I was a medieval Celtic fisherman
Last Wednesday, I was a guest at the students’ pub, which is not entirely uncommon. Especially not in February, when the introductory course to software engineering runs, and we offer our famous free tutoring in the pub. Usually, those pubs are quite fun, and especially the last one, which by coincidence, merely, times well with the handing in of the take-home exam and the deadline for the course project. Anyway, I was approached by a student in mine who wanted to talk about role-playing and ended up being game mastered in the bar for about ten minutes. He was very happy to talk to someone without having to be ashamed for being a role-player. As he is a few years older than me, I suspect he did suffer even more in the years when deranged parents and other “moralists” put an equivalence sign between role-playing and satanism.
We quickly realised that there was a huge difference in what we were doing — freeform vs. good-old role-playing — and before I knew it, I found myself (which I seldom do, as the constant gamemaster) in the player position! I was a Celtic fisherman in a village oppressed by romans. Marvellous.
I have seldom seen such meta-gaming. We were really playing a struggle of our different views on role-playing using this shared fantasy as the fighting ground. Or so I saw it, even through the haze of a few beers. I quickly cast myself into the role as the scared fisherman — the non-hero. I don’t think the gamemaster was entirely happy with that, and very soon I found myself in a situation. Walking through the forest outside my village, my elder fisherman colleague was beaten up by romans. I was outnumbered, I was a fisherman. They just wanted to show that they were the bosses (or that was my analysis). Thus, we took the beating and did not fight back. Going back to the village afterwards, I hid myself the only place where I could find some comfort — fixing my nets and being alone.
In hindsight, I was really playing that character that everyone hates when you’re 15. The non-hero that refuses to play along with the implicit epic story. While I wasn’t trying to piss anyone off, I insisted of playing things the way natural to me, even though I must admit that a historic setting is pretty alien to the Jeepforming old fart that I’ve become.
But I wasn’t allowed to lick my wounds for long. Divine inspiration (by way of rather mild GM fiat! [@Olle: en släng av sleven, va]) gave me the idea of using the nets as weapons against my oppressors. Wow. But instead of doing the heroic thing, I felt that I should take this idea to the village elders. Not do anything stupid by myself. I was, after all, a fisherman…
After this, everything is too hazy to remember. We never got into any fighting (in-game or outside), which I am thankful for. Not entirely sober, I remember thinking to myself how interesting it was to play a game like this. The gamemaster, who I thought was quite good although the game was not my cup of tea, was trying to show his style of playing and what he liked. I, on the other hand, was doing the best I could with the set of cards I had been dealt. A battle of two playing styles. A metaphorical game. In that sense, very Jeepform. Again: Very Jeepform.
Later, we could bond over both of us knowing way too much about Ireland and Irish folk music, and what not. A good bit of fun. Then, Thorbiörn and Johan came along and forced us to sing Swedish drinking songs and drink flaggpunsch (arrack-flavoured liqueur).
Anyway, I now have a standing invitation to a game with the department’s role-playing group. Which I will of course accept. I’ll just have to find a way to not fuck it up. Or turn it into another meta-game.
As a side-note, I printed 20 copies of the game I’m running at Fastaval. The printer pulled some dubious shit on the colours, turning everything effectively pink. I’m going to keep it. Link and downloadable PDF is forthcoming when the game premiers this Easte. We’re releasing it in Swedish, Danish and English at the same time. Here is the teaser:
A serious story about love. About how one glance can stop time. About daring to love and daring to move on.
Doubt is two stories about each other. A life and a play. Tom and Julia love each other. Both on stage, and off stage.
It is about temptation, the importance to love and be loved. About constant choosing. About living with one person, and at the same time dreaming about others.
In Doubt, the players are responsible for the story. Decide the fate of Tom and Julia. Play the play to its final act. Two players play Tom and two play Julia. And extras. And lovers.
A beautiful scenario about love.
March 7th, 2007 at 2:44 pm
Looking forward to the download!
March 7th, 2007 at 2:46 pm
Oh, btw… If I was that GM, with that background, I would probably have read your behavior as passive-aggressive, trying to make a point. But what I’m curious about is: What do you want from the GM? What functions should he/she fulfill?
March 7th, 2007 at 3:45 pm
“If I was that GM, with that background, I would probably have read your behavior as passive-aggressive, trying to make a point”
Definitely. That’s exactly what I mean with the “not fuck it up” comment. But we had talked about it just before, and that’s what launched the impromptu session.
What I want from the GM? That’s a different topic. In this case, it had little to do with the GM and all to do with the game (classic, GM talking about my character, “you see how they are beating up your master…”, “you remember seing something, blah blah…”). Did I not say I liked the GM in my post? I did. I do.
About the GM, then. Jonas Karlsson writes in his blog about what I once said about GMs, and I quote from there because I cannot find the text elsewhere:
“But there’s one very interesting role that Tobias Wrigstad (Jeep member) attributes the gamemaster: the role of the informed audience. This has to be the best description I’ve seen of what the ideal freeform gamemaster is doing. He sets up the scene, lets the players loose and then steer them by nodding or thumbs up when necessary. Most of the time, when everything is going smoothly he’ll only watch in silence, but even then, by actually being silent, he’s reassuring the players that they’re doing the right things! This is so beautiful.”
See any resemblance to your GM-role in your 15-minute larp? (I do!)
Also, I think that the GM should almost always be in character, even if it is the character of oneself. More about that later – my desktop picture tells me to “get back to work” (Thank you, Dave!)
The entire post can be read here: http://jonas.dagar.se/showonly.php?entry=65 (quote is at the bottom of the post, just before the comments).
March 7th, 2007 at 4:53 pm
I know this is probably not what you meant, but I found it a fun image nonetheless: If the GM in your anecdote behaved like an informed audience, he would basically set up the situation… and then, more or less, watch you play all by yourself
(My point is, obviously, that the dynamics are different with more than one player).
March 8th, 2007 at 1:16 pm
Oddly enough, I find myself very much agreeing with Tobias’ old description of the GM, being more the freeform than jeepform -guy. I don’t really do a lot when gamemastering; just set the situtation and “feeling” (if we’re in a 70’s discoteque, I’ll have to make it feel like a 70’s discoteque), have probably prepared the characters, and then sit back and support players playing their characters, when needed.
March 8th, 2007 at 2:02 pm
Ja ja… men vad händer med 100 Höjdare?
March 8th, 2007 at 2:04 pm
En valid fråga! Inströmmen med bidrag är inte ens en smal å. Jag hoppas på att kunna lägga upp några arr inom de närmsta veckorna! Det är INTE vapor ware.
–Tobias
March 15th, 2007 at 6:02 pm
Sweet!