The Evolution of Fantasy Role-Playing Games – Read Now and Download Mobi

For my parents,

who taught me to cherish

an active imagination.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank Gary Alan Fine for his kind advice on role-playing games of yesterday and today, Nick Montfort for taking time out for my questions about interactive fiction, Alexander Hinkley of Alex’s DBZ RPG for his insights on browser-based games, and Jeff Martin for sharing his thoughts on the creation of True Dungeon.

To the families of the wizards who made fantasy gaming what it is today— J.R.R. Tolkien, Gary Gygax, and Dave Arneson—thank you for the gift that keeps on giving. To the bards who crafted the games I love—Monte Cook, Raph Koster, Erik Mona, and Rose Estes—thank you for your inspiring work. To the paladins who fight the good fight in defending our hobby, including Stephen Colbert, Vin Diesel, Mike Stackpole, Paul Cardwell, and M. Alan Thomas II ... never give up the fight!

I also want to give a shout-out to my old gaming groups: Kevin Herriman from my very first basic Dungeons & Dragons campaign, Jason Varrone from my 1st edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons campaign, Bill Jellig from my 2nd edition campaign, and George Webster from my 3rd edition game. I would also like to thank Jeremy Ortiz and Robert Taylor, who participated in my Dungeons & Dragons campaigns and contributed art to this book.

My insights about MUDs came from the many years of working with the outstanding staff of RetroMUD, especially fellow administrator Mazyar Fallah. I’m also thankful for all the players of RetroMUD who taught me volumes about the power of virtual groups, and Arianna Simes and Brandon Smith in particular for sharing their thoughts about gaming in general.

There are plenty of folks whom I didn’t interview for this book but were nevertheless influential in my gaming life. Doug Schonenberg introduced me to Ultima Online. Mike Ettlemyer dragged me kicking and screaming into first-person shooters and now he can’t get rid of me. I blame Chris Bibbs for sharing my thesis with Mike Krahulik and Jerry Holkins of Penny Arcade, which started me on the path of writing this book.

There are also organizations and places online where I lurk that deserve mention: geezergamers.com, enworld.org, RPG.net and Yog-Sothoth.com all provided valuable input over the years on games and gamers of all stripes. ICON has been my home convention for many years. If it wasn’t for me attending the World Fantasy Convention with Fred Durbin, Nick Ozment, and Gabe Dybing this book might not have seen the light of day.

I’ve been particularly blessed by a loving family that supports and encourages my gaming hobbies. My father’s love of science fiction and my mother’s love of reading greatly influenced me as a gamer. I’ve had the amazing good fortune to game with my brother Joe who contributed art to this book, my brother-in-law Eric, and my sister-in-law Melissa.

But the person who deserves the most thanks of all, the inspiration for my master’s thesis, and my constant companion and muse, is my wife. Amber tolerated long nights of writing while keeping up with my gamer-in-training two-year-old son and pregnant with our daughter. Violet will be born by the time this book sees print. I love you!

To my family and friends: Thank you. I look forward to gaming with all of you soon.

PREFACE

When we submitted John Gabriel’s Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory, we were not aware that it already had proponents in centers of higher learning. Except, when they talk about it, they call it The Impact of Anonymity on Disinhibitive Behavior Through Computer-Mediated Communication. Same thing, though [Holkins 2004].

Why write yet another book about role-playing games? There are plenty of authors who have written quite a bit about fantasy gaming in a variety of mediums without having ever actually experienced their evolution firsthand. One of the reasons I chose to write this book is that I was there. I’ve certainly experienced a wider variety of gaming media than some of the developers who created the more popular massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs) today. There are scholars who have written books on MMORPGs with considerably less gaming experience. The gaming medium is not very old, but there is so much more to gaming than MMORPGs alone.

I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons at age seven and have been playing it for over twenty years. I snuck into university computer labs to play multi-user dungeons (MUDs) as a teenager long before I could attend college. I’ve played just about every form of fantasy gaming. By the time I went on to graduate school, I was an administrator for a MUD and had published several tabletop gaming supplements for the game I loved.

Every year, I attend I-CON on Long Island and participate in panels on gaming. I grew up with the convention, attending nearly every I-CON since I was twelve. I’ve also participated in discussion panels about gaming at Dragon*Con and Bakuretsu Con.

By the time I went to graduate school at Michigan State University, I was a man on a mission. Scholars were tut-tutting about the marvelous world in which boys played online, while I was facing down death threats, fighting spammers, and grappling with the ugly side that was part of everyday life on the Internet. My masters’ thesis would come full circle when Penny Arcade shared “John Gabriel’s Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory.”

The theory, explained in an online comic in March 2004, explains the unsociable tendencies of online players when combined with anonymity: “Normal Person + Anonymity + Audience = Total Fuckwad.” It was an enlightening lesson about the state of journalism to see the April 2, 2004, Washington Times quote me, as if I had been interviewed, in their column “Watercooler Stories,” where it stated that a “graduate of Michigan State University” had determined that anonymity made people more likely to be offensive. A thesis I had written five years before gained national prominence in a syndicated newspaper because a buddy of mine (Chris Bibbs) mentioned it to a gaming site. It was at that moment that I realized gamers were an international force to be reckoned with.

When I bought my first game console, an Xbox, I wasn’t really keen on many of the first-person shooter games that are so popular today. But a coworker, Mike Ettlemyer, convinced me to join Geezer Gamers (2010). Before I knew it, I was hooked on Halo. And Halo 2. And Halo 3. And Gears of War. And ... you get the idea. I now participate in online games with likeminded Geezers every Wednesday night on Xbox Live. Look for Talien!

I’m also one of the top 1,000 reviewers for Amazon.com, a relationship I’ve cultivated since Amazon.com was launched. I review everything I read, watch, or play, which keeps me pretty busy. In short, I am quite sure there are authors out there who know more about games than I do—but I don’t think they’ve played quite as many games.

When I first considered writing this book, I faced a daunting challenge: How to combine all these different experiences into one book that’s entertaining as well as informative?

Beginning with J.R.R. Tolkien’s Fellowship as envisioned in The Lord of the Rings, I decided to follow the long and twisty thread that is group play inperson and over the Internet. There are echoes of this motley group of races and professions, nationalities and ethos, in every fantasy game created since Dungeons & Dragons. The fingerprints of the tabletop role-playing game are everywhere, and sometimes even the developers don’t realize they’ve been influenced by all the games that have gone before.

Just as the Fellowship helped mold fantasy gaming, it also helped shape how players get together to play. And that’s where my thesis comes in: There are different stages of anonymity that influence how people play together, be it in costume, at a table, over the phone, or on the Internet. In-game and outof-game roles have a powerful effect on the game itself and it is that common thread we will pursue throughout this book.

There is a distressing lack of history knowledge in the gaming community. Tabletop role-players seem entirely disconnected from the miniature wargaming community that spawned Dungeons &Dragons. MUD coders don’t understand where their Dungeons & Dragons–themed rules and assumptions came from. MMORPG developers almost unilaterally ignored what made MUDs successful, making the same mistakes that MUDs made a decade before. Computer role-playing games tout “innovations” that were implemented long before by tabletop gamers and MUD developers. Recently, live action role-playing games started adopting tabletop gaming conventions more formally into their games.

In short, we have a lot to learn from each other. This book is as much about my shared experiences with all these different gaming communities as it is an attempt to encapsulate the history of fantasy gaming. It’s my hope that this book will serve as the foundation for future works, so that authors and developers alike will learn the difference between editions of Dungeons & Dragons and know the heritage of the various races and classes that are commonplace in all forms of gaming today. If you’re a developer who is just starting out, a gaming veteran who wants to reminisce, or you just like games ... this book is for you.

INTRODUCTION

The Company of the Ring shall be Nine; and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With you and your faithful servant, Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labours. For the rest, they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the World: Elves, Dwarves, and Men [Tolkien 1954:288].

With those words, J.R.R. Tolkien formed the basic structure of an adventuring party in 1954 that has endured endless fantasy tropes and ever-changing mediums. Although the Fellowship started with elves, dwarves, men, and of course hobbits, it has since expanded to include every race of fantasy imaginable. And where it was once simply enough to define one’s allegiance to a Fellowship by nationality, race and class has come to define each hero in the fantasy gaming genre. One can be a ranger, like Aragorn; a wizard, like Gandalf; or a thief, like Bilbo.

And yet the Fellowship in a gaming experience is fundamentally a gathering of people. Although the players can conceivably control more than one character, the Fellowship is a construct uniquely suited to group play. Characters of diverse backgrounds come together to achieve a common goal, just as a variety of players gather together to play the game. The Fellowship construct is ideally suited to new players. It is independent of previous character relationships, just like the players themselves.

In that light, the Fellowship is both an in- and out-of-game framework on which to hang a gaming experience. This book will examine the archetypes and concepts within the fantasy game and the roles and functions of the players themselves. As the fantasy gaming experience has evolved, so too has the medium in which it is expressed, from novel to tabletop, from imagination to miniatures, from textual descriptions of characters to three-dimensional computer avatars, to the players themselves dressing and acting as the characters.

Media Richness

By applying Daft and Lengel’s (1984:191) media richness theory to the fantasy gaming experience, there is much to learn about what constitutes a successful and satisfying game. The media richness theory proposes that communication media have a range of capacity to resolve ambiguity and facilitate understanding. The theory has two main assumptions: that people want to overcome uncertainty in communicating with each other and that different media work best for different situations.

Daft and Lengel’s media richness hierarchy is sorted, from high to low degrees of richness, by the medium’s ability to provide instant feedback; the capacity to transmit multiple cues such as body language, expression, and inflection; the use of natural language; and the personal focus of the medium. We can apply the media richness hierarchy to gaming.

As explained in Table 1, each gaming medium brings with it a level of media richness that conveys something about the character through the player. At one end of the spectrum is the text-based gaming experience, which has no social cues other than what the player types on a keyboard. At the other end is a LARP, where the players dress and act as their characters, blurring the line between the two. In that regard, media richness is a key factor in taking on another role.

This is not to say that a high level of media richness is always desired. Some level of anonymity helps facilitate certain levels of game play. Ambiguity may positively reinforce role-play for a particular gaming medium. Text-based games like MUDs and IF can reveal the mental states of characters and connect to literary traditions and the rhythms, sounds, and shapes of language (Montfort 2010). MMORPGs, which replicate some of the media richness of a LARP through avatars, are successful precisely because of their media richness; the ability to express oneself in a three-dimensional space (Castronova 2005:69) in a way similar to a LARP without any of the physical constraints.

Anonymity of Self and Other

When determining how fantasy games represent a group of gamers, there is another issue to consider: anonymity of self vs. anonymity of other.

Anonymity of self is tightly tied to agency. Players’ ability to control their character, to represent themselves as they wish to be represented, creates a sense of control and engagement. By creating agency, players temporarily forget they’re playing a game and simply play. Characters that are a blank slate may appear anonymous but due to a clunky interface, complex rules, or a lack of believability on the part of the player, fail to provide agency. When agency is achieved, players might be surprised to find that the characters they play take on a life of their own (Sinha 1993:120).

Agency happens on two levels, local and global. On a local level, the player is engaged in a satisfying and believable way by what he does and how the environment responds to him. Global agency happens on a higher level in how the story plays out so that there are logical consequences to the character’s actions as well as the other characters that inhabit the world (Mateas & Stern 2007:206).

Anonymity of other is how much the player knows about the game universe he engages in, including his understanding of the world. This is known as diegesis (Montola 2010). Diegesis is the sum total of knowledge about a universe, including knowledge of the past, present, and future. In a novel this frame of reference is perceived from a single point of origin, the narrator. In role-playing every player interprets the game experience uniquely—the importance of the character’s experience is defined as much as by what is shared about the universe as what isn’t shared. It’s entirely possible for different players to have different or even contrary knowledge within a game universe (Hindmarch 2007:51).

The lack of anonymity in certain types of fantasy gaming, like tabletop and LARPs, alters interpersonal negotiations. The additional layer of sensory knowledge changes the face-to-face interaction (Fine 2009). It is entirely possible for an unattractive male gamer to believe he is playing an attractive female gamer effectively even though his media-richness cues conflict with the character he is attempting to present. Although the hairy gamer might believe he is effectively inhabiting his role, other players interacting with him in the game may disagree. When others express their disagreement, it in turn influences how the gamer sees himself, a feature missing from single-player games. Single-player games that do not involve interactivity with other players are concerned only with making the role believable to the player. Multiplayer games must make the role habitable for the player and also allow the player to inhabit the role for others.

Frame of Reference

The term “role-playing” has come to represent a variety of game forms. A colleague once explained to me when I mentioned that I played Dungeons & Dragons, “I beat that game!” She was referring to computer role-playing games, of course, where it is indeed possible to “beat” the game. The term “role-playing” has now been expanded to include any game in which the player controls a character in a game world and develops him or her throughout the course of play (Hindmarch 2007:47).

Role-playing games differ from other forms of recreation through the act of co-creation. The role-player creates his own experience through personal feelings and emotions. He inhabits a character and feels the character’s experiences in a way that a book or film cannot directly convey. In this way, players interact with a game through a uniquely tailored frame of reference (Mateas 2004:21).

In Shared Fantasy, Gary Alan Fine (1983:188) defines a frame as “a situational definition constructed in accord with organizing principles that govern both the events themselves and participants’ experience of those events.” He breaks down the various frames into levels of the role-playing game experience.

The primary framework is what gamers commonly refer to as real life. It is separate from the game but inextricably part of it. Real life is understood to be outside the rules, and its realities may define or even contradict the game itself (i.e., having to finish a game quickly because the players need to go to work). The membrane between imaginary worlds and real life has become increasingly porous, allowing participants to take the very best elements they enjoy most from each gaming medium (Castronova 2005:158).

The secondary framework is the player framework. Players operate within the game using the rules as they understand them. They operate their characters according to what the game allows, make statistical checks, take damage, and otherwise interact with the variables of the game abstractly, usually through random number generation.

Some players are comfortable interacting with the rules of the game from a purely simulation point of view, focusing exclusively on hit points, character attributes, and the like, rather than providing any narrative structure for their character. Many single-player games that are low on media cues provide these rules as a shortcut to make up for the lack of narrative structure. The intelligence, wisdom, and charisma attributes define the mental characteristics of a character that a player may be unable to provide from a narrative perspective.

The tertiary framework is the role-playing aspect of gaming. Players are their characters, inhabiting a role in a way few games emulate. Most games, like chess, never extend beyond the secondary framework. The tertiary framework is what sets role-playing games apart from other forms of gaming and it is the source of much controversy in the “roll-” vs. “role-” playing debate.

Fine breaks down the tertiary framework further by examining the various forms of engagement by players with the game and their characters.

Character Awareness of Person Reality

The character knows things he would not normally know because the person playing the character knows it. This information can be as esoteric as how to build a flamethrower or as oblique as knowledge of SWAT team tactics. The more removed the setting, the more difficult it becomes for a player to filter his own knowledge when role-playing. This disconnect is a common criticism in fantasy-derived media where the characters use lingo familiar to modern audiences. Although these forms of narrative shortcut are an inaccurate depiction of the universe in question, a certain level of accessibility is required to allow participants to comfortably engage with the setting.

Character Awareness of Player Reality

Characters can take many dynamic actions that are not suitable for players sitting around a table. They can be physically separated. They can be in proximity to each other but not capable of experiencing the same thing—one might be blind or affected by an illusion. It is assumed by many gaming groups that the players will filter this information out of their characters’ knowledge. Some groups pass notes and send players out of the room to prevent player “contamination” of character information.

Characters do not view their universe as a set of game rules, but players do. In systems where there are clear target numbers to perform an action, players may choose their characters’ actions depending on the likelihood of success. Players have become accustomed to having some level of “meta-knowledge” about how the game works, like hit points or ability scores. This is why MMORPGs and CRPGs still display numbers for skill use and damage inflicted even though all the rules can be masked through the game’s interface.

Player Unawareness of Character Reality

Just as players can provide their characters with information they would not normally possess, players inevitably lack information their characters should know. My most recent Dungeons & Dragons character, a fantasy version of a Roman standard bearer named Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, certainly knew more about military protocol and procedures than I did. It is often up to the game master to adjudicate situations in which the character should know something but the player doesn’t. Modern realistic settings and characters that have characteristics in common with their players help reduce this disparity.

Awareness Context of the Game Master

Game worlds are massive universes, fabricated by another game company or by the game master. As such, each game universe is only as detailed as the amount of time and effort invested in it. There’s only so much diegesis a game universe can realistically convey. If players focus on macro- or micro-levels of information, such as the population numbers for a particular race across a continent or the different kinds of microbes that infect a peculiar breed of sheep, the game breaks down. It is up to the game master or coding authority to fill in the blanks, sharing the right information at the right time.

If the information isn’t shared appropriately, the players fail to experience diegesis and the game experience is less engaging. During an investigativestyle tabletop game session, one of my players correctly deduced that a character wasn’t important because I didn’t immediately have the details of her profession at my fingertips. If she was important, he declared, I would immediately know what kind of lawyer she was. He was right.

This analysis of frames helps sheds some light on the “right” way to play a game. A LARP, for example, minimizes character awareness of player reality and increases agency because the player physically inhabits the character’s body through his action. There isn’t necessarily a right or wrong way to game so much as player agreement on which frames they will use to play the game.

Because role-playing isn’t just about inhabiting a role but playing it, narrative inhabitance requires interaction with others. And because there isn’t always a means of determining a player’s level of inhabitance of his role, the only way to discover this is to role-play with the character. This interaction can be jarring for the widely differing levels of inhabitance, because a roleplayer’s diegesis is partially defined by his interaction with other players, while a “roll-player’s” role is defined by his agency. A role-player needs other players to play along with his role. A roll-player does not.

We will define role-playing in this context as not just inhabiting the role but interacting with others. At first blush it might seem that it is not necessary to review the single-player game experience because it does not reflect true social interaction; however, even single-player games attempt to model a group of characters, with the role inhabited by the computer. The effectiveness of the computer’s ability to mimic these characters helps determine the level of interaction within the game. Or, to put it another way, computers are another form of player.

Time

Tim is a currency that all forms of fantasy gaming have in common. Experiencing a role takes time. Because fantasy gaming is a recreational experience, this time commitment requires a player to make a tradeoff by choosing gaming over some other activity.

But fun has a price. It keeps us from doing work and makes us potentially neglect our other responsibilities. Different forms of gaming have different considerations to retain and grow the player base, not the least of which is replayability. The nature of fantasy gaming is experiencing a role, and the shorter the time engaged, the smaller the window for the player experiencing agency (Juul 2004:131).

First-person perspectives that happen in real time require considerably more engagement. One of the common complaints about MMORPGs is that they cannot be easily entered and exited at the player’s whim. MMORPGs happen in real time, so players have to factor in real-life interruptions lest their entire adventuring party die during a bathroom break. Contrast this time commitment with play-by-post games, which by their very nature require limited engagement and interaction (Douglas and Hargadon 2004:203).

MMORPGs and MUDs in particular have a “grind,” performing tasks repeatedly in the hope of gaining some advantage, be it a higher level of experience or acquiring some item. Players spend precious time grinding through these boring tasks to enjoy access to other parts of the game. Even game designers have acknowledged these boring parts by creating mini-games to keep players preoccupied during the necessary downtime (Taylor 2006:85).

Why would anyone create a game that’s boring? Because the progenitor of fantasy gaming, Dungeons & Dragons, was meant to be played in limited but intense chunks of time. In fact, a substantial part of tabletop gaming is taken up in preparation of the game, as Gary Gygax, one of the founders of Dungeons & Dragons, explains:

The most extensive requirement is time. The campaign referee will have to have sufficient time to meet the demands of his players, he will have to devote a number of hours to laying out the maps of his “dungeons” and upper terrain before the affair begins [Gygax 1974:3].

During play, the Dungeon Master skips over the boring parts and emphasizes the action. Early editions of Dungeons & Dragons were nothing but action interspersed with the potential threat of danger. Early parties spent a lot of time searching for traps, mapping, and meticulously performing tasks that others might find boring, but that were an important struggle for survival within the game’s context.

By taking the Dungeons & Dragons framework and applying it to games with thousands of players and a persistent world, the system breaks down. The fourth edition of Dungeons &Dragons addresses precisely this flaw in revising every class so that there are no “boring” levels.

The temporal cost of fun has repercussions for the future of gaming. Modern economies provide workers with much more flexibility than ever before, but as a result of that flexibility, free time is divided into smaller increments (Thom 2010). Games with easier access that accommodate this new structure of free time are likely to survive as a mainstream hobby (Vesna 2004:250).

American Culture

This book primarily focuses on fantasy gaming through the lens of American culture. Although non–Western cultures were influential in gaming, they are beyond the scope of this book.

Comparing the Warhammer Fantasy Role-Playing Game (Fantasy Flight Games 2010) to Dungeons & Dragons illustrates the different approaches to gaming between cultures. Dungeons & Dragons is suffused with hope and power, with gold around every corner. Official campaign worlds for Dungeons & Dragons were slow to come about, instead encouraging game masters to create their own worlds—in keeping with American individualism. Europeaninspired Warhammer, on the other hand, is a world full of rich and ancient history, with a mixture of frail nobility and aging decadence against the backdrop of war. Warhammer captures many of the aspects of The Lord of the Rings that Dungeons &Dragons did not, embracing the heritage of European countries while American fantasy games emphasized pulp-style action.

Japanese CRPGs have influenced fantasy games as well. Adventures can include “cute” (kawaii) elements with cartoon-like characters and silly quests side-by-side with serious and threatening situations. This contrast may be jarring to American audiences, but it’s perfectly in keeping with Japanese culture, which has embraced kawaii in everything from fashion to cartoons (anime) to comics (manga) to role-playing games (Barton 2008:208).

Without the history of wargaming to influence gaming culture like it did in Europe and the United States, Japanese CRPGs are a mix of kawaii, action, fantasy, and science fiction. Japanese CRPGs contributed some important changes to how role-playing games are now played electronically, but we’re chiefly concerned with the heritage of the European Lord of the Rings.

And yet, if The Lord of the Rings is European, why did it become so popular in the United States? Part of the answer is that Dungeons &Dragons acted as a translation of sorts for the fantasy genre. Like Warhammer, Middle-earth is steeped in a world rich with lore and history. Dungeons & Dragons added pulp sensibilities to the fantasy game, an important part of American culture. Pulp fiction featured multitalented heroes, nonstop action, exotic locales, and nefarious villains—it was the genre that spawned the modern comic book industry.

Although Dungeons & Dragons and its ilk are positioned as fantasy roleplaying games limited only by the players’ imagination, they are in fact bound by common principles that make fantasy role-playing games distinctly American. As defined by Fine (1983:76), these elements are a force of unlimited good, a world in opposition with sharply defined sides, an evil that favors only violence to perpetrate its ethos, and the value of hard work.

American culture has some nuances that are unique to it, one being the notion of limitless growth for businesses, consumer buying power, and the economy. In Dungeons & Dragons, this ideology is true of dungeon exploration too. There’s always a monster with treasure around the next corner, always a new area to explore, always a new frontier to conquer.

The very nature of adventure is predicated on an age of expansion and heedless of the results of that expansion. Adventurers are not colonial conquerors but heroes to their homeland, with none of the consequences suffered by the non-dominant societies. When you take treasure from someone, someone else must have lost it, but in Dungeons & Dragons it’s usually an ancient culture that no longer can claim ownership. In MMORPGs perpetual growth borders on parody, as hordes of supposedly unique adventurers camp out in front of dungeons that generate limitless amounts of monsters and treasure. The grind paradigm was parodied in Progress Quest, an application that levels up a character with no player input at all (Grumdrig 2008).

In Dungeons & Dragons, good and evil are axiomatic. There are clearly defined “sides” to which players claim allegiance, and their allegiance influences their characters, from abilities to appearance. In America, this “my way or the highway” philosophy has become an increasingly dominant form of discourse, most ardently in politics and the media. It has spread to the communication channels themselves, with different television networks accusing the other of bias, forming their own “alignment” language.

Dungeons & Dragons’ focus on combat harks back to its wargame roots, with pages of rules centered on conflict. And yet despite the combat rules, Dungeons & Dragons does not focus on senseless violence, torture or depravity. When works like the Book of Erotic Fantasy, by Gwendolyn F.M. Kestrel and Duncan Scott were released by a third-party publisher, they caused enough of a stir with D&D owners Wizards of the Coast that the Open Game License was revised to prevent other books like it from being published. Wizards subsequently published the Book of Vile Darkness which addressed similarly “mature” content (Cook 2002).

The Protestant work ethic of toil resulting in great rewards is evident throughout American culture. It informs many reactions to socialism, which, some charge, rewards the lazy who didn’t “earn” their keep. Leveling up, gaining power and experience points provide a very clear path to power in fantasy gaming, rewarding hard work. This ethic is turned on its ear in online roleplaying games where heroes adventure around the clock and it’s possible to “farm” one’s way to power by repeatedly killing creatures that are of no threat to the player’s character.

The Players

In 2000 Wizards of the Coast conducted one of the largest polls of roleplayers, sending a postcard survey to more than 65,000 respondents in more than 20,000 households of people ages 12 to 35. A follow-up survey was then completed by about 1,000 respondents from the “screener.” In that study Ryan Dancey, then brand manager of Dungeons & Dragons, discovered that six percent of the U.S. population played tabletop role-playing games (about 5.5 million people) and three percent played monthly (about 2.25 million people) (2000).

Role-playing gamers come from diverse backgrounds, but they have enough in common with each other to be grouped into a few distinct categories. As defined by Fine (1983:49), gamers can be grouped into the following categories: military history/wargaming, knowledge of fantasy literature, knowledge of real-world mythology, knowledge of general history/social sciences, knowledge of real-world physical science, and live action role-playing groups like the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA Webfolk 2010). Interest in any one of these seven categories increases the likelihood a person will be interested in role-playing.

Military history/wargaming now has a distinct fantasy bent thanks to Games Workshop’s Warhammer miniatures game. This category can be further divided into military history buffs and wargamers. In the Wizards of the Coast survey, 17 percent of this population played tabletop role-playing games as well as miniature wargames monthly.

Dungeons & Dragons has strayed far from its original wargaming roots. In the late ’70s, Dungeons & Dragons was still struggling to separate itself from wargaming culture, where it originated, and thus many players came to role-playing from wargaming. Before the advent of Dungeons & Dragons, wargaming was usually a military simulation of a real-life historical event, which attracted military buffs. Given that Fine’s Shared Fantasy was published in 1983, it’s likely that military history buffs no longer see the appeal of roleplaying as much as they once did.

Knowledge of fantasy literature is best exemplified by the surge in popularity of the Lord of the Rings series. The Lord of the Rings movies brought fantasy into the mainstream and had a powerful influence on both role-playing games and fantasy conventions. Decipher published licensed role-playing and collectible card games that took place in Middle-earth. The female population attending genre conventions surged during the release of the three Rings movies. Knowledge of fantasy literature can also encompass horror and science fiction. Many elements from author H.P. Lovecraft’s work are also a part of Dungeons & Dragons (Jacobs 2004).

Interest in mythology and alternative religions can certainly pique one’s interest in gaming. Alternative religions that are connected to mythology, like Asatru and Wicca, help establish a common language that is used in gaming. A wide variety of mythologies has been presented throughout each edition of Dungeons & Dragons.

Knowledge of general history and social sciences is probably most appealing for prospective game masters, who have better insight and more control over how detailed fantasy worlds work. They can use history as a template or actually reconstruct historical events with their own twist, such as Cthulhu Dark Ages or Victorian Age Vampire.

Knowledge of real-world physical science is more relevant to science fiction role-playing games. In a manner similar to history buffs, game masters are likely more interested in constructing a detailed world that operates or warps scientific principles. Surprisingly, there is no one science fiction game that clearly dominates tabletop role-playing like Dungeons & Dragons has dominated the fantasy genre.

Live action role-playing, wherein the players physically inhabit a role, is a natural fit for tabletop role-playing games. Players are able to visualize their fantasy because they performed many of those same actions in another gaming format. Whereas Fine limited this comparison to the Society for Creative Anachronism, the definition can be stretched to include anyone with real-life physical experience who uses that knowledge in a role-playing game, including martial artists, military veterans, and improv actors.

Missing from Fine’s review of gamers was CRPGs and MMORPGs, which have since increased in popularity (Taylor 2006:77). In the Wizards of the Coast survey, 46 percent of tabletop role-players also played computer role-playing games monthly (2000).

Dancey concluded that the mythical “hobby gamer” who played tabletop role-playing games, CRPGs, and miniature wargames comprised a “very, very small portion of the total market.” A minority of gamers played more than one category of hobby game and very few played all three. The largest overlap, though still a minority, was with CRPGs and tabletop role-playing games. This places me in the minority, as I have indeed played all three—but I do not play all three concurrently.

Throughout this book I interview many of the players from my tabletop role-playing game campaigns and from RetroMUD. Through their experiences, I hope to compare and contrast the differences and similarities between each gaming medium.

Gender

However gamers come to tabletop gaming, they all share one thing in common—they are almost uniformly male. Fine (1983:62) estimated that in the early 80s only ten percent of the player population was female. The Wizards of the Coast survey indicated that just 19 percent of female gamers played on a monthly basis (2000).

But it didn’t have to be that way. Studies of children (Child and Child 1973) aged 12 and younger found that girls have more interest in imaginative play than do boys. Role-playing involves many of the attributes that are common in other female-youth-oriented games, including shopping to equip characters, character design and customization, the ability to possess and own pets, and playing a more attractive and mature character. So why aren’t there more women involved in role-playing games?

The answer may lie in the duration of play. Tabletop role-playing involves sitting at a table for long periods of time with a group. Boys’ imaginative play tends to run longer and involve larger groups than girls’. As one of the female players in my 3.5 edition Dungeons & Dragons campaign explained:

I had two traditional D&D experiences at age 16 and then again at 26. I enjoyed puzzle solving, but on both occasions I found the delay in discovering opponents’ weaknesses and strengths lacking in excitement of a visual real-time battle. Therefore a character reaction or statement that might be influenced by adrenaline would be easier to come by in a real-time video game. Sadly traditional RPG was about as exciting as jogging from one end of a pool to another for me [Melissa Tresca 2010].

These challenges can be overcome, of course. However, other forms of role-playing that remove the duration of play and the requirement of sitting at a table for long periods of time seem to be more popular with women. MMORPGs, for example, focus on character and object customization, without the requirement for long stretches with a peer group. Conversely, LARPs include all the imaginative play of tabletop role-playing games, but focus more on interaction between individuals than a group confined to a table.

There are other problems that keep females away from gaming that are endemic to any male-dominated form of entertainment. The self-reinforcing nature of a male-dominated game seems less welcoming to women because there are so many men playing. That females can be portrayed in fantasy literature in as sex objects doesn’t help; chauvinism of male players, who game for the express purpose of getting away from wives and girlfriends, further reinforces the gender barrier (Archer 2004:268).

As Ryan Dancey indicated in the survey, “It is clear that female gamers constitute a significant portion of the hobby gaming audience; essentially a fifth of the total market. This represents a total population of several million active female hobby gamers. However, females, as a group, spend less than males on the hobby” (2000).

The term “girl gamer” is slowly being taken back by women as a badge of pride. As other forms of fantasy gaming developed, many of the barriers that discouraged females from playing have fallen away. Online games are the most promising change of the gamer landscape. We can only hope that a more equally balanced gaming population will continue to transform the pen-andpaper role-playing culture as well.

Evolution of My Fantasy Gaming Experience

The evolution of fantasy gaming took a huge leap forward in 1971, when Gary Gygax translated the epic warfare that took place in The Lord of the Rings into wargame rules through Chainmail. The medieval miniatures wargame had it all: hobbits and elves, wizards and warriors. As befitting the racial preferences of The Lord of the Rings, troop types were identified primarily by race. There was no suggestion that the players inhabit the role of their characters, however (Mona 2007:26).

It wasn’t until 1974 that the real details of each squad were fleshed out. With the advent of the pen-and-paper role-playing game Dungeons &Dragons, players could take the role of individuals. No longer were they a faceless army of elves— they were members of Fellowships on their own quests, just like Legolas, Gimli, and Frodo. Their quests were primarily focused on dungeon delving, a nod to the journey through the Mines of Moria, the first adventuring dungeon filled with monsters to slay, such as cave trolls, orcs, goblins, and Balrogs. It was only fitting that the person who played all of the opponents was the Dungeon Master (DM). This role required quite a bit of responsibility and organization, since the DM handled all the other roles that weren’t performed by other players.

I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons in elementary school and had been playing it for some time before I became acquainted with The Lord of the Rings. Much to my surprise, all the fantasy tropes were there. Further research unearthed that they were officially present in Dungeons & Dragons until the Tolkien estate asked TSR to remove the copyrighted names of Balrogs and hobbits. The Lord of the Rings series helped me write three book reports in junior high. (Of course, The Lord of the Rings isn’t technically a trilogy—it’s actually six volumes spread amongst three books.)

I started playing Dungeons & Dragons with the “red box” basic set. My mother helped me play the very first game. Once I got the hang of it, I gathered up my neighbors (Kenny, Kevin, and George), and with me in the role of Dungeon Master, we were off.

My aunt Vickie, not understanding the difference between Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and Basic Dungeons & Dragons, bought me all the hardcover books. I read them in wonder, hoping one day to be able to advance to, well, advanced.

By the time I graduated from elementary school, I had access to a larger pool of players. The group increased to four: two Jasons, Doug, and Oren. By the time I reached high school, the group grew larger: Rob, Jeremy, Kurt, Bill, Joe and others who came and went. We played every weekend for hours, sometimes twice a weekend, ignorant that Dungeons & Dragons was primarily popular with college kids. We played two entire campaigns, one using the basic edition rules and one using the first edition rules, before I graduated high school.

