Schismogenesis in TTRPGs

My wife and I have a game we play occasionally when we are people watching in the colder months. The idea is that couples and families will often have matching jackets. We call them Jouples. This sort of reflects that people who end up together often have complementary aesthetic tastes, or that their aesthetics grow together. It also probably reflects the fact that one member of the couple might be buying jackets for the other. So you can guess if a group of people are a family, or a more incidental group of individuals, like coworkers or something. You can also use it to guess how long a couple has been together, and it's fun to joke "oh those two will never work out," because their jackets don't match. There is, however, an exception to Jouple Theory. A child of a jouple will sometimes have a jacket with aethetics completely at odds with that of their parents. The idea of teenage rebellion is of course common to all of us. There is a big, fancy word that I've recently learned for this phenomenon, and it's the theme of this post: Schismogenesis. 

Schismogenesis is a word used by David Graeber and David Wengrow in their book The Dawn of Everything, which they use to describe intentional culture creation by a society which is a direct rejection of their neighbors. The word's roots 'schism-o-genesis' mean generation through schism. The first example of this in the book is that of indigenous tribes in what is now the Pacific Northwest coast of Canada, like the Kwakiutl, who had decadent lifestyles and held slaves, and their neighbors in what is now California, like the Yurok, who were expected to be modest and focused more on individual work ethic. It is also used to describe the differences between the ancient Athenians and Spartans, with their sharply contrasting democratic and militaristic societies. 

So like the teenager who creates their fashion by rejecting their parents' fashion, or societies who create their own culture through rejection of their neighbor's culture, TTRPGs can also be created by rejection of other TTRPGs. In an AMA on the NSR Discord, Vincent Baker said:

"I think that there's a common misunderstanding of game design at large — the biological metaphor, the idea that a game has ancestors — that hits PbtA especially hard. The fact is, new games contradict the games that came before, at least as often as they build on them. PbtA should best be seen as a movement of contradictions."

So in other words, game designers in Baker's Storygamer cohort were influenced by traditional mainstream games like D&D and Vampire, but not in that they wanted to copy those games, but that they rejected them and the things that those games did. They disliked the idea that the game master had total control of the narrative, saying that complex mechanics meant that a game master had to plan encounters ahead of time because they needed to have opponents and scenarios statted out. Their design of contradiction meant that narrative control was partly taken away from the game master and redistributed formally through mechanics to the players. It meant that opponents needed minimal stats, so that they could be generated on the fly to handle whatever situation the table found itself in. 

Later on in The Dawn of Everything, schismogenesis comes up again. In discussing one of the first cities, Uruk of Mesopotamia, the authors mention a theory of Hector Munroe Chadwick, Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Cambridge in the 1920's (apparently a contemporary of J.R.R Tolkien who was at Oxford). Chadwick popularized an idea that fell out and then regained popularity of what he called heroic societies. These societies were characterized by "heroic burials, indicating in turn an emerging cultural emphasis on feasting, drinking, the beauty and fame of the individual male warrior." These societies emerge again and again throughout history on the margins of bureaucratically ordered cities like Uruk. What often happens is that a city rises to prominence, and establishes satellite settlements to help manage the flow of resources to the city, and that those settlements realize that rather than acting in service to the larger city, sending the majority of resources down the road, they can keep that wealth to themselves through the power of individual charisma and martial skill. 

My next analogy here is that the OSR emerged from mainstream D&D similarly by creating a 'heroic society' of their own. Groups of players existed on the margins of D&D culture, getting left behind as more and more complex editions written through bureaucratic process came down the pipeline. These tables eventually realized that their cultural cache could be used to carve out their own spaces, rather than bending the knee to 'Big D&D,' relying on individual writing skill and artistic talent to break away and forge their own path. 

There are of course many other indie games that have come about over the years through their own processes, some similar to the ones discussed above, and some totally different. I just mention these reductive analogies for their simplicity. 

Thinking in broad terms of these two artistic movements, its easy to imagine a dialectic of sorts, where there are two competing styles of indie games, and the logical way forward is through a synthesis of Storygames and the OSR. But through the schismogenetic lens, the opposite can also be the case. As much as artistic styles will go back to look at older games as biological ancestors, they will also reject their parents, and find cool new jackets of their own.

