An Exercise In Freedom

Agency
White Box is packed with freedom of choice. It has been said that "less is more" and the fact that the original game texts can be a tad sparse lends great power and freedom to the referee and ultimately to the players. The 3 LBBs are empowering to referees and empowering to players. The gaming concept introduced in White Box continues to encourage the exercise of that freedom.
Any game that presents the rules as written as guidelines or tools from which to choose and add to as desired is empowering. It may be overwhelming as White Box was to me upon first reading. There were too many new ideas, too many choices to make and too much left unsaid for me to immediately make the jump from traditional wargames to this new concept in adventure gaming. It took me and my friends months to figure out the enigma enough to start to play. I had to guess at parts and make some stuff up. It wasn't until years later that it occurred to me that is exactly what the authors intended - interpret, choose and create. Freedom!
As the hobby spread and I began talking to others who were also playing the new game, it became evident that there was more than one way to play White Box. The official word from TSR confirmed this and a discussion about "official play" styles circulated among the hobby. The by-product of making official rulings and interpretations is a reduction in the freedom players had to make things work the way they wanted it to.
Freedom means work and some players are more willing to put in a lot of work than others. Do we prefer to put in more work learning "official rules" or working it out for ourselves? Obviously I am a fan of the latter...although I also enjoy some "rules heavy" games such as Advanced Squad Leader. For the referee the work of White Box must include filling in and completing some sections so that play may proceed according to their preferences. One such choice involves combat - a central theme of the game as written, but one with obvious choices. It helps to work toward a goal. It helps for the referee to have it worked out in his/her mind the goals they would like to achieve with the game before hand. The desired milieu will shape many decisions. Experimentation can help discover what seems to work and what doesn't. Feedback from players can help the referee as well.
White Box gives power and agency to the referee through creative control. The referee must create an imaginary setting for the players to explore. In White Box this can be just about anything as long as the referee is willing to make adjustments in the suggested guidelines. The 3 LBBs include a number of suggestions for play, none of which are complete and ready to run out-of-the-box.
Player agency is evident in the almost infinite variety of characters it is possible to play with White Box. Where some may at first see the choices as limited, just three classes and four races, the lack of detail on the character sheet lets the imaginative player take the character concept in just about any direction. A Fighting Man need not be a knight in shining armor - although that is a definite trope one may play - rather any character who uses a weapon well can make a good Fighting Man. Archer, swashbuckler, adventuring minstrel, highwayman, anarchist, assassin/spy, or lots of other archetypes can be Fighting Men in the three class scheme. The rules only list six attributes with scores randomly determined, race and class, hit points and level/experience points. Anything else about the character is open to interpretation and therefore the player is free to imagine away.
My experience with the game has been that many characters start as some numbers and a name on an index card, but through play develop "character" and personality. It can be fun to discover who the character is as the player makes in-game decisions during play. I have watched players reveal aspects of the character that were surprising and significant. What motivates the character? What are their personal goals? What lengths will they go to to achieve them?  I have seen characters evolve during play as in-game events shape and mold their "personalities". Many players bring their character "to life" through creative play, while other characters seem to remain fairly unknown. The freedom of choice is there to play your character as you will.
As we move towards this new year I see great potential in our hobby. Getting the game "just right" - the desire to improve continues to drive innovation forward. Whether it is the OSR working to re-imagine White Box or "new" games that push the play experience envelope beyond anything done before, game designers seem hard at work as evidenced by the number of new publications. The quest for a better game is either limitless or supremely elusive.

