Role-Playing Games

Role-playing games (RPGs) have always had an important influence on virtual worlds.

Role-playing is basically acting, and therefore has its roots in ancient history. It has many uses beyond theatrical expression (for example in psychology, education, and training), but it wasn’t until the 1973 arrival of E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson’s Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) ¹ that the concept of role-playing games finally crystallized. Dungeons & Dragons was a fusion of traditional tabletop wargames and interactive storytelling, in which one player (the referee, later to be known as the Dungeon Master/Mistress (DM) or Games Master/Mistress (GM)) designed an imaginary world into which a number of players would go. The referee would describe what the players could see, hear, feel, and so on, and the players would explain what they (or, more correctly, their characters) would do. The referee would then roll a few dice to determine the consequences of these actions in the context of the imaginary world, which would in turn cause the players to try new actions, and so on. Virtual worlds are very close to tabletop RPGs except they have computerized referees.

Being games, RPGs need rules. Because the referee has to construct the imaginary world, these rules do not only describe how to play the game but how to create a game world—which may entail writing new, world-specific rules. Thus, these are actually rule systems. Although referees can and do create vast campaigns (as these worlds, or partial worlds, are known), it takes a lot of time to do so. For this reason, referees may use rule sets that have been adapted for their chosen genre (imperial Rome, horror, far future, wild west, whatever) and use these as a starting point. Others will acquire predefined modules, often written by professional games designers, which define a self-contained sub-world. These sub-worlds have explicit goals for the players and solution paths appropriate to the players’ characters’ abilities.

Some of the genre-specific information researched for these games can save valuable time for the designers of those virtual worlds that are set in the same place or period (which, as tabletop role-playing games tend to draw on the same fictional and historical influences as virtual worlds, is often the case). Indeed, the information they provide can be so well organized, accurate, and complete that it can benefit people not remotely interested in role-playing games or virtual worlds. Anyone wanting to write about, say, the golden age of piracy, should seriously consider buying a specialist rule set for that genre as a starting point ².

Virtual worlds can therefore benefit from tabletop RPGs in four important areas:

• The basic rules of the game.

• The rules for creating an imaginary world.

• Rule sets for particular genres.

• Modules for actual game experiences.

It is no coincidence that this reflects well the driver/mudlib/ world model/instantiation breakdown of virtual world codebase architecture; the two systems really do have a lot in common. They even have branches at some of the same points: Steve Jackson’s GURPS ³ system, for example, is LPMUD-like in that it provides common gaming and creation rules for different environments (feudal Japan, swashbucklers, time travel, you name it), whereas Kevin Siembieda’s Rifts ⁴ system is more MUSH-like in that it ties multiple sub-worlds into a single coherent whole.

Virtual worlds borrow from RPGs at all levels. MUD1’s level system came from D&D, as a neat way to give players intermediate goals. The DikuMUD codebase draws heavily on first edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (AD&D) and Bioware’s reincarnated NeverWinter Nights implements the 3 rd edition AD&D rules very faithfully indeed. There are textual worlds set in environments designed for role-playing games, such as Mark Rein Hagen’s Vampire: The Masquerade ⁵. There are even virtual worlds based on specific game modules, for example city campaigns for Ed Greenwood’s Forgotten Realms ⁶.

Although pencil-and-paper role-playing games can be used as a means to “dry run” virtual worlds, it is a mistake to believe that everything in the one is always transferable to the other. The two may be similar, but they are not identical; where they differ, the differences are profound.

The human referees of role-playing games have an intelligence that the computer referees of virtual worlds do not. They can create new content immediately, and are responsive to the needs of their players. What they lack, however, is speed, memory, and bandwidth. A human-moderated world may be more vivid than a computer-moderated one (because its level of detail can be tailored to the moment), but it doesn’t work the same way as the real one and is thus ultimately less convincing ⁷.

What’s more, players of a human-moderated world can exert out-of-context influence over the referee and each other. If a squid picks up a sword and starts fighting with it, a player might say to a human referee, “Hey, squids can’t do that!” The referee can reply appropriately to the situation. For example: “If you check the manual, page 54…” (correcting a misconception); “this one can” (mild hint); “perhaps it only looks like a squid?” (stronger hint); “some swords can control their wielders, you know” (misdirection); “you’re right, its balance would be all wrong” (recognition of mistake); “you spot a thin wire attached to the sword” (taking the objection as an implicit command for the character to look closer).