Why We Suck at Critiquing the Forge

It's pretty common to hear someone in the TTRPG space say that they hate discourse. I think its fair to say that this online discourse is shaped by social media algorithms of the platforms that the conversations are happening on. As the people who participated in the hobby moved between forums, blogs, Google+, YouTube and Twitter, the way that people interacted also changed. Modern social media algorithms maximize engagement by promoting the most divisive arguments, and under the forces of this machine, a certain conflict crystallized. This conflict was built on the unresolved tensions already existing in the discourse, but it distilled them into the argument that provokes the strongest reaction possible. This argument more or less makes the claim that game mechanics are analagous to real life systems of oppression, and that it is virtuous to get rid of them. We then go on to say that the idea that System Matters, and its originator Ron Edwards are the face of game designers everywhere who would impose their mechanics on you.

Regardless of how much I agree with the virtues of throwing off mechanical shackles, this critique doesn't seem to be familiar with the ideas of the Forge, so it feels like an unsatisfying critique to me. The problem is that advocating for rules light, lore heavy games is a preference in design, so it is still effectively a statement of system matters in the Forge sense. This creates a pretty deep cognitive divide and is a big part of the "discourse" we have all grown so tired of, with people shouting back and forth, not at each other but at boogeymen. Despite all this I don't think that discourse itself is bad, and I even still think that critique is the most interesting way to explore and understand the world.

-

I got into the hobby the same way a lot of millenials like myself did, I played as a kid and then after a long hiatus, got back into it with the release of 5th Edition D&D. As I scratched the surface of the hobby, I discovered the two most interesting sub-cultures within the hobby, OSR and Storygames. The OSR was mostly blogs, and Storygames was mostly discussions on a handful of online forums. I dived into both and in the process I read some of Ron Edwards' posts about his Big Model and its three styles of games: narrative, game, and simulation. As an aside, these three categories are not his and date further back into forums in the 90s. I thought his writing was thought provoking, but at times infuriating in his condescention towards what he called incoherent games. Incoherent games did not have a clear idea of whether they were narrativist, gamist or simulationist, and suffered some sort of debilitating, internal conflict.

Modern day Forge adherents do exist, and they do still apply these principles of mechanical purity in the service of a taxonomical view of game design. In this view a game is an animal, and it should be a mammal, reptile, or fish. It should not be more than one type.

Why can't a game be an ecosystem, or group, or symbiotic relationship? What if instead of basing our conception of a game as an atomized creature, we think of it as an assemblage of interacting actors that feed off of each other? Maybe a TTRPG is like five goblins in a trenchcoat.

The clownfish can swim among the anemone's tentacles, immune to its sting. In exchange for this protection, it cleans and protects the anemone in turn. This mutualistic relationship goes beyond the pair, an array of crustaceans and algae can be a part of the anemone's symbiotes. A good example of symbiosis in games might be the core gameplay loop of D&D that cycles between dungeon to downtime. Dungeon exploration would fit into a competitive, gamist style of play, it features combat, problem solving, and stategic resource management. Downtime fits into a simulationist or narrativist mold, as it has to do with economics and making social connections. In the Forge purists eyes, this is a dysfunctional or incoherent game. But the truth is that these two parts work together perfectly well and even complement each other, despite their differences. A group of players who have a lot in common may still have people who are inclined to one or the other style of play, while still having fun playing together. These two parts can also have clear exchanges of gameplay currencies, benefitting each other. Just as a table contains a group of people, a game can contain a group of interacting, modular systems.

-

In The Dawn of Everything, Graber and Wengrow write about the myth of the descent of humanity from primordial times. This myth says that we started as bands of foragers, then as we progressed to sedentary farming and then to industrial society, we became increasingly more organized and hierarchized. A progression of societal development follows where each form dominates and forces out the previous one. But the truth is that through prehistory back to the ice age, and up until modern times there have been societies that alternate between wandering nomadism and sedentary farm life with the changing seasons. Their social structure might annually cycle from fiercly hierarchical to egalitarian openness. If an entire society can choose to regularly change their fundamental mode of interaction, why can't a TTRPG table?

What We Talk About When We Talk About D&D

Juno and Jupiter would have Minerva over to play 2nd edition AD&D in the basement of their parents' house. They played all through high school. Jupiter was the DM, who hacked the system for "realism" and homebrewed his own fantasy kingdom. Juno played a Cleric and was mostly interested in growing her religion in the city. Minerva played a Fighter and was the driving force for adventure. She would drag Juno into dungeons and relish in the strategic use of space and violence. Juno would mostly hang back and play support, but she would step in during encounters that could be resolved by talking. Once, in a parley with one of the settings villians, she got concessions that would bring respite to many suffering folk of the realm. After returning to the city from a dungeon delve, Juno would use the party's considerable spoils to spread her religion. In the city, Minerva would mostly hang back until she discovered the fighting pits, but they never really held her interest. As Juno's following grew, they drew the attention of a rival cult who eventually sent assassins after them. In the campaign finale, the party raided the cult temple and defeated the arch-priest in a climactic battle. That was the summer that Juno and Jupiter left for college, going to opposite sides of the country. No one played D&D after the party split that year.