With the advent of computers, text-based games like ADVENT and DNGEON mimicked the endless dungeon exploration and battle against monsters. My first computer gaming experience was via a PET computer in elementary school, wherein I had the opportunity to challenge my wits against the great wizard Zot in the game Wizard’s Castle. I found the game too difficult. At age nine I was still grasping the basics of role-playing games.

DNGEON was eventually released by Infocom as Zork. My parents insisted on purchasing a computer system instead of a game console, a decision I disagreed with at the time (I wanted an Odyssey) but one that in retrospect changed my life for the better. It was thanks to our Atari 800 that I was introduced to Zork.

I still remember the struggle to open a locked door in Zork. All we had was a letter opener and a placemat. After days of puzzling over how to get through the door, it hit me in a flash—slide the placemat under the door, push the letter opener into the lock, knock the key out of the lock on the other side, and then pull the placemat back! It’s a triumph that stuck with me decades later. In all my years of gaming, few games have provided as satisfying an experience.

Even Zork couldn’t capture the feel of a party of characters however. Text-based games could handle only one player at a time until the advent of multi-user dungeons (MUDs). In 1978, Roy Trubshaw and Richard Bartle at Essex University created the first MUD, a nod to its dungeon-crawling predecessors (Glenday 2008: 170). Following in the footsteps of the single-player computer games, MUDs allowed players to adventure together in groups just like the Fellowship. The goal was to accumulate enough points to become a wizard, like Gandalf, and thereby be granted powers that mere mortals did not possess.

My experience with MUDs began with Ivory Towers. In Ivory Towers two different-aligned cities, one chaotic and the other lawful, battled in an endless struggle against each other. My character, Lamech, ascended in the ranks of a tight hierarchy of chaotic priests. Lamech was a noncombatant, a novelty in a bloodthirsty world where killing other player characters was the norm.

It’s noteworthy that I was playing Ivory Towers at the same time Indra Singh was playing Shades, a rival MUD (1999). Shades players were reviled across Ivory Towers, who would invade when Shades was down (or they were bored), gleefully committing mass murder in a bloody invasion that ended as quickly as it started.

Eventually, I switched to the Finnish LPMUD BatMUD. I made and lost friends on BatMUD, and even met my spouse Amber there. After a long and storied history as a satyr paladin known as Talien Radisgad, I left BatMUD to join the coding staff of another LPMUD, RetroMUD.

Over a decade of experience as an administrator on RetroMUD led to my master’s thesis, The Impact of Anonymity on Disinhibitive Behavior through Computer-Mediated Communication. I also became a staff reviewer for the MUD section of Gamers.com, which gave me an opportunity to view the breadth and depth of MUDs at the height of their popularity.

Given the popularity of Dungeons & Dragons across campuses in America, it was ironic that I had difficulty finding pen-and-paper gamers in college. When I moved to Michigan to pursue my master’s degree, I ran a brief second edition campaign with players from RetroMUD: Darren, Damien, Amber, and Chris.

In 1980, computer technology had advanced enough to make graphic visualizations feasible. Rogue, created by Michael Toy, Glenn Wichman, and Ken Arnold, bridged the gap between the old text-based games and the new graphics, exchanging text symbols for dungeon icons.

Rogue was a solitary dungeon crawl with randomly generated obstacles. The goal was to retrieve the Amulet of Yendor from the lowest level of the dungeon and escape with it. I played Rogue extensively on the Atari 520 ST, but never made it to the bottom level. The Ur-viles inevitably showed up and all was lost.

As computers advanced, MUDs advanced along with them. When graphics became detailed enough to represent characters in much the same way that miniatures were used for Chainmail, MMORPGs became feasible. The first MMORPG was Neverwinter Nights, which debuted on America Online in 1991 (Glenday 2008: 156). It had a two-dimensional graphical interface, granting players a top-down view of the universe. Parties were formed, dungeons were delved, and the rich tradition of the Fellowship continued.

In the late 1990s, I became a staff reviewer for All Game Guide. There were so many computer games that it was difficult to keep up. It gave me an appreciation for the wide range of games available for the PC.

By 1997, the MMORPG scene exploded with Ultima Online. Created by Richard Garriot, Starr Long, Rick Delashmit and later Raph Koster, Ultima Online took on the challenge of creating a fully realized universe outside the dungeon that could support an entire population of adventurers, villagers, and monsters. Ultima Online was an improvement over Neverwinter Nights with its three-quarters view from above. I played Ultima Online on a trial basis.

I was an active member of the MUD-Dev mailing list, on which MUD creators and MMORPG collaborators spoke as equals. During that time, the MMORPG coders shared the challenges they faced, challenges that MUD coders had been dealing with for years. I had several constructive conversations with some of the founders of MMORPGs, including Koster (2010). Despite the change in format, the issues bringing people together for a grand old fantasy adventure were still the same.

In 1999, EverQuest provided a three-dimensional graphical environment that went beyond tile-based representation (Glenday 2008: 170). Characters walked, ran, jumped, swam, and later rode mounts. EverQuest was rapidly followed by Asheron’s Call in 1999 and Dark Age of Camelot in 2001. I played the free three-month trial of Asheron’s Call.

The open game license (OGL) movement arrived in 2000. The OGL was an open content license published by Wizards of the Coast for role-playing games. The OGL movement, spearheaded by Ryan Dancey, gave hundreds of small businesses the chance to contribute rules and adventures to Dungeons & Dragons. It also gave struggling writers an opportunity to get published (Archer 2004:273). I authored several game accessories compatible with Dungeons & Dragons under the OGL, published by Alderac Entertainment Group, Goodman Games, Malladin’s Gate, MonkeyGod Enterprises, Otherworld Creations, Paradigm Concepts, Privateer Press, Reality Deviant Publications, RPG Objects, and Ronin Arts. I also wrote articles for a variety of periodicals, including D20 Filtered, Dragon Magazine, Pyramid, and the RPG Times. My ongoing love affair with Dungeons & Dragons continues to this day; I am an action horror columnist for RPG.net and the National RPG Examiner for Examiner.com (Tresca 2010).

I returned to the East Coast to co–DM a third edition Dungeons & Dragons campaign with Robert Taylor for Amber, Matt, Jeremy, George, two Joes, Melissa, and Mike. After my son was born, Jeremy, George, the same two Joes, and Bill now play a d20 Modern/Delta Green game once a month on Long Island.

D&D evolved as well, experiencing several revisions throughout the decades. Given that Dungeons & Dragons inspired the very first text-based adventure games, it was only a matter of time before parent met child. Dungeons & Dragons Online was launched in 2006 with the goal of bringing the Fellowship experience to the MMORPG. I played Dungeons & Dragons Online with Chris, Rob, Joe, Melissa, and Amber for about six months.

Every year at I-CON, I participate in seminars on both pen-and-paper and electronic gaming (I-CON Staff 2006). I’ve witnessed some enthralling conversations dealing with the differences across mediums and also spoken to audiences ranging from over sixty people to just one person. It’s this merging of electronic and print that encouraged me to write this book.

In 2007, the fourth edition of Dungeons & Dragons was announced. The latest version of the original pen-and-paper role-playing game promised a digital initiative that would eventually allow players to game with each other online. Years after this possibility was promised, we’re still waiting for D&D to come full circle, embracing the adventuring medium that it inspired and allowing players from all over the world to become part of the largest Fellowship of all ... the Internet.

But there is one additional level of immersion. Rather than using imagination alone to create a character or computer graphics to depict one, why not dress up as the character? In a LARP, the player IS the character. The player is playing a role, but his features, attire, and actions all translate to some ingame effect. With LARPing, there is a delicate balance between character and player, just as actors struggle with their roles. That intersection means less control over the game’s presentation. A fact I learned all too well in my first LARP experience.

Structure

This book is structured in order of fantasy inspiration. Beginning with Tolkien’s works, we follow the path of gaming evolution to miniature wargames, which in turn birthed tabletop role-playing games. From there multiple paths diverge into interactive fiction, play-by-post, and CRPGs. MUDs and MMORPGs follow. We finally end with LARPs, which have developed along their own divergent path.

Throughout, I attempt to trace a common historical narrative and compare it to my own personal experiences. Although I have played many different games, I have not participated in every piece of gaming history in this book. Whenever possible, I have asked players, designers, and game scholars to fill in my gaps of experience. Each chapter is broken down into the following sections: History, Fellowship, Narrative, Personalization, Risk, Roles, and Status.

The history section provides a necessarily brief overview of the history of each gaming medium. The murky history of gaming is fraught with contradictions for many reasons, not the least of which that it is in designers’ best interests to “be first” to protect their intellectual property. When a game is published, when its manual was published, and who exactly owns what elements of a game’s intellectual property are beyond the scope of this book. Each history section is by no means the final word on gaming. Other authors have devoted entire works to just one gaming medium, like Barton’s Dungeons & Desktops, an extensive overview of computer role-playing games, and Nick Montfort’s exploration of interactive fiction in Twisty Little Passages. My goal is to show the commonality amongst the various gaming mediums.

The fellowship section covers how teamwork is a fundamental part of role-playing games. We review how players find each other in the game, how they work together as a team, and the support that each game provides for team play.

Narrative focuses on the overall message that games convey through ingame influences and the game’s interface. Games that claim to be about story might undermine that goal by giving players endless opportunities to just kill monsters. Role-playing games that promise an immersive experience but offer “+1 swords of fire” are falling short of their promise. Narrative encompasses the world, the key concepts as outlined by developers, inherited by the cultures they live in real life, and influenced by popular tropes laid down by Tolkien and other early fantasy authors.

The personalization section reviews the extent to which the game is modified to suit the players’ needs. In a novel this doesn’t happen at all, but in interactive games it is one of the defining characteristics. CRPGs cater exclusively to the player, personalizing the game to his needs. On a more dynamic scale, tabletop game masters provide personalized content as appropriate for their group, balancing a huge variety of variables to find a common ground between all participants.

The risk section provides the motivation for characters to exist in the world. It binds them together and encourages them to work in groups; provides a common foe for them to defeat and a means of advancing through successive wins against said foe. We focus primarily on heroic fantasy, which by necessity involves violent conflict.

The roles section covers a wide variety of topics, including the gender, race, and class of a player’s character. These roles can be strictly or loosely defined, determined by the narrative or by the player. They are divided into creator roles, participant roles, and character roles. The depth of a role tells as much about the game as it does about the player. Roles with more extensive information about the character require more of an investment by the player— those that provide very little information rely almost exclusively on the player to fill in the blanks. I also cover the demographics of the players themselves and the meta-game roles they take on to play the game.

The status section also includes levels, social status, and advancement. Leveling and advancing in power is a distinctly American concept that we’ll explore in more detail later. Status is associated with this increase in power in multiplayer games, as it provides a pecking order of sorts that is overtly and subtly encouraged by the game itself.

Gaming has taken some surprising turns over the years. The goal of this book is to trace the origins of the Fellowship and its application for characters and players in a text-based, graphical, online, and in-person medium. By examining how fantasy gaming has evolved across mediums, much can be learned about what the future holds in store for our own Fellowships, be they in fantasy lands or around dining room tables.

ONE

THE LORD OF THE RINGS

How did it influence the D&D game? Whoa, plenty, of course. Just about all the players were huge JRRT fans, and so they insisted that I put as much Tolkien-influenced material into the game as possible. Anyone reading this that recalls the original D&D game will know that there were Balrogs, Ents, and Hobbits in it. Later those were removed, and new, non–JRRT things substituted—Balor demons, Treants, and Halflings [Gygax 2007].

Introduction

The structure of John Ronald Reuel (J.R.R.) Tolkien’s Fellowship was first established in The Lord of the Rings. The Fellowship consisted of nine individuals and it encompassed elves, humans, hobbits, dwarves, and a being that might be considered an angel of sorts (Gandalf). The number was chosen to counter the nine Ringwraiths who opposed them.

Each member of the Fellowship represented their race. Legolas embodied the typical elvish traits of archery and stealth, Gimli represented the raging dwarvish warrior, and Boromir was an analogue for humanity in all its selfishness and nobility. These characters established archetypes that would shape the fantasy games that followed.

In gaming, the term “Fellowship” is archaic. The more common reference is “party,” short for “adventuring party.” “Group” is also commonly used in massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs). Though they vary in composition, the party is a fantasy staple that has been consistent across gaming mediums. And all of them have their roots in Tolkien’s Middle-earth.

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings helped shape fantasy games through Tolkien’s obsessive attention to detail and world building. Unlike typical “sword and sorcery” novels, Tolkien’s works spanned epic struggles, incorporating realworld languages and mythologies. This is not to lessen the contributions of other authors to fantasy gaming—Robert E. Howard, Michael Moorcock, Fritz Leiber, and H.P. Lovecraft are all major contributors—but rather to emphasize the importance of Tolkien’s contribution to what would later be termed “high fantasy” (Barton 2008:18).

Although Dungeons & Dragons largely emulated Middle-earth and its peoples, two game companies had explicit rights to the world’s license: the Middle-earth Role Playing (MERP) game from Iron Crown Enterprises (1997) and Decipher’s The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game (2002). Middleearth Role Playing used a streamlined version of the Rolemaster rules. Of the two, The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game has more in common with the latest iterations of Dungeons & Dragons. Despite both games being created long after Dungeons & Dragons, the two systems provide an insightful filter in translating Tolkien’s vision to a game world.

I am not a Tolkien scholar. My knowledge of Tolkien is limited to reading The Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, seeing Peter Jackson’s films many times, and role-playing games that have incorporated Tolkien’s world into their system and setting. My goal in this book is to draw a connection between roleplaying games and their ilk from Tolkien’s vision, not to provide an expansive analysis of his work—a task left to far more qualified scholars.

Fellowship

Although the lone hero is popular in fiction and simplifies plotlines, roleplaying games create heroic narratives through cooperation. The Fellowship created the foundation of what great tales are made of: a community of diverse races, cultures, professions, and aims brought together for the greater good.

As mentioned previously, the number of members of the Fellowship was created to counter the number of Ringwraiths. And yet this trope has not carried over to the traditional fantasy adventuring party. Traditional Dungeons & Dragons suggests two to six characters (Slavicsek 2005:12). The Middleearth Role Playing game features four players in its example of play. The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game features just two players in its example, considerably less than the Fellowship’s nine, but counsels having separate and distinct characters to avoid overlap (Long 2002:76).

The Fellowship number of nine doesn’t translate well across fantasy genres. Even Tolkien broke the Fellowship up into smaller, more manageable groups. Older Dungeons & Dragons adventures detailed up to ten members of the adventuring party as sample characters, implying that all ten might be played at once.

The number of characters played in a Dungeons & Dragons game is often restricted by the number of players available. Nine players are hard to find, much less cram into one room. A survey of gamers at ENWorld indicated that 62 percent played with five or six players (Lorne 2007). Less than 2 percent numbered over eight members, a far cry from Tolkien’s original vision. In comparison, World of Warcraft limits the maximum party to five (WoWWiki Staff 2010).

Narrative

What Tolkien achieved in his epic works stretched the boundaries of standard novels and plot structure. The world was as much an important part of the action as the characters that lived in it. Game developers are attracted to this form of world-building because it enables spatial storytelling, which in turn lends itself well to multiple entry points in the narrative—an important part of multiplayer gaming in particular. These fleshed-out worlds provide a stage for game developers to perform their art (Jenkins 2004:122).

The Lord of the Rings established the basic outlines of a quest: disparate characters with a foe in common come together to destroy him by retrieving an object that represents his power (Harrigan and Wardrip-Fruin 2007:3). This standard quest is sometimes known as a “fetch” quest in computer gaming parlance. There are usually weaker but no less formidable minions defending the evil nemesis and his object, sometimes numbering nine, sometimes less. Other quests involve defeating each of them in turn, descending through dungeons or progressively more dangerous areas until the final climax. Sometimes this is a two-step process; retrieve the item, then destroy the villain with it (Barton 2008:32).

Middle-earth’s narrative includes a strong sense of history, respect for nature, clearly defined forces of good and evil, and fear of power, death and corruption.

Tolkien’s world is suffused with history. It is present in every scene, every character, every conflict. The setting beyond ancient; it is a world that has been long lived in, with all characters keenly aware of their lineage and their place within it (Long 2002:256).

Middle-earth is also very much in touch with nature. It is filled with natural, breathtaking settings, and the land is as much a character as the protagonists. The world physically responds to morality, flowering in the presence of good and withering in the presence of evil.

These dichotomies of good and evil clearly designate which side is which, a theme that has continued throughout the Dungeons & Dragons alignment system (Buck 2003). Orcs are the opposite of elves. Minas Morgul and the Nazgul oppose Minas Tirith and Gondor. Gandalf opposes the Balrog.

Middle-earth has a clearly defined evil power that can only be defeated by great force (Smith 2007:155). This tradition, steeped in Tolkien’s work, has been criticized by M.A.R. Barker, author of the Empire of the Petal Throne game, as a “gentlemanly evil.” At heart, the conflict between good and evil is also governed by a sense of fair play, whereby force can be combated by equal force and terrorism is not utilized (Fine 1983:78).

The force of evil is an inherent trait. Once someone turns to evil, he is irrevocably corrupt. There are no good orcs or nice dragons in Middle-earth, and that’s on purpose. As The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game puts it, “They aren’t misunderstood, the victims of non-nurturing cultures, downtrodden and oppressed members of the lower class, or anything like that.” (Long 2002:259).

Death is a key part of The Lord of the Rings, a recurring theme that becomes humanity’s obsession. The loss of a child, embodied by a parent’s grief as well as the death of the future, is a plot device Tolkien uses to powerful effect (Crawford 2007:169). Death is an ever-present threat, embodied by the “undead” that are so ubiquitous in role-playing games. In The Lord of the Rings death is greatly feared and that fear drives much of the selfish acts of humanity (Fahraeus 2007:273). Even immortal beings like elves see a decline in their civilization. Contrast this with games where player character death is a minor inconvenience at best.

Another recurring theme is the contrast between fate and free will. Gandalf makes pronouncements about choice throughout the story, which ultimately leads to the destruction of the Ring, reinforcing the importance of the hand of fate. Similarly, Frodo and Bilbo’s decisions to keep or give away the ring are signs of their ability to exercise free will (Long 2002:50).

Curiously, another major theme lacking in most fantasy descendants of Tolkien’s legacy is the corruption of power. Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel all reject the power of the ring. Few fantasy games have penalties for a rise in power; instead, they reward it. A player with an all-powerful ring would be envied rather than considered a threat.

The two aspects of standard fantasy gaming tropes that clash considerably with Middle-earth sensibilities are the endless quests for treasure and the use of magic. Treasure-seeking is a holdover from Robert E. Howard’s Conan (Paradox 2010) and Fritz Leiber’s Gray Mouser (Crawford 2010). While treasure is an important part of The Lord of the Rings and specifically The Hobbit, it is not the only reason to adventure.

Magic, on the other hand, poses a challenge in translating Middle-earth into fantasy gaming. It is not meant to be used lightly, and certainly not by weak-willed humanity. As demonstrated by the corrupting power of the One Ring, men are entirely unsuited to wield magic in its most powerful forms; powerful magic is a particularly strong temptation (Riga 2007:211). Gandalf exhibits great restraint precisely because using magic is dangerous. The fear of corruption is entirely at odds with the standard fantasy gaming wizard. The fireball-hurling wizard was heavily inspired by Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series (Wetzels 2002). Today’s adventurers have no such compunctions.

Personalization

At first blush, it may seem that The Lord of the Rings has little in common with tabletop role-playing games except for fantasy elements like elves, dwarves, and wizards. As Nick Montfort states in Twisty Little Passages (2003:75), “The extent to which Dungeons & Dragons is inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien’s work has frequently been misunderstood and overstated.” Officially, “D&D was not written to recreate or in any collective way simulate Professor Tolkien’s world or beings ... this system works with the worlds of R.E. Howard, Fritz Leiber, and L.S. de Camp and Fletcher Pratt much better than that of Tolkien” (Kuntz 1980:22).

And yet Dungeons & Dragons and The Lord of the Rings share a common heritage that goes beyond the attributes of certain fantasy races. Although Gygax admitted that Dungeons & Dragons was not designed with Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces in mind, he also recognized that the monomyth is strongly present in fantasy role-playing games (Office of Resources for International and Area Studies [ORIAS]).

In the monomyth, the hero receives a call to adventure, usually at the behest of a guide. The threshold of adventure takes place in a particular setting where the hero faces a difficult task. He overcomes it with some supernatural assistance. During his adventure, he makes “father atonement”—usually to a father-like figure or government authority.

In return, the hero receives a token of his heroism, monetary or honorific. His triumph, or apotheosis, is the climax of the adventure. The hero returns home to rest and recuperate. The adventure has been completed, his heroism acknowledged, and the cycle begins again. All these elements are present in The Lord of the Rings and fantasy literature in general (1989:166).

Risk

The novel and the role-playing game share more than just fantastical literary artifacts. As Janet Murray explained in First Person (2004:2), novels and games share two structures, the contest and the puzzle.

The War of the Ring provides the backdrop for a multitude of contests. A key staple of Dungeons & Dragons and its successors is a strong combat element, such that a new player could be forgiven for assuming that the games constitute nothing but battles.

The riddle, from the Anglo-Saxon “raedan,” which means to advise, guide, or explain (Montfort 2003:4) is the literary precursor to ergodic fiction. By posing a riddle, the author challenges the protagonist as well as the reader. Both are invited to solve the problem, although the outcome is inevitable in literature. Specifically, the situational puzzle, in which a situation is described and the listener is challenged to give the full context of the description, is perhaps the closest riddle form to interactive fiction (2003:41).

In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien frequently uses riddles and prophecies to provide twists in the story. The inscription on the One Ring and the prophecy associated with it is a challenge to the reader to predict the outcome of the tale, and ultimately Tolkien’s to solve. Tolkien included several other riddles in his stories, from “Speak friend and ye shall enter” to “No man will kill the witch king.”

For those systems that either deemphasize combat or provide alternatives to it, the puzzle is a strong element in the various forms of role-playing games. This is most prevalent in systems that do not easily convey combat, like textbased interactive fiction. Zork, for example, consisted almost entirely of riddles and challenges between the game designer and the player, who had to figure out the “right” way to succeed.

The novel and interactive fiction intersect in Choose Your Own Adventure books, which allow the player to read a story usually involving traditional conflict, but resolve it through puzzle solving and trial and error. We will discuss gamebooks and interactive fiction in a subsequent chapter.

Roles

First recorded in English in 1606, the term “role” has its roots in the Old French word “rolle.” It refers to a roll of parchment or a scroll, and more specifically to the text from which an actor learns his part. There are both creator roles, who help invent the narrative that the participants experience, and participant roles, who receive that experience and explore it.

Creator Roles

In fiction, creator roles are limited to the authors. It’s possible for there to be other creators, but the more control a reader has over the fiction—in essence, becoming a co-creator of the work—the more the book can be classified as interactive fiction, which we will discuss in a later chapter.

Author

In Synthetic Worlds, Castronova highlights Tolkien’s conceptions of world builders—the gods—as “subcreators,” who are in turn subservient to one overall creator. They undertake this act as a divine calling of sorts, the urge to create surpassing petty selfish concerns. Castronova postulates that Tolkien’s invention of “subcreators” was the author submitting his own framework for creation as a channel for his beliefs of the One True God (2005:308). In essence, God begat Tolkien, Tolkien begat deities in his fictional universe, who begat other characters, and by knowing these characters the reader gets a better insight up through the lineage of creation in God’s mysterious works. The role of author is not unlike the role of game master in this regard, as even the deities of the universe are merely an extension of the game master’s persona.

Participant Roles

Like the creator role, the participant role is relegated to just one: the reader.

Reader

Unlike the fantasy games that would come later, reading The Lord of the Rings is a solitary experience. The reader is an observer. And yet the reading experience still fits into the media richness scale. It is not mutable; unlike interactive fiction, the text is set on the page. Mackay posits that a player who reads text is transformed by it. The reader’s everyday self is reconfigured into a reading-self through the filtered experience of the reader, but restructured according to the text. The reading self is thus a manifestation of the reader’s imagination, formed through a series of guidelines set down by the author of the text (2001:66).

One important difference between role-playing and reading a novel is the agreement between another reader’s interpretations of the text. Reading is an intensely self-centered experience, an effect mirrored in computer role-playing games that are entirely focused on catering to the player.

Role-playing requires some sharing of vision, imagination, and basics of communication between two or more participants. While a reader may place herself in the shoes of the protagonist, in a role-playing game she encounters other characters that are in turn projections of their players. Even if the character is described in the broadest strokes of race and gender, there must be some agreement for the players to interact. In this shared fantasy, all the players must agree on the basics of interaction.

Character Roles

Unlike role-playing games and other forms of fantasy gaming, there is no distinction between player and nonplayer characters in fiction. There are just characters. There may be a protagonist for whom the narrative is filtered to tell her story, or an omniscient narrator may move from character to character, sharing each character’s perspective in turn. Montfort (2003:33) terms these characters “persons,” as they are a necessary part of the story but cannot be interacted with. They are the cornerstone of the reader’s role in the fantasy universe.

The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game from Decipher quantifies the characteristics of the heroes of Middle-earth as compassion, responsible free will, generosity, honesty and fairness, honor and nobility, restraint, self-sacrifice, valor, and wisdom (Long 2002:51).

The struggle over the One Ring in The Lord of the Rings is all about free will. The Ring has the ability to corrupt those who wear it, and only those with strong wills can turn away from its temptation. Free will is an important part of self-sacrifice, the ability to put one’s own personal needs aside for the greater good. Frodo and Boromir sacrifice much in the War of the Ring.

Compassion is demonstrated by Gandalf, who pities Gollum and even spares the foul Saruman’s life. The heroes also exercise restraint of arms, slaying foes only in armed combat and meeting them head on.

Other characteristics epitomize the true hero: speaking truthfully and honestly, standing by one’s word, and treating others fairly regardless of station. Generosity is demonstrated by Theoden’s gift of Shadowfax to Gandalf in a time of need. Although the acquisition of treasure is a recurring theme in The Lord of the Rings, the heroes don’t seek wealth out of greed—a sharp contrast from the Conan series and a major diverging element from Dungeons & Dragons. Finally, the members of the Fellowship possess wisdom, understanding powers beyond their ken—the refusal by several powerful beings to use the Ring against Sauron being a prime example.

Races

Unlike its usage in modern times, the term “race” in gaming represents a species. Race is one of the most basic attributes in defining a character in fantasy literature. Andrew P. Miller and Daniel Clark (1998:155) distinguish fantasy races from fantasy creatures by the following list:

The simplification of racial archetypes in The Lord of the Rings is understandable. Identifying members of the Fellowship by race helps identify their origins, clearly delineating their political and national allegiance. The Fellowship is as much a League of Nations as it is an adventuring party, dedicated to achieving a common goal that has far-reaching political ramifications. They are not merely after loot and prestige. These adventurers are out to save the world.

Of course, the racial archetypes present in Middle-earth predate Tolkien’s works. His magnum opus provided a common framework for the races to work together. To examine the relationships of the Fellowship in modern gaming, it’s useful to explore the roots of fantasy races in fairytales, myth, and legend.

DWARVES • Dwarves are usually portrayed as short, squat, and powerfully built, with bulbous noses, bushy eyebrows, long beards, elaborate armor, and always wielding either a war hammer or battleaxe. As analogues for humanity, dwarves represent the middle-class laborer, forever toiling and drinking. They are the sooty-faced, stout men of the industrial age who work hard and play hard.

The word “dwarf” comes from “dweorh,” which in turn comes from the Germanic “dweraz” and “dhwerghwos,” meaning something tiny. “Dweorgas” became “dwarrows,” which was later changed to dwarfs. No wonder then that dwarves are always portrayed as being short (Aeon 2001).

The term “dwarves” came to prominence thanks to Tolkien’s works (Tolkien 1937:8; Ayto 1990:189), a distinction evidenced by Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Dwarves have a strong tradition in Nordic myth as forgers and warriors, but also as thieves and liars. This tradition continued in The Hobbit, where the dwarves were cast as duplicitous rogues out to abscond with Smaug’s treasure. The dwarven love of drink was also established in Nordic myth (Tolkien 1937).

Dwarves of Middle-earth are a rugged race, short of stature and long of beard, stone carvers, metalworkers, and miners. They were created by the “Seven Fathers” of dwarves (echoes of Snow White) but, due to the arrogance of their creator, were kept asleep for many ages so that the Elves could be awoken to life first. Dwarves are longer-lived than humans, and they are fallible (Day 2001:59).

At approximately the same time The Hobbit was published, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was released into theaters. Both media portrayed dwarves as miners with axes, bumbling, homely, and short beings that worked in perpetuity. These characteristics are largely still in evidence in modern fantasy.

The portrayal of dwarves with accents is certainly inspired by Three Hearts and Three Lionsby Poul Anderson, a novel that strongly influenced Dungeons & Dragons (1961). Hugi the dwarf speaks with a Scottish accent. The popular Lord of the Rings movie trilogy propagates the notion of dwarven accents, which has since become a staple of modern fantasy depictions of dwarves.

While it is debatable that Tolkien ever actually visited Nepal, he certainly knew of the Gurkhas, short mountain men who terrorized their foes with the kukri, a wicked, heavy-bladed knife. There are also parallels between the dwarven battle cry, “Khazad ai menu!” (“The Dwarves are upon you!”) and the Gurkha battle cry of “Ayo Gurkhali!” (“The Gurkhas are upon you!”). No wonder, then, that dwarves are armed with a weapon usually reserved for felling trees, the axe (Brown 1998).

In Chainmail, dwarves fought better against trolls, ogres, and giants; goblins and kobolds were their mortal enemies (Gygax 1978:29). In Dungeons & Dragons, dwarves were originally only allowed to be fighters, never progressing beyond sixth level. They specialized in the war hammer and were highly resistant to magic (Gygax and Arneson 1974:7)

The question of the females of the species having beards has long raged in Dungeons &Dragons circles, due primarily to Tolkien’s reference that dwarven women are so similar to dwarven men that “the eyes and ears of other peoples cannot tell them apart.” (Tolkien 1955:360). Dungeons &Dragons settled the question in the fourth edition, portraying dwarves as beardless and even attractive (Carter 2007:33).

ELVES AND HALF-ELVES • Elves share a common ancestry with dwarves in myths and legends. They range in height from smaller than human to man-sized. Elves are beautiful, musical, and wise in the ways of magic and nature. They are expert bowmen (Johnston 2007:17). And they always have pointed ears.

Tolkien was unhappy with the traditional depiction of faeries, including elves, as puckish little beings as popularized by Shakespeare (Lakowski 2007:61). In response he created elves known as Quendil. They were immortal and ageless, possessing the greatest happiness and deepest sorrow. They were roughly the size of men, but stronger in spirit and limb. As they aged they only became wiser and more beautiful. Tolkien’s elves literally glow, their eyes, hair, and clothes shimmering, their voices lyrical. When the elves were “sundered,” their lines were divided into the Eldar, who journeyed to Valinor at the behest of the Valar, and the Avari, who refused. Of the Eldar come the “subraces” popular in Dungeons & Dragons: high elves (Noldor), wood elves (Tawarwaith), and grey elves (Sindar) (Day 2001:75).

The Dictionary of Word Origins defines “elf” as a “race of powerful supernatural beings in Germanic folklore” (1990:197). “Ælf” is a possible origin, in turn derived from “albiz,” possibly from “albho,” meaning “white.” The nearest cousin, then, is the “alp” or “alf,” plural “alpar” or “alfar.” It should be noted that the Alps mountain range has a common ancestry with the word, which would designate it as an elven home. The word “alp” means “nightmare,” which denotes an unpleasant characteristic associated with the notion of elves, or at least their mountain ancestors.

In its German form, the alp has more attributes akin to a traditional vampire than to elves. The alp was traditionally male, attacking female victims at night by sitting on their chest and causing horrible nightmares. Alp attacks were known as Alpdrücke, which means “pressing,” a possible explanation for sleep apnea, sleep paralysis, and night terrors. This form of night terror would take shape in the form of the night hag in Dungeons & Dragons, which performs much the same role but is considered a more Judeo-Christian demonic influence (Carton 2008).

Despite its negative connotations, the alp had many fey qualities. They were known for their mischievous antics, from souring milk to terrorizing animals. In addition to being a shapeshifter, the alp was never without his hat (Tarnkappe), which provided invisibility, a precursor to Tolkien’s elvish cloaks. Perhaps the most modern manifestation of an alp is Freddy Krueger, who is fond of torturing the young in their sleep, known for his mischievous and deadly wit, and is never seen without his hat (Aeon 2001).

It was the Norse who divided elves into two different types: the light elves (Ljosalfar) and dark elves (Dopkalfar). Nordic myth neatly categorized races with their homes in the same way that Tolkien would place the races in his Middle-earth (Johnston 2007:20). Ljosalfar lived in Alfheim, Dopkalfar lived in Svartalfheim. The Ljosalfar attributes are easily recognizable to modern readers; they are about as tall as humans, beautiful, strong, fierce warriors, excel in the arts, dwell in places beyond human ken, possess their own distinct speech, and can mingle with humans to bear half-elven children (Korablev 2003). Conversely, Dopkalfar have a lot more common with dwarves and trolls; they are black as pitch, ugly, and petrified by sunlight. These two sides of the elven character appear in other mythologies as the Seelie and Unseelie courts.

Beings with these attributes are prominent in Tolkien’s works, including the trolls that turn to stone in The Hobbit (Tolkien 1937). Prior to Tolkien, the most modern depiction of elves that would influence the fantasy genre was Lord Dunsany’s novel The King of Elfland’s Daughter (1924). The novel firmly establishes that elves can breed with humans (more echoes of half-elves), age slower than mortals, are inherently magical beings, and are supernaturally attractive. Dunsany’s work established elven women in particular as something to be greatly desired by human men. If the sheer quantity of half-naked elven females in fantasy artwork and MMORPGs is any judge, the desire for elven women continues even today.