7th Sea

So, You Want to Tell a Story!
The John Wick game 7th Sea is a departure from my usual fantasy RPG tastes. For one thing, there are guns. And it's a story-telling game. Essentially any game can "tell a story", even Monopoly. (One can easily recount the various acquisitions and improvements made on the Monopoly board during play and basically tell a story of the game.) In 7th Sea there are specific mechanics which are designed to facilitate the story-telling aspects and divide control of the story between referee and players.
Inspired by 17th Century Europe, the fantasy continent of Theah adds magic and some monsters to the mix, but otherwise is surprisingly recognizable as 17th Century England (Avalon), France, Germany, Poland, Russia, Italy and Spain with the names changed and perhaps a lot more swashbuckling added. As is suggested in the cover illustration women in Theah enjoy considerably more freedom and equality than their historic counterparts, but there is also more than a superficial resemblance to the historic setting and literature (Three Musketeers, Scarlet Pimpernel) which inspires the game.
Pirates certainly play a part in the setting, but the term "7th Sea" actually refers to the world beyond the horizons, both aboard ship and in terms of the understood physical and material world. Magic is real in Theah and each country seems to have its own particular brand of magic practice. This is a game that takes setting seriously. The description of Theah takes up the first 100 pages of the core rules and most countries have their own regional book as well.
Character creation is concept driven. There are no classes. Players are encouraged to imagine the character they wish to play and work with the referee to generate a PC reflecting that imaginary concept. A list of twenty questions is used to help nail down who the character is and what they are about. Traits include Brawn, Finesse, Resolve, Wits and Panache. Add skills, advantages and a hubris and a virtue and you have a character. There isn't a lot of room for min/maxing.
Character advancement is tied to achieving personal goals, like finding a lost friend or regaining the family honor and preventing the evil guys from growing stronger. Characters are expected to act "heroically" and that means doing right not wrong. Playing a dastardly pirate will take considerable "tweeking" on the part of the referee in 7th Sea. If "pirate" is your passion, think the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride, not Blackbeard.
Game play consists of the referee setting the stage by describing a situation. The players develop the action through dice rolling and description. The dice mostly allow the players to take make decisions and take control of the action describing what happens. If the dice are unkind, the referee describes what happens instead.
A scene might go something like this:

Your nemesis, the cardinal, has gained possession of a certain incriminating letter, written in your hand. You suspect he has it hidden in his personal apartments and you are determined to get it back. You announce your intent to sneak into his apartments and retrieve the letter using your Finesse trait and Thieving skill. The referee states you must roll to succeed. A single success is required to open the lock on the door. A second success is required to bypass the guard and do so without being observed, and a third success will allow you to pick the lock quietly, so as to not alarm anyone inside the apartment, should it be occupied. One success is required to achieve each of the results and you may choose which ones if you roll fewer than three successes. You agree to this and roll the dice. You have four successes! Not only do you accomplish all of the above, but you may also add that upon opening the door you immediately spot the damning letter lying in plain sight where the cardinal has obviously been careless.  

Knowing how to make decisions at the table and being able to improvise when needed seem quite necessary for the referee of 7th Sea and are probably quite helpful to players as well. I can see how a creative group might really enjoy this game once the fairly simple rules are mastered. Story still happens at the table during the game, but 7th Sea takes it in a different direction from White Box...or does it?

Adventure Path, Sandbox & Megadungeon

The Big Three
Pick one! Speaking thematically, I can think of three ways to categorize the fantasy RPG campaign, adventure path, a sandbox or the megadungeon (there are probably others I am not thinking of). They are each really a campaign in themselves. It has taken me some number of years to discover that blending them all in a single campaign is very difficult (at least for me) and rarely works well. One-off session play can switch back and forth making use of each style in turn, but the full-on campaign, if it is to be more than a series of loosely connected sessions, requires more direction and more consistency.
I have not gotten to game much lately (holiday season), so my pursuit of the hobby has mainly been reading blog posts and published game materials, and streaming a few videos of others gaming. One of the RPG books I have been reading is Chivalry & Sorcery, 1st Edition (C&S). I have been known to occasionally wrap myself in the cozy idea that playing with a hyper-realistic RPG setting would be rewarding. It seems an irrational conceit, however, as during my saner moments I can't imagine finding folks who would actually play the thing. Regardless, in my present holiday season absence of gaming opportunity, I can muse on about chivalry and player character knights in a gritty realistic medieval milieu, about squires, ladies-in-waiting, minstrels and a host of serfs awaiting my noble bidding. Pouring over my C&S, Harn, and historic reference material, I immerse myself in a make-believe world where I actually referee such a game while in the back of my mind I realize that even my oldest, staunchest gaming buddies, those who once upon a time played some Harnmaster with me, today show little interest in that style of immersive play.
Taking a medieval setting as the basis of an imaginary campaign for use as an example of the "pick one" advice, I feel I would be remiss if I, as referee, tried to offer players a sandbox to roam and explore, and an adventure path full of story, and a megadungeon and expected them to simultaneously juggle them all. Overwhelmed is what I would be and confused and directionless is my prediction for the state of the group. One nice adventure path for them to follow, maybe involving a run-away princess who joins a secret organization bent on saving the kingdom from a secret plot by those close to the throne who wish to overthrow the dynasty would be plenty. By saving the princess, they help her save the kingdom. Offering sandbox-style side-quests and tempting adventure hooks not related to the adventure path could be confusing as would the sudden discovery of a megadungeon just outside town where idle adventurers could instead of saving the kingdom make their fortune taking treasure from monsters. It has not been long ago that I offered my then players just such a smorgasbord of distracting and competing campaign choices. Pick one - that is what I should have done.
It has been a long time since I have played in or ran a megadungeon campaign. The simplicity of the theme appeals to me. The dungeon itself can be very complex and should be in order to sustain campaign play. It should be dynamic and react to being explored. It should evolve with internal denizen activities that play out even without player intervention. It should remain fresh with new levels and characteristics which unlock as players advance deeper into the campaign. Reading Joseph Bloch's excellent Castle of the Mad Archmage is inspiring me to want either to create my own (always the best option) similar megadungeon or to run my version of his Castle of the Mad Archmage. I enjoy planning future games, even ones that never get played.