Many years later, they made plans to play again when they were all back in their hometown for the holidays. They would play at Minerva's place. She had never left town, and was now a welder and married with kids. Jupiter worked in sales and Juno worked in Silicon Valley. 5th edition D&D had been out for a while and Jupiter had been listening to actual plays, and had been crafting a new setting set in the original kingdom of their high school days, but hundreds of years in the future. He could never sleep in the hotel beds he stayed in while visiting customers across the Midwest region, and often stayed up late feverishly writing the new campaign. Unfortunately that year COVID-19 hit and they called the game off to avoid flying. Soon after that, Jupiter was promoted and relocated to the company HQ in England. The three had a group chat for years, filling it with Critical Role memes, but Jupiter eventually dropped off the map getting absorbed into his new career. Juno and Minerva stayed friends and sometimes visit on the holidays. They like to talk about the latest Soulsbourne game.

OCs against Consumer Culture

I have a stack of books and zines on my bedstand, things I am currently reading by cycling through or intending to get around to soon. I've always been like this, a bit ADD and curious about more than I have the ability to actually sit down and read. In the last 12 years that I have been rediscovering TTRPGs and getting into the indie scene, TTRPG products have taken up more and more of this stack. It seems like there is an endless stream of must-have instant classics being released at all times. A recent Polygon article states that tabletop board game crowdfunding is loosing steam. The same does not seem to be true for the tabletop role-playing game world. The new Ultraviolet Grasslands boxed set seems deluxe as can be with custom dice, and Tomkin Press's latest provides options for four books and two decks of cards. If TTRPG crowdfunding is flagging, there is still enough momentum to propel our little cottage industry well into the future. 

Blorthax the Lizard Wizard

I try to keep up with what I can, helplessly compelled to buy all these exciting new products. I probably finish one or more adventures or other TTRPG books a month, and this content inevitably shows up in my games in some form or another. I have three different groups I play with that are all curious to try different games and ideas, although a lot of people are also attached to the longer committed campaigns. I think the appeal of these longer campaigns is that players get the time to build an emotional connection, or at least resonance with their fictional characters. This is what Levi Kornelson calls Kenosis in his Manyfold Model. Characters pass into the realm of familiar, and players become comfortable inhabiting characters and interacting with one other, fleshing out their own unique rapport and shared history. This kind of play might be supported within an active zine-buying hobby, where the GM focuses on only adventure modules, rejecting products that would present too drastic of a shift from the game in terms of system or setting. I know many tables actually do this successfully, but for me and for some that I know, the depth and breadth of cool stuff being made destroys any chance to only bring zines to the table that won't break the tone of the game. It seems that overall, too healthy of an interest in the indie TTRPG scene means it's impossible to have a long, epic campaign with a familiar cast of well-worn heroes. 

Or does it.

The OC or "Original Character" is described by the Retired Adventurer blog as: 

"OC basically agrees [...] that the goal of the game is to tell a story, but it deprioritises the authority of the DM as the creator of that story and elevates the players' roles as contributors and creators. The DM becomes a curator and facilitator who primarily works with material derived from other sources - publishers and players, in practice. OC culture has a different sense of what a "story" is, one that focuses on player aspirations and interests and their realisation as the best way to produce "fun" for the players."

 The OC having their own backstory is not central to the point I am trying to make here. The important part is that the OC is the player's creation that transcends the game. An OC can appear in any system, in any setting, in any time period. Blorthax the Lizard Wizard knows no boundaries, surfing from table to table unfettered, slaying goblins in Mork Borg one day, and blasting aliens in a Starfinder game the next. OCs take on a sort of quantum nature, where alternate reality instantiations of them could multiply endlessly across groups of players.

Although OCs are thought of as a modern phenomenon, I think there are traces of similar characters that go back to the early days of the hobby. People brought characters from Gary Gygax's house to Dave Arnesen's to play in their respective dungeons, and since high lethality games call for regarding characters as replaceable pawns, created the same or similarly named characters over and over. 

The point for me in bringing this up, is that here we have two contradicting strains of play that seem to develop together because of their difference, and perhaps even depend on each other in a weird way. Not all differing styles of play are mutually exclusive. Some are even symbiotic.