The attraction of elven women and the consequences of human/elf breeding inevitably led to half-elves (or peredhil, in Tolkien’s work), who were descended from an elvish line (Lakowski 2007:64). Notable examples include the Danish princess Skuld of Hrólf Kraki’s saga, the hero Högni of the Thidrekssaga, and the royal line of Alfheim of the Þorsteins saga Víkingssonar. Although the Dunedain, Corsairs, and Black Numenoreans have elvish blood, they are not considered half-elves. As defined by Tolkien, true half-elves have elf and human parentage. Half-elves must decide as to which racial line they choose allegiance. Elrond, for example, chose his elvish heritage and thus immortality, while his brother Elros did not (Coleman 1993:154).

No description of elves would be complete with reference to their ears. The pointed ears of elves is drawn from a comment by Tolkien about the term “las” in The Etymologies (Tolkien 1996:367), in which he describes Quendian ears as being “more pointed and leaf-shaped than humans.” Thus, Legolas means “Greenleaf,” and distinguishes elves from humans in a way that is easily recognizable to modern readers.

The elven association with bows harks to times before Tolkien’s Middleearth, all the way back to the 16th century with the term “elf-shot,” a reference to Neolithic flint arrowheads. These arrowheads were associated in Scotland with elves, and it was thought they could often make a man ill simply by nicking him (Hall 2005).

In the miniatures game Chainmail, elves could perform actions of both moving and firing as footmen, and were capable of invisibility. Curiously, they were grouped with fairies (Gygax 1978:29). In Dungeons & Dragons, an elf can begin as either a “fighting-man” or “magic-user,” multiclassing freely between the two. They gain the benefits of both classes, but cannot progress beyond fourth level as a fighter or eighth level as a magic-user. They are able to speak orc and hobgoblin (a nod to their shared Tolkien roots) (1974:8).

One of the players from my junior high school gaming group shared his experiences with his elf character:

I’ll never forget my first character, Kronus, an Elf in the D&D game. He was killed in the first ten minutes of playing after he fell into a pit trap, but you were kind enough to grant me a mulligan and bring him back with one hit point because I was such a rookie. He went somewhat high level-wise, but I cannot recall exactly how far. I’ll always remember him, like an old friend who passed on years ago but continues to touch your heart [Varrone 2010].

Elves, as described by Tolkien, became something of a burden for game designers. They seemed more capable than humans in everyway. To that end, Gygax worked hard to curb their power, by giving the race a weak constitution and putting limitations on how high they could level. These limitations would not be removed until the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons.

Fourth edition increased Dungeons & Dragons elves to a height equal to humans and deemphasized their low constitution, a balancing attribute created for earlier editions. The fourth edition also created a separate race of elves known as the eladrin, which restored elves in Dungeons & Dragons to the mysterious, sometimes dangerous, and altogether powerful status they enjoyed in Middle-earth (Carter 2007:39).

GNOMES • Gnomes are small, at least as small as dwarves if not smaller. They have a lot in common with the image of a typical garden gnome, usually wearing funny hats, with long noses, curly beards, and a twinkle in their eye. Gnomes are associated with being sneaky, perhaps a bit mischievous, and wise in the ways of ancient secrets.

The word “gnome” comes from the Renaissance Latin “gnomus,” which was coined by Swiss alchemist Paracelsus. He uses the term to reference one of the four elementals, specifically as earth-dwelling beings eighteen inches high and very taciturn.

Although gnomes weren’t a part of the Fellowship, they did indeed exist in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. The term was used briefly in The Book of Lost Tales to describe the races of elves that would become the Noldor (Burke 2007:37). “Gnomus” has a lot in common with “gnosis” which is why the term was used to reference the elves, Noldo meaning “The Wise” in Quenya.

The connection to wisdom is perhaps the reason why gnomes have since become associated with technology. Tinker gnomes, appearing in Dragonlance Adventures (1987) for first edition Dungeons & Dragons, first introduced this new form of gnome to the game. World of Warcraft later cemented the idea of gnomish technologists (Carter 2007:51).

Because gnomes are traditionally identified with many of the characteristics of dwarves, the two are sometimes conflated. For that reason Tolkien dropped the term out of concern that readers might become confused. However, other folkloric names persisted, including “elves” and “dwarves.” Tolkien did replace “Goblin” with “Orc” after the publication of The Hobbit.

In Dungeons & Dragons, gnomes first appear in the Chainmail supplement, grouped with dwarves (Gygax and Perren 1971:28). They appeared as monsters in Blackmoor (Arneson 1975:24), described as living in “air-enclosed cities on the bottom connected to the surface by tunnels.”

Gnomes didn’t debut as a playable race until the advent of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Gygax explained that he added gnomes to broaden the choice of races, because players were tired of having the other Tolkien-inspired archetypes of dwarves, elves, and halflings (Gygax 2004). He created gnomes to fill a gap between Halflings and dwarves—specifically, a demi-human spellcasting alternative to elves. Gygax cited the illusionist class as being the primary role for gnomes.

HOBBITS • Harking back to 1955, Tolkien wrote in a letter to W.H. Auden, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit” (Tolkien 2000). He didn’t know why he wrote it, but he did. And with that random thought, hobbits were born.

Hobbits are a particularly rural breed of a long tradition of little people in mythology. Short, pudgy, with hairy feet and fond of smoking pipes, hobbits aren’t the first race anyone thinks of when they consider an adventuring companion. Thanks to The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings they are now indelibly linked to fantasy literature (Aeon 2001).

In Middle-earth, hobbits are a short people, measuring between two and four feet in height. They are long-fingered, often portly, with curly hair and oversized feet. They are fond of food and have a penchant for hills and dales, where they farm (Day 2001:121).

Tolkien translated “hobbit” from “holbytla” (hole-builder) and explained that the term “hobbit” was a worn-down form of the original. It is interesting to note that “hobbit” actually appeared in folklorist Michael Aislabie Denham’s Tracts when he listed folkloric supernatural creatures in the late 1800s, well before Tolkien wrote The Hobbit (Denham 1967:76–80).

“Halflin” derives from the Scots word “hauflin,” predating The Hobbit and Dungeons & Dragons. It was used to describe a rustic teenager, neither man nor boy and thus a bit of both. Another word for “halflin” is “hobbledehoy” or “hobby.” The word “halfling” was used by Shakespeare to mean a boy-sized man (Bevington 1992).

If elves are the upper class and dwarves the middle class, hobbits are the agrarian culture that Tolkien feared would be overwhelmed by industrial progress. The farmers of the fields, hobbits have a deep connection to and love of their rustic roots. In The Hobbit the small stature of Bilbo also served as a proxy for children reading the novel.

Early editions of Dungeons & Dragons used the word “hobbit” to describe its race of short folk until Tolkien’s estate protested (Kuntz 1978). Tactical Studies Rules (TSR), then publisher of Dungeons & Dragons, switched to the more common word “halfling.” This term is also used in The Lord of the Rings to denote hobbits, so the transition seemed natural.

The notion of a hobbit’s propensity for thieving ways is firmly established in The Hobbit, where both Gollum and Smaug accuse Bilbo of theft. And Bilbo is, after all, out to steal treasure from someone, even if it is from a dragon.

In Chainmail, Gygax explained that “these little chaps have small place in the wargame,” but were included for the re-creation of certain battles (presumably battles inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-earth). They were able to blend into the background and thus made excellent scouts. They could also fire a stone as far as an archer shoots (Gygax 1975:29). In Dungeons & Dragons, halflings were limited to the fighting-man class of fourth level, possessing magic resistance and deadly accuracy with missiles (Gygax and Arneson 1974:8).

For players role-playing halflings, a particular challenge was their size. In earlier editions, halflings could weigh as little as 30 pounds, an issue that the designers felt was an obstacle in making them heroic (Carter 2007:43). Fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons increased their size to an average of four feet, shades of Merry and Pippin drinking “Ent-draught.”

ORCS AND HALF-ORCS • Although orcs were never part of the Fellowship, they bear mentioning here because they’ve become a fantasy trope for a faceless foe or as an antihero for player characters.

Orcs are usually the bad guys. Dark-skinned, yellow-eyed, and redtongued, they are filthy, vile, crude, and violent. Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay established the popular image of an “ork” with a distinct porcine look, sporting tusks or huge fangs (Aeon 2001).

The term “orc” originally meant “ogre,” a devouring monster, from the Italian “orco,” which in turn has its roots from the Latin “orcus,” meaning “hell.” The phrase is used in Beowulf, as Grendel’s race is described as “orcneas,” meaning “corpses of orcus.” Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso features a tusked sea monster called an “orc.” Tolkien takes pains to distinguish the word “orc” as a hobbit form of the name for goblins and distinct from any sort of “sea-animal” (Tolkien 1937:8).

In Middle-earth, orcs were once elves tortured by Melkor who became a loathsome, twisted race. Stunted and hideous, they have long arms like apes, black skin, jagged fangs, and red eyes. They fear sunlight and were prolific breeders, which made them excellent warriors (Gehl 2007:258). Vin Diesel, an American actor, writer, director, and producer, named one of his favorite Dungeons & Dragons characters, a half–Drow witch hunter, after Melkor (Archer 2004).

Orcs first appeared in Chainmail, which made the connection to The Lord of the Rings quite clear. They were described as nothing more than “over-grown Goblins,” and were divided into five tribes or clans: the Red Eye, Mordor, Mountains, White Hand, and Isengarders (Gygax and Perren 1971:30).

Superior to the orc were the Uruk-hai, as tall as men and unafraid of light. These warriors served Sauron, usually as captains of lesser orcs (Day 2001:236). Half-orcs were created through Saruman’s sorcery, mixing the Dunlendings serving him with the orcs and Uruk-hai. They were among his strongest servants (2001:115). Half-orcs first appeared as a playable race in the first edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (Gygax 1978).

H_UMANS • No discussion of the Fellowship would be complete without a discussion of the inheritors of the mantle of rule in The Lord of the Rings—humanity. Boromir’s failure to resist the Ring and ultimate sacrifice speak volumes about Tolkien’s opinion of humanity.

Men compare poorly with the other races in Middle-earth (Fahraeus 2007:269). They are mortal, short-lived, weak of spirit and body. But they have two characteristics that set them apart; they breed quickly and are quite stubborn (Day 2001:153).

In fantasy gaming, humans have been cast as the standard by which the other races are measured. They have endless variety, while dwarves, hobbits, and elves largely hew to their stereotypes. It seems to be beyond the reach of most non-human races to be different without being racially unique, and yet humanity achieves precisely that (Aeon 2001).

It is also noteworthy that humanity is destined to inherit a mantle that it has lost. The weakness of men is inherent in the loss of greatness and Aragorn’s subsequent struggle to regain it. Corrupted and without leadership, it is up to men to take history’s stage next.

MAIAR • The word “Maiar” isn’t as well-known in fantasy, but the appearance of angelic beings of mixed ancestry has a long history in folklore. Their description varied in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. The Maiar were always unassuming or even foolish, until they chose to reveal themselves ... and then their true presence could be awe-inspiring.

In Middle-earth, the Maiar were a subrace of the Ainur, or “holy ones.” The Maiar were the lesser of the Valar and their servants. As the servants and helpers of the Valar, the Maiar are lesser beings but no less powerful to ordinary mortals. Most significantly, Maiar were sent to assist the forces of mankind in the form of Istari, wizards cloaked in the forms of old men (Ozment 2007:187). They were five in number: Radagast the Brown, Saruman the White, Gandalf the Grey, Alatar and Palladno the Blue (Day 2001:145).

Modern fantasy games have largely ignored the inherent magical abilities of Gandalf. Although possessing the same appearance, fantasy wizards are spell-casters akin to Shakespeare’s Prospero who learns his art through his books (Ozment 2007:191).

Until the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons, there was no clear parallel to the Maiar. The angelic yet earthly beings eventually manifested as Aasimar (Baker 1995) in the Planescape setting. Even then, Aasimar were considered too powerful to be a playable race.

Classes

The majority of the Fellowship are known by who they are rather than what they do. And yet each character’s profession does help define him. Aragorn is known as a ranger, Gandalf as a wizard, and some of the hobbits (bolstered by Frodo’s use of the One Ring to make him invisible) as stealthy thieves. The Decipher book Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game refers to these professions as Orders (Long 2002:77).

BARD • The term “bard” is originally of Celtic origin, descended from the Old Celtic “bardo” which in turn produced the Scottish and Irish Gaelic “bard.” This reference means “poet-singer,” which introduced the word into English as a “strolling minstrel” (Ayto 1990:52).

The Dungeons & Dragons bard is a hodgepodge of at least three different kinds of musical singers: the Norse skald, the Celtic bard, and the southern European minstrel. The Celts had a much more organized structure, in which the bard filled the important role of historian, trained by druids to follow heroes into battle to record their deeds. Minstrels, perhaps the best known bard archetype, were entertainers for nobles in Italy and Germany in the Middle Ages. In France, they were known as jongleurs, from which we get the term “juggler.” Skalds were old Nordic warriors given the honorary position of historian, passing on tales of ancient battles and deeds through an oral tradition. Tolkien copied this style several times throughout The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Bilbo’s chant of Earendil the Mariner being just one example (Schwegman 1976:11).

In Dungeons & Dragons the bard is a jack-of-alltrades, possessing traits of the fighter, thief, and magicuser classes. He also has the ability to charm monsters, can use magical musical instruments effectively, and possesses the infamous bardic lore, which allows the bard to dredge up knowledge about practically anything.

The bard underwent a series of transformation across different editions of Dungeons & Dragons. Its official debut in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons was modified so it was more of a prestige class, requiring advancement in fighter and then thief before joining bard. It wasn’t until third edition that the bard was restored as a viable choice for beginning characters, only to be excluded from the fourth edition Player’s Handbook. It was restored in the Player’s Handbook 2.

RANGER • The term “ranger” first appeared in 1388 in reference to a gamekeeper (Ayto 1990:431). It’s derived from the word “range,” the place where a ranger patrols. “Range” is in turn derived from the Old French word “rank.” It was borrowed directly into English as “rank” and later developed into “rang,” from which was derived the verb “rangier,” which means “set in a row.”

In Middle-earth, there are the Rangers of Ithilien, who dress in green and fight with bows, spears, and swords and are led by Faramir of Gondor. There are also the Rangers of the North, a secret society of knights who wear cloaks of green and gray and are armed with sword and spear. They wandered all over Eridaor on foot or horse, passing silently through the land (Day 2001:194). These rangers have keen senses, a kinship with animals, are stalwart warriors and most of all are excellent trackers. Aragorn demonstrates all of these talents in The Lord of the Rings.

Rangers first appeared in Dungeons & Dragons as an article by Joe Fischer in The Strategic Review (1975:4). In that article, the ranger had a tracking ability, was lawfully aligned and could cast minor spells. The ranger could keep only treasure he was able to carry, could not hire men-at-arms or servants of any kind, and no more than two rangers could adventure together. Beyond these rules, little exposition is provided, presuming that the reader is familiar with Aragorn. In fact, few of the restrictions and benefits make sense without knowledge of Middle-earth—the rangers traveled light and were few in number, and intentionally avoided gathering in groups lest they draw attention to themselves. If there is any doubt about the class’s inspiration, the title provided for the second level of the ranger is “Strider” (1975:4).

THIEF • The term “thief” is related to the Lithuanian word “tupeti” which means “to crouch down” (Ayto 1990:527). As mentioned previously, the thief is strongly connected to both hobbits and dwarves. The thief class presents a manner of approach to adventuring “that is basically individualistic and unobserved (as differing from indirect)” (Gygax 1987:29).

Although there have always been thugs, bandits, pirates, and assassins of all stripes in fiction, it is the thief who has been singled out as a hero (if not heroic) fantasy archetype (Aeon 2001). Part of the thief’s appeal is his everyman quality, and it is that same quality that manifests in hobbit thieves. If hobbits are the everyday farmer, the thief is a starving farmer who has to resort to desperate measures to survive. He is us, fallen on hard times.

The thief first appears in Dungeons & Dragons in the Greyhawk supplement. His skills include opening locks, disabling traps, listening for noise behind closed doors, moving quietly, picking pockets, hiding in shadows, striking silently from behind, and climbing sheer surfaces. At tenth level he is able to read scrolls, with a 10 percent chance of seventh-level or higher spells backfiring on the thief (Gygax 1976:4).

Beyond Tolkien, Gygax drew upon several sources for the Dungeons & Dragons–style thief. There is the adventurer in Fritz Leiber’s Grey Mouser, who debuted along with his barbarian ally Fafhrd in Two Sought Adventure (1957). The Grey Mouser shares the thief’s penchant for daggers and the ability to wield them against unwary adversaries. There is also Jack Vance’s “Cugel the Clever” (Wetzels) and Roger Zelazny’s “Shadowjack.” These spellcasting rogues influenced the thief’s ability to read scrolls in the early editions of Dungeons & Dragons. It’s evident that the thief archetype harkens from a more cynical, pulp-like fantasy setting, a setting that certainly inspired Gygax, who was a fan of Vance’s work (Gygax 2001).

The thief has a particularly important role in the creation of interactive fiction; two of the programmers who helped create Zork played thieves. They valued exploration and puzzle solving, challenges eminently suited to the thief role. When dungeon crawling was the preferred mode of adventure, dungeons often had traps that could only be surmounted by a thief using his ability to detect traps and disarm them.

This fascination with the thief class continued in Zork, with the creation of one of the first nonplayer characters controlled by a computer, the everpresent thief, described as “a seedy-looking individual with a large bag” and “a man of good breeding” (Montfort 2003:112). The thief was an adept pickpocket who would wander in, steal an item from the player, and leave—all features common to Dungeons & Dragons thieves. These traits made the Zork thief a constant irritation to the player and a challenging obstacle to overcome.

WARRIOR • Warriors are trained combatants, well versed in tactics and experts in their weapons (Aeon 2001). The warrior is the most prevalent archetype in The Lord of the Rings, and understandably so, since the nations in Middleearth are at war. From axe-wielding dwarves to hordes of Orcs, warriors participated in all the major battles of Tolkien’s universe.

And yet, not all who fight wars are warriors. The wars in The Lord of the Rings are desperate struggles for survival (Timmons 2007:89). As such, there are just as many untrained soldiers drafted into combat as there are trained warriors, and therein lies the difference between the two.

The term “warrior” is from the Old Northern French derivative “werreieor.” (Ayto 1990:566). Legolas and Gimli can be classified as warriors, especially in light of their penchant for comparing their orc kills. Each specializes in his particular fighting style; for the elf, it’s the bow, for the dwarf, it’s the axe. Other warriors include Boromir, Eomer, Eowyn, King Theoden, the Rohirrim, Beregond, Prince Imrahil, and many others.

The warrior first appears in Chainmail as the “Fighting-Man” (Gygax and Perren 1971:6). The term was made gender neutral by the subsequent title of Fighter, which continues in Dungeons & Dragons to this day. The term seems peculiar to the pen and paper role-playing game. Many other incarnations of fantasy games use “soldier” or “warrior” instead. As described by Gygax in Role-Playing Mastery (1987:29), the Fighter has a “highly physical approach.”

WIZARD • The wizard has a rich history in legend, harking back to Odin as the graybearded, floppy-hat-and-robewearing wise man. Merlin, advisor to king and country (Coghlan 1993:176), is a literary descendant of Odin. Who in turn influences Gandalf.

The term “wizard” appears in 1440, meaning “philosopher.” It is derived from the Middle English “wys,” which means “wise.” Wizards, then, have great wisdom, from which the term “wizened” has its roots. The association of the term “wizard” with magic was not in evidence until 1550 (Ayto 1990:576).

Tolkien was unhappy with the appellation of “wizard” to Gandalf but felt it was the closest approximation to his powers (Tracy). In Middle-earth, Gandalf is a member of the Istari, himself a Maiar. The Maiar’s task was to redress the imbalance created by the Dark Lord Sauron. The Istari were cloaked in the forms of old men and limited in their powers as a result (Day 2001:253). Wizards were not something humanity could become—wizardry was a power tied exclusively to the divine. Tolkien referenced this in one of his letters: “The use of ‘magic’ in this story is that it is not to be come by ‘lore’ or spells; but is an inherent power not possessed by Men as such” (Tracy 1998). Tolkien divided magic into magia, which uses power to quickly achieve its ends, and goeteia, used to create illusions and enchantments (Ozment 2007:185).

Still, there are special cases of magic used by others, particularly Aragorn, that Tolkien admits could be regarded as magical. This divergence is what allows The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game to create a “Magician Order” that encompasses the powers attributed to other races as magic—elven songs and dwarven runes (Long 2002:88). Only when they achieve higher levels of power can they become wizards, who are tutored by the original five Istari.

Middle-earth Role Playing quantifies the use of magic through the divine guidance of the creator, Eru, who emphasizes the balance of all things. Using magic in a way that is not sanctioned is a means of offending Eru’s grace and thereby falling into corruption (Coleman 1993:7). The computer role-playing game JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Vol. I reinforced this same restriction by inflicting damage to the caster’s life points when casting a spell (Barton 2008:204). These conventions stand in contrast to the typical wizard of later roleplaying games who wantonly blasts enemies with fireballs (Ozment 2007:186).

Where did the archetypical fantasy wizard come from? The Dungeons & Dragons wizard is actually inspired by the wizards of Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series. Gygax explained the four cardinal types of magic in literature: those systems which require long conjuration with much paraphernalia as visualized by Shakespeare in Macbeth and Robert E. Howard in Conan, those which require short spoken spells (as in Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series), ultra-powerful magic typical of de Camp and Pratt in the Harold Shea stories, and “generally weak and relatively ineffectual magic (as found in J.R.R. Tolkien’s work).” Taking into account the need for speed and balance, Gygax chose the most expedient form of spell casting, Vancian magic (1976:3).

To Gygax’s way of thinking, the concept of a spell itself being magical, a written form carrying energy, seemed a perfect way to balance the wizard against other types of characters in the game. “The memorization of the spell required time and concentration so as to impart not merely the written content but also its magical energies,” said Gygax in an article for ProFantasy (2001). “When subsequently cast—by speaking or some other means—the words or gestures, or whatever triggered the magical force of the spell, leave a blank place in the brain where the previously memorized spell had been held.”

In Chainmail, the wizard could become invisible, see in darkness, and improve morale. He was capable of firing two kinds of projectiles; a fireball that exploded in a radius like a catapult or a lightning bolt that blasted in a straight line like a field gun (Gygax 1978:30). As portrayed later in Dungeons & Dragons, the wizard offered the “indirect, possibly intellectual approach— a sort of mixture of artillery and superscience” (Gygax 1987:29).

In earlier versions of Dungeons & Dragons, the wizard was referred to by the unwieldy term “magic-user.” This phrase was eventually replaced with the title “mage” in the second edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. The third edition restored the archetypical wizard title. The notion of power from a hereditary source rather than a learned one is evident in the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons with the sorcerer class, which has more flexibility in choosing which spells to cast in exchange for fewer spells overall (Aeon 2001).

It’s worth mentioning that although the Vancian spell system has become an iconic Dungeons & Dragons trope, psionics (a spell point magic system) was also introduced in the original Dungeons & Dragons set in Eldritch Wizardry (Gygax and Blume 1976:1). This spell point system would be revisited by MUDs and CRPGs.

Status

In The Lord of the Rings, Merry, Pippin, and Sam all start the Quest of Mount Doom with little experience in the ways of adventuring. But by the end of the quest, Merry and Pippin were celebrated warriors and Sam had successfully navigated the perils of Mount Doom. Aragorn ascended from ranger to king. Even Gandalf began the narrative as Gandalf the Grey only to return more powerful than ever as Gandalf the White.

Both the Middle-earth Role Playing game and The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game portray characters as gaining experience and increasing in levels. Middle-earth Role Playing spans just 10 levels, but provides a variety of experience-point awards (hit points, critical points, kill points, maneuver points, spell points, idea points, travel points, and miscellaneous) (Coleman 1993:38). The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game, on the other hand, offers increases in skills, edges, renown, reactions, courage, health, or attributes instead of levels (Long 2002:277).

The differences between growing in advancement in a story and in a game are twofold. Characters in a story grow organically through their adventures. In role-playing games, players are motivated to advance their characters so that they become more powerful. Fictional protagonists are motivated to adventure through exigent circumstances, but in fantasy games players know the rewards they will acquire through advancement. A character’s ignorance of what the future holds is a fundamental aspect of fantasy narrative and a key differentiator from fantasy gaming. Fantasy gaming provides a clear path for players to project their own desire for power through their characters.

Conclusion

Ultimately, Tolkien’s Fellowship was precisely that—a gathering of fellows, allies, and friends. Even when the Fellowship was forced to split, Sam refused to leave Frodo’s side. The Fellowship knew it had to work together to survive. Likewise, adventuring parties in fantasy games are more than just groups of convenience. Getting a bunch of people to play together varies by medium. It can involve one player with computer-controlled nonplayer characters, players working together who are not in the same room across an electronic medium, or even a hybrid system where some players are physically present while others are not.

“It’s worth noting that Tolkien’s project, as exhibited in all of his writing and just those [works] for which he has become famous, is so vast, so unbounded in its aspirations, that we cannot even imagine its long-run consequences,” said Castronova in Synthetic Worlds (2005:298). “In the short run, today, all we see is the fact that almost every synthetic world that’s been created has been modeled on Middle-earth.”

In the following chapters, we will explore those consequences.

TWO

COLLECTIBLE CARD GAMES AND MINIATURE WARGAMES

And in all ages a certain barbaric warfare has been waged with soldiers of tin and lead and wood, with the weapons of the wild, with the catapult, the elastic circular garter, the peashooter, the rubber ball, and such—like appliances—a mere setting up and knocking down of men. Tin murder. The advance of civilization has swept such rude contests altogether from the playroom. We know them no more [Wells 2004:2].

Introduction

Any examination of the notion of the Fellowship in fantasy gaming must start with the roots of Dungeons &Dragons, the wargame. Critics of the third and fourth editions of Dungeons &Dragons have expressed concerns that the game is too miniature-focused. And yet, it was a miniature game that ultimately spawned Dungeons &Dragons.

Miniature wargames involve small figures in a large-scale battle on simulated terrain. Movement of miniatures and engagement are regulated by rules. Unlike board games, the game pieces in wargames have much more freedom of movement. Large-scale wargames use miniatures to represent multiple troops with one figure, while skirmish games use one figure to represent a single character. Because terrain is such a major part of the game, there is an aesthetic element of miniature wargaming in both crafting the models and their surroundings.

In this chapter I lump together collectible card games with miniature wargames, as they have contributed to each other’s growth. Collectible card games took many of the wargame elements and incorporated them into card play. In turn, miniature games took the randomization and collectibility of card games and incorporated them into miniature play.

Collectible card games were first launched by Wizards of the Coast’s Magic: The Gathering. One of the distinguishing elements of collectible card games is that the rules themselves are dispersed across the entire collection of cards. It’s possible to play the game without possessing all of the cards and therefore play without owning all of the rules. Each card contains a self-contained rule that in turn interacts with other cards and their rules, creating a unique experience for each player. The collectibility element ensures randomization through scarcity of “packs” in which only certain cards can be purchased and traded between players.

In Magic: The Gathering, these cards are arrayed against another player known as a planeswalker. The planeswalker uses land cards to generate mana, each keyed to a different color and element (white, blue, black, red, and green) which summons creatures and effects. Creatures are arranged like miniatures, in a line against the opposing planeswalker. It is possible to have a lineup of creatures that rivals the setup of a miniatures wargame. Attacking or using powers of these creatures “taps” them, which means they are not eligible to defend. Creatures can die or be resurrected by other effects (Gottlieb 2009).

The similarity between collectible card games and miniature games did not go unnoticed by game companies. The “clix” system debuted with the WizKids Mage Knight collectible miniature game, wherein each prepainted plastic miniature included the necessary rules to play on its rotating base. To resolve conflicts, the player turns the figure on the base, and a display counter clicks into place as the creature inflicts or receives damage (Barrett 2003). Like the collectible card model, collectible miniature games were sold in randomized packs. The advent of Mage Knight heralded a new era in miniature wargaming, greatly reducing two barriers to entry: the prohibitive cost of collecting metal miniatures and the time-consuming task of painting them.

History

The first wargame was Wei-Hai (“encirclement”), a Chinese game known by its more common name of Go. Similar to Go was a game from India known as Chaturanga, the system from which chess evolved. In 1644, chess gave birth to the King’s game, which featured thirty pieces and fourteen military types. Despite the changes, it was still very similar in structure to chess. Interestingly, each piece represented an individual person (Fine 1983:8).

The first game to break away from the chess paradigm was created in 1780 by Helwig, master of pages to the duke of Brunswick. Helwig’s game expanded the board to over a thousand squares, each coded for a different rate of movement. Unlike the games before it, Helwig’s version had units rather than individual soldiers. Georg Vinturinus produced a more complex iteration in 1795. In 1798, he made the game more realistic by using a representative map of actual terrain.

The roots of modern miniature wargames can be traced as far back as 1811, when Herr von Reiswitz and his son modified a game called war chess into Instructions for the Representation of Tactical Maneuvers under the Guise of a Wargame (Mackay 2001:13). It was explicitly designed to teach officers about military tactics and as such has the auspicious beginning as a war game that was actually a rough simulation. This rich tradition of using games to simulate warfare continues to this day in massive multiplayer online role-playing game (MMORPG) format—America’s Army, a first-person shooter and recruiting tool for the U.S. Army.

Reiswitz’s work impressed Lieutenant Helmuth von Moltke. In 1828, von Moltke established a wargaming club called Kriegspieler Verein. When he became chief of staff in 1837, he pushed wargaming through the ranks. Colonel Julius Adrian Friedrich Wilhelm von Verdy du Vernois published a German wargame in 1876. Unlike Kriegspiel, Vernois eliminated dice rolling and introduced an umpire who determined results from his own combat experience (Gray 1995). This umpire role would reappear later in the form of the Dungeon Master in Dungeons & Dragons.

The importance of wargames took center stage when, in 1870, the militia army of Prussia decisively defeated the professional army of France. Many believed that wargames were responsible for Prussia’s success. Suddenly, militaries around the world were building their own wargame systems.

Major William R. Livermore of the U.S. Army introduced American Kriegspiel in 1882. William McCarty Little, who established the Naval War College, made the acquaintance of Livermore. Thanks to Livermore, Little made wargaming an integral part of the war college’s curriculum. A series of complex wargame rules sprung up as a result.

The modern wargame was born in 1913 thanks to British sci-fi author H.G. Wells. It was improbably titled Little Wars: A Game for Boys from Twelve Years to One Hundred and Fifty and for That More Intelligent Sort of Girl Who Likes Games and Books. Wells’s contribution cannot be underestimated. Little Wars’ rules, coupled later with plastic toy soldiers, opened wargaming to a larger audience beyond military and nobility. It also established the notion of a burst radius for cannon rounds, a feature Gygax adapted for fireballs in Dungeons & Dragons (Wells 2004).

After World War I the Treaty of Versailles denied Germany the right to field an army large enough for training exercises, so wargames replaced actual warfare as a training tool. Wargames also played a key role in World War II. Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz proclaimed that wargames were an important part of America’s naval victory over Japan.

In 1953, Charles Roberts published a game through Stackpole Books called Tactics. Tactics was unique because it used a paper board and cardboard counters. The changes made the game more accessible and easier to distribute. The success of the game led to the creation of Avalon Hill, a company which became the preeminent maker of cardboard wargames.

Wargames, although popular in their time, struggled to attain the reach of other gaming mediums. Wargaming’s roots primarily appealed to those interested in history. In the early days of the hobby, historical accuracy mattered most, as the majority of games reproduced actual battles.

Tony Bath made a significant contribution in shifting the perception of wargames from the purely historical to fantasy-based. His Hyboria campaign, based on the Conan stories by Robert E. Howard, is often cited as the first fantasy wargame.

It wasn’t until 1968 when Dave Wesley changed the miniatures game from one of two outcomes to a multiple, zero-sum game wherein different parties had varying goals, not all of them the ultimate destruction of the enemy (Fine 1983:13). Wesley considered the multiplayer game to be a failure, but one of his players had a different take. That player was Dave Arneson, a member of the Castles & Crusade Society and eventual co-author of Dungeons & Dragons.

Guidon Games published Chainmail, a medieval miniature wargame, in 1971. It would be released and released in several editions by TSR, Inc., remaining in circulation until 1979. During one of Arneson’s games, a druid high priest cast a spell that laid low a Roman war elephant. The spell was inspired by an episode of Star Trek playing on television—and thus we get the first glimpse of a spell in combat, possibly a predecessor to the timeless magic missile. We’ll discuss the history of Dungeons & Dragons in the next chapter.

In 1972, Don’t Give Up the Ship! was released by Guidon Games. It was the first collaboration between Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson and was the progenitor of such features as armor class, hit points, and morale (Raymond 2010) that were later incorporated into Dungeons & Dragons.

Warhammer Fantasy Battle, a tabletop miniatures wargame, was released in 1983 by Citadel Miniatures. A combination of Renaissance Europe and Middle-earth, it assigned Earth-like analogues for nations and civilizations to the traditional fantasy races of elves, dwarves, and orcs. Warhammer also drew on the fiction of Robert E. Howard and Michael Moorcock as inspiration. The game would continue to evolve over seven editions and is the most popular fantasy wargame to this day (published by Wargames Workshop).

In 1985, Chainmail’s successor was released—Battlesystem. It was compatible with both the advanced and basic versions of Dungeons & Dragons. Like Chainmail before it, Battlesystem merged with Dungeons & Dragons to provide rules for large-scale battles. Battlesystem used units; each figure represented a single hero or groups of two, five, or ten people. The system didn’t provide statistics for monsters, instead using the experience point value of monsters gained from defeating them as point values. Battlesystem assumed two players without a Dungeon Master refereeing between them.

