Fun despite the system

Currently I am running a 5e D&D game for some friends of mine that I know through swordfighting. They invited me to start a D&D group and are really cool people, so despite my personal distaste for 5e, which I quickly learned they were most fond of/familiar with, I accepted. This was going to be more about hanging out with friends, than about prime gaming. 

Still, I held out hope: The players had said to be open to trying out other stuff as well, so maybe I could sway their opinion by introducing them to new, and in my opinion, better stuff like Into the Odd, Cairn, Mauseritter, Maze Rats or even Adventure Hour!. 

Until now I have run 6 games for this group, all in 5e, and am surprised with how much fun we are having despite everything I dislike about 5e. Remembering how much I didn't like using 5e before, this made me wonder how I was having this much fun despite adhering rather strictly to 5e rules. 

There are currently three reasons I can come up with, one of which is rather philosophical so I'll be sure to save that one for last. 

1. OSR inspired adventures

As often happens, I ended up being the GM. However, for the same reason that this blog has been dead for a while (short answer: work; longer answer: ADHD + perfectionism while being a teacher), I let the group know that I wouldn't have time for some grand campaign. What I would be able to offer them were one-shots I'd written for different groups and different systems that I could adjust for D&D 5e. 

My writing is very much inspired by OSR gaming. I wouldn't say any of it fits neatly, irregardless of wether you think OSR needs to be B/X compatible (which none of my stuff is), or if you think it is defined by classic dungeon crawls (for which all of these adventures are way too small). 

What I mean with OSR influences is mostly that I try to make my adventures location based, rather than scene based. For me, this means that NPCs and obstacles aren't placed somewhere with expectations about how the players will deal with them and that their difficulty isn't balanced for a 'fair' encounter. The latter would be impossible to do anyway, given the former: If I don't know how my players will deal with a sleeping dragon I cannot balance that situation in such a way that they will have a 'fair' chance at succeeding. 

This worked really well, especially in the second adventure: a mission to rescue the daughter of a rich merchant from the supernatural sewers beneath the city. The PCs were level 1 and at some point had to fight the Sewer Siren, a strong and intelligent foe (statted as a yuan-ti mind whisperer). After a difficult fight, resulting in one PC death, they managed to put the Siren to sleep. Rather than kill her, they tied her up to communicate with her (something they learned from my first adventure). After learning her motivations, one player says he wants to try to redeem her. I give him the odds and he cast his lot. And succeeds. 

This might not seem like a big deal to people used to running games like this, but the player, who had only every played 5e, was surprised that this approached worked as it usually never does. 

This was not the first example of the party learning that you could choose not to fight (they had chosen not to engage a foe in the previous adventure), but it was the most significant because of the impact it had. The players now considered themselves 'good guys' who in future encounters with NPCs would first try diplomacy, before trying diving into combat. 

Because I know that 5e has the expectation of cool fights build into the rules (after all, the vast majority of stuff your character learns as they level up relates to combat), I asked the group if these sorts of adventures didn't have too little combat in them. Fortunately for me, this group seems to really enjoy that things could go either way and that they might end up having to fight if they slip up, but have the option to tackle a problem in different ways as well. 

So my first take away is this: For my fun at the table, system matters less than the style of adventure you are running, and with this group my prefered style of adventure was still possible to run in 5e (despite that system working against it at times).

2. FKR inspired refereeing

People tend to disagree about definitions, and I have written before that I am not especially interested in definitions when it comes to tRPG design. But irregardless of whether or not you think that FKR means a lack of player facing rules and trust in the referee, a lack of mechanical rules in favour of in-fiction laws and common sense, or a shared understanding of the fictional world and consensus at the table, the game I am running for my swordfighting friends isn't an FKR game either. 

When I say it is FKR inspired, I mean two things: rules flexibility where 5e is lacking and a emphasizing the world, rather than the rules.