Sandboxing Volturnus 2: The Octopods

Preamble 

In continuing my project to rewrite the classic Star Frontiers adventure as a sandbox, I am now moving on to one of the planets many sentient species. In the original series, there are two main entries for each species, one to introduce them, and another for a quest to win their support in a climactic finale. 

The first species encountered are a desert dwelling, dinosaur riding species of octopii that have an Avatar-like 9th tentacle that can be used to mind meld with other living creatures, including their dino-mounts. In the linear adventure narrative, these octopods rescue the party soon after their starship crashes, and together they set out on a journey to their holy city, where the players can partake in a religious ceremony doing battle with an ancient genetically engineered beast to gain favor with the tribe. Fighting the beast is part of the agreement for receiving help, so this is a section of the railroad that I am trying to unwind and turn into a sandbox. On the way back to the holy city, the party becomes separated from their guides while traversing a dangerous underground cave system/dungeon due to a cave in, and must forge on through the railroad alone. 

In their second entry in the adventure series, the party needs to once again gain favor with the tribe, this time to convince them to join an epic battle for the fate of the planet. In the second appearance, the players must once again win the favor of the tribe, this time by finding another one of these genetically engineered beasts to capture it and return it to the tribe. The two octopod quests are so similar that they are a bit boring, but I can try to imagine a greater cosmology surrounding these beasts. 

Octopods Culture

Octopods worship an essence that permeates all things in this world. Objects and individuals are merely differentiated expressions of the underlying essence. When a living thing is born, they emerge from the great world essence, and when they die, they return to it once again. Their worldview is tightly bound to their ability to use a specialized ninth tentacle which allows them to connect to nearly any living creatures nervous system via spinal cord and communicate with it telepathically. Because of this bond, they feel a great sense of responsibility to the living creatures of their world. Among the creatures they commune with, they have a very close relationship with their dinosaur like mounts called striders. Striders often play roles in their many religious ceremonies and athletic competitions. 

There are however, many genetically engineered creatures left behind by a great and malignant race of worms who reject communication with the octopods, and are thus seen as outside the great world essence. The worms set these creatures loose on their planet long ago in an attempt to conquer it, though they were driven away in a great and fabled battle. In remembrance of this history, the octopods have also taken it upon themselves to hunt these genetically engineered creatures. In particular are the manglers, a quadrupedal death machine that can shoot poisonous barbs from their tails. Many octopod ceremonies center around the capture and ritual combat with manglers. In order to gain favor with an octopod tribe, outsiders may have to participate in one of these mangler related ceremonies to prove their worthiness. Despite being wary of outsiders, they extend mutual aid such as water and shelter from extreme desert weather to all living creatures that can commune with them via ninth tentacle link. This includes almost all living creatures in space except those genetically engineered by the worms. 

Breakdown at Geyser Station

 

For this months post I am making a dungeon based on a photo I took at the Dali Museum in Paris on a recent trip to Europe. It was a great trip, I thought the cities were beautiful and spending so much time in ancient pedestrian based cities really made me realize how I always imagine my big fantasy cities as having wide roads, presumably for wagon traffic or something. 

The Dali Museum contained many of his sculptures in addition to art pieces like this one. The piece this dungeon is taken from is called Space Elephant. It contains interior room drawings inside of one of his iconic elephants with long spindly legs carrying an obelisk on its back. Dali loved elephants, often making them chimerical, for example by giving them pig tails or bats wings for ears, so I will add a chimera. He also loved Alice in Wonderland, and did an illustrated series of scenes from the book, sort of in the ink style of Space Elephant, so I will lean into that too. I also think it would be cool to try and go for a Quantum Alice angle, and do something in the style of Derelict Transdimensional Anomaly by Kirt A. Dankmyre/Xiombarg, from the recent 2024 One Page Derelict game jam.

This mechanical rambling pachyderm is captained by a salty old man and is the only way to reach your destination. However, the creature is broken down and unable to leave Geyser Station. If you want to get on the road, they might need a bit of help. 

