Apparently, there was a recent episode of Quinns Quest where he asserted that gamers were not very good at storytelling. This set off a round of discourse about storytelling in RPGs. This was my contribution:

“I don’t think rpg people are bad at stories. I think they’re bad at vulnerability and authenticity. I think they’re bad at reacting sincerely to emotionally charged material and fall back on defense mechanisms whether that’s the mechanics of the game, acting with irony or using a trope.”

However, my deeper thoughts are more complex than will fit in the character count of social media.

Whenever people bring up “story” they immediately jump to story craft, storytelling, performance and improv and point out that those are sophisticated skills. To compensate for the lack of those skills, all kinds of solutions have been proposed. One method is to consolidate story craft in the GM role and expect only performance out of the players. Another is to build story craft into the design of the game itself either with imposed structure, simplified prompts or rewards for doing the right story thing.

My problem is that I don’t think those skills are actually relevant to the art of role-playing, even when your investment in the activity is story focused. My primary source of joy in this hobby is rooted in character development and story. So why on earth would I say storytelling and performance are irrelevant to the activity?

Those skills are about entertaining an audience, which is just a jump to the left of making a salable product. Some people point to the popularity of performance centric shows like Critical Role for raising the perceived standards for RPG play. However, Critical Role is just a new (and admittedly much more visible) form of a phenomenon that’s always been there.

We (especially Americans) have been enculturated that everything we do must be productive. There is a little shame demon that has been implanted in us that starts eating away at us everytime we do anything that might be seen as unproductive. In RPGs this manifests when we measure the success of our play with the standards of commercial media. The Critical Role phenomenon in the 80s manifested as people bragging that all they had to do was transcribe their games and it would make an amazing novel series. Or with just a little editing and some sound effects layered in it would be a fantastic radio drama. 

We have always tried to measure the success of our RPG play by how it would fare as a consumer product. And that has always been the wrong thing to do. We’re just feeding the productivity shame demon.

But Jesse, aren’t the other players at the table our audience? Aren’t we playing to entertain each other? Absolutely not. Not in the sense that we’re taking turns performing for one another’s delight. Or doing “bits”. Or looking for the perfect moment to land that button moment. We’re not even making the most dramatic choices or the best story choices (whatever that even means). All of those kinds of calculated narrative moves actually wreck the most interesting story properties of the art of role-playing. They substitute the intimacy of vulnerability and authenticity with the commercially acceptable. It’s performing tvtropes.com for each other (yes, even when it’s about subverting them or mashing them up).

So if this isn’t a bit of improv theater sitting down with dice, what is it? I like music analogies.  I think music analogies for RPGs are stronger than dramatic ones. The leap from story to story craft and performance is the same leap from music to concerts and studio albums. Instead the appropriate leap is from music to drum circles.

Have you ever participated in a drum circle? If not, I recommend it. I wish I had more opportunities to do so. It’s very clear that no one is playing for anyone else, not even each other. You are simultaneously doing something that is both wholly your own but also entirely constrained by the vibe of the group around you. While there are elements of leadership (that shift around naturally and informally), if anyone does break out into a kind of performative drum solo, it’s pretty quick to recognize they are doing it wrong. A totally discordant drummer is more welcome than that asshole. And nearly any one can do this. It requires very little skill. There are even perfectly functional ways to participate without even drumming (such as dancing or just sitting and vibing, which is not the same as spectating).

Now, if you happen to be walking and come across a drum circle, you might stop and listen for a minute but shortly you have to do one of two things: walk on or join in. There is little spectator entertainment value in a drum circle. Its value exists wholly in the moment as the activity itself. It did not exist in any meaningful form before it happened and it does not exist in any meaningful form after it happened. Any lasting effects exist only in the hearts and minds of the participants.

Would there be any value in recording a drum circle? Actually, I say yes. In fact, if you were really into drum circles I could imagine going around recording many of them. It would not surprise me if there was already some niche youtube channel full of them. The value isn’t as consumable entertainment but human interest. People record and share all kinds of candid material from parties to chance encounters. The authentic material is always discernible from the staged performative stuff even when it’s made to look candid.

This is why I’m actually strongly in favor of recording and sharing rpg play. That might seem hypocritical since I just went on at length about how treating rpgs as a form of improv theater is counterproductive. So to be clear, I’m in favor of recording and sharing regular old play among friends. The kind of recording that works as human interest and not the over produced, skillfully performed, packaged entertainment.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. What does the story form of a drum circle look like? If we’re casting aside intentional story craft and performance what’s left? Ironically, human interest. We are ethical, emotional and moral beings. If the content of play (no matter how fantastical) is grabby emotionally, ethically and morally and it demands authentic response, is open to authentic response, and receives authentic response then the moment-to-moment activity of play will be dramatically engaging, to the people actually playing. And maybe to no one else.

I don’t think that takes very much skill at all (although you can get better at it!). Sometimes when I tell people about RPGs they say something like, “I could never do that, I’m not very creative.” To which I respond, “I don’t need you to be creative, I need you to be sincere.” I don’t need your cleverness or your wit. I don’t need your storytelling or your performance skills. I don’t need your genre savviness. I need your humanity. Just sit down at the table and be with me in the moment. Don’t look at your backstory. Don’t look where the story is going. Just play with what’s happening here and now between us. We’ll find the rhythm of the drum circle. The story will resonate between us and it will be for us and us alone.