Min/maxing our dorki/secksi: Part 2

Happy High Pressure Holiday, everyone!

The teens at our table are all accomplished video game players. To a one, they were practically born with a controller in their hands. As a result, they've had some unlearning and pivoting to do, and it's happening. When we started this campaign, they understood the mechanics of rolling up their characters, but not the significance of the many elements of character creation. It was very hard for me as a GM to explain in terms they could understand that yes, their backstory would significantly impact their experience. That flaws that made them truly vulnerable could pay off in oddly satisfying ways. That it was safe to have a bond that implied emotional vulnerability. That having the "I-pocket-whatever-I-can-get-away-with" video game trope personality would pay off short term in gold with literally incalculable losses long term, in the form of relationships that would never bloom, in synergistic events that could never build between players, in whole communities that would never trust them, never revere them, never have affection for them.

And, even though I'm a lot older than them, I really understood where they were coming from. I played those MMOs. And I've played the RPGs. I've spent decades on forums and plenty of time on social media. Trust the wrong person, invest emotionally in the wrong place, and you get nailed. We rightfully encourage our children to be careful... careful on the internet, careful around strangers, careful in all they do. We love them. We're not wrong. But when careful becomes a reflex regardless of who you’re with, no risks are ever taken, and... no risk, no reward.

So in order to quietly shine a light on this issue, one night I had a brief housekeeping session before we started. I reiterated some RAW (rules as written) parameters. I re-explained inspiration, and made it clear that inspiration would be awarded for creative problem solving, zinging humor, and excellent roleplaying. It wouldn't get awarded for murder-hoboing, nor for clunky shakedowns of random NPCs. I also mentioned that NPCs are sentient in D&D. It isn’t like Siri, or Alexa, where you can tell them to STFU and not hurt anyone’s feelings. Being a jerk is actually fine, but expect to be treated like the jerk you just were, and accept those realistic consequences, both short and long term. Then I mentioned the need to try and be clear about when you were talking in character (IC) and out of character (OOC), especially as the party was about to enter a town. I hate spontaneous retconning and retroactive actions, so if someone is speaking in front of a NPC, the default setting is that you are IC unless you say otherwise beforehand. This sort of a set up helps dampen metagaming, which had been cropping up at the table in our sessions. 

Not surprisingly, many of the issues I've been talking about popped up the moment the party entered Phandalin. It was the first time the group had interacted with NPCs extensively. They entered Barthen's Provisions ostensibly to hand over the goods they were contracted to deliver, and two party members immediately decide that they want more gold out of the situation and start discussing how they're going to go about swindling Elmar Barthen right in front of him. I described that Elmar leaned back against the counter ledge as he listened to their open collusion, crossing his arms with an eyeroll. "I'm sorry you're taking this route. I have a signed contract with Gundren Rockseeker to pay the transportation services 10 gold per person. That is the deal I made. I'm not breaking my end of the contract, it is a binding contract, and if you refuse delivery I will have to get the authorities involved." The people having an unannounced OOC conversation in front of a NPC looked surprised. One of the older players mentioned (expressly OOC) that the party was unlikely to get any helpful information or kindness out of townspeople that they treated unscrupulously, especially in a place where everyone knew each other's business. Another player mentioned that if you were going to be unscrupulous, perhaps you shouldn't discuss it openly in front of NPCs, and that it would be nice to discuss with the group OOC beforehand so that other players aren't caught flatfooted or dragged into something they didn't want. There was no tension in the air - everyone at the table was conscious of their own inexperience. This was just a matter of working things out. It should be noted that both of these characters who were talking about swindling had chaotic good alignment written on their character sheets, although before the session started one mentioned that they miiiight need to be chaotic neutral.

To everyone's credit, this caused a shift in perspective that was palpable. The two conspiring players really hadn't considered the wider impact of their actions - why should they? Most games don't ask for this kind of thinking. And they shifted gears. They apologized to Barthen, accepted the terms of the contract, and tried to smooth things over with small talk. He unbent and suggested they seek lodging, or at least a mug of ale, at the Stonehill Inn, where they were likely to hear more information about local goings on. A few made some small purchases, and they asked to borrow the wagon for a few minutes more in order to go to Lionshield Coster with the goods they had recovered. Barthen agreed and off they went. 

The first improvement with this interaction was that the next metagaming expressly took place outside of the store. There was some talk of ransoming the Lionshield Coster goods, but the point was again made by another player that if you piss off the townsfolk, you're not likely to get people to talk to you, let alone help you with anything. Just racking up gold pieces was not necessarily the objective here, and even if it were, there are many ways to do that. So it was agreed to see if the proprietor would compensate them for returning her inventory unbidden, out of gratitude (which of course she did, as per the module). She made mention of the ruffians who were bothering people in town, and the group’s interest was piqued. Once the party moved on to the tavern, there was some real role play involved, with me switching voices for various town denizens, and party members buying rounds of beer for all and sundry to loosen tongues. As you would expect for the younger gamers in the group, they were uncannily good at sussing out who had "tea to spill" and actually got all of the leads out of people in one sitting due to their persistence. This is one of the upsides to the young videogamer skillset.

They headed off to Qelline Alderleaf's house, and got the downlow on the Redbrands from Carp and his mother. I found it amusing that the same people who were trying to extort money from Elmar Barthen and who considered ransoming the legal property of Linene were ready to take on the ruffians for the good of the town... although one admitted to an interest in this solely because it would make the townspeople beholden to them. (Switch to chaotic neutral already if you’re going to role play that!)

And yeah, it’s a bit jarring to see the lack of idealism – but that’s the world we live in, isn’t it? Social media is rarely forgiving of mistakes. People can be horribly unkind, and it doesn’t take more than a handful of bad experiences to generate anxiety-laden tentacles that wrap around our hearts, stifling collaboration, generosity, and creativity. You can’t just ask people to trust a new group and have them open their hearts on the first day, any more than you can ask people who are trained to play one way to switch gears and play in a completely new way. But I think it’s reasonable to hope that as everyone gets more comfortable around the table, we’ll be able to pivot. I, for one, would like to escape the influence of the world we live in a little more completely for a few hours every couple of weeks.