Battlesystem was designed for both 15-millimeter and 25-millimeter figures. Although the rules accommodated 15-millimeter scale minatures. The latter scale became the standard for heroic miniatures, and the revised Battlesystem in 1989 switched to 25 millimeters as the standard.

Wizards of the Coast revolutionized the card game industry with Magic: The Gathering in 1994, launching a dizzying variety of collectible card games. The collectible card game created several conventions, including releasing installments of the game in packs, a mutable series of rules that interacted with one another, a near infinite level of customizability, and the “tapping” of cards by arraying them on the table against an opponent (Lang 2007:87).

The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game was released by Games Workshop in 2001 to coincide with the movie release of The Fellowship of the Ring. It featured all the elements common to the wargaming hobby: collecting and painting miniatures and terrain.

After a failed reboot of Chainmail as a collectible metal miniatures game and the success of WizKids Games’ Mage Knight, Wizards of the Coast changed tactics. They released a series of plastic pre-painted miniatures in 2003 as the Dungeons & Dragons Miniatures Game. Each set came with a card detailing statistics for the miniature for both Dungeons & Dragons and the Miniatures Game. Miniatures were divided into common, uncommon, and rare types, signifying how often a miniature of any particular type was likely to be included in a randomized pack.

The D&D Miniatures Game removed the game master from the equation, thereby simplifying the rules to allow for skirmishes without a referee. Where Battlesystem and Chainmail attempted to integrate with Dungeons & Dragons through crossover rules, the D&D Miniatures Game connected to its sister game on a much simpler level; the miniatures served as useful representation for the Miniatures Game as well as for Dungeons & Dragons. The game proved very popular and served for a time as both a miniatures skirmish system and a role-playing accessory for Dungeons & Dragons. In early 2009, support for the skirmish game was stopped, and the miniatures now exclusively serve as an accessory for fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons.

Also in 2009, the Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game was expanded to encompass the large battles described in the books with the publication of the War of the Ring rules by Games Workshop. It featured more troops and a simpler combat resolution.

Fellowship

In wargames, troops are generally divided into two opposing sides, although it’s certainly possible to have multiple players in a much larger game. These troops work in sync as per the player’s wishes. Morale factors can determine whether or not troops follow orders or how they react to the defeat of other allied troops (Halliwell 1984:29).

Because collectible miniature and card game components were released in randomized packs, collectors couldn’t simply buy the components that they wanted. They had to collect them by buying boxes of figures or decks of cards. The more boxes or cards they bought, the better the odds that they would get the rare cards or miniatures they needed.

This interesting mechanic made collectible miniatures less appealing to miniature gamers and more appealing to Dungeons & Dragons players. A miniatures game player viewed the figures as troops with point allocations and powers. A Dungeons & Dragons player needed specific figures because an encounter called for it. For example, the stirge is a bloodsucking, batlike monster that appears in large numbers. Because the stirge was an uncommon figure in the D&D Miniatures Game, and because the Dungeons & Dragons game used stirges in large groups, the value of the stirge on the secondary selling market (usually eBay) went up.

Having collected huge quantities of these miniatures, I can confidently state that the system worked as intended. I bought miniatures as much for the thrill of getting a rare one as the added utility of using them in my game. Like many other Dungeons & Dragons players, I insisted on having the perfect miniature for every character in my game.

Eventually, the costs of production, the global recession, and the aftermarket of individual miniatures made randomization an unviable cost model for the Dungeons & Dragons game. Given the proclivities of completist Dungeon Masters like myself, collectible minatures will likely be around for a long time.

Narrative

Miniature wargaming alters the narrative with each session. It’s possible to run campaigns that encompass a series of battles, but this is not the norm. As one of the players in my gaming group put it:

Very little story comes from miniature gaming. However, the fluff, or background, of the miniature games worlds, though, are fairly expansive, and being able to put a visual element involving nice figures and terrain to a game makes miniature wargaming an enjoyable experience [Webster 2010].

Although fantasy and science fiction games have their own narratives, historical wargames have a different take. At heart, historical wargames presume that history can be altered, that the players through their actions can change the course of battle through their intervention. In essence, the player’s role is not just a commander of a military troop but a commander who is at least the equal of the great historical generals of the past. Sometimes the generals are not so great; there are many scenarios wherein players seek to right the wrongs of past military failures.

The original Chainmail rules focused on reproducing medieval warfare. As such, one of its goals was to “interest the wargamer sufficiently to start him on the pursuit of the history of the Middle Ages.” Such study was meant to “at least enrich the life of the new historian, and perhaps ... even contribute to the study of history itself” (Gygax and Perren 1971:8). This connection to historical accuracy runs deep in miniature wargames of the time. Dungeons & Dragons carried this legacy throughout subsequent iterations, providing minutiae detailing polearms and other aspects of medieval warfare.

Personalization

Historical miniature wargaming goes beyond the rules. Players seeking to reproduce a particular battle must do their own research to determine the appropriate troop types, terrain, and even the colors to paint their troops. Reproducing these skirmishes is a display of both the artistic skill of the player as well as historical knowledge.

In addition to painting, some gamers can “kitbash” by combining miniature sets or even sculpt their own miniatures from scratch to create entirely unique figures. This personalization can go beyond miniatures to include designing battlefield terrain in a fashion similar to model railroad enthusiasts.

Four major developments originated with wargames and were subsequently adopted by role-playing games and Dungeons & Dragons in particular: hit points, armor class, morale, and saving throws. Hit points, as described by Gygax in the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook, represent the amount of damage a character can sustain before dying. It is a confusing term, because the definition of a “hit” can vary. Hit points can represent physical punishment, luck, skill, and other factors (1978:34). The Dungeon Master’s Guide explains that the increase of hit points is explained by heroic levels of sheer luck, a highly developed sixth sense, and even divine protection (1979:82).

In a miniatures wargame, hit points work well, because the sheer number of troops makes such abstraction necessary. Units do not usually increase in power through levels, so it is not necessary to increase in hit points. Troops are either stronger or weaker according to type and battlefield conditions, and the power level of the troop type largely remains static.

Hit points have always been an abstract concept for Dungeons & Dragons. Critics claim it inaccurately represents battlefield conditions, especially when characters of higher levels can survive thousand-foot falls or explosions. Massive-damage rules were later instituted (the amount varying, depending on the edition of the game) that ensure the character has a chance of dying from such terrible events. Coup-de-grace rules were also implemented so that a helpless character can die despite his massive number of hit points.

If the phrase “hit points” seems like an odd choice for the development of a role-playing character, armor class is even more peculiar. Armor class determines how easily a character can be struck by a weapon. The number is not limited to armor, but includes the creature’s size, agility, and even its dimensional or extra-dimensional form (1978:36).

One possible source for armor class and hit points is Dave Arneson’s rules for a naval civil wargame, Don’t Give Up the Ship! (Rausch 2004). For a civil war naval battle game about ironclads, armor class makes a lot of sense. Ironclads’ armor was an important factor in resisting bombardment, and the “class” of the ship references ships of a similar design. Although armor class might have been inspired by the rules in Don’t Give Up the Ship!, there is not an explicit attribute with that name in the game’s rules (Finarvyn 2007). It seems more likely that Arneson’s house rules for armor class never made it into the final published version of the wargame.

The majority of role-playing games that followed Dungeons & Dragons abandoned the notion of defining defense as armor class. Like the word “hit” in hit points, the phrase implies that “armor” is the only form of defense. The term “class” is both archaic and used in other forms, like the profession of a character. The modern version of the d20 rules set, derived from the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons, abandoned armor class entirely and replaced it with defense.

The Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide defines morale as the will to fight (Gygax 1979:67). Morale first makes its appearance in Don’t Give Up the Ship! as a factor determining boarding actions and crew types (Finarvyn 2007). It was subsequently used as a rule to determine henchmen, hirelings, and all other nonplayer characters in the employ of the player character.

Saving throws are an additional mechanic for dealing with dangerous situations. Don’t Give Up the Ship! featured saving throws as a roll to determine if morale drops. In later versions of Dungeons & Dragons, saving throws became complicated situation-specific mechanisms to determine the effects for paralysis, poison, death magic, petrification, polymorph, rods, staves, wands, spells, and breath weapons on player characters. The third edition of Dungeons & Dragons simplified saving throws to fortitude (affecting physical toughness of the character), reflex (the ability of the character to get out of the way of an attack), and will (resisting effects through force of will). The fourth edition simplified saving throws even further, bringing them in line with the combat system; fortitude, reflex, and will are now a form of defense like armor class, with the offensive attack “striking” the three saving throws.

Risk

Wargames’ primary focus is on conflict, be it through large-scale battles or small skirmishes. There are no rules to avoid a battle, which would defeat the whole purpose of the game. It’s generally assumed that negotiations have broken down in the wargame’s universe prior to the game commencing. Play begins at the advent of war.

The consequences of these conflicts are inflicted on largely faceless troops. The player does not play a role beyond commander of the group. This role should not be underestimated, however; while the commander’s identity may not be explicitly delineated from the player himself, the character of the troops most certainly is (Barton 2008:8). In this regard, Chainmail was groundbreaking; its rules for man-to-man combat broke with the tradition of a single miniature figure representing ten, twenty, fifty, or even one hundred men in the game (Gygax 1987:20). In fact, fourth edition learned from the Dungeons & Dragons Miniatures game, making combat more interesting for all parties involved by providing each player and monster with options that vary the combat round (Wilkes 2008:27) with each turn.

In Little Wars, H.G. Wells pointed out that miniature wargames demonstrated the folly and complexity of real war. “You have only to play at Little Wars three or four times to realize just what a blundering thing Great War must be” (Wells 2004:67).

Roles

Generally speaking, most wargames consist of two or more players without referees. There are instances where there is a game master of sorts, however, including Warhammer Fantasy Battle (Halliwell 1984:8).

Creator Roles

Miniature wargaming began with simulated military battles in which the player inhabited a historical role, stepping into the shoes of the commanders who led them. This gave players an opportunity to test their mettle against imagined opponents of the past who in turn led their own troops. Of course, each simulation’s ability to replicate a battle is only as accurate as the systems allow. We’ll cover the game master role in the next chapter.

Modeler

The hands-on aspect of miniature creation should not be underestimated. Miniature gaming can involve painting and molding a huge array of miniatures and terrain. There is thus some form of status in creating and displaying these miniatures in and out of the game. Customized figures demonstrate sculpting skills; painted miniatures similarly display painting skills. The recent arrival of pre-painted plastic miniatures has shifted the prestige of miniature gaming somewhat, from artistic skill (painting, modeling) to purchasing power. Randomized miniatures had a significant impact on the miniature gaming industry as a result.

Collector

Owning a large quantity of miniatures or cards is a testament to a player’s disposable income. Due to randomization or the simple fact that the rare items are more expensive, collectors have their own form of prestige. While a modeler can show off his artistic skill, a collector demonstrates his wealth. Miniatures gamers have compared without exaggeration their investment in miniatures to that of a new car.

Unlike modeling, which is an artistic skill that requires time, patience, and dedication, collecting is determined by a player’s disposable income. Rich players can buy armies and cards, theoretically giving them an advantage in play.

Participant Roles

Wizards of the Coast’s survey determined that four percent of gamers played miniature wargames (about 3.7 million people) and two percent played monthly (about 1.8 million people). Of those players, 21 percent were female. In addition, 37 percent also played tabletop role-playing games and 40 percent played computer role-playing games (2000).

Player

Because of the costs involved in setting up a game and accurately representing troops through miniatures, wargamers tend to be older and thus have more purchasing power. Also due to cost, miniatures gamers tend to specialize, focusing on a particular era of play or army type.

Unlike other forms of board gaming, miniature wargaming is a very participatory experience. This is probably due to the amount of space necessary to run a large-scale wargame; gaming stores and hobby shops have more space than homes. Because of the scale of wargames, multiple players can participate, either in assisting with the game or playing lesser roles (such as lieutenants) within the game itself.

There is an aesthetic joy in watching a miniature wargame in action. With the right terrain and miniatures, a wargame is a tactile experience that cannot be easily duplicated by any other medium.

Character Roles

The primary persona that players take on is that of a commanding general.

General

Wargames put players in the role of generals or gods, above the action, controlling armies from a distance (Barton 2008:8). Military miniatures games “have participants acting as the commanders of forces, large or small, about to become engaged in or already locked in battle” (Gygax 1987:18).

I played a few Battlesystem skirmishes with mixed results. Regulations for a unit in which a hero participates and is “destroyed” under the Battlesystem rules used a table that, on an unlucky roll, led to the hero being lost on the battlefield. The second edition of Warhammer Fantasy goes so far as to allow the miraculous survival of these important characters, but with significant wound penalties (Halliwell 1984:62). In essence, the value of a hero being unique and important is reduced to a single ignominious die roll. One roll on that table convinced me that Battlesystem was not something I wanted to use very often. Fortunately, the dwarven commander in question survived the encounter.

Finally, wargames do not actively involve the player on a one-to-one basis. Although players identify with a side or a unit of troops, they are not viscerally connected to individuals on the battlefield. The ability to connect to a character is a critical factor in distinguishing role-playing games from wargames (Barton 2008:8).

Status

Unlike tabletop role-playing games, characters do not acquire power by gaining levels or acquiring new abilities. Instead, the player gains power by building larger armies (Barton 2008:8). Chainmail gave players the option of choosing the two opposing forces by drawing from a historical account, assigning a point value, or creating a campaign situation where larger armies move on a map until they come into conflict. Ultimately, the balance between the forces was best determined by experience (Gygax and Perren 1971:6).

Part of the appeal of wargaming is the “reset” of each scenario. Players use points to start on even footing, but once the game begins it’s up to each player to gain a tactical advantage. Continuity of play between games is not as important as the play itself. There is still a form of status amongst wargamers, but it is not necessarily tied to the individual units within the game. This shifts the onus of status from in-game achievements to the artifacts of gaming: the rarity of figures in play, the artistic abilities of the painter or sculptor, and the purchasing power of the player’s collection card or miniature collection.

Conclusion

Much has been said about the reintroduction of miniatures into Dungeons & Dragons, an ironic accusation considering that role-playing games started with miniature wargames. As Fine stated (1983:108) early role-playing games frequently encountered challenges in determining the physical location of characters in relation to one another and their opponents. An important foundation of a shared reality is the broad strokes of what each character is doing: standing, sitting, at the far end of the room or whispering nearby. When spatial relationships are not clearly defined, confusion results. In one game I game-mastered, one of my players did not catch the description that a large and powerful enemy was behind him. When the character turned his back, it cost him his life. Miniatures help clarify spatial relationships.

Miniature wargames have a long and proud pedigree of teaching valuable lessons about important battles and, in some cases, even laying claim to the success of real commanders who were unable to field regular troops. When it debuted, Dungeons & Dragons caused considerable tension between historical wargamers and tabletop role-players. The industry would be further pushed into the mainstream with the advent of prepainted miniatures, which allowed younger and less affluent players to collect affordable miniatures and understand the rules without referring to arcane tomes.

Not everyone sees role-playing as a mature evolution of the medium, however. As Barton put it in Dungeons & Desktops, “It’s one thing ... to saunter past a few wargamers engaged in a heated discussion of the Battle of Gettysburg—even if the sight of grown men moving painted miniatures may seem childish to some. However, it’s quite another matter when people are displaying the same sort of passion for sorcery and dragons, much less for demons and priests of darkness” (2008:18).

In the next chapter, we examine how Dungeons & Dragons returned to its miniature roots in the third edition of the game and its impact on the structure of the Fellowship.

THREE

TABLETOP ROLE-PLAYING GAMES

This is a fantasy RPG predicated on the assumption that the human race, by and large, is made up of good people. Humans, with the help of their demi-human allies, are and should remain the predominant force in the world. They have achieved and continue to hold on to this status, despite the ever-present threat of evil, mainly because of the dedication, honor, and unselfishness of the most heroic humans and demi-humans—the characters whose roles are taken by the players of the game [Gygax 1987:26].

Introduction

Of the basic forms of games for entertainment over thousands of years, including table games, board games, card games, and parlor games, role-playing games are a recent addition (Gygax 1989:151). Role-playing games consist of a set of rules by which players engage in role play. There is usually a core set of rulebooks which contain the game’s mechanics and overall setting, sometimes divided between player books and game master books. Sourcebooks elaborate on the game world through new classes or advanced rules. Scenario books, sometimes called adventures or modules, are storylines for the game master to use with his players (Harrigan and Wardrip-Fruin 2007:1).

My early initial experience with Dungeons & Dragons was confusing. I had difficulty with by the math—To Hit Armor Class 0 (THAC0) never made much sense to me, nor did hit point progression charts. The confusion I experienced was shared by my playmates:

I do remember playing D&D. When we first started we played in your room with the board on the bed and we rolled dice on the floor. I was a cleric. I am quite sure I had no idea what a cleric was at that point ... there were dice to roll, there were scenarios that we encountered. I think there were attack points, magic points, spells and I was usually confused. I am not sure that I grasped the “role playing” part of it back then. I was used to games that had a purpose and a goal that could be achieved within an hour or so [Herriman 2010].

Dungeons & Dragons has had several editions, more than nine since 1974 (Mona 2007:25). For our purposes, we will primarily focus on the impact of original boxed set of Dungeons &Dragons (OD&D) and the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons editions (AD&D). Following this path will help us trace a direct line of evolution from Middle-earth to Dungeons & Dragons to computer role-playing games (CRPGs).

Because early editions of Dungeons & Dragons emphasized that game masters should create their own worlds and even modify their own rules, the game was constantly being improved upon by hobbyists. This frequent experimentation created a level of cross-pollination that influenced all forms of gaming since.

After the second edition of Dungeons & Dragons was released, it became less of an influence on CRPGs. The balance flipped in later editions, with many of the refinements introduced on MUDs and CRPGs influencing third and fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons. We will touch on these refinements in later chapters.

Throughout this chapter I reference Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, the creators of Dungeons & Dragons. This is not to imply that they are the final authorities on fantasy gaming. Their perspectives changed over time, and both creators disapproved of some of the improvements to the game. While Gygax and Arneson are by no means the final word on game development, their contributions are an important part of gaming history.

History

In 1967 a 40-millimeter medieval wargame using miniatures titled The Siege of Bodenburg was published in Strategy & Tactics magazine. Jeff Perren developed his own rules and shared them with Gary Gygax.

In 1969, Dave Wesley moderated a wargame session at the University of Minnesota in which players represented individual characters in a Napoleonic scenario centered on a town named Braunstein. At this time, the notion of having a game master who invented the scenario for the battle of the evening was actually inspired by Strategos: The American Game of War. It was a training manual for U.S. army wargames by Lieutenant Charles Adiel Lewis Totten, published by Doubleday in 1880. Wesley had found a copy in the University of Minnesota library and attempted to adapt it prior to the Braunstein game. Wesley had read about the notion of “n-player” strategy games after reading Kenneth Swezy’s The Compleat Strategist.

Wesley’s group normally consisted of eight people, two of whom played while the other six watched. In an attempt to be more inclusive, he developed roles for the other players beyond the usual wargaming army commander. Wesley invented a mayor, banker, university chancellor and more, each role with its own objectives and goals. When nearly twenty people showed up, Wesley made up roles for them too.

It was telling that the players received their orders in a separate room, where Wesley briefed them, and were not allowed to share the information with each other. What was supposed to be an orderly set of instructions fell apart when two of the players, one an officer in the Prussian army and the other a pro–French radical student, told Wesley they had challenged each other to a duel. Wesley was once again forced to improvise; he rolled some dice and declared that one had shot the other, with the winner imprisoned. The game continued well into the night, at which point Wesley realized that the players had taken over the game—his carefully crafted rules that would ultimately help determine who won no longer applied. To Wesley, the game was a failure.

Later, Wesley ran a second version of the game, placing the players in the role of leaders in a fictional banana republic. Dave Arneson was a participant in both games. Dave Arneson continued to run versions of Braunstein and started inventing new scenarios. Eventually, he expanded them to include ideas from The Lord of the Rings and Dark Shadows, which were popular at the time. This eventually led to the creation of Blackmoor (Wesley 2006).

Wesley also lays claim to using polyhedral dice, which up to that point had been used as teaching tools for math professors. The four-, eight-, twelve-, and twenty-sided dice are used in tabletop role-playing games to this day.

Meanwhile, Gary Gygax founded the Castle & Crusade Society as a special interest group for the International Federation of Wargaming. In 1968, he and Jeff Perren published Chainmail, a medieval wargame (Mona 2007:25). In the core rules of Chainmail, each miniature represented twenty men. The troop types were divided into light, heavy, and armored footmen, and light, medium, and heavy cavalry.

Gygax and Perren added a fifteen-page “Fantasy Supplement” to Chainmail in 1971, published by Guidon Games. It added jousting, one-on-one melee, and, most of all, fantasy creatures. Chainmail’s Fantasy Supplement introduced many enduring fantasy concepts, including elementals, dragons of different colors, and the now archetypical fireball, lightning bolt, and polymorph spells. These spells matched the power of artillery; fireballs inflicted the damage of catapults and lightning bolts were the equivalent of cannons. Creatures were divided by alignment into law and chaos, drawing on Moorcock’s similar alignment of philosophies in the Elric series. Each of the fantasy creatures were treated as troop types. Hobbits were treated as light footmen and elves as heavy footmen. Individual heroes were as powerful as four heavy footmen.

It was Arneson who applied the Fantasy Supplement to dungeon exploration in his Blackmoor campaign setting. Unlike Braunstein, Arneson’s Blackmoor was a campaign with an endless series of progression (Whetsell 2006). When his players grew tired of the standard monsters, Arneson provided a variety of options. The games themselves weren’t all about combat. Characters could fight their way through the dungeon or sneak through the sewer system. Most importantly, it was cooperative play. The players were successful only if the group was successful.

In 1971, at a convention in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, Arneson demonstrated his heroic fantasy commando raid for Gary Gygax, who was duly impressed. Working with Arneson, Gygax collaborated on a set of rules for what was initially called the Fantasy Game. Unable to find a publisher, they renamed their game Dungeons & Dragons (Archer 2004:43). In 1973, Gygax collaborated with Don Kaye and Brian Blume in a group called Tactical Studies Rules. Due to the untimely death of Kaye, the partnership was dissolved. The game appeared that same year at EasterCon. Pre-release copies were in circulation by the end of 1973, but the first commercial version of Dungeons & Dragons was published in January 1974 (Costikyan 2007:5).

By the wargaming standards of the time, Dungeons & Dragons was becoming a huge success. Nearing the end of 1974, Tactical Studies Rules had sold all of its 1,000 copies. That November, they ordered 2,000 more, only to sell out by April 1975. Another 3,000 units were sold by July. It was clear Dungeons & Dragons’ appeal had gone beyond wargamers. Fan demand was insatiable.

On November 1, 1973 (I was born exactly a year earlier), Gygax penned the foreword of the first Dungeons &Dragons rulebook. Dungeons & Dragons consisted of three booklets: Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and Wilderness & Dungeon Adventures. It featured four races (humans, dwarves, elves, and hobbits) and just three classes (fighting-men, magic-users, and clerics). It also introduced individual statistics that had never existed before: Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Dexterity, Constitution, and Charisma. This was a quantum leap from wargames of the past, as the statistics described an individual person, not a unit.

Men & Magic recommended miniatures “if the players have them available and so desire,” but they were not required. Cardboard counters were given as an alternative, “although by themselves the bits of cardboard lack the eye-appeal of the varied and brightly painted miniature figures” (Gygax and Arneson 1974:5).

Since both Gygax and Arneson were running their own games using Dungeons & Dragons rules, they decided to publish an expansion detailing each of their respective campaigns. Gygax’s game, Greyhawk, introduced the paladin and thief class. Blackmoor, Arneson’s game, introduced the monk and assassin. Finally, Eldritch Wizardry was published, which introduced the druid class as well as psionics. The next installment was Gods, Demigods, and Heroes. It listed a variety of pantheons for use in the game, including Elric and Conan.

Swords and Spells was the last in the series. It picked up where Chainmail left off (Gygax called it the “grandson of Chainmail” in the introduction), providing miniature-scale battle rules more compatible with Dungeons &Dragons. And thus Dungeons & Dragons, just a few years old, came full circle, returning to its miniature roots.

The fan movement continued to grow, generating considerable debate as to how to improve the game. That spirit of review and improvement led to several Dungeons & Dragons competitors. In gaming parlance, these types of Dungeons & Dragons variants would be known as “Fantasy Heartbreakers,” a phrase coined by Ron Edwards. As Edwards explained, Fantasy Heartbreakers are “truly impressive in terms of the drive, commitment, and personal joy that’s evident in both their existence and in their details—yet they are also teeth-grindingly frustrating ... they represent but a single creative step from their source: old-style D&D” (Edwards 2002).

One of the first attempts to simplify Dungeons & Dragons was Tunnels &Trolls by Ken St. Andre (Astinus 1998). Released in 1975, Tunnels & Trolls has similar statistics, classes, and adventures. It did introduce a points-based magic system, used six-sided dice exclusively, and presented a better explanation of its rules overall. It also brought a sense of impish fun to the genre.

In response to the accusation that Dungeons & Dragons was only about dragons and dungeons, Fantasy Games Unlimited released Chivalry & Sorcery in 1976. Created by Ed Simbalist and Wilf Backhaus, Chivalry & Sorcery embraced a realistic approach to medieval France in the 12th century, complete with feudalism and the Catholic Church. Chivalry & Sorcery was most noteworthy for creating the term “game master.” It was one of the first games to place the setting at utmost importance over the mechanics of the game.

The year 1977 was a turning point for Dungeons & Dragons. This year saw the creation of Basic Dungeons & Dragons, edited by J. Eric Holmes, which drew its lineage primarily from the original boxed set but was marketed for younger players. It also was sold in a box and suitable for distribution in toy stores. One year later, Advanced Dungeons & Dragons was published in hardcover format, filled with clarifications by Gygax to further the game.

The distinction between the two games confused many players, myself included. What did “advanced” mean precisely? My mother purchased the Basic Dungeons & Dragons boxed set for me for my birthday, and I struggled to learn how to play at age seven. The next year, my aunt purchased the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons hardcover books for me, not understanding the distinction between the two games. To my disappointment, I realized the two games weren’t entirely compatible.

The first hardcover edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, the Monster Manual, was released in 1977. The Player’s Handbook followed in 1978 and the Dungeon Master’s Guide in 1979.

My gaming group played our way up through the master set of the basic rules. The master (black box) set was released at around the same time as Unearthed Arcana for the advanced rules. At this point we had to make a decision; I had all the hardcover rules, with the assumption that when I was sufficiently “advanced” we would switch. But the agreement as to whether or not we were “advanced” enough lingered, and the switchover caused a considerable rift in my gaming group. Eventually, we all switched to the first edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

The Dungeons & Dragons brand was tarnished with the disappearance in 1979 of James Dallas Egbert III, a Michigan State University student. A Dungeons & Dragons–like game was blamed for his disappearance. Jack Chick’s tract Dark Dungeons and Pat Pulling of Bothered About Dungeons & Dragons (BADD) both spread propaganda that closely tied Dungeons & Dragons to cult activities that they believed were a threat to young people across America. Pulling went so far as to provide pamphlets and guides to police and appeared on talk shows to spread the word. In response, Mike Stackpole, an author and game designer, debunked her efforts in The Pulling Report. Stackpole determined that Pulling had misrepresented her credentials. After the report was published in 1990, she left BADD (Stackpole 1990).

In 1989, the second edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons was published. This version simplified the combat system by quantifying the roll needed To Hit Armor Class 0 (THAC0). Actions were changed to real-life scale in feet rather than inches, demi-human races (elves, halflings, and their ilk) were made more viable characters, critical hit rules were introduced, and an attempt was made to make Dungeons & Dragons “mom friendly.” Demons and devils were renamed (the creatures themselves remained largely unchanged), the assassin class was removed, and the game focused on playing heroic, noble characters.

The second edition was my bread and butter. The proliferation of game worlds made it an exciting time to game; Dark Sun was set in a postapocalyptic future, Ravenloft provided gothic horror, and Spelljammer offered pulp futurism. I used all those elements, turning my campaign into a delirious hodgepodge of aliens, gothic horror, and post-apocalyptic cynicism that would later influence the creation of RetroMUD.

By the late 1980s, many other gaming systems were eating away at TSR’s dominance. Magic: The Gathering offered a collectible card game fantasy variant, and role-playing games shifted in focus from high fantasy to horror and science fiction. By 1998, TSR filed for bankruptcy, only to be purchased by Wizards of the Coast, creators of Magic: The Gathering.

The third edition of Dungeons & Dragons was released in 2000 by Wizards of the Coast. This system simplified Dungeons & Dragons and focused on rolling a 20-sided die. The supporting scheme was called the d20 system. Skills, introduced awkwardly as “non-weapon proficiencies” in the second edition, were codified. Feats, a rules system for heroic actions outside the scope of skills, were introduced. The new system simplified some aspects of the game such as movement and attempted to quantify other situations with attacks of opportunity, a rule that never went over well with players. Prestige classes were introduced, a further means of individualizing a character through rigorous entry requirements. The sorcerer was also introduced as separate from the wizard, more in keeping with the latest fantasy fiction that made the Vancian spell system seem outdated (Barton 2008:23). This system, dubbed 3.5, was revised again in July 2003.

In addition to the d20 system, Ryan Dancey believed that the designers of “fantasy heartbreakers” who felt they could improve on Dungeons & Dragons should be embraced as part of the gaming development community. Through the Open Gaming License (OGL), his efforts paved the way for support game companies to take on the risky costs of creating adventures, while supporting the sales of the three core rulebooks that made up Dungeons & Dragons: the Player’s Handbook, Dungeon Master’s Guide, and Monster Manual. By opening the license to small developers, the gaming scene exploded, with more content than ever before.

This allowed some interesting divergent paths for fantasy role-playing. Castles & Crusades from Troll Lord Games streamlines the Open Game License rules so they are more in the spirit of the Original Dungeons & Dragons boxed set. HackMaster by Kenzer and Company continued a series of compatible rules for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. These two examples are proof that none of the previous editions ever stopped developing, with fans supporting each line even as the game continued to evolve. Perhaps the most significant divergence was the creation of the Pathfinder rules set from Paizo Publishing, an offshoot of the 3.5 OGL rules established as an alternative to the fourth edition of Dungeons & Dragons.

In August 2007, Dungeons & Dragons fourth edition was announced at Gen Con. The core rulebooks: Player’s Handbook, Monster Manual, and Dungeon Master’s Guide, were released in June 2008. The fourth edition, unlike previous editions, diverged radically in redesigning Dungeons & Dragons (Smith 2008). In past editions, Dungeons & Dragons relied upon long-term restrictions to balance characters—wizards who started out weak would eventually become far more powerful than their fighter compatriots. This was also reflected in varying experience level tables to slow or quicken advancement for each class. These restrictions were changed in the fourth edition with the intent of making every level fun for every class. Class powers were changed to at will, per encounter, and per day. Healing became available to every character instead of just clerics.

Online support for Dungeons & Dragons has been promised from Wizards of the Coast. A virtual game table has long been in production but as of this writing has yet to debut. Current online support includes digital editions of Dragon and Dungeon magazine and a compendium that incorporates Dragon magazine updates with the core rules.

Fellowship

One of the key elements of Dungeons & Dragons is cooperation. Unlike other forms of parallel entertainment, like movies, or solitary entertainment, like reading a book, role-playing is a shared activity (Gygax 1987:13). Cooperation in the game is key to success, especially at lower levels where the characters are vulnerable.

The agreed-upon paradigm for role-playing games, which has been refined over the years, assumes that players will sit down at a table. That very act helps shape the nature of the characters in the game. It is assumed that the players are seated in close enough proximity to each other to interact. There is one Dungeon Master, presumably sitting near the center of the group. The players roll dice to determine results, which means the Dungeon Master can see these results as well as the other players.

All of these factors creates a sense of unity. Unlike a poker game, the players are all on the same team with a common goal: killing monsters and taking their stuff (Hite 2007:32). There are of course role-playing games that actively discourage this kind of harmony (e.g., Paranoia) but even then, the sense is that it’s all in fun. There isn’t any real reward for winning, because it’s a collaborative style of play.

With the Dungeon Master as the sole representation of the antagonists, the players can work as a team to overcome any obstacle. And they feel like a team, in close proximity to each other at a table. In business terms, it’s a goaloriented meeting to overcome a specific task (as opposed to just “winning”) that is played repeatedly.

It’s interesting that the original boxed set of Dungeons & Dragons lists one “referee” (not Dungeon Master) and from four to fifty players handled in a single campaign. It recommends a referee to player ratio of about 1:20 or thereabouts (Gygax 1974:5). Although the original Dungeons & Dragons was a simpler game, fifty players seems like a mammoth task to handle.

Gygax’s game started out with a handful of players in 1972, but by 1973 it had expanded to a dozen. When the D&D game was published, players began showing up for weekly sessions in the basement of Gygax’s house, sometimes more than twenty. To accommodate the masses, he made Rob Kuntz a co-referee. They merged dungeons and worked together to manage huge groups simultaneously.

Large number of players create an additional role that is uncommon today, that of the Caller. In a large group, having up to twenty people would make it impossible for players to be heard. A Caller coordinates the players’ actions and organizes their efforts so that the Dungeon Master can respond appropriately. I’ve played games with up to twelve players at once and discovered it is impossible to appropriately cater to each player as the moment dictates; someone, usually a quiet player, inevitably suffers.

In Role-Playing Mastery, Gygax later clarified that up to four players is possible for a game master; with an assistant, up to eight people can be managed without unduly affecting the overall level of play. With multiple game masters and their own assistants, he postulated, Dungeons & Dragons could accommodate up to a dozen players (1987:87).

