How to Talk About Difficulty

Artist credit: Jeffrey Hummel

Gamers suck at talking about difficulty. It's one of those topics that somehow never produces a good conversation. It's mired in bizarre value judgements, dumb clichés, and inexplicable lapses in logic. I find it exhausting.

In this post, I'd like to offer three ideas that it would seem have never once occurred to any of you (at least going by the way people argue about difficulty online), but which I myself consider critical to my understanding of the topic. I routinely invoke all three of these ideas in conversations about game design and play pretty much every single day, and certainly quite frequently here on this blog.

These will not conclusively resolve the topic of difficulty in games. On the contrary, they may instead allow it to finally begin. I hope by arming you with these frameworks, I can finally have a conversation with you that won't make me want to smash my face against a wall.

[Apologies in advance to Patchwork Paladin, as my examples are skewed towards video games. But I tried to include other types of games now and then, too.]

How Do You Handle the "Inside" of a Hex? (George Lucas Special Edition)

[Context for this post: this is a re-write of an old post of mine I wrote back in 2021. I wasn't happy with my explanation, and it's filled with errors, but people link to it frequently anyway. Please update your links to this version, instead.]

I have noticed an unspoken disparity in the way people seem to use hexes in the context of a hexcrawl, and I think it deserves some attention. That is: do you bother with precision in the movement that takes place within a hex OR do you treat the space within them as fairly nebulous and concern yourself only with the movement between hexes?

This is a surprisingly complex topic.

Seven-Part Pact: Authority

Continuing my posts about The Seven-Part Pact (7PP) and some of its nifty mechanical design ideas, I want to discuss this game's approach to authority.

This is, of course, a pretty huge topic in RPGs. There've been tomes written on different models of authority you can build a game around. GM-as-god, GM-as-player, GM-as-umpire, rotating authority, location-based authority, etc. In classic Jay Dragon fashion, 7PP doesn't even have a GM, instead trusting everyone to share the responsibility of adjudicating the rules and simulation.

But the notable thing about 7PP specifically is that it's not just a simple "everything is adjudicated by consensus" kumbaya. So much of this game is about struggling for power. Against the world, against the other Wizards, against the other players, and against the system itself.

Seven-Part Pact: Consequences

Continuing my posts about The Seven-Part Pact (7PP) and some of its nifty mechanical design ideas, I want to discuss this game's approach to consequences.

Jay has often explained this design idea by articulating a distinction between "laws" and "rules," but I personally have some quibbles with the particular language and framing and blablabla. Well, this is my blog, so I get to explain it how I want to. But the underlying idea is what's important, not the terminology.

Seven-Part Pact: Combat

Continuing my posts about The Seven-Part Pact (7PP) and some of its nifty mechanical design ideas, I want to discuss the rules for combat.

I've already talked about this a bit in my posts on initiative methods, but I'll repeat that info here and expand on it further.

I also want to say up front that I'm not writing about the combat rules because I think they're especially prominent or essential or anything. Every Wizard codex includes its own mechanical subsystem for that player to learn. The Mariner gets the travel rules, the Hierophant gets the companion rules, the Sorcerer gets the rules for researching magic, etc. I played the Warlock, which meant I got the combat rules. So I'm writing about it because it's just the one I know really well. Trust me, every one of those other subsystems is at least as interesting as this one.

As before, I'll help you out by explaining the rules first, then discussing them afterwards.

Seven-Part Pact: Companions

Continuing my posts about The Seven-Part Pact (7PP) and some of its nifty mechanical design ideas, I want to discuss the rules for Companions.

It is well known that Wizards are lonely. But not for lack of trying. An important part of the game is maintaining a small social circle around your Wizard, up to four supporting characters called Companions. And I find this subsystem to be fascinating.

Seven-Part Pact: Time

We sometimes joke that blogging is a method of exorcism for the game design demons inside us. And right now, I'm possessed by the demon called Legion, for it is many. That's right, I speak once more of The Seven-Part Pact. I'm going to blog about this game until I've purged myself of Wizard Madness.

In particular, I think that most discussion of Seven-Part Pact (7PP), and the works of Jay Dragon more broadly, tend to focus mostly on themes. Which is all well and good, of course. There's certainly no shortage of things to say on that topic. That and the boundary-pushing formalist character of these works.

But let's not overlook the fact that Jay also has a remarkable talent for mechanical design. This is a theory slop blog. If you're reading this, you probably have a perverse love of systems. So I'm going to spotlight some of those parts of the game.

I won't cover everything of course, or even every part that I personally find interesting. I've just picked out a handful of design ideas that I think nearly any game designer should at least have in their toolbox. I expect we'll be seeing plenty more bloggers and critics writing about this game soon.

