The Problem with Roleplay "Experience"

“I’ve been RPing for like seven or eight years, now, and I’ve been a staff once or twice—”

“Fifteen.”

“What?”

“I’ve been RPing for fifteen years. And I’ve been on admin on three sites, one of which was mine. Back in the day we had about two hundred members, people posted pretty much every day. Pretty great.”

…

Ever had this conversation with someone? If you haven’t, just wait, or don’t even wait, just mention how long you’ve been on RPing forums in passing. The life story tends to be around the corner moments later. I’m completely guilty of this too, as is pretty much everyone, because it’s true that, at the end of the day, everyone likes to talk about themselves, which isn’t going to be changing any time soon. The problem I want to talk about today isn’t really so much about ego as it is about standards and expectations.

A Functional Roleplaying Community

I suppose it’s a sign of how many topics I’ve covered on this blog that I’m writing tonight on a more ‘meta’ aspect of roleplaying. Specifically, I’m interested in talking about the idea of the roleplaying community itself and what may or may not be an effective model. A lot of my argument draws from my own experience, which I submit is far from all-encompassing, but I’ve seen communities do well, and I’ve seen them do poorly, and I don’t think it’s a matter of pure chance. Experientially driven as my argument is, I believe there is a strong line of logic to follow here, so let’s get down to business and defeat some Huns.

The idea of a “Functional Roleplaying Community” is an important consideration because roleplaying is really a social activity. It takes two to tango, and once you have two people, you can argue you have a community. The larger the community, the more opportunities you have, and being surrounded by a host of fantastic writers and brilliant creative minds does good things for your own writing. A strong roleplaying community should help foster new ideas, challenge your way of thought, and keep you on your toes. In contrast, though, a weak and dysfunctional roleplaying community will do the opposite. This might work best to walk through a simple “What—Why—How” structure.

God-Moding

Or is it god-modding? Not that it strictly matters, because you know what I’m talking about, but the lack of a unified term makes for good representation of the problem itself. For the sake of this post, I’ll try and be consistent and refer to it as “god-moding” simply because that’s what I’m used to, and it makes more sense to me, but you could make a reasonable argument for either. Like meta-gaming, this is a term that probably gets most of its popularity from the tabletop scene, but it’s spread to all other forms of roleplay. Our desire to play the deity part is because we are already human.

If this term really did gain traction through tabletop games, then the primary fear there would be simple fairness. If one character “god-modes” then it upsets the tentative, statistical balance, which is usually reserved for upending by a designated game-moderator or dungeon-master. Also like meta-gaming, the rules are simple here too: you control your character and no one else’s. To disrupt this balance is poor sportsmanship and damages the integrity of the game. We make rules against god-moding in roleplay for the same reason we make rules against going out of bounds in sports. In football, the quarterback has to throw the ball behind the line of scrimmage. In basketball, the player has to dribble the ball to move it. In soccer, the player can’t use their hands. In roleplay, the writer cannot play as God. This is fundamental.

It’s also complex, though. For this reason, this post is one of my longer ones, even though I’ve done my best to keep it concise and on point. Bear with me; there’s a lot to think about here.

Metagaming

A little while back I made a post regarding the “Roleplay Standards” that I hold and expect from other people. I’m really pleased with how the list turned out, but I want to use this post to expound on one of the items—something you’ll find in the rulebook of almost any RP site you’re visiting: Metagaming. The term is kind of clever sounding, but to break it down, you might define ‘meta’ as “a prefix added to the name of something that consciously references or comments upon its own subject or features.” In other words, Metagaming might be literally defined as the act of commentating on the functional properties of the “game” or “roleplay”. My understanding is the term originally gained a lot of use for tabletop games, but one way or another here it is, and it really is a helpful rule for a roleplay. The language I chose to use in my standards went something like this:

“The knowledge, emotions, and values of a writer are separate and different from that writer’s character. This distinction must never be compromised or confused.”

I stand behind that rhetoric pretty firmly, and I think it speaks for itself. For as seemingly obvious as it is, though, I think some people miss certain elements, and that’s what I want to talk about here.

Character Traits: Poor Judgment

Last time I discussed characters who possessed the notorious trait of being “Stubborn” and what that might look like. Stubbornness is an interesting trait because it’s very accessible and common among people, and many quickly apply it to their new characters, at least in name. But there are lots of character traits that are both accessible and common, and yet you tend to see characters who are ‘Stubborn’ far more often than you see a character whose author will willingly ascribe them to have ‘Poor Judgment’. I think there is a convincing reason why that is, though.

As I mentioned previously, stubbornness is very easily a flaw that is not a flaw. It gives the character, at face value, an appearance of humanity, but it is often not written convincingly at all. Most stubborn characters are chronically correct, and their stubbornness usually helps the plot or character more than it hinders it. I don’t bring this up simply for the sake of being repetitive, however; rather, I want to contrast it with a different trait, one that is much harder to escape from humiliation with. Characters who possess notably poor judgment are hard to come by, and yet people with notably poor judgment seem a dime a dozen. Feel like we’re missing something here?

Hypothetical Character Flaws

Here’s a concept for you: a hypothetically flawed character. This character, on the surface, is not a perfect person because of their flaws, but in practice it remains to be seen how truly flawed they actually are. I am talking, of course, of “practice” in the context of roleplay, here, but you could make a similar argument for fictional narratives as a whole.

In my head, this how I’m thinking about it. If a character’s ‘goodness’ is the sum of their good traits (Strengths) minus their bad traits (Flaws), you get a character who lands somewhere in the realm of “Good” (More Strengths than Flaws), “Neutral” (Strengths and Flaws roughly equal), or “Bad” (Flaws outweigh the Strengths). Some people might refer to “Bad” as “Evil” if you want to use the DnD scale, but you see where I’m going with this. So let me mess with that formula a little bit.

Theatrics Ruin Writing

A gust whistled through a broken window, the only sound in the abandoned flat besides the thrumming of the storm outside. Dragging his feet, defeated, a lone man limped across the floor, looking to his left and right frantically while wiping his bloody nose between haggard breaths. Punctuating the silence, a flash of lightning followed by an immediate peal of thunder shook the building, and the man yelped. He tried to spin on one foot, but his ruined leg was claimed his balance, and he collapsed in a tumble, biting off a curse in the process.

As if from nowhere, a figure emerged in front him, stepping out of the shadows, and then he really screamed. Whatever noise came out of his mouth, though, was swallowed by another peal of thunder, and the cracked window howled all the louder. A cloaked figure seemed to tower in front of him and, despite the obscured face, he recognized him.

“Y-you! You’re the guy who killed my brother. P-please, we didn’t mean—” His fumbling voice broke off into a low whine, though, as the figure raised handgun, brandishing death itself as it pulled its hood back.

“Tell him I said hello, yeah?” the voice responded, and he blinked in-spite of his own terror. It was a woman? His mouth tried to form confused words, but a gunshot chorused with the thundering storm outside, and the night grew darker.

…

…Not doing it for you? Yeah. Let’s talk about it.