Dungeons & Dragons models certain kinds of fantasy very well, most specifically teamwork during a time of conflict. The distinction of classes separates skill sets such that no one character is good at everything. As a result, this encourages groups to balance one another by choosing a role. These roles slowly became more and more formalized as the game evolved. Gygax explicitly identified the class roles as the fighter taking the role of infantry, the thief as spy, cleric as medic, and as the artillery magic-user (Gygax 2007).

The fourth edition formalized these roles. In Worlds and Monsters, Chris Perkins explained how the fourth edition of Dungeons & Dragons reinforces party roles as a mechanism rather than an assumption as in the third edition. In the fourth edition, players can understand what role each class plays and where there are gaps in their adventuring party (Wilkes 2008:87).

Part of the necessity of a group of characters working together is survival. Certainly, the Fellowship of The Lord of the Rings came together for the very survival of their race. In game terms, a larger wargame acts as the backdrop of The Lord of the Rings, transitioning to a role-playing game’s focus on just the heroes themselves. Without this imminent threat of danger and the need to rely on one another for safety, the game takes on a different feel. It’s possible to reinforce story for story’s sake, but that isn’t necessarily an intrinsic part of a party. Role-playing games that didn’t explicitly rely on the party paradigm would develop in the 1990s, with games like White Wolf’s Storyteller system (Borgstrom 2007:61).

Because Gygax encouraged campaigns of length, the social cohesion formed by repeated play is strong. Players can spend as much time role-playing as they spend optimizing the statistical advantages of their character, creating a dizzying variety of entertaining possibilities at every session. Gamers can play for years with the same group and in the same world, with a level of agency far beyond that of reading a novel or seeing a movie because the players are collectively responsible for their character’s creation and development (Costikyan 2007:9).

Narrative

Ron Edwards breaks down role-playing games into three kinds of experiences: gamist, narrativist, simulationist. Gamists seek victory and loss conditions and play the role-playing game like other forms of gaming—with the goal of winning. Narrativists enjoy story first and foremost, attempting to tell a good tale through narrative conflict and even failure. Simulationists attempt to accurately and realistically reflect the imagined world (Edwards 2001).

Initially, Dungeons & Dragons was largely gamist, doing little to encourage in-depth role-playing or any form of storytelling. However, the fact that a character existed in multiple installments of long-term play (Gygax’s “milieu”) offered an opportunity to further develop game play and story (Costikyan 2007:5).

For Gygax, the only valid purpose of role-playing games is entertainment. He cited mythic adventure, escape from the routine and mundane, socialization, and a sense of heroic immortality as draws:

There is a message contained in the true role-playing game. It is the message of the difficulty in surviving alone, and the folly of trying to profit from the loss of others. The inability of any lone individual to successfully cope with every challenge is evident in RPGs and reflects life ... the role-playing game brings the heroic into better perspective by demonstrating a course of progress which requires the association and cooperation of like-minded individuals [Gygax 1989:150].

Dungeons & Dragons is at heart a heroic fantasy game. Gygax defines this form of fantasy as a game in which the natural laws do not apply, the heroes and deities of mythology are real, and people are capable of amazing physical and mental feats. Later fantasy games possess at least one of these traits if not all three (1987:105).

In Role-Playing Mastery, Gygax explains the key assumptions underlying Dungeons &Dragons. He positions humanity as central and good and humans are supported by “demi-human” allies (dwarves, elves, etc.) They remain in power because of their “dedication, honor, and unselfishness.” Paragons of these attributes are controlled by the player characters, all with their own strengths and weaknesses. No single character has all of the skills necessary to overcome adversaries (1987:27).

Shepherding the narrative falls to the game master. As such, Gygax identified the various roles the game master took on in shaping the narrative: narrator, interpreter, force of nature, personification of non-participant characters, all other personifications, and supernatural power.

As narrator, the game master reads or creates on the fly his own description of the universe. As interpreter, the game master translates the game universe to the player characters. He interprets their senses for them, sharing information and answering player questions so that the characters can interact with the imaginary universe effectively.

As a force of nature, the game master handles all events that are not tied to beasts or people, from the weather to the passage of time. As the personification of nonplayer characters, the game master fulfills the role for which he is perhaps best known—acting on behalf of all the other living, breathing characters that populate the imaginary world. Other personifications include beasts both alien and mundane, from dragons to insects to sentient rocks. And finally, as a supernatural power the game master plays the roles of the gods themselves, who may have their own petty interests (Gygax 1989:22).

Unlike previous editions, the narrative of fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons is clearly defined. The world is fantastic, ancient, and mysterious— in many ways, the setting cleaves closer to Tolkien’s Middle-earth than ever before. It also restores some of the danger and wonder of adventuring, phrased as “points of light in a dark world.” This is precisely what Tolkien’s Middleearth was for humans; a dangerous place in need of heroes (Wilkes 2008:14).

One of the major goals for designers of the fourth edition was to become less Euro-focused, departing in that regard from Tolkien and, by proxy, Gygax. As Matthew Sernett pointed out, fantasy overlaid on a medieval template creates odd disparities like a suit of plate armor being more expensive and rare than a considerably more useful healing potion (Wilkes 2008:15).

Personalization

One of the enduring attributes of pen-and-paper role-playing games is that there are no limits to imagination. Gary Gygax (1979:6) explained the “framework” of Dungeons &Dragons as creating a “universe” into which similar campaigns and parallel worlds could be placed. Although play takes place primarily in the imagination, it is adjudicated through dice rolling.

Dice rolls are not explicitly required, but often suggested in most roleplaying games. The outcome of the rolls is left to the discretion of the game master. The game master exercises this control when it makes sense, to keep the game flowing smoothly and balanced so that the player characters have a reasonable chance of survival. And yet rolling dice and reviewing a standardized table creates an aura of objectivity that isn’t exclusively the domain of the game master. As Barton put it in Dungeons & Desktops, “What’s really clever about D&D is the way it’s able to combine the illusion of ‘anything goes’ with this practical and formalized set of rules” (2008:27).

By creating uniformity in the rules systems, players were theoretically able to move between Dungeons &Dragons campaigns and groups. Similarity between character races, classes, ability scores, magic spells and items helped smooth a player’s transition from game to game. This uniformity created a dialogue between gaming groups that laid the foundation for the game’s widespread popularity. It may have worked too well. The majority of fantasy-based games have inherited these same sets of rules and language with few alterations (Barton 2008:23).

A character’s six ability scores in Dungeons &Dragonshave largely remained intact across gaming mediums: strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma. Strength, dexterity, and constitution—the physical attributes of the character—have generally been preserved as is, with the exception of different wording for constitution. Intelligence, wisdom, and charisma makes less of an appearance in other gaming mediums, depending on the style of the game and level of engagement the player identifies with the character.

The Middle-earth Role Playing Game has traits that correspond almost directly with Dungeons & Dragons: strength, agility, constitution, intelligence, intuition, and presence. The one-to-one ratio is provided as part of a conversion chart between the two systems (Coleman 1993:225). The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game has strength, nimbleness, vitality, perception, wits, and bearing. Notably, there is no intelligence score equivalent (Long 2002:47).

Strength was defined in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons as physical endurance, stamina, and power. It assumed that human adult male characters were in good shape due to the necessity of hard labor in a medieval world. Dexterity represented everything from agility to speed, precision to reflexes. Constitution was a reflection of a character’s physique and fitness (Gygax 1979:15).

Intelligence assumed mnemonics and learning skills in addition to comprehension of the written word. Wisdom, probably the least defined trait, represented willpower, wile, enlightenment and intuitiveness. Gygax delineated wisdom from intelligence with an example of a smoker who knows smoking is harmful but lacks the wisdom to stop. In later editions, wisdom also came to represent perception. Finally there is charisma, which Gygax emphatically stated was not just physical appearance but also personal magnetism.

One of the members of my role-playing group explained why he enjoys role-playing such a low-intelligence character as Calactyte (Cal), a lizardman barbarian:

He was the epitome of brawn over brains. Just absolutely simple and stupid. But that was also what made him such a fun character to role play. He was big and dumb but he also had a big heart. He was always willing to fight for, defend and protect other members of his party. Had he been more intelligent perhaps he’d have know better than to run head first into battle when his crew was clearly outnumbered. His attempts at puzzle solving were often hilarious, but because he tried so hard, it made him hard not to love. He always got an “E” for effort. I personally love the idea of playing characters with some form of weakness. While roleplaying Cal I would often have to stop myself and ask, “Would Cal be smart enough to say that?” or “Would Cal even think that?” It’s more challenging but a heck of a lot of fun [Joseph Tresca 2010].

Characters gain power through experience points, defined as ability in their chosen profession. Experience points can be gained from defeating opponents and solving problems through “professional means” (1978:106). In earlier editions of Dungeons & Dragons, experience points were given for acquiring treasure as well. Gygax defended this choice by explaining that the acquisition of experience points for gold collected was a reflection of a character’s “off hour” activities that included studying and training. The “experience points for treasure” rule was stripped away from Dungeons &Dragons’ fantasy descendants as well as subsequent editions of the game.

One rule Dungeons & Dragons was not known for was skills. A staple of role-playing games today, skills were non-existent in the Original Dungeons & Dragons boxed set. Secondary skills were introduced in the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide, but they were described in very broad strokes with little advice as to how to use them (Gygax 1979:12). This didn’t sit well with players, especially as other role-playing games evolved and skills became a standard means of fleshing out a character. Dungeons & Dragons relented somewhat with the unwieldy term “non-weapon proficiencies” to identify skills that weren’t tied to weapons. Proficiencies were eventually replaced with the skills in the third edition of the game.

The fourth edition now features 17 skills along with skill challenges, a means for a character to overcome an obstacle through a series of successful skill rolls instead of through combat. The use of skill checks is a negotiation between game master and player, with the player advocating which skill makes sense to apply to a particular role. Most players advocate the skills their character is best at, encouraging characters to play to their strengths in skill challenges. Since all players get a flat bonus to skill levels, there is less imbalance in say, offensive capability, than in skill checks (Smith 2008).

One aspect of RPGs that is often overlooked but figures as prominently as combat in Dungeons & Dragons is equipment lists. Be it mundane equipment the adventurer needs to survive or endless lists of magical items that give the character an advantage, equipment provides a means of artificially inflating a character’s power level. As a result, adventurers obsessively catalogued every item they owned just to stay alive. Accounting for random encounters and potential traps, a typical adventurer was kitted out with something for every possible emergency; poles for setting off traps, rations for eating during long journeys, mirrors and whistles to signal for help, and so on.

Another RPG staple that became exaggerated in later fantasy games was the definition of magical items by their bonus to hit and damage. Magic armor bestowed a +1 bonus to armor class, magic weapons provided a +1 bonus to hit and damage, and so forth. These bonuses extend as high as +10 in some editions of Dungeons & Dragons.

All that equipment had a downside. Characters had to carry all that cool stuff. It has been my experience that encumbrance was largely abandoned by later incarnations of tabletop versions of Dungeons & Dragons—not because of any flaws in the game rules, but by players who found keeping track of all their characters’ equipment to be too much of a hassle. Computer and massive multiplayer games do not suffer from such difficulties, however, as we shall see in subsequent chapters.

The common language of gaming created a network of compatible players that would eventually lead to tournament play, special sessions in which different groups of player took part in an adventure at different times (Gygax 1987:39). Tournament play was adjudicated through the Role-Playing Game Association (RPGA). In the RPGA, if the majority of players determine a certain condition—death of a villain, retrieval or loss of an artifact, destruction of a village—it becomes part of the game universe. The RPGA set the template for MMORPGs; adventurers existing in the same world in a sort of megauniverse (Harrigan and Wardrip-Fruin 2007:219).

Gygax felt that these kinds of tournaments helped players perfect their game. And yet, he made a point of discouraging Dungeon Masters from customizing their campaigns too much, for fear of making the game less challenging or “so strange as to be no longer AD&D” (1979:7). Although he encouraged variation, he wanted it kept within the bounds of the overall system. For Gygax, it was more important that players could create games that were fundamentally compatible with each other (1978:8). And he was right. Thanks to the enormous popularity of Dungeons & Dragons and the common language of hit points, armor class, levels, and experience points, fantasy gaming prospered.

Risk

Gygax identified three elements integral to all role-playing games: combat, battle, and conflict. “Combat” involves nonlethal and lethal varieties, “battle” covers larger-scale combat, and “conflict” is like any other form of nonphysical contest between groups. Gygax warned that games that relied overmuch on combat and battle may actually be wargames (1987:86).

Unlike a story wherein a character’s fate is predetermined, the protagonists of a role-playing session have uncertain fates. It is entirely possible they will die ignominiously due to a simple spate of bad luck (Czege 2007:67). When it came to killing off characters that died through no fault of their own, Gygax advocated for arbitrating the situation in the player character’s favor. He encouraged instead that the character be maimed or knocked unconscious.

Gygax also stressed the importance of continuity (1989:57) and thereby the continuation of a character that a player invested in. To keep play relevant for the player, he explained three mechanics to continue play: the ability to avoid certain death through a luck mechanic (colloquially known as a “saving throw” in Dungeons & Dragons); the ability to return from death through resurrection, cloning, reincarnation, or replication; and an opportunity to replace a character with a close family member or associate.

Conversely, Gygax felt that characters who were untouchable and never at risk were not fun to play either. Death was not necessarily a risk at higher levels, thanks to powerful resurrection magic. In Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, resurrection required a system shock roll. Failure meant the character was permanently dead.

If a character fails that roll, which he or she should make him or herself, he or she is FOREVER DEAD. There MUST be some final death or immortality will take over and again the game will become boring because the player characters will have 9+ lives each! [1979:110].

Contrast this with MMORPGs where characters die frequently.

In all editions of Dungeons & Dragons up to and including the third edition, the cleric was a key component of any healing strategy. Although other classes like druids had access to healing spells, most healing was in the hands of the cleric role. The third edition expanded access to healing through potions, which could be purchased in large quantities. Nevertheless, it was made clear that if a character needed to heal quickly, some outside agency would be necessary. This made clerics both an invaluable edition to a party and a hobbled role that still exists today in MMORPGs. The fourth edition changed all that.

The fourth edition features “healing surges.” Healing surges, usable once per encounter by every class, allow a recovery of one quarter health. No longer is the cleric solely occupied with keeping players alive. In addition, there are now two classes that can heal as part of their actions—clerics and warlords— so that they are not strictly limited in function during a fight (Smith 2008).

The fourth edition changed the assumption of a variable number of monsters to a party of five player characters facing off against four monsters. Each of the monsters has a role, and that role mimics the player class roles—brutes, soldiers, leaders, and controllers (Wilkes 2008:11). There are rules for handling monsters working together in the same way that the classes are balanced for players working together. Although this isn’t a new concept in gaming, it is new to Dungeons & Dragons.

In addition to monsters, traps are also integrated in the fourth edition as a challenge to a party. Many of these traps are location-based, and several of the class powers involve pushing and pulling targets on the battle grid or tabletop. In essence, the traps matter because the player characters can push or be pushed into them.

Roles

In Dungeons & Dragons, being a player or Dungeon Master has certain responsibilities and tasks that go with it. Through these tasks, players and Dungeon Masters contribute to the game, shaping the outcome. Traditionally, players create and control their characters, from physical appearance to the game’s quantified attributes. The player determines his character’s actions and rolls dice to determine the outcome of any uncertainty.

Creator Roles

Characters are the equivalent of protagonists in a novel, with the Dungeon Master providing the narrative. Although the players help shape the world, it is ultimately up to the Dungeon Master to determine its broader scope. The Dungeon Master is responsible for every level of minutiae in the world, from every character besides the players to the appearance of the terrain. The Dungeon Master is also responsible for adjudicating the players and how they interact with each other. He is creator and narrator, judge and referee.

There is some level of overlap between the role of player and Dungeon Master. A Dungeon Master’s responsibility includes the same details every player provides for their individual character. One of the daunting challenges in playing Dungeons & Dragons is that a Dungeon Master is a “player plus,” required to know all the rules as a player would and also the rules for monsters, world development, and narrative. The difference is in specialization; players can focus on a single character’s details in a way that a Dungeon Master cannot.

Game Master

The term “game master” was originally applied to play-by-mail games. It was used in Guidon Games’s rules set Don’t Give Up the Ship! which ported many of the attributes to role-playing games we know today. Tunnels & Trolls by Flying Buffalo used the phrase in the first role-playing game context (McGonigal 2007:253). Gygax broke down the game master’s seven principal functions as moving force, creator, designer, arbiter, overseer, director, and referee (1989:14).

As a moving force the game master is responsible for getting players together. In addition to running the game, the game master must also deal with external factors that are beyond the scope of the game’s rules, such as new players joining, missing players, or the group’s overall wishes. A successful game is a constant a negotiation between the players and game master (Fine 1983:90).

Mackay (2001:118) posits that the difference between player and game master is illusory. In the role-playing game experience, it is more the combination of all participants’ roles in the overall ensemble of the role-playing game performance rather than their individual contributions. A game master cannot successfully run a game without players willing to participate, and players cannot play without a game master.

As creator the game master is responsible for the formation of the game universe in which play takes place. Beyond the rules themselves, game masters interpret the world and share it with the players. In this regard the game master is a parser for the universe (Hindmarch 2007:55). That’s not to say that the game master can create any world he wants. It must accommodate the players and, if it is it to be an effective participatory experience for the players, will cater to their interests through military tactics, intergroup relations, or interpersonal behavior (Fine 1983:89).

As designer the game master delves into territory not covered by the core rules system. In a sense, the game master is designing his own rules on the fly—few games adhere so closely to the rules as written that no interpretation will be necessary. In this respect, the game master shapes the game as much as he implements its rules.

As arbiter the game master interprets the written rules of the core game. In a sense, the game master is also the most experienced player. It’s his job to know the rules at least as well as the other players in order to effectively adjudicate the game. Failure to know the rules well can lead to mistakes that impair game play. In that sense, the game master role takes on both the burden of functioning as all the other roles in the game as well as a rules compendium of sorts.

As the overseer the game master helps craft the narrative of a long-term role-playing campaign (or “milieu,” as Gygax is fond of calling it). As he oversees the world and controls everything that is not controlled by a player, he is sometimes considered godlike, if not God. Less dramatically, the game master role is often likened to a storyteller or playwright. He chooses the narrative and structure of the game (Fine 1983:72). This is separate and distinct from one-shot games or tournament games, which require a much shorter time commitment and focus.

As director the game master moves the pieces for nonplayer characters in the game. He controls everything from the staging (weather, luck, economics) to the other actors. Similarly, the game master also helps direct the player characters, sharing information and nudging them in a direction that presumably is interesting for all parties involved. Because game masters control the “opposition” as well as allies in the game, they function as a sort of game engine that would later be simulated (but never fully replicated) by computer and MMORPGs. In essence, the game master is an inherent part of the game’s system.

Finally, as referee the game master manages the players. He dictates disputes and conflicts between players, between the adventuring party, and the events in the game, including ignoring and adhering to certain rolls of the dice. In fact, the term “referee” was the predecessor to “game master” in the first editions of Dungeons & Dragons.

The game master’s role sets role-playing games apart, but it also limits them. Men & Magic noted that the referee “bears the entire burden here, but if care and thought are used, the reward will more than repay him” (Gygax 1974:5). Presumably the referee is repaid in fun; a significant challenge of Dungeons & Dragons has always been in the imbalance between players and the game master, who needs considerably more time and preparation before starting a game. As Men & Magic said, the game master does indeed bear the entire burden.

Assistant Game Master

In large groups, Gygax recommended an additional game master who can help with the more burdensome tasks of running the game (1989:143). He delineated tasks for the assistant, including preparing the scenario’s details prior to play, aiding in record keeping prior to and during play, and debriefing players after the game.

The assistant game master role, characterized by Gygax’s early campaign when his own game expanded considerably to twenty participants, was actually a two-stage process. First, an able player was drafted as an assistant game master who handled a variety of tasks. Then he was eventually made an equal “co– GM.” The first co–GM was Rob Kuntz, a legendary name in gaming in his own right (Archer 2004:45).

Participant Roles

Age has an important distinction in gaming, as it subtly influences the social strata of a group. The age breakdown of role-playing gamers within the marketplace, according to the Wizards of the Coast survey in 2000, was clustered around 25 to 35 years old.

The Wizards of the Coast survey found that more than half the market for hobby games was older than 19. There was a substantial dip in incidence of play from ages 16 to 18 (2000).

The early population of role-playing gamers was inherently volatile. Roleplayers traditionally entered the hobby between the ages of 12 or 13, before entering high school, and played until they were 16. This was driven chiefly by lack of mobility, as embodied by access to a vehicle; players who drive have a wider range of competing entertainment activities to choose from. This limitation returns a few years later in college, when players are similarly constrained by budget and mobility. According to Hite, most role-playing campaigns don’t last much longer than four years at most (2007:38).

As Fine put it (1983:179), “While there is an informal perception that it is legitimate to kill gorgons, harpies, chimeras, and manticores, it is considered improper for a fourteen-year-old to lead a party of adventurers in which there are twenty-year-olds.” Fantasy can only be stretched so far for the participants, and certain attributes like maturity cannot be easily masked in media-rich game participation. This may well be why there is such a problem with “griefers” in games with less media-rich and more anonymous environments, where players are unable to easily gauge the maturity level of their co-participants.

Player Character

The merging of the phrase that would eventually become “player character” or “PC” is referenced in Men & Magic book as “player-character” or “player/ character” (Gygax 1974:11). The creation of the player character is an important distinction that clearly sets role-playing games apart from wargames. It intimately ties the player to the character and implies a one-to-one level of control not previously evident in other forms of gaming (i.e., there are no “player armies” or “player squads”). This distinction becomes important because the player’s role, while significant, is greatly diminished in comparison to the role of the game master.

In Shared Fantasy Gary Alan Fine (1983:53) groups the justification for players investing their time and energy in role-playing into four themes: educational components, an escape from social pressure, a sense of personal control, and as an aid in dealing with people.

Pen-and-paper role-playing games are by nature rule sets for imaginative play. There are often detailed rules compendiums, instruction manuals that require a considerable effort on the part of the reader to understand how to play. Learning the game is a high barrier of entry to tabletop gaming, weeding out players who are adverse to learning complex rules. In comparison, computer role-playing games (CRPGs) and MMORPGs mitigate much of the learning curve and are easier to begin to play.

Because there are sometimes historical or futuristic elements in role-playing games, players learn more about real-life cultures by playing fantasy approximations. My brother cited an example of how he was able to articulate the concept of medieval humors in a high school class because of his role-playing experience (Tresca 2010). Similarly, games like Call of Cthulhu encourage an understanding of the life and culture of the 1920s.

Beyond educating players on the details of history or the theories of the future, Fine (1983:62) also listed other acclaimed attributes derived from roleplaying games, including the ability to synthesize information, decision-making, leadership, and role-playing as a skill. Role-playing is by its very nature a teaming activity, which requires both decision-making and leadership for the team to be successful. Role-playing as a skill is better described as empathy, the ability to put oneself in another’s shoes to help understand him or her. Child psychologists, adult counselors, and business people all use role-playing as a teaching tool to help understand a different viewpoint, and fantasy roleplaying can help in much the same way.

Role-playing games are also a form of mental escape. Gamers get the opportunity to take on other personas that are smarter, faster, stronger, and more attractive than they are. They alternately might choose a character who is more bold or ferocious, exaggerating traits they are unable to exercise to the fullest in their daily lives. Role-playing also allows players to break common social conventions and taboos without fear of repercussion. Their characters can be as violent or conciliatory as they wish, with the only consequences concocted by the game master.

Although role-playing games are less popular than other forms of more mainstream entertainment, role-playing nevertheless requires social interaction. This helps certain players who might otherwise have difficulty socially interacting by finding a peer group they can relate to and pretending to be someone else.

For me, role-playing games were an important part of my professional development. Speaking confidently to a group seated around a table, agreeing on a course of action, and getting team members to work together using a set of complex rules are all attributes I use at work. Before I ever entered the business world, I had unknowingly led hundreds of business meetings. All that was missing in the conference room was some dice.

Caller

In Men & Magic a sample of play includes a dialogue between someone known as a “caller” and the referee. The Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook defines the caller as the leader who tells “the referee where the party will go and what they will do” (1978:106). It’s evident from the back-and-forth example in Men & Magic that the caller spoke to the other players and ultimately decided on the plan of action to be communicated to the referee.

Given the expectation of a ratio of twenty players to one referee, perhaps this is understandable. Callers in a crowded room of people are much more necessary than over an electronic medium (Mona 2007:28). There are also references to callers in the basic version of Dungeons & Dragons, but the caller was included primarily as a nod to the original game. Eric Holmes, author of the basic version, felt the caller role was extraneous. Everybody usually talked at once, which Holmes felt more realistically represented party dynamics (Holmes and Moldavy 1981). The role was abandoned in later editions of Dungeons & Dragons.

Fine (1983:172) defines player leadership more broadly. Leadership can manifest through a single caller, task specialization, group consensus, or none at all. Leaders, like referees, have a distinct challenge in reconciling the various conflicting interests of the other players. The most effective leaders do so in a way that increases the enjoyment of all. Because there are varying levels of engagement by players, this is no easy task; some players will inevitably dominate the others by virtue of their level of engagement in the game, while other players may choose to “go solo” and conduct their character’s actions according to their own interests rather than those of the group. Leaders, when they clearly exist within the game’s party framework, help reconcile these various interests harmoniously.

Character Roles

One of the defining characteristics of Dungeons &Dragons is alignment, a broad ethos of thinking that provides guidelines as to how a certain character should act (Gygax 1979:23). In earlier editions of the rules there was even a language peculiar to one’s alignment. This ethos was taken wholesale from Michael Moorcock’s Elric series and it has far-reaching implications to the forces of good and evil, heaven and hell.

Gygax explained that the alignment system was for both players and game masters an aid for role-playing. Yet playing an evil character is not necessarily a reflection of the player’s morality:

It is neither wrong nor condemnable to act the part of a character who by the social and cultural standards of our society is bad, evil, or wrong. It makes as much sense to vilify an actor for playing the role of a villain as it does to say that a participant in a game who has a PC whose moral standards cannot be called good is engaging in some form of wrongdoing [1987:34].

Alignment was deemphasized in the fourth edition, further distancing the latest edition of Dungeons &Dragons from some of the inherently noble ideals that defined Tolkien’s heroes. As Logan Bonner explained in Races and Classes, Dungeon Masters now have the “freedom to create storylines with intrigue and deception that can’t be derailed by a detect evil spell” (Carter 2007:75).

Gender

Dungeons & Dragons was particularly noteworthy in that it never distinguished between the sexes. In Role-Playing Mastery, Gygax explained that the player-character gender was not usually an important consideration. He was more concerned about the character’s role in the game universe and the player’s ability to role-play the gender properly (1987:33).

Races

In the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide (1979:21), the “humanocentric” setting was identified as central to the game, with demihumans (other playable non-human races), semi-humans (bestial humanoid monsters) and humanoids (orcs, goblins, and other organized monsters that are more civilized than beast-men) in orbit. Gygax chose a humanocentric game because it provided a sound groundwork for a rules system, a set of usable assumptions about the game world, and an easy means by which players could relate to their characters.

There were only four races available for play in Men & Magic: dwarves, elves, humans, and hobbits. The artwork throughout the book was sparse, but what little art there was seemed curiously out of sync with later preconceptions of races. A picture of a bearded, squat warrior wielding an axe was labeled as a goblin. Another picture of a leather-jerkined bearded warrior with a sword in one hand was labeled as an elf.

All four could be fighting men, although dwarves were restricted to sixth level and elves and hobbits to fourth level. Humans and elves could be magic users, but elves were limited to eighth level. Only humans could be clerics. Since thieves weren’t introduced until later, hobbits were limited to fighting men.

The notion of “demi-human” level limits merits discussion, as Gygax emphatically believed that demi-human races needed to have inherent limitations to preserve the humanocentric experience. Gygax was against allowing elves to advance higher levels because removing those limitations might turn the game into a form of “comic book superheroes” (1987:51)—a curious accusation, since Chainmail featured “superhero” as a form of hero (Gygax and Perren 1971:30).

Dungeons & Dragons flip-flopped on role-playing non-humanoid races. In the original version of the game, players could play virtually anything, so long as the race started out weak at first level (Gygax 1974:8). In Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, Gygax was against it, citing that the more alien races couldn’t be role-played properly (1987:33). By the third edition, there were over 135 possible player character races (Carter 2007:16).

Dungeons & Dragons does not define race as the word is used in modern parlance. In fact, human racial diversity wasn’t present for quite some time. Chris Van Dyke in Race in Dungeons & Dragons explained that:

humans are the normative race, and given the Anglo-centric depiction of human culture in the game, humans can be interpreted as representing “white people.” They are “normal,” while all other races, whether good or evil, are to some extent “exotic,” and otherized [2010].

This Eurocentric focus has its roots in the source material, specifically Tolkien’s work, which focused on creating a European mythology (Gehl 2007:258). Lack of racial diversity was reinforced by the illustrations. Van Dyke noted that of the hundreds of illustrations depicting adventurers in the first edition and second edition Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide, there were no nonwhite adventurers. It was not until the third edition that other ethnicities were mentioned. Of the 80 illustrations and 982 pages total in the two books, only one black female was portrayed (Ember, the monk). Matthew Sernett touched on the fourth edition’s attempt to correct this lack of racial diversity in Races and Classes (Carter 2007:20).

The fourth edition set out to remove the humanocentric bias of the racial descriptions. Humanity had no obvious weakness, so the developers settled on “corruptibility.” Humans are vulnerable to temptation, to the lust for power, and to greed. Humanity can be noble or corrupt, its most shining example or its own worst enemy—in other words, all the characteristics attributed to humans in The Lord of the Rings.

DRAGONBORN • During the development of the fourth edition, the designers realized that there were several dragonhumanoid analogues. Looking to create a new unique race that would reflect the latest fantasy trends, the fourth edition introduced the Dragonborn.

Dragonborn have a long heritage in Draconians from Dragonlance, who were uniformly evil. They first appeared in the Dragons of Despair module (1984) for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons as “dragonmen.” The second edition featured rules on adding dragons as a race, but not without significant rule bending. As James Wyatt pointed out (Carter 2007:26) early Dungeons & Dragons had the word “dragon” in it but you couldn’t play one.

TIEFLINGS • Half-human, half-demon offspring are a staple of fantasy. The half-demon archetype has a long history in Arthurian legend, particularly Merlin, who was believed to be a cambion, a child of an incubus or succubus (Coghlan 1993:176). William Shakespeare’s The Tempest features Caliban, son of Sycorax the witch, who is also a cambion (Bevington 1992:1528).

Beings of fiendish heritage, tieflings possess horns, tails, and wicked tongues. James Wyatt describes tieflings as the ultimate bad boys, not evil so much as “evil curious”—anti-heroes who walk a fine moral line. Tieflings made their appearance in the second edition Planescape rules and later the third edition Monster Manual. Their hooves were changed to normal feet and their horns increased in size in the transition to the fourth edition (Carter 2007:48).

One of my players in my role-playing campaign described his half-demon character thusly:

Sebastian Arnyal ... was a half demon sorcerer/warlock who struggled with his infernal side. He desired to do good and went out of his way to help others. However, while simultaneously trying to do good, he physically evolved with his infernal form becoming more and more obvious. Starting with simple claws and a prehensile tail, he eventually gained wings and relished in his power. Continuing to use it for good while the world saw him as something bad. Of course, due to his very nature he was detached from humanity a bit and did what he thought was right, even if the way about it wasn’t very lawfully minded [Webster 2010].

Nonplayer Character

When it was first conceived, Dungeons & Dragons was largely an abstract simulation, with characters having one set of rules and monsters another. This created a disparity in rules sets, which were sometimes at odds with each other, leading to many interpretations of different rules as dictated by the foe’s or magic’s ability to harm the player. Strangulation, drowning, and asphyxiation from smoke all had different rules for adjudicating, as dictated by a spell or monster’s attack. The third edition standardized the majority of these rules, creating a unified system wherein monsters were treated just like players.

As any Dungeon Master can attest, this simulationist perspective standardizes the game and greatly complicates it. A game master attempting to create a high-level villain is in essence creating a player character; if there are enough diverse personalities in the opposition he may create dozens of unique foes. Each of these characters takes time to create, a complication that didn’t exist in the earliest versions of Dungeons & Dragons. The fourth edition simplified this task by providing bare-bones rules for monsters, categorizing them with special rules to help game masters easily and quickly create opposition without too much effort (Carter 2007:14).

Classes

Gygax defined class as “a defined character type or profession prescribed by the game rules.” Classes serve as a form of shorthand for new players; they incorporate archetypes of fable and mythology and they give players an immediate framework to play the game (Archer 2004:159). Later editions of the Dungeons & Dragons game introduced several new archetypes that were not inspired by Tolkien’s work.

Before we delve into the variety of classes that were introduced through Dungeons & Dragons, multi-classing and dual-classing merit a discussion. Basic Dungeons & Dragons did not prescribe classes to demi-humans. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons allowed different races to advance in other classes.

Humans had the ability to “dual class” by joining a new class. There were certain prerequisites for a human to switch classes. The human character had to have an ability score of over 15 in the prime attributes of the original class and over 17 in the prime attributes of the new class. Although the character could use powers of the original class, doing so meant that the experience points he gained from using those abilities would be forfeited. In other words, the dual-classed character had to commit to his new class by using only the powers of his new profession. This restriction was in effect until the character advanced high enough in the new class so that it was at least one level higher than the original class. Unlike multi-class characters, dual class characters could not blend their powers—a fighter/wizard was prohibited from casting spells in armor.