Filling in the blanks

Whenever 5e lacks a mechanic for something that I think would benefit from having some sort of resolution system, I borrow one from systems that I know do have such a system. One example from my actual game are the reaction roll for figuring out how NPCs will react to the PCs whenever the context doesn't make that clear, like the initial disposition of a hurt Wyrm: is it hurt in the sense that it doesn't want anything to come close, or is it meekly laying there in exhausted suffereing? Another is the luck roll from Electric Bastionland whenever I want to resolve a situation but can't defer to any of 5e's many rules, like seeing if a rat friend send to scout a floating vulcano will fit through the planks of a recently made floor.

Mind that for these games the existing rules of 5e are taken at face value. This is because the players expressed a desire to play 5e which I agreed to, and a player expressed in session 0 that to him strict adherence to the rules is important, because in his experience, games that were more loose with the rules made that world feel unbelievable.

This meant that even when a new player, without any prior experience with 5e, wanted to do something everyone at the table knew would make sense in real life we stuck with the 5e rules for such situations, because that is what we had agreed upon prior. (In this case it concerned using a trident as opposed to a sword to keep a foe at bay, which in 5e isn't a thing, but as our shared interest is swordfighting we all know should definitely be a thing). In my opinion, this is the least FKR thing to do, but those are the conditions we agreed upon when we decided to play this game. 

But isn't it breaking that agreement when I pull out rules that don't exist in 5e? Well, given that I am transparent about the fact that I am borrowing a rule from a different game to fill a gap in the ruleset we are using, and given that I explain the rule prior to using it my players are always free to object, remind me that there is in fact a rule for this in 5e or otherwise engage with my reasoning for using that particular rule. And given how this table has reacted to unclear rule situations in 5e before (i.e. as adults and friends trying to have fun with a game), I really think they would speak up if I was using a rule they would find objectionable.

More world than rules

There is elegent design that I can enjoy for its own sake. 'To hit' from Accidental Death in Horrible Dungeons comes to mind. Here your 'to hit' is lowered as you gain 'stress', which not only rolls a stress mechanic neatly into already existing rules, but also conjures up a wonderful image of literally shaking nerves making it harder to fight competently. 

However, for the most part when I am playing tRPGs I am not interested in numbers but in the fictional world. This is why I prefer to play games in an FKR-style, in which the fiction takes precedent and rules are merely there to support playing in that imagined world. 

As mentioned above that isn't how we are running these games, but I think that because I prefer the world over the rules this is where I put the most interesting things, and thus my players also seem to focus more on taking the fictional world serious than merely seeing the 'encounter' I have prepared and put in front of them. 

A great example of this occured in the last session we played, which is a 5e adaptation of my Flame and Fortune adventure. When describing the position of the Dragon Kur in this world as the ruler of a small kingdom my players became interested in getting information about their objective from a competing perspective, taking seriously that their employer might not be telling the full truth. As I described how the kingdom functions taxes came up, which made one of them consider holding up the taxcollectors, taking their place and/or hiding inbetween the gold to get into the Dragon's lair that way. They even considered starting a war by stealing the taxes while wearing uniforms from a different kingdom, so they could ransack the Dragon's hoard while it was away. 

These ideas were horrible, because what would they have done once the taxes were heaped onto the Dragon's pile of treasure and he saw two halflings and a gnome roll out of the cart? And were they really willing to start a war, with all the suffering that entailed, just to get rich quick? 

However, the mindset at play here is absolutely brilliant. I love it when players think outside of the given context. In fact, it is what I have argued is the medium specificity of tRPGs in a prior post. It makes me hopeful to one day convince this group of players to try a classic dungeon (maybe even the megadungeon I hope to write for #dungeon23 the upcoming year), because this is exactly the sort of thinking that makes factionplay and dungeon crawling fun and exciting. 

These two points lead me to my second take away: that if you emphasize the world and bring it to life by using procedures and rules to supplement a ruleset that might be missing the tools you need to do that, my players at this table will feel empowered and motivated to engage with the setting, even if we still defer to 5e rules as the 'correct way' of handeling things whenever situations neatly fit within those confines. 

3. Rational and Irrational fun

It has been a while since I forcefully tried to wed my interest in tRPGs and philosophy, but I genuinely think this is something that is easier to explain when using philosohy (though I most certainly have a bias in that regard). 