If a squid picks up a sword in a computer-moderated world, well, the squid picks up the sword. The virtual world is as inviolate as the real one: Waving your fist at rain clouds while asking your deity of preference what you’ve done to deserve a soaking may make you feel better, but on the whole you’re not going to get an apology ⁸.

So what developments in human-moderated worlds don’t transfer to computer-moderated (that is, virtual) worlds?

• Anything subjective. Alignment does not travel well, because a computer can’t quantify the concepts involved. Can a “good” character attack a player who boasts of being a thief? What if they’ve seen the character steal something? What if the theft was of an object that had itself been stolen from the thief? What if the thief originally bought the object from a fence, who got it from another thief? Human beings can make value judgments, but computers are hopeless at it.

• Anything individualistic. Most modern role-playing games are classless and skills-based. They let players decide the directions in which to advance their characters. Most virtual worlds have classes, races, and guilds to coerce players to band together. This helps players who don’t know each other in real life to bond; it also serves as a means to introduce goals into player activities. It promotes role-playing ⁹.

• Not everything theoretical. Although the general principles of world design and role-playing have been analyzed over the years, and a good deal of what has been discovered is indeed applicable to virtual worlds, not all of it is. The danger here is that the studious virtual world designer will miss the boundary and go too far (for example, in creating believable non-player characters) or emphasize the wrong thing (for example, plotting over atmosphere).

• Anything meta-interactive. Players can interact with a virtual world ¹⁰, but they can’t do so beyond its context. Builders can breach the context, but they can only act on the virtual world, they can’t enter any kind of dialogue with it. Players of diceless role-playing games like Erick Wujcik’s Amber ¹¹, on the other hand, interact with the referee (that is, the world) the entire time.

So long as these distinctions are not important to the rule system, a transfer is possible. Gary Gygax’s RPG Lejendary Adventure is now being developed as a virtual world ¹². It is possible.

Transfers (and non-transfers) of expertise in the opposite direction, while perhaps important for the designers of role-playing games, are of little consequence for the designers of virtual worlds; they are therefore not considered here, except to note that there is a significant overlap between the “hard core” virtual world players, the players of single-player role-playing games such as Bioware’s Baldur’s Gate, and the players of pencil-and-paper role-playing games ¹³.

It should be mentioned that there is a third option for role-playing that calls on neither computers nor human beings to moderate the world. This is live-action role-playing (LARP), where people use the real world to model a fantasy world ¹⁴. In Dungeons & Dragons, you roll dice to see if your arrow hits an enemy; in Dark Age of Camelot, the computer calculates the odds; in a LARP, the flight of the (safety-tipped) arrow through the air is the only measure of success. Things the game wants to have that the real world doesn’t are represented by symbols. For example, casting magic spells might be represented by throwing flour or birdseed at the target, or by passing a small token.

The influence of LARP on the design of virtual worlds has not been great, mainly because of the relatively small numbers of people involved. This is a shame, as there are many different LARP systems of potential interest to virtual world designers, offering practical illustrations that ground the mere speculation of, say, Dream Park. Virtual world designers are, on the whole, aware of LARP, but not appraised of it. They’re consequently more likely to talk to actors rather than LARPers when they have their next brilliant idea to pay people to spend eight hours a day in character while role-playing personalities in their worlds. This is another shame.

Why isn’t LARP more popular? Practical matters of organization aside, the main problem is that content in LARP is thinner and more expensive than in tabletop role-playing games or virtual worlds. If the referee of a tabletop game creates a village near a mine, it doesn’t matter if the adventurers never visit it—the content can be used elsewhere, the next time a generic village is needed. For a virtual world, it matters only slightly less; players may not visit the village very often or for the reasons the designer intended, but they will nevertheless visit it in time. In a LARP, if the adventurers don’t make an appearance it means several people have been sitting around in villager costume for an entire afternoon to no avail; for this reason, LARPs’ gameplay is often more collect-the-plot-piece oriented than their cousins’, with most of the fun coming from the deep role-playing involved rather than the adventuring. While role-playing to this degree is great fun for many people ¹⁵, it can be very hard to get into, particularly if you’re shy or retiring (that is, actually likely to be good at role-playing).

One thing that these real world- and human-moderated worlds do show is that the role-playing experience can transcend any preconceptions of something being “only” a game. Role-playing is routinely used for non-game purposes, and appeals to people who would not (nor would they wish to) consider themselves as gamers. It’s even used as a game by people who don’t see themselves as gamers—How to Host a Murder is basically a mini-LARP. Many of the people who visit EverQuest, Ultima Online, and Star Wars Galaxies do not believe themselves to be gamers at all (which is only fair, given that they aren’t).