Multi-class characters, on the other hand, could perform the functions of several different classes simultaneously. This option was only available to demi-humans; a multi-classed elven fighter/wizard could wear armor and cast spells, although at a penalty. In fact, some demi-humans could combine three classes. Experience points were divided amongst the classes, so it would take longer to level in all the additional classes. Given that Advanced Dungeons & Dragons had different experience point rates for different classes, it was therefore possible that a multi-class character might end up with different levels in each of the classes he belonged to. The Original Dungeons &Dragons boxed set had another rule that restricted demi-humans, only allowing them to reach certain maximum levels. So even if they were multi-classed, demihumans were restricted in the highest levels they could attain in each class.

In Advanced Dungeons &Dragons different classes had different ability score requirements for the character to join them. Paladins and monks had much stricter joining requirements than other classes. These limitations led to “ability score creep” in my campaign—players just happened to have the right amount of statistics to join the class, either by rolling ability scores over and over until they achieved the necessary scores, through a point buy system, or (as they admitted later) just assigning scores.

The third edition changed classes considerably, standardizing several aspects of their abilities. Perhaps most affected was the thief class, whose proprietary skills were standardized so that other classes could perform the same roles. Prestige classes, which had highly restricted requirements but bestowed a tightly focused set of abilities, were introduced in the third edition. In the fourth edition, prestige classes were replaced by paragon paths and epic destinies, which perform essentially the same function but are carefully regulated by level (Carter 2007:91).

ASSASSIN • Assassins in Dungeons & Dragons are shadowy figures who can kill with a single strike. Assassins appeared in Men & Magic as a special class (Arneson 1975:1). They were masters of disguise and poison, paid by performing assassination missions and given titles derived from the Indian Thuggee (the sixth level title is Dacoit, the seventh Thug). They were evil characters, so it was difficult to imagine that these characters could ever be fully functioning members of an adventuring party.

The term “assassin” was coined in 1531 via French and Italian (Ayto 1990:39). The belief that assassins used hashish helped form the word “hashishiyyin,” which means “hashish-users.” Active in Persia and Syria from the eighth through the fourteenth centuries, the original assassins were members of the Nizaris, a fanatical Ismali Muslim sect who opposed the Abbasid caliphate through murder. The leader of the assassins was the Shaik-al-Jibal (“Old Man of the Mountains”). Although the two classes have their roots in different cultures, the assassin (Ismali) and the paladin (Knights Templar) actually met during the Crusades.

Much of what was known about assassins in the Western world was drawn from Marco Polo, who explained how the assassins were drugged with special potions that made them both fearless and hopeful for an afterlife filled with pleasure. Polo’s account is undoubtedly biased, but it is his description that established the assassin archetype in fantasy literature.

The assassin was removed from the second edition, reintroduced as a prestige class in the third edition, and restored as an exclusive class in D&D Insider for the fourth edition.

BARBARIAN • Barbarians were first introduced to Advanced Dungeons & Dragons in Dragon magazine (Gygax 1982:8). Given the interests of Gary Gygax, they were arguably part of the game all along—certainly, the cynical acquisition of treasure and brutal man-to-man conflict were a staple of Conan long before Dungeons & Dragons incorporated those themes.

The term “barbarian” comes from the Greek “barbarous,” denoting a foreigner or anyone who did not speak one’s language. The related Sanskrit word “barbaras,” which means “stammering,” indicates that the term probably meant “unable to speak intelligibly” (Ayto 1990:52).

In the second and third editions, the barbarian was a brute with the highest hit dice of any class (d12). Barbarians were survivalists and extremely nimble, with the ability to jump further and higher than other characters, run faster, and move stealthily in outdoor environments. They were also highly perceptive, resistant to being surprised or attacked from behind, and had the ability to detect illusions and magic. Most tellingly, the barbarian avoided magic and would destroy it given the chance.

The early version of the barbarian emulated Conan in all his aspects— as a thief, a plunderer, a warrior, and a savage. However, the barbarian’s failure to embrace magic items was a fundamental weakness in the long-term viability of the character. The Dungeons &Dragons advancement system was as much about the acquisition of magical items as it was about personal power through leveling. Even Conan used magic items, albeit unwillingly, against supernatural foes.

The barbarian changed significantly in the first edition Unearthed Arcana, which elaborated on the class’ restrictions and improved its combat abilities to compensate. The class became an official part of Dungeons & Dragons in the third edition, replacing many of the barbarian’s abilities with barbarian rage, which has a more immediate application on the battlefield. Gone were the magic item restrictions. By the fourth edition, the barbarian was once again removed from the core rules, to be added later as an optional class in the Player’s Handbook 2.

CLERIC • Clerics appeared in Men & Magic, combining the advantages of fighting men and magic users, a hybrid between the two with the ability to cast healing spells (Gygax and Arneson 1974:8). Gygax described the cleric as a character capable of using both heavy weapons and powerful magic (1987:29). The term “cleric” comes from a Biblical reference, in Deuteronomy 18:2, to the Levites, members of an Israelite tribe whose men were assistants to the Temple priests: “Therefore shall they have no inheritance among their brethren: the Lord is their inheritance.” The Greek word for “inheritance” is “kleros,” which became “klerikos” to reference matters relating to the Christian ministry. In ecclesiastical Latin it transformed into the word “clericus,” which was borrowed into late Old English as “cleric” (Ayto 1990:117).

The cleric’s healing abilities hail from the divine connection bestowed upon bishops and the miracles they were able to perform. The cleric’s power to repel the undead had its roots in Dracula, which both coined the popular term “undead” and established a vampire hunter’s ability to turn away vampires by the presentation of a crucifix (a holy symbol).

The Dungeons & Dragons cleric was a religious warrior who disdained pointed weapons, wore armor, and invoked miracles. The cleric’s origins are drawn from the Bishop Odo of Bayeux, who was depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry as wielding a clublike mace at the Battle of Hastings. Popular perceptions of the time believed that the bishop wielded the mace to avoid shedding blood, as mandated by clergy taking a vow of nonviolence. Odo’s brother Duke William was depicted carrying a similar item, suggesting that the mace may have instead been a symbol of authority (Aeon 2001).

Maces in any form are likely to shed blood. Nevertheless, the notion of a bishop wielding a weapon has precedent. Warrior bishops existed as recorded in church history as early as the fourth century of the Christian era. The archbishop of Turpin wielded both spear and sword in The Song of Roland. Bishop Adhemar of Le Puy also fought during the First Crusade.

DRUID • Druids were first introduced in the Greyhawk supplement for Dungeons & Dragons as “priests of a neutral-type religion” with the ability to shape-change into an animal three times a day (Gygax and Kuntz 1976:34). The class was fully fleshed out in Eldritch Wizardry, with nature-themed spells, the ability to pass through undergrowth, identify the elements of nature, and adopt animal form. They had an obligation to protect nature, especially trees (Gygax and Blume 1976:2). In later versions of Dungeons & Dragons, druids evolved into neutral-aligned masters of nature and reincarnation, capable of communicating and controlling plants, animals, and even the elements themselves.

The term “druid” is originally from the Gaulish “druids” which came from the Old Celtic “derwijes.” Sources diverge as to the meaning of druid. “Derwos” means true, which would make the druid a truth- or soothsayer. Alternately, the Old Celtic base of “dru” means tree, in reference to the importance of oak trees in druidic ceremonies (Ayto 1990:186).

Historically, druids did revere trees as nature spirits. They had a healthy respect for the animal kingdom because any animal could be a god or another heroic Celt in animal form. Zoomorphism was common enough to justify druids transforming into all kinds of animals. But unlike their depiction in Dungeons & Dragons, druids were not exclusively animal protectors. Nor were humans exempt from this protection.

Conspicuously lacking from Dungeons & Dragons is the role of sacrifices in druidic rituals. Historically, druids sacrificed everything: bulls, dogs, stags, slaves, criminals, gold, silver—they burned, drowned, strangled, or examined its entrails. Druids would stab people in the back and divine the future based on how they twitched when they died. They believed in regicide, utilizing the fabled triple-death of strangling, drowning, and stabbing with a spear. They crammed gigantic wicker colossi full of people, if Caesar’s account is to be believed, and torched them in sacrifice.

Druids could be classified as neutral alignment, in that druids were on both sides of morality. Celtic stories are filled with accounts of druids on both sides, undoing each other’s spells, and battling in fantastic magical combats that would make any role-player envious. But the alignment of druids as being true neutral was simply not accurate; druids were just as passionate about one ethos as anybody else.

MONK • In Dungeons & Dragons monks are “members of an Order” who “seek both physical and mental superiority in a religious atmosphere” (Arneson 1975:1). A path originally open to the cleric, the monk had complete control over both mind and body; he was immune to mental powers, could simulate death, and use a dreaded attack known as the “quivering palm” to kill his opponents with a mere touch.

The origin of the word “monk” comes from the late Greek “monachos,” which means a solitary person or hermit. This in turn came from the Greek word “monos” which means alone. It passed into Latin as “monachus,” to Old English as “munuc” and then into English as monk. Monks, then, live alone (Ayto 1990:353).

Monks first appeared in the Men & Magic supplement. Clerics with the right combination of attributes could become monks—implying a religious calling for the monk class. Monks were ascetics, limiting their acquisition of treasure and items. In return, they could fight with their bare hands to stun opponents, simulate death, heal themselves through force alone, and resist mental intrusion. The pinnacle of the monk’s power was the quivering palm (Arneson 1975:1).

In the first edition of Oriental Adventures, Gygax explained that Brian Blume, who was inspired by the fictional martial art Sinanju (made popular by the Destroyer series of novels), created the monk class. Sinanju bestowed abilities upon its practitioners that bordered on the fantastic, including the ability to climb walls, dodge bullets, outrun a car, and the like (Gygax 1986). All of these powers figure strongly in the monk class, and yet the monk is one of the few classes that have no anchor in Western lore. Crusading knights encountered the assassins, but the monk is a particularly Eastern phenomenon. As a result, the monk’s roots were sometimes conflated, such that one set of lead miniatures had Franciscan-style monks posed in martial arts stances.

PALADIN • The paladin was first introduced to Dungeons & Dragons in the Greyhawk supplement (Gygax and Kuntz 1976:4). Fighters of lawful alignment could become paladins from the outset and had a charisma score of at least 17, positioning paladins as exemplary leaders. Their lawful allegiance was much stricter than the other classes and paladins could “lay on hands” to cure wounds or diseases, resist disease and evil magic, wield a holy sword, and obtain a loyal warhorse. In exchange, the paladin was never allowed to possess more than four magical items (excluding arms and armor) and gave away treasure to charitable or religious institutions. Where the cleric was more a healer and less a combatant, the paladin was more combatant and less healer.

The term “paladin” was derived from “palatinus” which means “of the palace” and thus a palace official in Latin. From then it became the Italian “paladino,” which became the French “paladin,” a warrior. The term eventually came to denote one of the twelve knights in attendance on Charlemagne (Aeon 2002).

The paladin’s connection to the divine is derived from the title “judices palatine,” a papal judge in the Catholic Church, and the association of the twelve paladins with the twelve apostles. There were also the Templars and Hospitallers, knightly organizations ordained by the Church to go on crusades and protect pilgrims.

A paladin’s connection to the holy sword likely comes from Charlemagne’s sword, Durandal. But by far the most influential source in creating the paladin archetype is Poul Anderson’s novel Three Hearts and Three Lions. In the book, Holger Carlsen is thrust into a parallel universe where he becomes a paladin, complete with a magical warhorse named Papillon and healing powers (Anderson 1961).

My own experience playing a paladin was on BatMUD (2002) as a satyr, a flagrant violation of traditional Dungeons & Dragons human-only standards. Of course, the most famous paladin player was Stephen Colbert, host of The Colbert Report, who explained that he played an 11th-level paladin in high school and promptly lost his paladin status by tearing off a merchant’s head (Archer 2004:38).

Status

Of all the artifacts created by Dungeons & Dragons, the term “level” has probably caused the most confusion. The Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook includes no less than four definitions of the term “level” (1978:8): as an indication of player character power, as a descriptor of the depth of a dungeon, as a measure of spell power (which is not directly correlated to the level of the player character), and as a gauge of a monster’s potential threat. Of all these terms, only two have remained in common usage for fantasy games: player character and spell power. Monster level is no longer distinguished from player level. The term “dungeon level” has fallen out of use primarily because the fantasy world has expanded well beyond dungeons and thus it is no longer a meaningful descriptor for most fantasy gaming environments.

Gygax explained that he originally wanted to term character level as “rank,” spell complexity as “power,” and monster strength as “order,” but “because of existing usage,” all four meanings of level were retained instead. It seemed the players were already shaping the language of the game independent of its creators (1978:8).

Dungeons & Dragons, with its levels and challenge ratings, is explicitly structured to provide the characters with a fighting chance. Dungeon levels are populated with creatures appropriate to a lower level of power because they’re encountered first. The deeper the dungeon, the more powerful the opponent. Similarly, magic items and other valuables are rewarded based on the difficulty of the monster. Everything has its place, and the more difficult the monster or challenge the greater the reward.

In the Strategic Review, Gygax took to task game masters who let characters level too quickly or too highly. He felt it should take up to five years to reach twentieth level. Five years into the game no character in his Greyhawk campaign had risen beyond fourteenth level (1976:23). The pace of advancement would change in later editions of the game, both in the range of levels (up to 30) and in the speed of advancement.

Gygax cited the diversity of classes and levels as the “single obvious shortcoming” of Dungeons & Dragons, such that the participants lose sight of why such diversity exists. Level was explicitly tied to personal power instead of social status or good standing in a community. As Gygax saw it, the end results for player characters was perpetual adventure or retiring as a nonplayer character as a tool for the game master (1987:29). The fourth edition addressed this issue head on, dividing levels of adventure into tiers. These tiers include the heroic, paragon, and epic.

The heroic tier is the same level of adventure established in traditional Dungeons & Dragons, which in turn was inherited from The Lord of the Rings and the gritty pulp adventure of Conan. Ranging from first to tenth level, this form of adventuring sticks to relatively mundane fantasy; dungeons and humanoid foes, where magic is rare and deadly.

The paragon tier encompasses eleventh through twentieth level. Paragons are on the level of Gandalf, engaging extraplanar threats like Balrogs head on. They go to places most mortals would never dream, including realms where mortals are not meant to go.

The epic tier, ranging from twenty-first to thirtieth level, strides in the footsteps of the gods. These are levels of deity-shaking power that were hinted at in the third edition but never integrated into the core rules. More importantly, there is a definitive end to the character, something Dungeons & Dragons only unequivocally defined in its high-level basic rules set. Level increases would spiral to ridiculous heights in CRPGs, MUDs, and MMORPGs, going well beyond 100 levels.

Conclusion

John Tynes views Dungeons & Dragons as a vehicle for heroic storytelling and creation of a fictional power structure. He sees the tabletop game as being doomed to irrelevancy due to its undeniably escapist nature. If role-playing is to be anything more than child’s play and frivolous entertainment, Tynes proposes, an engagist approach is necessary. Engagist works embrace the modern world and use it as an opportunity to explore real life issues (Tynes 2007:222).

But there’s hope. A sort of fantasy shorthand has been developed as a result of The Lord of the Rings and Dungeons & Dragons in modern culture, such that even non-gamers know that dwarves live underground, elves have pointy ears, and wizards cast spells. If role-playing games are perhaps not as interested in delving into reality to prove political points, the future may lie in other fantasy gaming mediums.

When Gygax was asked if he resented the Dungeons & Dragons clones in other gaming mediums, he said he was flattered. “In fact,” said Gygax in Master of the Game (1989:155), “I am saddened only that there isn’t more exploitation ... the greater the exposure to the imaginative, creative, and social aspects of role-playing, the greater participation in the field, and thus the prospects of better things to come.”

FOUR

PLAY-BY-POST AND BROWSER-BASED GAMES

People have been playing chess by mail for a long time, and people (John Boardman in particular) were running pbm Diplomacy and charging a fee before I started in 1970. But I like to use the slogan “We Created the Play-By-Mail Industry” (emphasis on the word “industry”) because I was the first person to start doing this full time as my only job. I was DEFINITELY the first person to buy my own computer JUST to run games! [Loomis 2009].

Introduction

Gaming has always had a social element that binds like-minded players together, so it’s natural that as communication channels expanded, gaming followed. Harking back as far as chess, players have conducted games through postal mail. As technology advanced, so too did play-by-post gaming, evolving from postal to email, from email to web, from web to persistent browser-based games (PBBGs).

Of particular interest are play-by-mail games that go beyond the typical two-player format to encompass a larger group. These browser-based games are large, network-based, and public, meeting Warren Sack’s definition of very large-scale conversations (VLSC) (2004:239).

Part of the appeal of any fan community is drawing on the common language and interests to create new, interesting stories. Role-playing games of any type facilitate this kind of shared storytelling. The Internet made social role-playing more accessible. Why go through all the effort of finding a player with interest in a niche hobby when you can tap into millions of like-minded individuals?

The challenge in tapping those millions is making the gameplay still feel relevant. Researchers have posited that human beings are simply not wired to keep track of relationships or individuals in excess of 150. Dunbar’s Number, as popularized in Malcolm Gladwell’s The Tipping Point, is the theoretical limit of stable social relationships that a person can maintain. Gaming, which requires so many interrelated agreements, negotiations, and cooperation, may make that number even smaller. Take into account that the 150 includes all relationships, including family, friends, and coworkers that aren’t playing the same game, and the network shrinks even smaller (Vesna 2004:259).

A large part of the appeal of MMORPGs is their social networks. Persistent browser-based games (PBBGs) strip away the graphics and interactive environments of MMORPGs to focus solely on that social aspect. PBBGs are all about social networking, encouraging pyramid structures to form. Existing players recruit new players into their network, who in turn recruit additional players to the benefit of all. The larger the number of players, the more powerful all of the characters become.

PBBGs have a very low barrier to entry, with cross-platform compatibility on a variety of web browsers. Unlike MUDs and MMORPGs, there is no sense of immediacy; PBBGs rely on asynchronous communication to provide a gaming experience. These games are meant to be revisited several times throughout the day, the players accumulating points and performing actions in short bursts.

History

The first asynchronous multiplayer games originated with play-by-mail games. Players sent their decisions or turns via postal mail to an opponent, who in turn would send his response. This form of gaming has existed as long as people have been sending messages and playing chess. Notably, John Boardman was running play-by-mail games of Diplomacy for a fee before 1970.

Rick Loomis, founder of Flying Buffalo Games, led the way in 1970 in asynchronous gaming with a play-by-mail game called Nuclear Destruction. He contacted wargamers through Avalon Hill’s The Wargamer magazine and charged them ten cents a turn. In 1972, Flying Buffalo was incorporated to take advantage of the transition of the play-by-mail’s format to email (Loomis 2009). Flying Buffalo’s Tunnels & Trolls debated as a play-by-mail game titled Heroic Fantasy that was later digitized on a commercial network called TheSource (Barton 2008:41) and then Crusaders of Khazan.

BBS door games were the direct descendants of play-by-e-mail games. Like MUDs, they were run on computers connected via modem or bulletin board systems (BBSs). Other players dialed into the BBS, where they were connected in real time, usually at considerable cost in phone charges to the person making the call. With the timer clicking away, it was up to the host to cram in as much content as possible. BBS door games were one means of attracting these players. Similar to interactive fiction, they were primarily single-player text games. The fantasy versions, like Seth Robinson’s Legend of the Red Dragon, were relatively simple—kill monsters, collect treasure and experience, and repeat until your character became powerful enough to slay the dragon (Barton 2008:268).

Play-by-post RPGs transitioned to forums along with the creation of the Internet and the web. Threads could have anywhere from two players posting to them to dozens. Role-playing forums were primarily freeform with fewer rules, using traditional fantasy gaming statistics to govern conflicts and challenges (Hinkley 2010:7).

More recently, persistent PBBGs have dominated the asynchronous gaming medium. These games have flourished on social networks. The fourth edition of Dungeons &Dragons has a presence in social media through the PBBG Dungeons & Dragons Tiny Adventures.

Fellowship

A sense of fellowship is strong in PBBGs, with each game taking a different approach to engaging larger groups. The most popular PBBGs run on social media like Twitter or Facebook.

In PBBGs, advantages and disadvantages in combat are limited by the number of “followers” a player has. These followers are social media friends that have been engaged in the same PBBG as the player. “Followers” can also be termed a party, clan, or army. Each player can send an invite to another potential player. If she accepts, she becomes part of his clan or group. If she in turn invites other people to join, the larger group is networked together. A player who invites more social players expands his power base rapidly. They also help in combat against rival players. In PBBGs, numbers matter.

There is also a constant exchange of gifts that facilitate group cohesion. Players can share gifts ranging from bonuses to stats to items necessary to complete quests. When a player character performs a quest, all of his colleagues benefit in real time. However, members of the players’ followers must log into the game within a certain time limit to receive this bonus.

When performing a quest or engaging in combat, followers can be drafted to assist. Some of the conflict is automated (for example, combat may randomly determine if another colleague joins in) while other requests can be specific. The player can post to a fellow member’s social network page and ask his colleagues to assist. Unlike the other PBBGs, Tiny Adventures limits interaction between allies to healing and skill buffs.

Players are also encouraged to frequently post updates about their achievements in the PBBG to their own social media networks. Some of these posts allow players to benefit by following a link back to the game, thereby reengaging the player. Others are merely bragging rights.

Narrative

Like computer role-playing games (CRPGs), PBBGs are fundamentally a solitary experience. The character lives in a violent world, killing monsters and rival player characters. The character quests to achieve milestones, which are described in text and graphics—but the content is largely irrelevant. What’s important is that the quest progress is demonstrated as a bar, a percentage of completion. Each quest may require certain items or achievements, which in turn bestows a bonus (usually experience points or gold) for completing it. Every quest also has its own level of achievement, usually in groups of three, whereupon the quest is completed and the level of reward diminishes, encouraging the player to move on to the next quest.

Tiny Adventures perfected the quest cycle for PBBGs. Each quest takes a certain amount of time to achieve, with a new installment posted every so many minutes. The player has a limited ability to influence the quest, selecting from two potions to be used according to certain conditions.

PBBGs also balance immediate results with the incentive of near-future rewards. When the player’s character has full hit points, stamina, and energy, he can fight and quest with the results immediately displayed. However, those three statistics regenerate slowly once depleted, and are measured in minutes. This mechanic prevents the player from experiencing all of the game’s content at once. Additionally, the content varies by theme, changing according to the season or the whim of the developers. The game is mutable enough to be easily tweaked, including special abilities or time-limited items that are only available under certain circumstances.

There is little evidence of a narrative arc in PBBGs. Although they are inherently social, PBBGs are pyramid schemes in which power comes from popularity. The majority defeats the minority, making active players with large networks virtually unassailable. Like some MUDs and massive multiplayers, however, players can literally buy their way to the top by wielding their credit card to purchase advantages that give them an edge.

Personalization

Player characters in different PBBGs have a variety of rules systems, but their core statistics are similar. Most characters have an attack and defense statistic, compared to the monster or rival character’s opposing attack and defense. Items, spells, and other circumstances also add to the attack and defense numbers.

Similar to tabletop role-playing games, most PPBGs feature hit points that function in the same way, except that losing hit points only prevents the character from initiating further combat. Death is not permanent. Energy determines how often the character can go on quests. Stamina regulates the number of actions a character can take in combat. All three points slowly regenerate over time.

Each player has an avatar. Some represent just one character while others represent multiple characters. These avatars don’t usually have any actual effect in the game, although some PBBGs allow characters to rate the appearance of each other’s avatars with the chance of gaining a small benefit as a result.

Each PBBG has its own form of currency. In Castle Age, various castlelike structures cost money, which in turn generate more money. In this way Castle Age is similar to Magic: The Gathering, which used land to generate mana (Aetrox 2010).

Risk

Combat in PBBGs is usually a foregone conclusion. Each player accumulates bonuses to attack and defend, through magic items, spells, blessings from the gods, quirks of fate, or the character’s own personal skill. When initiating combat with a another player, all these variables are tabulated and compared, with offense and defense added together. However, the player does not choose what offensive and defensive elements are used in combat. Instead, the number of powerful abilities that come into play are determined by the number of the player’s followers.

The question isn’t whether or not one side will win or lose, but how much the winner will win by. The uncertainty in combat lies not in random number generation but through ignorance, as PBBGs rely primarily on a statistical comparison to adjudicate battles. In this regard PBBGs have a lot in common with multi-user shared hallucinations (MUSHes) and LARPs that use power comparison systems to resolve conflict. Winning by a lot usually bestows experience and possibly some other reward (such as treasure) upon the player character. In exchange, the player loses stamina and hit points.

It is theoretically possible for a player character to die in combat. Like MMORPGs, death in PBBGs is at worst a minor inconvenience. When hit points are sufficiently reduced, the character is no longer able to fight without healing. Healing happens over time, but can also be purchased (healing potions, the services of a healer, or some other means). The number of these purchased heals are limited by the game, preventing characters from instantly returning to combat.

It is possible for player characters to kill each other while the player is not actively playing in the game. On more than one occasion, I returned to Castle Age only to find my character had died. Because death isn’t crippling, this does not seriously hamper the player’s ability to play the game.

Roles

Browser-based games have an interesting set of roles. There is a coding authority, which we cover in the CRPG chapter. The social media aspect of PBBGs has significantly changed the nature of the player’s role.

Player

In Castle Age, an adventuring party is called an elite guard. Elite guards improve prowess in battle and help in adventures. Class roles are assigned for 24 hours in the order that they join the player calling for the elite guard. The more elite guard members there are, the faster quest influence is gained.

All the standard fantasy classes are possible roles in the elite guard, each bestowing a different bonus to the entire group. Fighters, mages, and archmages bestow bonuses to attack. Clerics, guardians, high priests, gladiators, and paladins bestow bonuses to defense. Thieves, rogues, bestow bonuses to gold from quests and battles.

Tiny Adventures features avatars with prerolled statistics, race, and class combinations. It includes the standard classes from Dungeons & Dragons (cleric, fighter, rogue, wizard) as well as a host of others that range from the avenger to the shaman. The swordmage, warden, invoker, and avenger are available only after a certain number of “generations”—the player must play until his character reaches a certain level, retire him, and then begin anew. Character customization is very limited, differing primarily through the statistics and equipment they can use. Spells are unlocked for spell-casting classes only after a certain number of generations are reached, unlike their tabletop RPG counterparts.

Status

Like Dungeons & Dragons and its kin, quests and combat gain the player character experience. By accumulating experience, he increases in level. Increases in levels bestow bonuses to statistics, which can be distributed by the player in a limited fashion. They also immediately heal all of the player’s points to full, including energy, stamina, and hit points. At higher levels, this is the only way a character can reach full capacity quickly; otherwise, it requires the player to wait longer to regenerate his disparate points to the maximum.

Tiny Adventures allows characters to reach 10 levels, whereupon they retire. Each retired character constitutes a generation, and subsequent play bestows benefits to the next character and opens new character options. This encourages repeat play.

The character’s level is visible to everyone, which is most important for player vs. player combat. When a player is seeking a combatant, the program provides the player with a list of suitable challengers. What qualifies as suitable is a combination of the character’s level and followers. A low-level character with many followers can overwhelm a much higher level character with fewer followers. The targets a player may attack are randomized, ensuring that different foes of varying capability appear each session. There is a factor that encourages “trash talk,” however. When a player kills another character, some games ask if the player would like to brag about his kills.

To curb abuse of the player-killer system, some PBBGs also implement “hit lists.” By putting a bounty on a character, you essentially pay to have another character attacked. Other characters gain points (or gold) by attacking the character who has a bounty on his head. Theoretically, the more powerful players refrain from preying on the weak out of fear of the bounty. The system is unlikely to have much effect in influencing player-killers, however. Like goal-oriented players on other massive multiplayer games, those who enjoy killing others are fearless—they wouldn’t attack total strangers otherwise.

After playing Castle Age for some time I learned which combination of level and followers made an easy target. Because PBBGs are as much about the convenience of play as they are about the satisfaction of immediate results, I would attack as many opponents as quickly as possible, heedless of their condition. In fact, I attacked so quickly that I often didn’t notice my foe was “dead.” In other words, the impersonal nature of combat made it simple to cut great swaths of bloody havoc through the opposition. Bounty hunters never even entered the equation.

Conclusion

PBBGs are the next step in the play-by-post evolution, drawing on the tradition of MMORPGs and interactive fiction. Where CRPGs are in an endless race to take advantage of faster processors with more advanced graphics, PBBGs have simple, static graphics. Where MMORPGs fashion hugely complex worlds, PBBGs create easily accessible miniature worlds with minimal narrative. Like massive multiplayer games, PBBGs embrace the power of large social groups. In Castle Age, your friends are literally the source of your power.

Dungeons & Dragons Tiny Adventures, on the other hand, is a solitary activity, with opportunities for other players to occasionally lend a hand. It’s ironic that the tabletop game that inextricably linked social groups to fantasy role-playing has an application on Facebook that has very little social interaction.

Tiny Adventures and Castle Age’s difficulties are not unique. PBBGs are as much an art as they are a science. As Alexander Hinkley, creator of one of the longest-running Dragon Ball Z BBGs, explained:

Because of the nature of PBBGs, they are simple to create but hard to maintain and balance. Anybody can create a website or a forum and describe a unique fantasy world that will draw players into signing up, but creating well-balanced game mechanics like a battle system is very difficult. Although creating a PBBG may seem easy to some, it actually takes a lot of time, hard work, and dedication [Hinkley 2010].

Deceptively simple, PBBGs have a lot to teach us about the next generation of fantasy gaming. With PBBGs the hot new trend might not be better graphics or more players. It might simply be a matter of convenience.

FIVE

GAMEBOOKS AND INTERACTIVE FICTION

Introduction

The origin of interactive fiction (IF) has it roots in hypertext, in which a player reads text and then is given multiple choices to continue the plot. Each link takes the player to another installment, which in turn has its own paths, creating a web-like narrative. Although the term “hypertext” is now indelibly linked to the World Wide Web, this was not always the case—hypertext predated the Web (Costikyan 2007:7).

Gamebooks, an early form of hypertext fiction, laid the foundation for solo play that would be later explored in computer role-playing games (CRPGs). Gamebooks are usually written in second person. In gamebooks the interaction is one way, with the player determining the pace of the interaction but not the actual results. As the player makes choices that affect the course of the narrative he pursues a branched path, with each decision further changing the story, all through the use of numbered pages. Perilous results often lurk at the conclusion of the wrong decision, ending the story (2007:7).

There are three different types of gamebooks. The first are in narrative format, where the decisions are determined by the player flipping to the appropriate page, proceeding to the next branch in the story. The second type, exemplified by the Fighting Fantasy line, involves simple rules similar to tabletop role-playing games to resolve conflicts. The third type is really a role-playing game variant that is played without a game master, involving a separate set of rules with the gamebook serving as an adventure.

Interactive fiction, also known as adventure games, represents more object-oriented forms of hypertext conducted via computer. Interactive fiction has some level of permanency and spatial presence. Players can move from room to room, pick up items, and even permanently change the game universe in a way previous forms of hypertext fiction never could (2007:8).

The term “interactive fiction” was first coined by Robert Lafore, who produced BASIC programs for the TSR-80 (Montfort 2003:125). It was later used widely by Infocom to designate its canonical works (2003:7). IF places more emphasis on puzzle resolution, prioritizing deductive and qualitative thinking over inductive and quantitative reasoning (Barton 2008:6).

Janet Murray uses the term “cyberdrama” in From Game Story to Cyberdrama (2004:4) to clarify how linear storylines have evolved over computerbased mediums to accommodate multiple approaches to contests and puzzles. A perhaps less limiting title for gamebooks and interactive fiction, coined by Espen Aarseth, is “ergodic literature,” which he defines as dynamic texts where the reader must perform specific actions to generate a sequence that can vary with each reading.

Interactive fiction eventually made the leap to graphics with mixed results. Although there were some notable achievements, the flexibility of a text-based medium largely dominated the IF field. One memorable exception is Dragon’s Lair, a graphical hypertext arcade game that featured Don Bluth’s animation controlled by precise movements of the joystick. The player directed the protagonist, Dirk the Daring, when certain hints appeared on the screen. The events were always pre-scripted. There was never any uncertainty as to whether Dirk would live or die as a result of the player’s actions, only whether or not the player would select the right path quickly enough in response to the game’s cues. As a result, Dragon’s Lair was considerably more thrilling to watch than to play (Costikyan 2007:8).

Dragon’s Lair’s linear style of play is a common complaint levied against IF games. Although there is the illusion of total freedom, characters are actually bound by the parser. Players might consider a wide variety of solutions, but only the ones determined by the parser’s filter are possible choices (Barton 2008:27).

History

The predecessor to IF can be found in “literary machines,” vehicles through which text could be created in a nonlinear fashion. The very first examples of these sorts of literary machines were used for divination, the I Ching being one example (Montfort 2003:66). In Western culture, alchemist Ramon Lull created a physical text-generating machine that created three-letter combinations. For much of history, literary machines were largely limited to religious purposes until the early 20th century, when artists took up the mantle.

In 1958, the nonfiction instructional series TutorText’s first volume, The Arithmetic of Computers, was printed (Douglass 2007:134). In 1961, Marc Saporta published Composition No. 1. It was actually a box of 150 loose pages, meant to be shuffled and read in any order. The text implied enough to let the reader fill in the blanks, thus crafting a story. A similar shuffled story would be created in 1999 by Eric Zimmerman and Nancy Nowacek, Life in the Garden (Zimmerman 2007:81).

The gamebook format was used by Julio Cortazar in 1964 for Rayuela. Raymond Queneau, a Frenchman, concocted several devices, most notably 1967’s A Story As You Like It. Corgi publishers continued the tradition in the United Kingdom in the early 1970s with a series titled Trackers.