Cutting 'rationally' and 'irrationaly' in cinema

In Cinema II Gilles Deleuze talks about different ways of cutting in cinema and disguishes 'rational cuts' from 'irrational cuts'. Rational cuts belong to what precede and what follow it by signifying a beginning of whatever it cuts to or the ending of whatever it cuts away from. 

For example, when the director cuts between two faces during a conversation, that cut signifies either that one person is done with speaking or the begining of the other person reacting to what is being said. Whenever they cut to a new scene, this also usually follows from the scene that preceded it. If we stay with our example of a conversation, it makes sense to eventually cut to a scene that relates to what was being talked about, or an event that takes place after the conversation, or to a secondary plot within the same movie. The cut signifies 'this is done' or 'meanwhile something else is beginning', and structurally doesn't challenge our expectations. 

This means that we can call the cut rational because it conforms to our expectations based on what we have seen so far. There are many different styles of editing, but most of them are internally consistent and could therefore be considered rational. 

The irrational cut is different because it cuts to something that is unrelated, at least based on our expectations so far, to what comes before it and what comes after it. It doesn't signify the end of one thing, or the beginning of something else, rather it cuts to something foreign to our current expectations, often because it is atemporal. 

David Lynch famously uses a lot of irrational cuts, but I think a very stark example can be found in the 1995 animated movie Ghost in the Shell by Mamoru Oshii. The scene prior to the one I am talking about ends with the main character Major Motoko Kusanagi ending a conversation with her partner Batou because they hear a weird voice. The Mojor turns around and looks up at something.

Cut to a sequence of shots of buildings, canals, people walking about, sitting in buildings, standing on boats. We see the Major on a boat, but also sitting at a table in one of the buildings with different clothes. The sequence is acompanied by haunting music and feels surreal and dreamlike. More an atemporal impression of a decrepit and filthy city than a 'scene' in which anything happens. 

Nothing that precedes this sequence allows us to predict it, mostly because nothing really happens in it. And nothing following the scene in the movie directly references what we saw here as an event that happened. It definitely contributes something to the movie and is thematically coherent with the rest of the movie, but the cut is completely irrational in the sense that it doesn't follow from our expectations. 

"The unthought in thought"

This is how Deleuze poetically describes what the irrational cut does (Cinema II, p.175) or, in reference to mathematics, the introduction of the problem into the theorem. 

He explains the difference between the problematic and the theorematic as follows:

"The problematic is distinguished from the theorematic (or constructivism from the axiomatic) in that the theorem develops internal relationships from principle to consequences, while the problem introduces an event from the outside — removal, addition, cutting — which constitutes its own conditions and determines the ‘case’ or cases: hence the ellipse, hyperbola, parabola, straight lines and the point are cases of projection of the circle on its secant planes, in relation to the apex of a cone." (ibid. p.174)

In other words: rational cuts, or theorematic thinking, is about predictability. It follows from predetermined axioms and is therefore deterministic in nature. Irrational cuts, or problematic thinking (as in 'math problems'), is about externality to the initial axioms. It is unpredictablity, surprise and randomness. 

The cone referenced here is best considered as a point of view, or one's perspective on the world. Everything that follows from within that expectation is rational, everything that comes from outside of it is irrational until we reframe our point of view. 

A banal example that fits with the season to make this clear would be Santa Claus. As a kid you believe he is real (unless you are Dutch like me and instead believe in Sinterklaas, but I digress). But imagine, you as a kid standing in line to meet Santa Claus, and the kid that is in line prior to you goes and sits on his lap... and pull down Santa's fake beard. This is completely irrational. Based on what you believed prior to that event that shouldn't have been possible. It comes from outside of your understanding of the world. 

This is how I use the words 'rational' and 'irrational' when I want to talk about rational and irrational fun in tRPGs.

What does any of this have to do with D&D 5e?