The Path to Gaming Enlightenment

Emphasis on Setting not System
What makes for a fun, immersive gaming experience? A referee who has charisma and can come up with a good story on-the-fly, one who makes good decisions, is fair and cares about the players having fun certainly goes a long way. System does matter and the referee should choose a system he/she is familiar with and one that lends itself to telling the kind of stories the group wishes to explore. Speaking generally, I would say the rules are just the beginning, however. A great campaign rests on its milieu.
The authors of White Box seemed to know this intuitively (or through experience) and expect referees to put a lot of work into designing their own personal milieu. White Box implies certain aspects of setting, if one uses all the tools in the Box. A referee designing a campaign is free to pick and choose among the "guidelines" found in the LBBs and to invent new material to supplement or replace aspects of the game as written. I believe this was expected. It is certainly what many gamers turned authors did with the new hobby as evidenced by some of their published work. Arduin, Warlock, and Chivalry & Sorcery are three obvious examples of early players taking the ideas presented in the Three Little Brown Books and inventing their own milieu for play complete with rule changes and additions. While adapting rules to support the game they wanted to run at their table, they altered the original in such ways that they created at minimum a major variation and in the claim of some, a completely new game.
The Original Game in all its various editions, has inspired referees the world over to create countless settings for their personal use. Some borrowed heavily from other sources, effectively running their own version of Middle Earth or The Young Kingdoms. Others, like myself, took a little here and a little there from many sources of inspiration and blended it all together. Some settings received lavish publications and are so well known that mention by name - Dragonlance, Ravenloft, or Dark Sun - brings to mind a host of mental images. These three official settings, all published by TSR during its 2nd Edition era, illustrate how the game can be radically different depending on the setting. In many respects, the setting becomes more important than the game system. A great setting has character and personality of its own. A great setting helps the referee know how to handle unforeseen situations that arise at the table because of that very quality. The referee basically role-plays the setting.