The variant best known to readers in America is probably the Choose Your Own Adventure series. This was introduced with The Cave of Time in 1979 by Edward Packard, the first entry in the series. It was turned into a graphical adventure game by Bantam Software in 1985 (Montfort 2003:71).

The “Dark Age” of computer role-playing game development, including the surge in IF games, began in the early 1970s. It was so named by Matt Barton (2008:28) because many of the games are lost to history.

Hunt the Wumpus, written in 1972 by Gregory Yob, established a mazelike fantasy game wherein an archer hunted for the mysterious wumpus. The game was noteworthy in several respects. It was a map-based game that used a three-dimensional space—a dodecahedron, which just happens to be the same dimensions of a twelve-sided die in Dungeons & Dragons.

A subsequent entry into IF was named, appropriately enough, DND (Glenday 2008:166). It was coded in the TUTOR language for the PLATO system by Gary Whisenhunt and Ray Wood (Glenday 2008:156). Created in 1974, DND was the third dungeon crawl of its kind for PLATO. It contained custom characters, experience points and leveling, a general store, and dungeon levels (Barton 2008:32).

Its first successor was Pedit5 by Rusty Rutherford. It was named so obscurely to prevent its deletion, as such games were frowned upon at Rutherford’s school. Pedit5 included magical spells, a dungeon filled with monsters and treasure, and continuity with the ability to save the character. Sure enough, Pedit5 was deleted months after its creation (Barton 2008:31). Similar to Pedit5, Don Daglow (he of Neverwinter Nights fame) created DNGEON for the PDP-10 mainframe. Daglow’s game allowed for parties, earning experience points, and leveling (Archer 2004:86).

Eric Roberts started running a Dungeons & Dragons–like game (Mirkwood, according to Barton (2008:26)) that emphasized story-telling and deemphasized mechanical aspects like die-rolling. He tried to create a world that captured the flavor of Tolkien’s Middle-earth while at the same time preserving the immersive experience. One of the players in Roberts’s game was David Lebling, an author of Zork. Another was Will Crowther. Both played thieves (Montfort 2003:86).

In 1975, Crowther, working at Bolt, Beranek and Newman in Cambridge, Massachusetts, created Adventure (originally titled ADVENT because file names could only be six characters long) on a DEC PDP-10 computer. Inspired by Dungeons & Dragons, it was the first form of online IF. An accomplished caver, Crowther based ADVENT on his experiences in the Flint Mammoth Cave system. Don Woods expanded upon the game in 1976 at Stanford University’s Artificial Intelligence Laboratory (SAIL). Woods’s version was inspired by Tolkien and included trolls and elves (2003:10).

Perhaps more interesting was how Adventure emulated Dungeons & Dragons, emphasizing opportunities for creative problem-solving and providing a surmountable challenge. Although there was only a single means of input via the parser, Adventure was conceived as a cooperative game; Crowther had coded it for his two daughters to play, and his collaboration with Woods was how it developed. Unlike Dungeons & Dragons, Adventure did not keep score (2003:89).

Zork came soon after, in 1977, and became extremely popular on ARPANET. The original leaflet for the FORTRAN port of Zork specifically identified its lineage as being inspired by Adventure and Dungeons &Dragons. When Zork was renamed Dungeon, the text was changed to “the long tradition of fantasy and science fiction adventure” (2003:100). It was also around this time that Lebling, Marc Blank, Tim Anderson, and Bruce Daniels started work on Zork. They created a company called Infocom.

It’s worth noting that Zork was inspired by a form of live action role-playing at MIT known as Institute Exploring or Tunnel Tours. Late at night, students would visit some of the more obscure basements of the campus (2003:100).

Jon Thackray and David Seal created a game called Acheton in 1978 with over 400 locations. It was also extremely difficult, with wandering monsters and numerous mazes (2003:115).

My introduction to gamebooks was through the Endless Quest series published by TSR in 1982. Beginning with Dungeon of Dread, these books provided fully developed characters and established settings that were part of TSR’s RPG worlds. Dungeons & Dragons, Top Secret, Gamma World and Star Frontiers were all introduced through the Endless Quest line. As a young teen, my perspective on role-playing games was shaped by these books.

Return to Brookmere was a major influence on my first Basic Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Return to Brookmere is most noteworthy for a talking dragon amulet known as the Mouth of Mimulus. This talking amulet was a deus ex machina that allowed the author to provide hints as to how to proceed. I used Mimulus in several of my own Dungeons & Dragons games to help keep the players on the right track (Estes 1982).

The next step in the gamebook’s evolution was Steve Jackson’s Fighting Fantasy line, which followed the traditional gamebook format but added a combat system. The player completely adjudicated the combat, rolling dice for his character as well as his opponent, which meant that there was little to prevent him from cheating. Then again, you could cheat in more traditional gamebooks by flipping to pages without making the correct decision to reach that point in the gamebook.

In 1984, the Fighting Fantasy gamebooks were released in electronic format for the Commodore 64 and ZX Spectrum. Six gamebooks were published between 1984 and 1987. The majority were straightforward adaptations. Later games offered a parser supplemented with graphical illustrations (Barton 2008:92).

The first of the Fighting Fantasy gamebook line was The Warlock of Firetop Mountain, published in 1982. It was written by Jackson and Ian Livingstone and illustrated by Russ Nicholson, whose evocative black-and-white artwork filled the original Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Fiend Folio and Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay. The Warlock of Firetop Mountain sold out of its print run in weeks. It would eventually sell over a million copies worldwide.

I remember The Warlock of Firetop Mountain fondly. It was a breath of fresh air to the otherwise increasingly stale gamebook format, because characters could battle it out, thus adding an element of chance to the decisionmaking process. As an important footnote, these books proudly declared they were compatible with Dungeons & Dragons, which meant they were a great means for a solitary player to “solo” his character, advancing him independent of a gaming group (Jackson 1982).

The character that would become my namesake in many fantasy games was drawn from a gamebook. Talien appeared in one of the Swordquest adventure books, Quest for the Unicorn’s Horn. The quest involved a young Kuven named Talien. Talien gained his position after the premature death of his father at the hands of ogres, and he soon found that a position of power didn’t make his life any easier (Fawcett 1985).

Gamebook technology continued to advance through the fantasy interactive scenario by telephone (FIST) system by Steve Jackson. This was essentially a Fighting Fantasy gamebook with audio; players controlled their characters over the phone. At each juncture, a player would press a button to determine actions and combat. Professional actors and realistic sounds gave the results and the character was saved so that a player could pick up where he left off.

Eventually, gamebooks were supplanted by video games in the 1990s. The Fighting Fantasy series concluded with book 50, Return to Firetop Mountain, but its success prompted an increase in demand for the Fighting Fantasy back catalog. As a result, nine more were published, concluding with Curse of the Mummy in 1995.

In 2002, Wizard Books bought the rights to Fighting Fantasy and reprinted many of the books, with some tweaks to change the order of the series. In 2005, Eye of the Dragon was released by Wizard and 2006 saw the production of two more installments.

Fellowship

Gamebooks didn’t provide for a party as such, since there was usually only one player. Later iterations allowed for party members and allies such as the one-on-one adventure gamebooks, which included retinues of retainers that the player could start with or pick up during his adventure. Generally speaking, playing a character was a solo activity, which helped further immerse the reader and control the events as they took place.

Nick Montfort explained in a personal interview that although there might be only one character controlled in interactive fiction, people could play together online by sharing the same session, play together in person around a computer screen, or consult with a network via forums and newsgroups, phone, or email. In essence, those who wish to play IF games might be solitary in the game but they are not necessarily alone (Montfort 2010).

Narrative

Gygax characterized gamebooks as “role assumption” rather than roleplaying games. By his definition, role assumption games provide a persona that is not unique, and the situations are prescribed by the game. Choices are limited and game play is channeled and of relatively short duration. He considered role assumption as good training for role-playing games, but a different and lesser game form (1987:85).

Gamebooks are noteworthy for contributing to the evolution of fantasy gaming because they made the transition from narrative tales like The Lord of the Rings to IF. The gamebook’s story is still largely guided by the author, and the rules are relatively simple, but the framework was established for a player’s interactivity with a fantasy world, whatever form it might take.

Because of the limitations of encyclopedic design, the only way to increase interactivity is to author huge amounts of content. This is largely impractical in gamebook format due to the obvious physical limitations of the book. It is less of a barrier in IF, but is still not a practical alternative due to the constraints of game development. The tradeoff is to limit the player’s choices to obvious paths, both to hedge the narrative and engage the player in such a way that it feels logical, creating agency (Mateas & Stern 2007:188). These narratives tend to be riddles in which the player “figures out” what the game creators determined is the best path forward.

Personalization

Like the computer role-playing games (CRPGs) that would eventually follow, the roles in gamebooks were extremely limited. The Fighting Fantasy gamebooks had but three stats: skill, stamina, and luck. This would later be codified and expanded, forming an introductory system to role-playing games suitable for group play. Nevertheless, the original gamebook was by design a solitary activity.

The gamebooks format limits what the player can do. The player makes certain key choices, and the results of those choices lead either to another choice (success) or the end of the game, usually the death of the character or worse (failure). This makes gamebooks challenging, but also requires repeated play-through to determine the best course of action. The more simplistic gamebooks had only one successful ending. Others had several alternative endings, all of which could be considered a success.

Gygax cites these sorts of “branching path” gamebooks as useful scenarios for novice gamers. Because of these strictly limited choices and absolute consequences, the simplified gamebook format provides the basis for a role-playing session that is much less open to chance (1989:106).

Risk

Unlike the more forgiving forms of fantasy gaming, IF can be extraordinarily harsh on players. Underlying Dungeons & Dragons, miniature wargames, CRPGs, and massive multiplayer online role-playing games is a statistical challenge. Combat challenges can be overcome through careful planning, strategy, and a little luck. By balancing a dizzying array of statistics, including race, class, and magic, players know that although they can’t always defeat a monster, they at least have a chance.

IF, on the other hand, is an either/or proposition. Although failure doesn’t always result in the death of the player’s character, it is not usually up to chance. Excluding the Fighting Fantasy–style gamebooks, IF is usually a series of riddles. Gamebooks involve picking the right path, where IF involves entering the correct keywords for the game’s parser. These limited choices with dire consequences can be extremely frustrating, but also equalizing. Just as authors use riddles to engage the reader, so choices made in IF are a challenge to the player’s—not the character’s—mind. There is no intelligence or wisdom roll to determine if a character makes the right choice, it’s up to the player to figure it out.

Monsters can still be slain, of course. Dragons, trolls, and dwarves are all capable of being defeated through the right circumstances in IF, even by violence. But the conflict is never down to chance alone. It’s all about making the right choices. This different form of conflict, although challenging, is also part of IF’s appeal. Players have a thorny relationship with their characters—on the one hand, they want him or her to succeed through the player’s actions. On the other hand, difficult lives make for a more interesting game. The course of a character’s life in IF does not run smooth (Newman 2007:101).

Roles

Unlike other fantasy games, IF interacts with a role very differently. Montfort makes it clear that the normal forms of interaction don’t apply; not in the gaming sense, dramatic sense, or typical multiparty role-playing elements (2007:139). The “interactor,” as he calls the player/character relationship, isn’t played by the player—the character steers the player.

Creator Roles

The creator roles are confined primarily to the role of author. The computer also has a say in interactive fiction, including the parser and the game world itself.

Author

In IF, the character’s personality and even dialogue is restricted as appropriate to the plot. The author is in control, with the player picking a path from limited choices. In Fighting Fantasy gamebooks, the dice decide the outcome, which might be contrary to the narrative of the book. For example, a player could be told that his character nimbly runs through a hallway full of traps because he chose the right path as per the gamebook’s success/fail proposition, or he could fail a check involving a die roll tested against his character’s statistics. In some gamebooks, this might contradict the outcome; a character who nimbly avoided traps through narration could be too slow to avoid a single damaging attack later. Generally speaking, since the rules were entirely adjudicated by the player, it didn’t matter very much. A player could “cheat” at any time.

Some gamebooks had “paradise” pages whose sole purpose was to provide an interesting placeholder should a player flip through the book without following the rules. There were even traps to catch players who jumped ahead and made decisions that would be impossible if they read the book properly. These traps punished the player with failure. It seemed gamebook authors were divided as to whether or not a player should stick strictly to the letter of the law when it came to the gamebook’s structure.

Parser

Montfort breaks IF down specifically into two components, parser and world. The parser interprets natural language and filters it so that it affects the world— it is the arms and legs, eyes and ears for the player. A major factor of early IF is the loss of vision; in Zork, darkness meant death by Grue (Douglass 2007:131).

The parser is the vehicle through which the player interacts with IF, but it is not a personality unto itself. The traditional narrative of protagonist, reader, and narrator found in fiction, and the role of game master and player found in tabletop role-playing games, is reflected in IF through player, protagonist and narrator (Montfort 2003:30).

Text-based parsers acclimate players to a certain style of play that carried over to MUDs:

It is probably due to Zork that I actually tried RetroMUD. Further, interactive fiction is similar enough in its setup that it helped me transition to RetroMUD smoothly. While the text is much more vast in MUDs due to channels and new things occurring constantly, the idea felt basically the same and the interface felt familiar. Further, understanding the importance of proper syntax is a huge step in both IFs and MUDs. I also enjoyed the problem solving of gamebooks, and would read them over and over again.... Yes, there is an all or nothing mentality, I love puzzles and therefore that style of play was fun for me. I somewhat viewed them as a book I could interact with, and that idea appealed to me on many levels [Simes 2010].

These levels of frame help shape the player’s involvement in the game by creating agency—IF that communicates too frequently with the player instead of the protagonist switches the player out of the frame of the fantasy universe and reminds him he is playing a game. Thus the parser, while not actually a character, acts as a filter between the player and the other frames. Clunky, ineffective parsers can make achieving agency difficult (Mateas 2004:25).

World

The world is the fictional universe which the parser effects and the player inhabits through his character. The more advanced the parser, the greater the media richness. Extremely advanced parsers could theoretically be inseparable from the world.

As in computer games, the computer program serves as referee or game master. Because the virtual world in which IF takes place is controlled by the computer, there is no need for a Dungeon Master. However, this didn’t keep developers from including a Dungeon Master as the nemesis in Zork III (Montfort 2003:132).

Participant Roles

We will cover player roles in more detail in the computer role-playing game chapter.

Player

In gamebooks, the player takes the role of reader, with limited ability to influence the world. We cover the reader role in the first chapter. In interactive fiction, the player role is similar to the CRPG player, which we cover in Chapter 7.

Character Roles

In gamebooks, the reader and main character are often the same, making each player character completely unique to that reader’s experience because he or she is formed through the player’s decisions (Newman 2007:100).

Although some gamebooks indicated that they were compatible with the Dungeons & Dragons system (a statement that would later be challenged in court), gamebooks generally cast the character in a role and expected him to stick with it. While the Fighting Fantasy gamebooks could conceivably be played by a random adventurer, most of the other variants could not. This is a necessity, if only because a character with unique powers like spells could not be accounted for in the span of a single gamebook.

The one-on-one adventure gamebook series published by TSR featured two books as part of a boxed set, designed for players. Each player takes a different book and controls different characters. They were generally set in the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons campaign worlds. Players took turns reading passages, occasionally fighting when they ended up in the same location within the shared game world. In addition to fighting each other, participants frequently acted as the game master in a role-playing session, controlling their opponents’ enemies. None of the books required dice, as the players would randomly shout out numbers and then cross-reference them on a chart. Some used rock-paper-scissors in a fashion similar to live action role-playing games. I purchased The Amber Sword of World’s End with the intent of playing against one of my friends, giving him one book (he was Uthract, Barbarian Warrior) and I kept the other (I was Garth, Master of the North). Unfortunately, we never got to play.

IF generally did not distinguish between the player and the character he played, keeping textual clues intentionally vague. This player representation, or avatar, is anonymous precisely because the player fills in the blank, making liberal use of the second person (Douglass 2007:129). In graphical worlds, this anonymity becomes increasingly less feasible because the media-rich environments are a barrier to casting the player-as-avatar (Castronova 2005:296).

Gender

The gender of the character in the early IF games was largely undetermined. This was probably as much to keep the game open-ended for either gender as it was a convenience for the programmers, who had to accommodate more descriptors as a result of the player character’s difference in gender. Even in those games that did allow gender, it wasn’t a major factor in the game itself (Montfort 2003:156).

One exception is Montfort’s own Book and Volume, which interprets gender from the name the player enters. By weighting the name against an algorithm, the game then changes its language to match the interpreted gender (2007:144).

Race

Generally speaking, the race of the character was as unimportant as the character’s gender. However, one form of IF stands out: The Knight Orc, published in 1987. The player took on the role of an orc named Grindleguts. Unlike other interactive fiction, The Knight Orc featured a host of fellow adventurers such as the stereotypical anonymous, greedy player character (Montfort 2003:186).

Status

Although IF features a virtual world complete with monsters and magic, it does not operate under the same assumptions on which Dungeons & Dragons was built. In Crowther and Woods’s Colossal Cave Adventure, the player could throw axes at dwarves to kill them, but there were no experience points awarded or combat rolls made. In fact, the player character could kill a dragon with his bare hands (Barton 2008:28), which would normally be a serious level-making achievement for a more statistically based role-playing game. In IF, it’s just another part of the narrative.

Conclusion

Interactive fiction dominated commercial computer games in the early 1980s, but its legacy strongly influenced the CRPGs and MMPORGs of today. IF brought puzzle solving and spatial relationships to narrative games. “Even though some gamers and even some recent developers may know little about IF,” said Nick Montfort in a personal interview, “the influence of those games is clear, whether it is recognized or not” (Montfort 2010).

We explore interactive fiction’s influence on multi-player gaming in the next chapter.

SIX

MULTI-USER DUNGEONS

The anonymity and the lack of presence of the Internet seems to inflame people to swear, according to the thesis of Michael Tresca. The graduate of Michigan State University says “highly anonymous groups exhibit inflammatory disinhibition,” i.e. people are more likely to be offensive when they think others don’t know who they are [Cukan 2004].

Introduction

Multi-user dungeons (MUDs) are text-based collaborative computer games that allow users to interact with each other. The term “multi-user dungeon” is often thought to have been coined for Dungeons & Dragons, and that’s partially true. The acronym was inspired by DNGEON, the Zork prototype (Montfort 2003:224).

The Internet chat environment adds an important social element to the adventure game. With social interaction happening in real time, MUDs better approximate the typical role-playing setup around a gaming table. MUDs are also known as MUGs (multi-user games), MUSHes (multi-user shared hallucinations), and MOOs (multi–object-oriented).

MUDs generally have spells, equipment, and powers that are level-based, lending them to a Dungeons & Dragons style of play. MOOs and MUSHes rely on player-generated content and social contracts to conduct combat. These MUD variants have no actual hard-coded mechanic, but rather a series of descriptions with an agreed-upon outcome. This is similar to a live action roleplaying (LARP) game experience.

MUDs can be broken down into two types: LP for Lars Penjat, who developed a variety of C that allows an LP MUD to operate without having to reboot, and DIKU (named after Datalogisk Institut, Københavns Universitet, the Department of Computer Science at the University of Copenhagen), which carries equipment on the player character from reboot to reboot. DIKU MUDs tend to more closely follow the traditional tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons, with six statistics and the standard classes and races.

It’s useful to contrast how MUDs fit into the larger schema of social games. Castronova (2005:103) describes online worlds by their size of user base, how they interact, and the presence of nonplayer characters (NPCs) controlled by artificial intelligence.

Worlds that have no artificial intelligence governing the game are primarily “player-killer” systems. These online games, such as first-person shooters (FPS), feature little consistency and development of characters, instead focusing on the player. The player achieves agency by taking on the role of the character (Mateas 2004:26). In online FPS games like Halo, Gears of War, and Modern Warfare, voice chat provides another level of media richness that can be a barrier for role-playing. Voice chat makes it particularly difficult for players to act as someone else, younger players to conceal their age, and females to play as males. It’s also notable that few players accurately represent themselves within the game. Players inhabit avatars, but the avatar can be changed at a whim depending on what side the character is playing (Modern Warfare), are anonymous (Halo) or are set to a few established characters such that players can all look alike (Gears of War). These types of games tend to appeal to the Killer play style, as designated by Bartle’s player types.

Social worlds, on the other hand, are the opposite of player-killer servers. They exist to promote dialogue and foster social networks between players. The least-rich media forums include chat rooms, and the more advanced networks, such as Second Life, contain fully realized avatars. Most games of this sort do not have a combat system. Socializers are best served by this style of game.

Finally there are the online role-playing games that seek to satisfy both groups. Player-killing or socializing is emphasized or regulated on certain servers. Combat is an integral part of the game, but so is trade and character growth. Low-media-rich games of this sort include MUDs, while the more advanced include MMORPGs. We will discuss massive multiplayers in a later chapter.

History

With Dungeons & Dragons so popular on campus and the rules everevolving from the relatively niche art of miniature wargaming, it was perhaps inevitable that college students would adapt computers to handle the complex rules. For players who were not statistically inclined, these rules were necessary evils. With a computer doing all the work, the players could enjoy the less math-heavy aspects of the game.

In the early days of MUD development, personal computers were not yet ubiquitous. One large group that did have access to computer mainframes was college students. The earliest computer role-playing games (CRPGs) and MUDs emerged from these systems. A cat-and-mouse metagame ensued as students sought to hide their games from faculty who didn’t want to see their considerable resources used for purely recreational purposes. Many of these early games have been lost to history as a result.

The powerful mainframe computers had several built-in advantages that lent themselves to gaming, not the least of which was that a large group of players all had access to the machine. This meant that games could be played cooperatively amongst groups of college students. Collaborative play was not available to personal computer users until the Internet and computing power caught up with mainframe processors. As a result, several advancements in gameplay that debuted on mainframe games were later “dumbed down” for personal computers (Barton 2008:30).

Roy Trubshaw and Richard Bartle first discovered the single-player game known as ADVENT in 1979. His interest piqued, Bartle craved a more participatory experience similar to Dungeons &Dragons. After college, he created the first MUD (Barton 2008:38).

Jim Schwaiger produced an extremely difficult variant known as Oubliette on the PLATO system. Oubliette featured 15 races and 15 classes, each with various stat bonuses and penalties, and armor and weapon proficiencies. To survive, players had to work in groups. It also featured taverns, guilds, and “charmees”—animal companions that would find their analogue in the pet code of massive multiplayer online role-playing games. Oubliette had one unusual feature: the ability for female characters to seduce the opposition, either converting them to henchmen or dying in the effort. This was an important turning point for the fellowship’s debut in the interactive fiction environment. It transformed MUDs from solitary play to adventuring parties that relied on each other for survival. However, even though Oubliette was a multiplayer game, it was not a persistent game world (Barton 2008:34).

MUD, or Essex MUD or MUD1, ran on the Essex University network. After Bartle licensed MUD1 to CompuServe, Essex MUD was closed. This left only MIST, a MUD derivative, which would go on to become very popular until 1991 when it closed. The fascination with MUDs remained a chiefly British phenomenon until the 1980s when personal computers with modems became widespread.

Alan E. Klietz produced Milieu in 1978. High school students across Minnesota were given access to the mainframe for educational purposes. Klietz transitioned the game to an IBM XT in 1983, which supported up to 16 players simultaneously over the modem, and renamed it Scepter of Goth. It was the first commercial MUD, run by GamBit. GamBit’s assets were in turn sold to InterPlay, which eventually went bankrupt.

In 1980, Rogue added simple characters and later graphics to the typical dungeon crawl. Rogue revolutionized the “instanced dungeon,” randomly generating a dungeon and opponents (Montfort 2003:224).

In 1981, The Lord of the Rings made the official transition to interactive fiction through Lord, created by Olli J. Paavola at the University of Helsinki. Two years later, Phillip Mitchell’s The Hobbit game was purchased by Melbourne House. One of the earliest commercial works based on a book, it was inspired by Tolkien’s novel of the same name. The puzzles relied heavily on the book and had color graphics. The parser, called “Inglish,” ensured that the player interacted with the game in a genre-appropriate fashion (2003:171).

In 1984, Mark Peterson produced The Realm of Angmar, a clone of Scepter of Goth. It was adapted in 1994 to MS-DOS under the name Swords of Chaos. That same year, Mark Jacobs unveiled Gamers World, a commercial gaming site that hosted two games: Aradath and Galaxy. Both games were ported to AOL’s Genie network, with Aradath renamed to Dragon’s Gate. At its peak, Aradath had 100 monthly subscribers. Islands of Kesmai, by Kelton Flinn and John Taylor, was a rogue-like game featuring turn-based play.

Zyll, by Scott Edwards and Marshal Linder, was released in 1984 for IBM’s PCjr. It was a two-player text-based multi-user dungeon on a single, non-networked computer (Barton 2008:91).

Also in 1984, King’s Quest was released by Roberta King on the IBM PCjr. Like the interactive fiction before it, King’s Quest featured the ability to experience a universe through exploration, controlling an animated avatar with a computer mouse (Montfort 2003:170).

In 1985, Mirrorworld was released by Pip Cordrev, Tim Rogers, Lorenzo Wood, and Nathaniel Billington. It was the first game to feature rolling resets. A commercial MUD, Shades by Neil Newell, was released in the U.K. via British Telecom’s Prestel and Micronet networks.

In 1987, Beyond Zork was released by Brian Moriarty. It incorporated elements of Dungeons & Dragons, specifically the ability to assign ability points to the player character, along with combat and magic items (2003:141).

The popularity of Bartle’s MUD1 soared, leading to the creation of MUD II. By 1989, MUD II had thousands of players (Darlington 1999).

Also in 1989, James Aspnes created TinyMUD. TinyMUD featured more than just combat. It allowed players to create worlds and encouraged socialization (Taylor 2006:23).

In 1990, MOOs (MUD, Object-Oriented) further refined the social- and world-building focus, making it easier than ever before for participants to create worlds that weren’t exclusively dedicated to the tabletop RPG paradigm.

In 1992, the first commercial MUD was Legends of Future Past, designed by Jon Radoff and Angela Bull. It featured professional staff that organized online events. It ran until 2000.

RetroMUD, the MUD on which I’m an administrator, was established in 1994 and is still active to this day. RetroMUD consists of six different worlds, over sixty races, and a dizzying variety of skills and spells. Each world has its own theme, ranging from the steaming jungles of Sosel to the creepy undead caverns of Crypt, from the whimsical Raji to the traditional fantasy of Welstar, from the chaos of Perdow to the churning seas of Wysoom. RetroMUD predates Ultima Online, EverQuest, and World of Warcraft. I’ve been an administrator on RetroMUD for over 15 years.

Fellowship

Players who come to a MUD obsessed with gaining levels are eventually drawn into the ranks of other adventurers, pooling their resources to defeat more powerful monsters. With enough time, they become friends, and soon only play when the other players are online. The focus of gaming shifts from the game mechanics themselves to the social bonds created within the game, until the social bonds actually eclipse the game and players move en masse from game to game as a group. Bartle describes this evolution of the gaming experience as the main sequence (Barton 2008:43).

Most MUDs generally limit party size from five to six players. Unlike a tabletop game, a virtual universe can conceivably have as many players as the game can handle connections. Some distinction must be made to break down the party into manageable groups—not for the game’s sake, which can usually handle the load, but because the traditional Dungeons & Dragons squad-based rules break down when too many players are involved.

The size of a fellowship in a MUD can vary tremendously. RetroMUD started with an unlimited number of players in a party, which resulted at one point in the entire MUD as part of one giant party. The coding staff discovered that any foe could be defeated when an army of player characters was thrown at it, so the code was changed to restrict the number to eight. This “army tactic” foreshadowed the power of players in large coordinated groups that would later manifest as raids in MMORPGs.

The other challenge for game designers is that although multiple adventurers inhabit the persistent world, there is no one player or group focus. It is feasible for the monsters in a dungeon to be wiped out by a high-level party before lower-level players get there, or a lower-level character to be helped by a higher-level character. In a tabletop game, a Dungeon Master monitors the progress of all the characters and ensures they have roughly equal balance, but MUDs are one large persistent environment that caters to multiple players. Player characters can be at cross-purposes even though they are technically on the same side. One way around this problem is “instancing,” creating a unique dungeon for each set of players. The tradeoff is that instancing robs the game of any sense of narrative, as we shall see in the next section.

Narrative

Bartle (1999) divides role-playing immersion into two categories, hidden depth and open depth. Games with open depth make extremely detailed amounts of information about the game immediately available to the player, while those with hidden depth reveal information only as the player’s character discovers it. Open-depth games provide rules up front in the manner of tabletop role-playing games, while hidden-depth games reveal information to the player as if they were a character. Because a MUD largely automates the actual rules resolution process, the rules can take a back seat to role-playing.

MUDs provide immersion through three levels of narration, including description, narration, and ergodics, or the reader’s choices (Aarseth 1997:94). Descriptions are the text conveyed about the room itself, narration is the broader story behind the game, and ergodics are the stories spun from the player’s decisions. The problem is that few of these are actually mutable.

Descriptions, for example, don’t really change in MUDs. A player might pick up an object or destroy a part of the room, but the game eventually resets the room to its original state. This is necessary to keep the game’s memory from being overloaded by too many objects. The room is removed from memory and reloaded when a new player enters it, resetting its original state. Despite these constraints, players can permanently change some objects. Characters and personal items, pets and home dwellings—all can have their appearance modified by players and remain that way indefinitely.

Narration in MUDs is practically nonexistent. Although it’s possible for MUDs to provide an overarching narrative, in practice it amounts to fighting certain monsters, gaining in power in a particular class or guild, and then doing it all over again. RetroMUD has taken great pains to explain these tropes in the context of standard MUD conventions. On RetroMUD, the “Retroverse” is elastic, explaining why objects reload after being destroyed and unique characters reappear after their death with no memory of past events or meeting different characters. The players are Gifted Ones, individuals capable of experiencing the universe differently and perceiving the immutable nature of things.

TVTropes calls this an Excuse Plot, “a plot that is clearly there merely as a justification for the gameplay, or other form of flashy, show-offy-ness, to happen. In short, the story serves the needs of the gameplay, nothing more. It makes no pretense of intrinsic value, but simply provides some banter so you understand why the purple and non-purple units are shooting at each other” (TVTropes 2010).

The reasons for a lack of plot are a familiar problem with multiplayer games. Each player represents a huge number of possible ergodics. Altering the game for each player’s decisions multiplies the possible outcomes exponentially by the number of players in the game, making it impossible to uniquely cater to each player’s needs.

Ergodics are what really keep MUD and MMORPG players engaged. The players are the content, and the quantity and variety of players provide endless permutations. Players act as stalwart companions who help individuals achieve success, as rivals for power and treasure, and even as opponents in player-killer games. Ergodics provide a level of narrative distinct from other single-player, non-interactive forms of entertainment that makes MUDs unique.

Personalization

If ergodics are what make players stay in MUDs, personalization is what draws them there. Most MUDs vary little from the typical Dungeons & Dragons paradigm, as evidenced by the standard set of DIKU statistics that mimic the tabletop game.

RetroMUD includes the attributes agility, charisma, constitution, dexterity, intelligence, perception, luck, size, strength, and wisdom. It also has a three-point system: hit points, spell points, and endurance points. RetroMUD and MUDs like it presaged many of the eventual changes to Dungeons & Dragons that appeared in the third edition. MUDs, because of the sheer number of players, had to create rules for adjudicating a wide variety of situations that were not formalized in Dungeons & Dragons. New rules for very powerful and very weak creatures were created. Other elements that didn’t factor into a tabletop role-playing game required adjudication in a MUD. A size statistic, for example, is a critical part of spatial relationships on RetroMUD, but in a tabletop game a game master can simply decide if a character can fit through an opening or wear a suit of armor.

On RetroMUD, strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma function like Dungeons & Dragons. Agility determines lower body speed and affects movement. Perception determines one’s ability to perceive his or her surroundings through his senses. Characters with negative perception are blind. Luck is a random modifier determined each day, which affects a variety of rolls. Size determines height and weight—it affects damage inflicted, hit points, and ability to enter certain rooms. It also means equipment must be a certain size to fit the character.

Hit points in RetroMUD are handled similarly to Dungeons & Dragons, with hit point increases accumulated as the character increases in level. Spell points are treated in the same fashion and are required to cast spells. Finally, endurance points handle movement and actions, including running and skill use. All three points regenerate at a certain rate according to the character’s “heartbeat” as determined by its race. Trolls, for example, regenerate hit points faster than other races (a nod to the Dungeons & Dragons troll, which was in turn inspired by Poul Anderson’s Three Hearts and Three Lions).

Perhaps the greatest opportunities for customization are the numerous race and class combinations. We discuss race and class combinations in the Roles section.

Risk

Part of the challenge in role-playing games is placing the characters at risk commensurate with their ability to confront that risk. Risk usually takes the form of combat. The Dungeons & Dragons–style hit point system handles damage abstractly; characters can fight effectively even at death’s door. There is no wear-and-tear on a character over time. In fact, as the character advances in power he only becomes stronger.

In a tabletop game, this power arc acts as a means of propelling narrative. The characters grow in power, facing greater and greater threats, and eventually retire or die, removed from play. On MUDs, where multiple characters increase in level without a binding narrative structure, there is no real conclusion for a high level character. Players work hard to keep their hard-earned power and will stick around even upon achieving the maximum level allowable in the game. In short, the leveling arc of Dungeons & Dragons creates an aberration when applied to a persistent virtual world, where supremely powerful characters don’t ride off into the sunset but instead stick around forever, undermining the future narratives of novice adventurers by their mere presence.

Part of the appeal of MUDs is the power that comes with leveling. Players earn their levels through careful planning and time investment, minimizing risk while maximizing returns. Whereas a typical tabletop game is restricted by the time investment of all the players involved, a solitary player can adventure by himself with the MUD as virtual Dungeon Master at any time of the day or night.

