone says “I think this thing is sexist”, of course you should say “Are you sure? What about this thing?”. Because then the other person says “Yes, I know, but this other thing makes it different” and then you both understand a little more.

If you see questions as challenges, you’re losing a lot. You end up with blind, unquestioned assertions – “I think this is sexist” – and no further communication happens.

Statements like this remind me of kneejerk political viewpoints: “I blame the immigrants”, “It’s the government’s fault”, “That Tony Blair is ruining the country”. Of course you question these viewpoints. You ask questions so you understand better. And then we understand each other better.

Jason Morningstar asked me, as a joke, why I hadn’t put a Random Encounter table in Play Unsafe.

The idea bothered me. The more I thought, the more I realised it’d be a really good thing. It connects with that “dice” section I wrote: randomness is good, because it stops you planning. A random encounter table would throw something unexpected into the mix. It’d be great.

Here’s some first attempts. I’d really like your input.

First, a random status change table. When a scene with another a character needs a twist, roll a d6.

1. Lower your status, suddenly (break down, cry, beg).
2. Lower their status, suddenly (humiliate them, hit them).
3. Lower your status, gradually, as the scene plays out.
4. Raise your status, suddenly.
5. Raise their status, suddenly.
6. Raise their status, gradually, as the scene plays out.

Second, a random emotion table. It works the same way: when you think a scene needs something, act out the emotion. Do it suddenly and justify it later: for example, suddenly break down in tears, then invent a reason afterwards.

1. Envy
2. Sadness
3. Fright
4. Anger
5. Happiness
6. Confidence

Note that these emotions could be played at different levels: Anger could be anything from irritation to rage; fright could be anything from foreboding to terror.

If you like, roll another d6 to determine the degree of the emotion. On an even number, the emotion will change over the course of the scene. (On an odd number, the emotion may change over the course of the scene, but it’s not fixed: play the scene and see what happens).

1. Mild
2. Mild, increasing to Manic over the course of the scene.
3. Moderate.
4. Moderate, increasing to Manic over the course of the scene.
5. Manic.
6. Manic, decreasing to Mild over the course of the scene.

Both these are drafts and I’ll welcome feedback. I’d also welcome ideas for other tables.

One table I’d like in particular (and which I’ll do) is a random element table. Jason often incorporates these into his games: you’ll roll a die and have to incorporate, say, a letter into your scene. If you’ve got suggestions, do let me have them.

Oh, one more thing. You see how both those tables include the instruction “when you think the scene needs something”? You could, of course, do this without the table. When you think the scene needs something, just do something random, and justify it later.

In Play Unsafe, I briefly mentioned the Rule of Three. Let me explain a bit more.

The Rule of Three says, broadly, that things are better in threes. Whenever you’ve got a few or a group of something in a story, consider making it three. When you’ve got four, consider losing one.

Consider some literary examples. Since it’s nearly Christmas, let’s start there: there are three Wise Men or Three Kings. They each bring a gift, making three: Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh.

Moving further into religion: there is a Holy Trinity, not a Holy Quaternity; Jesus is betrayed three times before the cock crows, not four or five. There are three parts to most parables (sometimes because there are three sons).

In Greek legend, there were three brothers, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. They received three gifts, from three Cyclops, and they each ruled over one third of the world: sky, sea and underworld.

In Dickens, three ghosts visit Scrooge: Past, Present and Future. OK, OK, Jacob Marley’s ghost, too, but you know what I mean. In Shakespeare, Lear has three daughters.

Of course, we should pause briefly. Not everything comes in threes: there are four Gospels, nine members of the Fellowship of the Ring. We might note other magic numbers, most obviously seven (deadly sins, ages of man) and twelve (Titans, disciples, labours of Hercules).

But three occurs often. And, although it’s hard to offer an explanation, things that come in threes are satisfying.

The Rule of Three works two ways. (I’m trying to think of a third).

Firstly, with groupings. Try grouping things in threes: have three sages, three keys, three magic scrolls.

Secondly, with plots. Allow things to happen three times, as follows:

• Something happens
• It happens again
• The third time it happens, it changes

For example:

• A dragon threatens me, and I run.
• An ogre threatens me, and I run.
• But when my father threatens me, I face him.

Note that this ties into breaking routines. The first two times, the thing happens the same way, creating a routine. On the third time, it changes, breaking the routine.

Does that make sense?  Stop me if I’m talking bollocks.

One comment I’ve had, about Play Unsafe, is that it doesn’t really mention the structure of roleplaying games. For example, you roll dice in RPGs: how does that affect the techniques in Play Unsafe?

So, dice. Let’s talk about dice.

Dice are fun. I like rolling dice. They make things exciting and unpredictable. When I roll to see if I leap a chasm, I’m not sure whether I’ll succeed or fail. And that’s fun.

Dice are sometimes boring. Recently, I played a game where we were stuck in a boat, miles from shore. Attempting to row, I rolled against my Rowing skill, and failed drastically. Everyone else then had to roll against their Rowing skill, until someone succeeded. It was dull.

So, think about dice like this. They’re fun because they stop you planning ahead. And they’re fun only if they stop you planning ahead.

Dice are fun because you don’t know what will happen when you roll them. Will you pick the lock or get caught by guards? You don’t know until you roll the dice. If you knew, before you rolled, whether you’d succeed, it’d be dull.

But dice are dull when their result doesn’t matter: when you’ve preplanned what will eventually happen. In the example, above, it was clear that the boat would get rowed: so the individual rolls against our Rowing skills were tedious.

Similarly, we’ve all been in combats when a monster just wouldn’t die. You roll dice. You miss. You roll again. You do 1 damage. You know the monster will die, eventually, but you must keep rolling until it does. It’s dull.

When you roll dice, use them as a tool to stop you planning ahead. Use them to throw your plans into confusion. To do this, ensure something will change as a result of the die roll.

One final, interesting thing.

In the old days, characters were randomly generated. You’d roll for your Strength, Dexterity and so on. These days, random character generation is out of vogue: most games include rules for assigning points, rather than rolling.

But, when I assign points, my characters often turn out the same: for me, they’re charismatic and sneaky, but useless in a fight.

So here’s a suggestion. Try randomly generating your characters, like we did in the old days. It’ll force you to play a type of character you weren’t expecting to play. It’ll break you out of your comfort zone. It’ll stop your character being exactly like your last character.

Try it. We’re playing Paranoia, tonight, and we’ll randomly generate characters. (The players don’t know this, yet, but I’m the GM, and when you GM Paranoia, you can do what you want.)