Memorizing Magic Spells

Why Not Add a Little Magic
I like magic that seems "magical". Anything that adds to the mystical feel of using magical in the game appeals to me, but it can be tricky to add to the rules for magic without making the system overly complex and ruining someone's fun. Under the Vancian system outlined in White Box each spell caster, Magic User or Cleric, memorizes a number of spells per day and can cast each once. Once cast the spell is gone from memory and must be memorized again in order to be ready for use. Casters have books in which the spells are stored and which must be consulted in order to memorize each spell. Each caster's ability to memorize spells is limited and increases as the character gains levels. New spells can be acquired through research, or copied from other spell books or scrolls.
The Advanced game adds some new spells and the concept of spell components - items which are required to be used in casting the magic and which are usually consumed in the process. Spells are still limited in number and must be memorized prior to casting. The act of casting releases the spell from memory just as in the White Box rules.
Incorporating "magical" power sites into the formula appeals to me. Toting one's tomes of magic into the dungeon or along dusty roads in order to be able to memorize spells again once they are cast has always seemed a bit problematic. Too many hazards await those precious depositories of magical knowledge when taken into the wilds. Of course, only a fool would fail to keep copies of such valuable books in a safe place back home, still the logistics of carrying them around, worrying about them getting wet, or worse, seems awkward. Limiting the spell caster's supply of spells to only those memorized prior to the start of an adventure also seems severe, however.
I do like the idea of preparing (committing to memory) spells while located in a "place of power" such as a laboratory, a temple, a sacred grove, etc. Clerics who prepare their spells in a place sacred or consecrated to their alignment greatly appeals to me. Magic Users who recharge their spell lists while studying and making ready at a location steeped in magic power also has a certain magical feel. It is the little details like this that seems to make the magic in the game seem more tangible, more mystical and more believable. Pointing one's finger and shooting a lightning bolt makes more sense when I imagine the Magic User having drawn electricity from supercharged air at a magical location, bound it with certain skill, and stored it for release at just that moment.
The Cleric who prays, meditates and/or sacrifices at a sacred shrine or temple is granted access to a magic spell, a sort of miracle perhaps. The Druid who performs certain rituals under the moon and stars while standing amid sacred stones or trees is charged with magic ability in the form of certain spells which can be cast later. Imagine the witch stirring her cauldron, adding a bit of this and a pinch of that in order to create a charm or potion which can be activated to produce an effect like casting a magic spell, or the Evil High Priest who communes with evil entities which manifest in unholy places is granted a portion of that entity's power in the form of dastardly spells to be later cast forth in their service. Whether it is drawing a circle or pentagram, lighting a few candles and burning some incense, or some other "colorful" ritual, I like to imagine the act of acquiring new spells as being something more than the sort of behavior exhibited by a student studying prior to an exam.
So much of the magic of the game comes from the way we imagine and describe things to be. If we don't settle for mundanely following the rules as written, but rather choose to add in some imaginative detail, the game can be much more than pen and paper and dice. White Box is written rather sparsely with regard to these "coloring" elements, but this only makes it that much easier to individualize the game with whatever imaginative details we choose. Drawing inspiration from literary and other sources, why not accept the invitation to openly imagine how you would like it to be and make your game just so.

Don't Cut the Corners

Dungeon adventuring is survival horror!
The genius of White Box and the hobby in general is that the game can be played in so many ways. I have always been a huge fan of the dungeon. Darkness, limited resources, risk management, greed - all these play a significant role in the dungeon delve done right. Nothing scares the imaginary dickens out of a bunch of pen-and-paper would-be heroes like being plunged into darkness where nobody but the baddies can see anything.
"What's in front of me? What's behind me?  What's that noise?" When players imagine a situation where their characters are without light, panic is often the first response. As a referee, we need to use that. Demi-humans who can see in the dark really spoil this "tool" as well as that of surprise. Walking around the underground carrying a light source pretty much means the party is seen before seeing. Rolling for surprise is a regular thing. The party can really only surprise baddies by opening a door, otherwise the lurkers-in-the-dark see the party of adventurers coming by their light source.
Encumbrance may be cumbersome, but unless the referee makes some allowance for the concept resources like torches, food, holy water, oil, pitons, rope, arrows all become unlimited. Being down to one's last two arrows is an experience that heightens tension and verisimilitude. The referee should use all the advantages in their toolbox in an effort to provide the most immersive game possible. Otherwise we risk a "grab the loot and level-up" game that quickly loses its shine.
Weight carried is especially important. When loot is discovered in a large quantity and must be carried to the surface in order to earn those coveted experience points (XP) how much a character may carry is important. Vol. 1: Men & Magic gives some advice regarding encumbrance, but like the author says, this can be taken as guidelines or suggestions and I have seen encumbrance systems I like better and which seem more usable at the table (Lamentations of the Flame Princess just counts items). The most important thing is to have a system - almost any system is better than a "hand-wave".
Competition can also be used to heighten the tension and verisimilitude of the dungeon experience. If it is not possible to have at least two play-groups exploring the same dungeon (different players, different sessions) then the referee may want to devise a group of adventurers who are also known to frequent the dungeon and who may get to that treasure horde first. In addition to offering some excellent opportunities for role-play, the occasional encounter with other delvers (NPC or PCs) can expand potential plot-lines, introduce help or hindrance, and add novelty to a dungeon.
Playing "It's a game about leveling-up your character" can end up being the "more, better fun" lie. Gary Gygax frequently wrote about the danger of giving away too much too quickly and thereby ruining the game. He wasn't talking about plot clues! The dungeon is made up of "levels", some of which (lower levels) are at first too difficult or "dangerous" for the beginning characters. The lower levels are meant to "open up" as characters advance making the game continuously challenging and novel. Unlike the non-dungeon "adventure path" style of play where risk management can become the responsibility of the referee, the dungeon presents the players with an ability to manage risk to their PCs by choosing how deep to delve. Deciding on whether to head down those newly discovered stairs into a lower level and higher danger can be an opportunity for role-play among the players and entertainment for the referee.
Pacing of character level advancement can be somewhat of an individual preference, but one level per 4-6 sessions, perhaps doubling to 8-12 sessions per level at higher levels, seems to fit with impressions I get from reading some of the comments made online by Gary Gygax, Tim Kask, Rob Kuntz and others regarding level progression in the original game when they talk about it taking a couple of years of weekly play for a character to reach "name level". The "reward" in such play is the fun that happens at the table and in becoming a better player of the game (game mastery). By contrast, if reward is defined as leveling up, then "rewarding" players for showing up by leveling their characters becomes their fun. Cutting the corners misses the point.