Part of the fun of tRPGs comes from the expected. My favourite kinds deal with exploring fantastical places, meeting weird creatures, and overcoming obstacles in creative ways. Games that tailor to that experience are the ones that I try to seek out, and though I like to experiment with games that function differently, the sorts of games and rules and procedures that I play and use the most I do so for a reason.

This is also the reason I do not like 5e: The play experience it suggests, one of heroic super people saving the day in epic and tactical fights, isn't something that interests me when I want to play tRPGs. That is closer to how I like some of my shonen manga, and maybe some of my video games, but definitely not my tRPGs (at least not at the moment of writing this). 

But what I found when playing 5e with my friends from swordfighting, is that a lot of fun things happen that come from outside of what is expected. Irrational fun, are those moments when players do something completely unexpected, when some weird detail becomes a recurring joke because your players latch onto it, it is an improbable amount of bad rolls resulting in a player death, or an equally improbable amount of good rolls resulting in an adventure being resolved without a single real conflict occuring. 

A lot of this fun just comes from hanging out with friends. It has nothing to do with whatever rules you are using, but the act of doing something, of having an expectation, does allow these unexpected and unpredictable elements to interject. 

Irrational fun cannot and should not be attributed to 5e. This is not me arguing that a less flexible, more annoying system will result in more irrational fun and is therefore good actually. This is just a really pretentious way of saying that hanging out with friends is fun, even if the rational fun that is supposed to come from the activity you are engaging in isn't quite for you. 

That is also the main take away from this third point: Sometimes who you do something with is enough, and what exactly you end up doing with them doesn't really matter as much. This is probably obvious to many, but as a perfectionist I needed to be reminded of it by experiencing it first hand. 

tRPGs are more than just system:

Does this mean that to have fun with 5e you need to run OSR inspired adventures, run in an FKR inspired way with your friends? Obviously not. This is not me singing the praises of the OSR or the FKR, but me saying that you can have fun with a system that isn't great if you focus on other aspects of play that you like. Introducing PtbA style leading questions to 5e is no different from my introduction of the reaction roll. And focussing on character drama and narrative arcs is in essence the same as me presenting adventures that feature OSR-Style problems. 

So that is how I have fun with 5e, despite not liking the rule system.

And now without copping out:

(Harris this one is for you) This is what I do when running 5e to make it palletable to me:

• Add reaction rolls (any will do)
  
• Add luck rolls from Electric Bastionland/50-50s from Adventure Hour! for situations that aren't covered by 5e rules or reaction rolls
  
• Keep PCs low level (I am currently using the rule of thumb of 'number of succesful adventures required to level up is equal to desired level', so 2 succesful adventures as a level 1 character makes you level 2; succesful is a vague metric, but if they run away after the first encounter it definitely isn't succesful)
• Give NPCs goals other than 'kill the party' even in combat (the Sewer Siren I mentioned wants living sacrifices for a ressurection ritual, so she grabs a downed PC and leaves the fight if she is hurt)
  
• Use the absolute treasure trove of fun and interesting ideas and tables from the blogosphere (e.g. for the sewer adventure I referenced earlier I used Skerples's amazing d500 mutations table). 
• Attack every part of the character sheet (The Sewer Siren was hurling the the mutagenic sewage at the PCs which could cause a roll on the d500 table mentioned above, in another adventures there were packrats which could do little damage but would steal items from the PCs if their attack hit)
• Have character death on the table despite the rediculous resilience of 5e characters (don't forget that taking damage when downed equals a failed save on 5e, so if they get hit by aoe effects they fail one save; if NPCs have a reason to attack a downed character, remember that attacks against a downed character crit which equals two failed saves). 
• Encourage scheming by liberally giving weird magic items that aren't useful in combat, to round out the combat focussed progression of 5e classes (I gave a fruit that allows you to know the intentions of those around you, grass which makes you impossible to pick out of a crowd while chewing it, and a common 5e magic item of their choice, among others)
• Be completely okay with dumb character ideas that could enable scheming and onboards the players (one of my players is techinically playing two characters: two halflings in a trenchcoat, another is playing a redneck dwarf artificer alchemist thingy obsessed with distilling strong alcohol).