Urban Gameplay Part 6: Concrete Jungle Gyms

I sure do talk a lot about the needs of "simulation," huh? Truly the least interesting approach to design. But my defense of simulationism is a topic for another day. Instead, I want to make sure we enter into this grand conclusion agreed on something more important: simulation isn't worth much without gameability. It doesn't matter if you've created a settlement that's accurate to some standard of "realism" if it isn't also fit for play. That is the theme of this final part of our long series.

To be honest, Part 5 wasn't exactly revolutionary. There's more than enough advice and resources out there to help you stock your settlements with detail.

To me, the far greater obstacle is getting your prep into action. It's all too easy to spend lots of time creating great material, only to watch it go unused during the session for reasons you don't quite understand. This is my attempt to systematically attack that problem and understand how to avoid it.

Urban Gameplay Part 5: Breaking Ground (without breaking your back)

Does this guy have any actual solutions for us? Of course I do! I'm not just here to poop parties! But first, we must once again return to the ancient wisdom: the difference between game design and level design.

Urban Gameplay Part 4: Megacities (aren't always the answer)

Ready for a major departure from everything I've been arguing in this series so far?

Blades in the Dark, Magical Industrial Revolution, Electric Bastionland, Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica, Oz, Hex. Megacity campaigns. In each of these games / settings, there's a single, massive settlement that serves as the centerpiece of the whole campaign. That means the designers had the burden of ensuring that their city has a lot of depth and detail. Enough mileage to carry 20+ sessions all by itself. If you're reading this post right now because you also want to run a megacity campaign, then I recommend you read those books and plunder greedily. They are chock full of awesome ideas. I'm going to highlight some of them.

Urban Gameplay Part 3: Maps (usually aren't useful)

Credit: Mike Schley

Whether it's a pre-rendered map or a resource for creating your own, the idealized city map for D&D is usually assumed to be lushly illustrated, showing the exact layout of streets and buildings in meticulous and precise detail. This is, of course, based off of the flawed assumptions I addressed in Lesson 2: that cities are meant to be crawled.

But once you know that adjudicating movement street-by-street is a bad way to run the game in most circumstances, that also means that the level of detail in those maps isn't actually of much practical use to you.

Urban Gameplay Part 2: Crawling (is not the answer)

Credit: Ralph Horsley

So you're trying to make your ultimate citycrawl procedure anyway. And right there, you've already run into the second problem. You assumed that it should be a "crawl" procedure, one that's built around incremented movement decisions. The classic blunder.

Why is this a bad idea? Well, it could be for one of two reasons.

Urban Gameplay Part 1: the Search for the Holy Grail (is futile)

Alternative series title: My (Frequently Tested, Yet Still Dubious) Theory of Urban Gameplay

Apparently it's been too long since I last wrote about settlements in D&D (and similar games). I've certainly written a lot on the subject in the past, but the whippersnappers have been discussing it lately and, by golly, I have wisdom aplenty to share.

Anyway, the point is that I've spent a lot more time thinking about, researching, and experimenting with this topic than most folks, and I've come to some valuable conclusions. If you're interested, I'm here to share.

Defeat, Not Death

Here's a course-correction that I wish had happened a decade ago. It's an idea surrounding the OSR that I wouldn't call a misconception, exactly, but is definitely missing out on the good stuff.

In short, I think there's an over-emphasis on deadly consequences, both in the eyes of the OSR's supporters and its detractors. The two ideas are treated as nearly synonymous, which creates bad expectations. Tons of folks who would enjoy this playstyle are turned off by it because everyone tells them how deadly it is. Meanwhile, other folks who seek it out specifically in search of grisly blood-and-guts might be disappointed.

I want us to take a step back and look at the bigger picture here. There's more to life than not being alive.

My (Moderately Tested) Theory of Fear

This post collects a lot of miscellaneous observations and advice, some from other thinkers and some from myself. It's all basic-level. There's plenty of stuff out there far more advanced than this. This is not written with any particular game system in mind, and it includes a mix of game master advice and game designer advice.

Here's the fundamental problem of this topic: most of the time, preserving the players' agency is paramount. But fear complicates this priority. Fear is an involuntary mental state, but it can shape your behavior in profound ways. No heroic adventurer would choose to be afraid when faced with peril.

Ideally, you trust the players to roleplay their characters' emotions on their own. "If it seems like your character would be afraid of this, then try to play them like they're afraid." And if everyone is participating in good faith, they'll try their best. But unlike other emotions, authentically roleplaying fear is much easier said than done.