1. Station Crewed by a Baboon who operates the pulleys and levers to dock with travelling pachyderms. He hates his job, but receives a reward of nuts, berries and cigarettes which keep him from running away.
2. Stairwell A retractable tower with a stairway that allows entry and exit from the traveling pachyderm. Electric eels in an aquarium sculpture in the ceiling provide illumination in the tower. The stairwell has exits to rooms 3 and 4 on the first landing and to 5 and 7 on the second landing. 
3. Foyer Changes every time you visit.
• 1 A bundled traveler in a waiting room at a long distance train station which connects to a cold and distant country.
• 2 Two angry opossums nested away with some rotten food in an upended cabinet in a Victorian waiting room.
• 3 Three ghosts floating in alcoves of a small crypt. They visited their living families and are now heading back to the gates of the underworld.
• 4 Four acrobats in a changing room, waiting to be called out to begin a performance for a powerful lord. The performance is themed around a fable of forbidden love.
• 5 Five golems with bodies full of drawers sit in a room with walls also full of drawers. They say that every drawer contains a secret.
• 6 Six witches and fey creatures sitting in a waiting room with bronze trim and large potted plants. They are travelling to a great effigy burning.
4. Gallery Steam elementals are forbidden from entry. Artwork of elephants with long spindly legs carrying obelisks on their backs taking part in a great war. In the center of the room are two mirror orbs that show the true intentions of anyone reflected in them. 
5. Captains Bedchamber Captain Kudzu was once a pachyderm cavalry general for a great and powerful wizard named Aleph. When Aleph was killed by adventurers, Kudzu was reduced to making a living in commercial transportation. 
6. Cockpit Here are the main control panels, observation deck, trunk docking controls and many gauges showing temperature and pressure.    
7. Engine Room Boilers powered by steam elementals. This area also serves as a kitchen for Aleph and any guests on the traveling pachyderm. The steam elementals were subdued by the wizard Aleph. When Aleph was killed long ago, Kudzu did not tell them. Steam imps from a nearby geyser have revealed Kudzu's lie to the steam elementals and they are now in open rebellion. 
8. Obelisk A chimera lives here. It is Kudzu's loyal familiar and will act in his best interest. They have been together since the war and it will do his bidding, running errands and communicating messages. A maintenance hatch in the Obelisk leads to the aquarium full of electric eels which illuminates the stairwell below. Roll d66 for animal type and body part until a complete creature emerges.
• Animal
• 1 Bat
• 2 Ox
• 3 Dragon
• 4 Lobster
• 5 Ant
• 6 Human
• Body Part
• 1 Torso
• 2 Legs
• 3 Head
• 4 Tail
• 5 Arm
• 6 Eyes/Ears/Nose/Mouth

Aggregate Arcs

Author Kurt Vonnegut talked about what he called the shapes of stories. One of the basic plots he described, Man in Hole, starts at a high point with the protagonist doing well, then they are brought low by falling into some trouble, and finally they get to another high point after resolving their troubles. Novels and TV shows that capture popular attention often follow such structures. Many shapes are studied and reproduced meticulously in today's blockbusters, like Joseph Campbells Hero's Journey, where the hero embarks on an adventure, encounters adversity, and then returns home changed. 

Many game masters will write stories ahead of time, and guide their adventuring party through a predetermined set of events. In this case, a campaign may have a well defined shape, where clear recognizable plot points occur to give a story different progressions of highs and lows. 

There is a way that stories develop in games if the GM refrains from writing a story before hand that I think of as an aggregate story arc. In a game that values player agency, the highs and lows come much more randomly and unpredictably. So you have little chapters and vignettes that tie together probably leading towards one or a handful of overarching quests or themes. They are more or less a series of collisions between players and the game world. Ultimately there is a story shape or arc, but it is an aggregation of many different things that happen over the course of months and years of playing to find out what happens next.

I had a moment in a recent game I run, where following a players curiosity and improvisation based on random tables felt very much like one little chunk of a larger aggregate campaign arc. The group was traveling by boat through a jungle when their boats were damaged by rocks. They spent the evening and night on a river bank doing repairs, and in the meantime one of the characters (the thief of course) decides to wander into the jungle looking for anything valuable. After a few rolls of the dice and some random generators, we found out that they do in fact find something. It was a giant ameoba with a glowing flower in it, strangely undigested inside the amoeba's body beside bits of decomposing debris. The players use a bag of salt that they happen to be carrying to easily overcome the amoeba and recover the flower, which they will be able to use to create a regeneration potion. They discussed some plans, which included trying to cultivate and grow more of this flower. The regeneration flower could be a footnote, or it could be the start of a new agricultural dynasty. 

This was one short chapter among many in our campaign, made up on the spot, but memorable and potentially game changing. It seems to me that these little chapters aggregate, being created through randomness and letting things happen spontaneously and organically. Events layer one after another to create a richly varied, moving story line that is much more satisfying than any prewritten plot arc.