Tim Kask on White Box

One not to Miss
One of the things that continues to fascinate me about this hobby is how we all have a unique story to tell, yet there are so many similarities especially among those of us who came to the game as adults in the 1970's. Tim Kask (founding editor of The Dragon Magazine) wrote this (http://kaskoid.blogspot.com/2016/02/how-i-helped-to-pull-rope-that-tolled.html) a year or so ago, yet I just discovered it over the weekend. In his post, Mr. Kask expresses some ideas similar to those I have written about, but of course he does so with more knowledge, insight and a more talented pen. If any who read this post have not read Mr' Kask's "How I Helped Pull the Rope that Tolled the Bell for OD&D", I strongly recommend it.

Diceless D&D

Or Talking Your Way Through The Dungeon
Ultimately Role-playing is just that - talking in first person as the character, or describing what the character says and does in third person. From White Box forward the game is a talking game, a social activity. The balance between rolling dice to determine outcomes ("roll-playing") and talking back and forth between players and referee to determine outcome is something that varies from group to group and session to session. Some sessions are mostly talking and it is certainly possible to do away with rolling the dice, should all the players agree to do so. Randomness is gone and outcomes are decided purely on the merit of the argument presented by players to the referee. I daresay this isn't the norm, however.
White Box and the hobby has its roots in wargaming where a long tradition exists of using dice to introduce random outcomes and add excitement and uncertainty. Negotiating with NPCs and monsters, questioning prisoners and the occasional sage, even bargaining with the local magistrate or merchant are certainly meant to be part of the game, but the talking need not stop with those activities. Even among a group that prefers to make a lot of dice rolls, after-all it is fun to see what the dice give us and play off the random result, a well described plan of action can however add to the excitement and shared mental visualization upon which the game depends as well. Clever thinking can even substitute at times for combat rolls.
On a recent dungeon crawl my fantasy compatriots and I (well, my player character) managed to take out the bulk of the undead baddies with an improvised Molotov and the body of a big dead critter by dropping each in succession and from great height onto the unwary (but hungry) undead who waited below for us to descend into darkness (and become their feast). We settled on and described our plan verbally. No roll needed. Splash - zombies afire and burned away. Crunch - skeletons crushed beneath the massive weight of a great dead thingy. Rather than looking on a weighty character sheet for answers to life's "in game" problems, why not turn instead to player imagination?
Early in the games history, gamers looked at player skill as something like having skill at chess - an ability to masterfully play the game. Skill wasn't a number on the character sheet. We used player skill during the game to solve problems encountered by our characters and acquire treasures while minimizing risk, not before or after the game cleverly crafting the values and combos on the character sheet. That style of play comes later with more involved chargen and expanded rules allowing greater character customization.
Today we have many choices to make about how to "play the game". Pre-Dragon Lance, it was common for story to be what develops at the table, perhaps helped along by the referee revealing some (small amount of) world background detail which the players then incorporate into their memories of the session. Balancing encounters - not a thing. If, as referee, I wanted to toughen/weaken an encounter, adjusting the critter's remaining Hit Points on-the-fly usually did the trick...or add in some reinforcements, or fail a morale check. All the while encouraging table talk. "What do I see?" followed by "What do you want to do?" is a wide-open creative way to play the game that can still produce an enjoyable time for all involved.