There are a number of ways to help resolve this problem. Different games and playstyles offer their own answers. Some of them contradictory, some of them mix well. Here's the stuff that makes sense to me based off of all my experience. I'm splitting this into three sections: 1) Player Fear, 2) Mechanical Fear, and 3) The Overlap.

A True Test of Skill

This is satisfying:

This is unsatisfying:

This is most relevant to competitive board games, but it can also sometimes matter for RPGs.

Luck provides uncertainty. Challenge-based games need uncertainty or else they'll become solved. Without uncertainty, every time you play, you would keep getting the same outcome. But too much uncertainty can undermine strategic integrity. Good luck and bad luck keeps everyone on their toes, but I do prefer games where good decision-making matters more than luck. After all, what's the point of putting effort into understanding a game, into forming a sound strategy, if that effort can't compensate for bad luck? To the competitive mind, there's nothing more thrilling than beating your opponent even though you kept rolling worse than they did, simply because you were better at the game than them.

Luck can also be a great tiebreaker for players who are otherwise evenly matched. Stalemates aren't very satisfying, so luck usually ensures that someone gets to walk away a winner. But I'm tired of playing games that only possess an illusion of skill. Where the winner looks at their own victory and has no choice but to admit, "I didn't really earn that. I just drew a better hand."

-Dwiz

No Foolproof Illusions

This post has some required reading: a blog post from Swedish designer (?) Sandra Snan called Blorb Principles.

[By the way, Sandra's blog is absolutely bonkers. She's written about blorb a lot but you'll have to hunt for it. Good luck]

Additionally, you may also wish to read this post from Rise Up Comus and/or this post from Technoskald's Forge. They are both good, although not necessary to follow my line of thinking here.

I like Sandra's blorb principles. When I first read her post, I felt... relief. For many years, I've felt a sharp and uncomfortable distance between my own playstyle and the philosophies described by my colleagues and other popular designers. Sandra's post was the first time I saw someone clearly articulate a set of preferences I've long held but which I couldn't effectively advocate for on my own. It feels nice to see your own philosophy given a name, and to finally have a way to easily connect with like-minded GMs.

But part of why Sandra's post instantly clicked for me is because she was describing things I already believed, techniques that I already rely on. By far the most common response I've seen to the Blorb Principles is still outright confusion. So just like many others before me, this post is my own effort to explain why I prefer a Blorby approach to the alternatives other people offer up. Maybe this will help it make a little more sense to some people.

Capsule 💊 Games – Part 3: Goals

Artist credit: Julianne Griepp

"What are you playing?"

"Dungeons and Dragons."

"That sounds cool. What it's about?"

"It's a game where you go treasure hunting."

Sounds like a fine premise to me. Sign me up.

A lot of people find the idea of a "win condition" in an RPG to be utterly baffling. The way that you "win" at D&D is by having fun, right? But like... wouldn't that be true of all games? Isn't that just a bizarre dismissal when you really think about it? People don't seem to balk at sports or board games or escape rooms having a win condition. You can both have the goal of "have fun with your buddies" and have the goal of "win the game" simultaneously, believe it or not. In fact, they often reinforce each other! 

New Year’s Resolution Mechanic: Taking Your Time

This is a joke for everyone except Warren to get

Prismatic Wasteland has issued a challenge to come up with a new mechanic for basic task resolution in RPGs. While I appreciate crossovers, ping pong posting, and pretty much anything that promotes active blogging, I also must state that I find this whole premise downright disgusting, and take great personal offense to it.

So anyway here's my submission to the challenge. It's not a good one. Overthinking simple stuff is rarely fruitful for a pea-brain like me.

This post is in four parts. First, I have to rant for a bit about theoretical bullshit for context. Second, I finally explain the rule. Third, I talk a bit about what inspired it and what I like about it. Fourth, I have an alternative to my rule that's much less fleshed out.

Capsule 💊 Games – Part 2: Player Characters

Artist credit: Will Kirkby

Most people would be utterly aghast at the notion of an RPG where you don't get to make your own character. To many folks, they are one and the same synonymous. But why?

Video games don't have any hang-ups about this. Skyrim is cool, partly because you make your own character. But The Witcher is also cool, not even in spite of you playing as Geralt of Rivia, but largely because of it. Nobody has ever been like, "aw man you mean I have to play as Geralt?" No, people are like, "oh hell yes I get to play as Geralt!"

And yet I've seen so many RPG players get bent out of shape merely for having characters randomly rolled instead of personally constructed. I've seen players refuse starting packages like in Electric Bastionland or playbooks like in PbtA games. Which is a real shame! Those games aren't even forcing you to play pre-made characters. They're just trying to suggest details about the world and its inhabitants through character options. That's a really interesting and thoughtful application of design.