As a result, the time constraints that limit a typical Dungeons & Dragons tabletop campaign become irrelevant in a MUD. Players can use “bots” to automate boring tasks and use downtime in real life at their jobs to purse the most daunting in-game challenge. Killing weak monsters that pose no threat to a higher-level character is a common means of advancement.

Even though many MUDs minimize the gains from such unequal conflicts, it’s possible to accumulate rewards through sheer quantity. Killing a thousand rats worth 1 experience point each over the course of a week is advantageous due to the flexibility of the activity (no long-term time commitment) and low risk involved. In comparison, killing one giant rat worth 1,000 experience points demands a time investment (getting a party together) and significant risk (the character could die and lose experience points). In the long-term view, high-level player predation of low-level monsters can be profitable for a player willing to put in the effort. This is known as farming.

Farming is often a solitary activity. Soloers are players who advance their characters without a party, or with a very small party. Sometimes this is a necessity, especially in virtual games where players who are on at odd times or on small MUDs have few companions to play with. Other players prefer to move quickly through their kill/loot/sell/repeat cycle and find that party members hamper their advancement.

At heart, players are accustomed to the solitary CRPG experience, which was in turn derived from gamebooks; a jack-of-all-trades character with a decent chance of overcoming every obstacle. This is in direct opposition to a standard Dungeons & Dragons party, which encourages specialization and vulnerability. In early editions of Dungeons & Dragons, wizards were the most obvious example of this specialization; of limited use at low levels and extremely powerful at higher levels. The solo character is a manifestation of CRPG sensibilities applied to a social game.

In theory, anything can be “soloed”—it’s all a matter of the proportionate level of the soloer. A sufficiently powerful high-level player can defeat even a horde of low-level monsters. MUD programmers have a love/hate relationship with soloers. As evidenced by the eventual inclusion of a “solo” difficulty in Dungeons & Dragons Online, soloing is an activity every game designer tries to avoid but that is almost impossible to erase from any combat MMORPG or MUD.

Roles

More players on MUDs mean more opportunities for interaction and ultimately survival. Richard Bartle posited that the less interesting MUDs needed higher numbers of players to flourish. He also characterized MUDs played by teenagers as more violent and acrimonious than those played by adults in their thirties. Even gender is a factor, with an equal gender distribution turning MUDs into “little more than dating agencies” (1990).

Creator Roles

Creator roles include the computer program that hosts the game and the wizards who code on it.

Computer Program

On MUDs, the computer fills roles traditionally handled by a Dungeon Master. At the simplest level are programmed nonplayer characters. They are sometimes called ro(bots) or mobs, short for mobile objects. Generally speaking, mobs are hostile opponents who seek to kill the character. They are the monsters of the world, the most basic beast capable of slaying an adventurer.

Castronova differentiates the more sophisticated bots as nonplayer characters, using the tabletop role-playing game term to identify the seemingly more intelligent mobs. These are the merchants, guards, and otherwise nonhostile beings inhabiting the universe that create the illusion of a living world. They are the workers, the faceless masses, and the roles originally played by Dungeon Masters.

The nonplayer character is the one of several computer program roles that mimic a tabletop role-playing game’s Dungeon Master. A subset of this type of character is the mentor, who introduces the game world to the player by going beyond the game’s in-world dialogue to explain how the game world works.

There are also MUD characters quantified in tabletop Dungeons &Dragons as “henchmen.” Henchmen were defined as “a safety measure against the machinations of rival player characters [who] provide strength to the character and his or her stronghold, and lastly serve as a means of adventuring when the player character is unable to” (1979:34). Henchmen acted as allies to help round out a party.

Pets are controlled by the player, either permanently or temporarily, and are distinct in that they are not bots to be defeated or nonplayer characters to be interacted with. They are essentially an extension of the player’s character, usually with limited control that prevents them from being considered fullfeatured characters.

Castronova quantifies one final, invisible role, that of the artificial intelligence operating the world. This includes everything from doors opening and closing to fire burning. A logical effect put into motion has a logical conclusion. It is when the player attempts to influence the natural course of events that the invisible role of the code base that runs the game comes into play. If I try to douse the fire, does it go out? What determines if I have enough water? If I attempt to close the door, am I strong enough to close it? What if it’s too heavy?

These roles are all adjudicated in tabletop role-playing games through two mechanisms: rulebooks and dice. The rulebook provides a general outline of the rules that apply—the strength necessary to open a door, the dexterity necessary to put out a fire, and so forth. The dice provide the random element that means an action may, but not necessarily will, result. On a MUD, these mechanisms are controlled through the codebase, a system Castronova calls “Nature” (2005:95).

Wizard

Despite the immersion of a MUD’s players in their character roles, they are still capable of appealing to the “coding authority,” the creators of the game. These creators are pressured through in-game and out-of-game tactics, in the same way that tabletop role-players attempt to influence the game master during play. Like unpopular Dungeon Masters, the coding authority risks mass protests that, at their most extreme, culminate in players leaving the game and discouraging others from joining (Castronova 2005:152).

Wizards are the coding authority of the multi-user dungeon. It is notable that wizards are drawn from the ranks of players, and that this is often a goal for multi-user dungeons—in other words, the aspiration of many players in multi-user dungeons is to become a member of the coding authority. As such, they are given special privileges beyond the purview of the player base, like immortality. Wizards are responsible for runing the game, enforcing the rules, and creating new nonplayer characters and adventures. Multi-user dungeon hierarchy varies, but generally speaking there are at least three levels:

• Administrator: Coders with access to the game’s core rules. They also maintain the game’s codebase, financials, and are the final authority on the game.

• Archwizards: Coders with much more responsibility, usually the highest and most active presence of coding authority within a game. Archwizards have responsibility for keeping the other coding staff productive and the player base engaged.

• Wizards: Entry-level coders, these staff members are dedicated to creating new content, be it areas, classes, guilds, races, monsters, or something else.

Each of these hierarchies is distinguished by levels, a public badge clearly identifying who is more powerful than whom, with the implicit notion that wizards are more powerful than players because they are higher-level.

On RetroMUD, this hierarchy has served us well. Wizards tend to be tremendously productive at the outset, but eventually real-life responsibilities or simply lack of interest causes them to slip out of the position and back into the role of player. Archwizards are the select few who dedicate their time to the game, taking on the responsibility of an entire world within the RetroMUD universe. As such, they are responsible for bug maintenance, approving new areas created by the wizards, and otherwise keeping the peace.

Above the archwizard role are the administrators. There have never been more than three. Generally speaking, each administrator has a highly specialized role. In my case, I am the “talking head”—less a coder (although I have coded several areas on RetroMUD) and more responsible for the administrative and financial obligations of the game. As such, administrators tend to be on the game less than archwizards and wizards.

RetroMUD has one hundred levels, but we do not require those who reach the hundredth level to become a wizard, nor do we offer it to them. Instead, coding positions are offered to those who have at least twenty levels under their belt, the idea being that it is important to play the game first—we have rejected would-be applicants on these grounds alone—but it is not critical to fully master the game. Level is also a poor representation of mastery, per se. A high-level character can achieve such power through a very narrow but effective path. This sort of narrow-mindedness does not make a good wizard, as the role requires creativity and imagination that is sometimes lacking in a level grind.

One complication that arises is when coders decide to “dewiz” and become players. These once-immortal players are in the enviable position of having knowledge of the codebase and knowledge as advanced players. Generally speaking, this is unavoidable. Without knowing every player’s identity and carefully tracking each player’s path through the game, the task becomes impossible.

And yet there are significant cultural benefits for having a coding staff so tightly intertwined with its players. RetroMUD has a thriving bug-reporting feature as well as an idea-suggestion group, and both see significant usage— far more than any other aspect of communication in the game. Contrast this with massive multiplayer online role-playing games in which customer service people are faceless, the coding authority never intervenes, and player concerns are ignored.

Participant Roles

In Wizards of the Coast’s survey, 51 percent of tabletop role-playing gamers reported that they had played a game on the Internet, with 28 percent reporting that they played an Internet game monthly. Of those polled, 52 percent indicated they wanted software to help manage the game and speed up combat, 37 percent read newsgroups, mailing lists, and web sites, 42 percent played with some form of computer assistance, and 50 percent wanted to play D&D over the Internet. Three quarters of the sample used the Internet at least once a week, but only two thirds had access from home (2000).

One of the members of my gaming group got into MUDs to fill the void left by tabletop gaming:

It was a good way for us to continue regular social interaction and continue to role-play to some extent. From a pure gaming standpoint, it was like a step backwards. The worlds were small and sometimes crowded, and the questing/fighting soon became repetitive. However, it was a great opportunity to continue role-playing through the public chat system that the games shared. While most people played it as a game, trying to get as powerful as possible as quickly as possible, there were a few people that would enjoy role-playing. The other advantage to online games was that you could jump in anytime you wanted, instead of waiting for the next Saturday to get together for the next tabletop RPG session [Jellig 2010].

Richard Bartle created the Bartle Test of Gamer Psychology, which as of July 2007 had interviewed more than 300,000 players to determine their “Bartle Quotient.” The Bartle Quotient clarifies a player’s gaming preferences, which breakdown into Killer, Explorer, Socializer, or Achiever (Glenday 2008:184). These four categories distinguish the type of players and what appeals to them.

Killer

Unlike Achievers, who compete with other players, and Socializers, who seek to communicate with them, Killers seek to beat them. Not in an abstract competition as an Achiever would, but by direct competition, usually combat. This form of combat, which usually results in the (temporary) death of a character, is called player-killing. It was originally considered antithetical to longterm game play, but many online multiplayer games now have a “separate but equal” section for this sort of playing style. Like Socializers, other players are content ... they just happen to be prey.

Explorer

Explorers thrive on content; they search through it, they collect it, they discover it. As such, rich worlds appeal to them. They are also the most “codehungry” form of player, requiring enormous amounts of content to keep them interested. Areas that have been already explored quickly become less appealing. T.L. Taylor in Play Between Worlds posits that females may be more inclined to be explorers (2006:97). In the real world, gender plays a significant role in the ability to travel safely. In virtual worlds, that threat is still present but equalized across genders.

Quests, in particular, are a large part of what explorers enjoy. Unfortunately, the nature of the Internet means that the excitement for explorers fades quickly as the community of explorers discovers and shares the content:

After a couple years, every monthly update was spoiled within days (if not hours) of the patch, and there would be a line of players waiting for a turn at the quest of the month. While a player always has the option of not visiting the websites or using the plug-in cheats, the vast majority of the player base usually opts to do so. This takes away some of the mystique, since you can’t avoid hearing about it in-game. Tabletop RPGs will rarely have that problem. While you can always go and buy your own copy of the module/campaign, fewer people would cheat themselves out of the opportunity to experience the story as it unfolds. On-line, the mantra of “exploit early, exploit often” is all-too often seen in players trying to “win” a game that should be about the journey, not the destination [Jellig 2010].

Socializer

Socializers, on the other hand, find other players as content. They are happiest forming social networks within the game world, although this isn’t necessarily the same as role-playing within the game world. Socializers most enjoy content that supports their style of socializing, be it interactive communities, the ability to wed other characters within the game, or a structure to organize into clans.

Achiever

Achievers are levelers or grinders; their goal is to win, or at least accumulate as much as possible. Achievers, also known as power gamers, are defined by Taylor as being constantly engaged in extremely focused goal setting, ranging from leveling up to acquiring certain equipment to defeating a particular monster (2006:75).

Achievers find a middle ground between Socializers, who rely on others as content, and Explorers, who rely on the game’s content. Achievers burn through content at a high rate as they increase in power, often through “levelgrinding” power structures. The advantage of this form of power-leveling is that ranks are easily identifiable, and this often translates into a form of hierarchy. This hierarchy, usually designated by one number tied to the character like a level, provides the other satisfaction of an Achiever—he or she achieves in comparison to others. It’s not just enough to achieve a high level; an Achiever wants to have a higher level than everyone else.

Unlike Socializers and Explorers, Achievers and Killers are toxic to MUD environments, especially in the early development phases of young MUDs that are still establishing their player community. RetroMUD’s similarity to other MUDs attracted the bitter, the angry, the violent players from those games. It took years and frequent intervention by the coding staff to create an environment that was stable enough to attract players of the other play styles.

That said, Killers and Achievers make games better. Player-killing, when appropriately regulated, can be very exciting—it’s the ultimate in ergodics, where two players are pitted against each other. Achievers test the limits of a game’s system; they are the best beta testers and will discover a game’s flaws quickly.

Ultimately, all four play styles are perfectly valid means for players to approach a game, a sentiment echoed by RetroMUD’s administrators:

The number one thing I’ve learned is that players are people too. They have faults, they grow and change, some mature. Sometimes they come to Retro to escape their problems, sometimes they bring their problems into the game. Anyone can have a good day or a bad day, can make mistakes or learn from them [Fallah 2010].

Anonymity

My master’s thesis, The Impact of Anonymity on Disinhibition Over Computer-Mediated Communication, found relevance in the online gaming world when Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik at Penny Arcade launched their own hypothesis, the Internet Fuckwad Theory. This theory stated essentially the same thing: when players are anonymous, with no chance of reprisal for their actions, they revert to coarse behavior. My friend Chris Bibbs noted the similarities and sent Penny Arcade a link to my thesis. When Penny Arcade in turn posted the link, my site received far more hits than it received in the five prior years.

As a result of Penny Arcade’s publicity, sites all over the globe picked up on it and it was even referenced in The Washington Times in “Around the Water Cooler.” The reference cast me as a “Michigan State scholar” and incorrectly summarized my thesis as stating that people tend to swear more when they’re anonymous.

My thesis focused on how technology changes the way we perceive each other and ourselves. Computer-mediated communication, for example, allows us to contact thousands of people within seconds without actually standing in their presence. This anonymity affects how we perceive each other, how we interact with these perceptions of others, and the degree to which our social environment restricts us.

In my thesis, I posited that many users feel uninhibited and unrestrained because of a lack of social context cues and therefore exhibit more disinhibition in the form of insults, swearing, and hostile language (Walther 1993) than if they were communicating face-to-face with the same people (Siegel, Kiesler and McGuire 1984). The lack of social context cues can cause excited and uninhibited communication.

Singh described anonymity of MUDs as a double-edged sword. “It allows you to leave your real-life self behind and be, in your imagination, all the things that in reality you are not.... And since other players can also be whatever they choose, any form, shape, sex or size, you have no idea of who or what they are in real life” (1999:198).

The purpose of my study was to determine if experience with computermediated communication would alter a computer user’s behavior and perceptions. Specifically, the study tested the effect of objective anonymity and experience upon disinhibitive behavior in computer-mediated communication.

I defined computer-mediated communication as the synchronous or asynchronous process by which people create, exchange, and perceive information using networked telecommunications systems that facilitate encoding, transmitting, and decoding messages (Kiesler and Sproull 1992). For the purposes of the study, this definition did not include graphic mediums such as the World Wide Web or MMORPGs, as they incorporate advanced visual cues that textbased mediums do not normally provide. More visual cues have a higher relevance over their textual counterparts, and therefore provide “normal artifacts” which are more similar to face-to-face communication than text-based communication.

A user’s perceived anonymity is the ability to remain unaccountable within his or her social environment for actions and dialogue, both legally and socially. A user’s personal views are influenced by lack of visual appearance, the flexibility of a label that is different from the user’s normal persona, and relative protection from physical and social repercussions. Users may often perceive that they are anonymous when they are not, may find a deeply personal attachment to a label so that it becomes part of their own personality, or may be far less protected from repercussions than they perceive. The ability to accurately perceive one’s objective anonymity in relation to others over computer-mediated communication is directly tied to the user’s experience with that medium (Orcutt and Anderson 1996). Since there is no way of knowing who has signed onto a specific account in a MUD, users may not be motivated to communicate sensitive issues.

Disinhibitive behavior is not limited to only rude or offensive interaction. Users of text-based systems can express informational disinhibition, becoming more connected with people who share common interests but with whom they would otherwise be unacquainted (Rice and Love 1987).

In a MUD, all beginning users start out as anonymous. Aarseth found the anonymity of self and other to contribute to MUDs where the “use of anonymity, multiple nicknames, identity experiments (e.g., gender swapping), and a generally ludic atmosphere suggests that the participants are not out to strengthen their position in society but rather to escape momentarily from it through the creation of an ironic mirror that will allow any symbolic pleasure imaginable” (1997:144).

Users who wish to distinguish themselves from their anonymous counterparts must provide information about themselves by creating a character, while users who desire to know more about whom they are communicating with must accumulate more information through further communication. Each of these forms of anonymity creates a different form of disinhibition.

It’s possible that inflammatory disinhibition occurs because without nonverbal and paralinguistic cues, a user’s become selfish, more concerned about themselves than the feelings or welfare of others. She is less likely to form impressions of other users as distinct individuals because she does not have enough information to distinguish them (Kiesler and Sproull 1992; Walther 1992).

Beck and Wade in Got Game compared this selfish focus to piano lessons. Both game-playing and piano lessons include complex hand movement and emphasize the value of repetition and the difficulty in sharing the experience. And the thousands of people who play piano are no less isolated than the general population. Their survey made it very clear: gamers are not isolated, introverted, or unsociable. In fact, the game generation was slightly more people-oriented than those who didn’t play games. There is a trend that suggests the more time gamers spend playing games, the more sociable they believe themselves to be (2004:113).

The members of the game generation surveyed indicated that gamers need relationships with people more often. Beck and Wade found that roughly half of gamers played games for the social experience. Playing MUDs connects the player to strangers, competing with them or collaborating with them while advancing one’s own social status.

The lack of nonverbal cues about physical appearance, authority, status, and turn-taking also allows users to participate more equally in MUDs than in many face-to-face interactions. These cues are flexible, as there is no consistent visual appearance to which a user is bound. Participants use words alone to reconstruct contexts in their own image, adding imagined actions and metadescriptions to the running dialogue, typographically set apart from words meant as straight dialogue. They also add modifiers to the strict definition of words, indicating intention, mood, or other contextual cues that would normally be lacking (Froomkin 1995). Different MUDs allow different levels of self-description. Some MUDs are locked in to a particular kind of appearance based on the character’s race or class, while others are completely fluid and can even be changed on the fly.

Some investigators (Rice and Love 1987; Walther 1992) have hypothesized that text-based communication technologies attenuate social context cues even more than paper communication. Uncertainty reduction needs combined with accessibility and a selective channel for expression allow the user to choose his self-representation and relational behavior. In this mode, the user may plan, contemplate, and edit his comments much more than in spontaneous face-toface interactions. Users can use disinhibitive behavior to express political views without fear of retaliation, engage in whistle-blowing while remaining undetected, and seek advice about embarrassing personal problems with the knowledge that their true identity is kept secret (Froomkin 1995). Over time, as a user’s knowledge of the medium increases, her ability to create desired impressions should increase.

The absence of social context cues could result in more disinhibitive behavior and polarization of attitudes, creating more negative perceptions of group members. Because others exist only within the context of the computer medium, a user can leave the MUD and the entire virtual society ceases to influence that user (Brook and Boal 1995).

Lack of cues can also cause informational disinhibition. Anonymity can help people overcome social inhibitions, encourage communication across social or psychological boundaries, and deregulate group behavior (Kiesler and Sproull 1992). In MUDs, such de-individuation involves a decrease in selfawareness and a corresponding loss of identity. This occurs when group salience is high, because the prototypical image or ideal of the group is not contaminated by viewing the other players, who, by their mere appearance may be perceived as deviating from group norms in some way (Spears, Lea, and Lee 1990). As Barton explains in Dungeons & Desktops (2008:41), “players might also be folks too shy to participate in face-to-face sessions.”

The absence of these social context cues makes it difficult for people to perceive and adapt to social roles and situational norms because static cues are derived from artifacts that delineate levels of power and authority (Kiesler and Sproull 1992). Because MUDs lack normal social context cues, authoritarian and dominance positions are shifted to other artifacts like levels and equipment.

Ultimately, my thesis proved that anonymity increased inflammatory disinhibition, but not informational disinhibition. It’s possible that users communicating over computer-mediated communication lack the initial visual cues that help define first-time encounters with others. This lack of definition as a person makes a target of disinhibition much less of a person. A user may be less empathetic to other users because she does not recognize the other users as individuals.

Second, because a user cannot suffer immediate physical harm and cannot be held legally or socially responsible for his actions, inflammatory disinhibition is a much more appealing recourse. There is no immediate accountability for any damage inflicted upon another user except verbal, and even then that may be limited if a user is capable of ignoring or ending the conversation. While a face-to-face communication may be forced to continue because one person is screaming and the other cannot help but listen, a computer-mediated communication can be immediately ended. Some MUDs have “ignore” functions that allow another character to be ignored entirely, providing the player much more control over the communication channel.

Informational disinhibition can lead to a tight-knit community, as players share information much more intimately and quickly than they would in a similar face-to-face setting. RetroMUD’s community is so tight-knit that it’s been responsible for some marriages. At least three couples met and were later married as a result of playing on RetroMUD. This isn’t unique to RetroMUD either; 8.7 percent of male players and 23.2 percent of female players have had an in-game wedding (Glenday 2008: 184). And of course, I met my wife over a MUD. The online sitcom The Guild has spun entire seasons of webisodes around precisely this topic (Day 2010).

Players

In Beck and Wade’s survey of gamers (2004:127), they discovered that the most experienced gamers chose a leadership style that solicited input from a group but ultimately made the decision. This style, commensurate with a party leader, lends itself well to disparate adventurers trying to survive in a hostile environment. It is a flexible approach that allows them to both draw upon the experience of the group and act quickly on it. In fact, this style of group consensus balanced with action-taking is reflective of more experienced business managers.

Indeed, the reality factor, the media richness that may be lacking in certain games, is not necessarily a barrier to immersion. According to Castronova, “Our apparatus for sensing the environment is adapted to the environment in which humans evolved,” an environment that did not have media in it. The default assumption is that everything perceived is real. Thus, immersion happens quickly because it is impractical to do otherwise; the player must engage in a constant stream of rejecting the experience (and thereby stop playing the game) or submit to it.

This immersion is further reinforced by the population playing the game. When a large group believes something, it becomes more expedient to believe along with them. When a “dragon” “kills” another player’s character, the group acts as if the character died (even temporarily). No one shrugs it off and says, “The dragon’s not real” (Castronova 2005:75).

Character Roles

RetroMUD has many races and primary, secondary, and tertiary classes, similar to Dungeons & Dragons’ prestige classes.

Races

RetroMUD has nearly sixty races covering a dizzying variety of character types. Practically every humanoid creature is represented, including some that aren’t humanoid at all, like the multi-eyed argus. RetroMUD includes additional statistics that other CRPGs later implemented, including maximum age, diet requirements, heartbeat speed, vision, available equipment slots, advantages and disadvantages, resistances and vulnerabilities.

Classes

Traditional Dungeons & Dragons classes have transitioned to MUDs largely intact with one exception: the thief. In a free-flow narrative where the Dungeon Master describes the environment, consistent definitions of a wall, a door, or a trap are all mutable. A thief who interacts with his environment is a challenge for coders because the environment must be coded to react in a consistent way; doors must be picked, walls must be climbed, and traps must be deactivated in a coherent way. Ironically, this adventurous problem-solving spirit was what led to early interactive fiction.

RetroMUD allows multiclassing in three tiers: primary guilds (20 levels), secondary guilds (14 levels) and tertiary guilds (9 levels). All guilds bestow a combination of regeneration bonuses (to hit points, spell points, and endurance points), attribute, skill and spell bonuses, and access to new skills or spells. Primary guilds can generally be freely multiclassed, allowing player characters to advance in any of them. A few, however, like paladin, have alignment restrictions. One’s primary guilds determine eligibility to join secondary guilds, which in turn determine eligibility to join tertiary guilds. Tertiary guilds usually require a quest to join, with one skill or spell granted at ninth level.

The traditional tabletop roles are all present: the Tank (a fighter) takes damage and defends the party. The Healer (a cleric) heals the Tank to allow him to keep fighting. The Nuker casts powerful offensive spells that inflict punishing damage from a distance, a role traditionally handled by the Dungeons & Dragons–style wizard. In addition to the standard “squad” roles borrowed from tabletop play, there are also several roles unique to MUDs.

DPSER • DPSer stands for “damage per second.” Unlike the Tank, who just has to stand there and be punished for being in the wrong place at the right time, the DPSer takes the battle to the opposition. He inflicts damage frequently, although not necessarily every second. The DPSer can be an archer, a blaster who gets in frequent shots (instead of his Nuker companion, who unloads his artillery in massive blasts), or a stabby rogue. RetroMUD uses the assassin guild for this purpose.

MEZZER • The Mezzer controls the opposition. His means of controlling foes varies. It can be paralysis, it can be sleep, it can be draining an ability score ... whatever the effect, the result is the same: the target is impaired. Traditionally this is limited to casters with the ability to enchant the opposition; witches, wizards with access to charm spells, or bards who can dazzle their opponents. RetroMUD uses the psionicist guild to fill this role.

PETMASTER • The Petmaster has pets that fight on his behalf. These pets can be anything, from henchmen to killer beasts to summoned demons to the living dead. As with the Mezzer, this role was less well defined in tabletop RPGs. It was formalized in 3.5 with the druid class’s ability to spontaneously summon animal allies. RetroMUD has a variety of guilds that fill this role, including druids and cultists.

TRAPPER • The Trapper inflicts damage asynchronously. His strength lies in his ability to defend against a pursuing foe, laying traps behind him as he goes. This has never been tabletop role-playing games’ strong point, if only because the heroic nature of conflict doesn’t lend itself well to tricking a monster into falling into a pit. In games where monsters follow the players, Trappers become much more feasible.

J_ACK • Finally there’s the Jack, short for “jack of all trades.” The rest of that phrase is “master of none,” and that’s the Jack’s strength and weakness. In theory, it makes him a perfect role for the leader. Bards have traditionally filled this role in the past, and fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons made an effort to bring that role into the mainstream with the Warlord. RetroMUD uses the bard guild for this purpose.

Status

Castronova (2005:113) touches on status and advancement being important aspects of massive multiplayer online role-playing games. He calls the accumulation of power, levels, and experience “avatar capital”—the virtual equivalent of “human capital.” This inevitable climb through a level or pointbased system is seen by some as Sisyphean, an endless treadmill wherein the character acquires more power in what are at base meaningless markers decided by the game developers.

What is just as important, if not more so, than advancement, is status. The two are intricately tied together. All characters begin on equal footing at first level. Despite every game developer’s goal of creating just such a level playing field, players inevitably feel that certain combinations of race, guild, and equipment are a faster path to advancement, just like in real life. Still, this does not prevent perceptions of status to be assigned to advancement.

In MUDs, status is often assigned through a leveling system. It’s telling that coders and programmers sometimes provide themselves with a level much higher than any player, thereby establishing dominance in a hierarchy. Conversely, becoming a programmer on a MUD and thus a staff member is sometimes part of a leveling requirement.

This issue, of status and advancement tied together, is a challenge for many games that use a form of MUD school to educate new players. These “newbie schools” create the impression that new player characters are children—helpless beginners who need to be taught how to play the game. The new player (newbie) is handed a weapon like a ruler and then asked to fight rats or butterflies. Mazyar Fallah, RetroMUD administrator, explained the issues with level and status:

It is basically level stereotyping: low level characters are often seen as representing kids playing. This is most prevalent in the playerbase though sometimes the coding staff exhibits the same behavior. After level, the next social status determinant is how long someone has played the game. The more years they’ve been around, regardless of level, the higher their social status. Again, this means that the view of a player behind the character is one of aging, in the “respect your elders way,” the longer they’ve been around [2010].

The best MUD schools are not schools at all, but part of the game experience that helps new players get assimilated into the game, both socially, to the player base, and personally, to the game’s rules and regulations. The worst MUD schools are patches to game systems with poor documentation that really exist to reinforce why players don’t want to join—which turns off casual players at a critical time, when they’re deciding whether or not they want to play the game (Juul 2004:139).

To address this issue, RetroMUD instead created a “helper” character whose job is to advise the new player, heal him, and otherwise provide a means of getting around the universe. This guide appears in a form appropriate to the universe—it is not a meta-guide to gaming or a walkthrough. It is conducted entirely within the fantasy experience.

The problem with status and levels is that it begins to shape the reality of the game; lower-level players perceive themselves as worthless and highlevel players perceive themselves as morally superior. Of course, the primary component to success in any level-based system is time—players with more time on their hands are capable of becoming much more powerful than similar players who cannot devote as much attention to the game. The prestige associated with all high-level players is not necessarily well-deserved. One RetroMUD player summed up the problem:

Ah, levels, a.k.a. the number that tells us how much you suck and I rock. Along with creation date, levels determine how people treat you. If you’re a low level with an old creation date, people think you’re inexperienced, because you should have been able to level by now. If you’re a high level with a recent creation date, people think you’re a clueless newbie who’s just been spoonfed and powerleveled through everything. If you’re a low level character with a recent creation date, people either hate you or help you depending on who they are, and if you’re a high-level player with an old creation date, you’re pretty much set. All you have to do now is either idle all day or grind through your last few levels, and you’ll fit right in with your fellow elite players. It’s actually a lot more complicated than that, but in general, people of low levels aspire towards higher levels, people in the middle either grind harder to level up or don’t see the appeal of higher levels, and people that have attained “highbie” status scoff at those that don’t recognize the powers you attain when your character is in the endgame [Smith 2010].

Game developers work hard to make the game challenging for all levels, but part of high-level status is that players feel they shouldn’t have to work as hard. Although the sliding scale may appeal to designers as a means of sustaining the Sisyphean grind, high-level players can become frustrated that the game doesn’t get easier.

In tabletop role-playing games, this notion of status didn’t exist beyond small groups. A player who played for a long time or had a high-level character was accorded status, perhaps due to metagame advantages like hosting the game or owning all the rulebooks. But his status only extended to other gamers he played with. Encountering another player and showing him a high-level character sheet might engender suspicion—certainly, the player could simply have created a high-level character and claimed he had actually played through all the required hurdles to achieve such power.

MMORPGs and MUDs, however, have an agreed-upon rules set, the “nature” referenced by Castronova. Therefore, there is a basic agreed-upon understanding that high-level characters have “earned” their keep. They might be accused of cheating, but the cheating took place within the framework of the game’s advancement structure. Thus, their status is considerably more widespread because multiplayer online games tend to be massive, often numbering players in the thousands.

RetroMUD eschewed the massive multiplayer “endless levels” system and committed to 100 levels, with the ability to “remort.” Remorting allows players who have reached 100th level to begin again with exclusive races available only to 100th-level characters. RetroMUD modulates levels through experience point modifiers by race; the more powerful races receive experience points at a slower rate.

Conclusion

There is much to learn from the territory where MUDs have tread. Many of the innovations later introduced to MMORPGs and tabletop RPGs were play-tested and refined on MUDs. MUDs had prestige classes, expanded playable races beyond traditional Middle-earth tropes, and cemented standardized rules for eating, sleeping, age, and size long before they were formally introduced into tabletop play. EverQuest’s parser was surprisingly similar to DIKU. Sworn affidavits confirmed that EverQuest was not explicitly built using DIKU code, but the MMORPG was clearly inspired by it (Taylor 2006:144).

MMORPGs are even adopting the financial models that make MUDs successful. Unlike MMORPGs, commercial MUDs moved away from a monthly fee, instead allowing players to play for free but requiring them to purchase in-game benefits. This low barrier to entry has the added advantage of attracting new players. It also takes advantage of the status competition of leveling systems. Those playing for free might be tempted to buy their way to power by spending funds on in-game advantages. Dungeons & Dragons Online recently adopted this model when it became Dungeons & Dragons Online Unlimited. We’ll discuss Dungeons & Dragons Online in more detail in the MMORPG chapter.

SEVEN

COMPUTER ROLE-PLAYING GAMES

We were one of those fortunate groups to gain the use of a 4K (4,000 bit) memory, BASIC speaking microcomputer. We mentioned to several fellow DMs and gamers of our plans to program it to handle role playing games (D&D, Boot Hill), and to my surprise there was a lot of concern about letting a machine become a part of role playing games. Well, either I did a lousy job of explaining the planned programming (possible as I am by no stretch of the imagination a computer scientist, merely a gamer looking for new ways to use technology in gaming) or the concern was unwarranted. As any of our group of gamers can testify, the SAFE has improved our handling of the mechanics of our campaign, at no expense to creativity [Krebs 1979].

Introduction

Computer role-playing games (CRPGs) incorporate a numerical leveling and experience point system, gained through the outcome of unpredictable events on an electronic platform. These increases in power reduce the chances of the character dying, which has a distinct influence on how the game plays. Contrast this with interactive fiction games, which abstractly portray a character’s skill and abilities (Barton 2008:8).

Fantasy CRPGs borrowed heavily from Dungeons & Dragons rules, though developers have felt free to modify them (2008:23). This is not to say that Dungeons & Dragons is the source of all fantasy-themed CRPGs. Iron Crown Enterprise’s Shadow World campaign setting took form in Simutronic’s GemStone game. The Shard of Spring featured a leveling and training system inspired by Steve Jackson’s The Fantasy Trip.

Unlike tabletop role-playing games, the level of rules comprehension required to play CRPGs is much less because the computer handles the majority of the computations, making the barrier to entry that much lower. As a result, it’s possible for a player to play a computer RPG without actually understanding how the rules work and thus play it incorrectly (Harrigan and Wardrip-Fruin 2007:107). On the other hand, computer RPGs can handle complex mechanics that would be unwieldy for players to calculate, especially on a large scale with multiple variables. Computer games can also surprise players by concealing variables that might otherwise be known to players deeply involved in the game’s system (Crawford 2007:169).

History

The advent of the personal computer meant game developers could release their games commercially. This kicked off a crude but bold era of experimentation which Barton terms the Bronze Age (2008:43).

Wizard’s Castle was released by Joseph R. Power for Exidy’s obscure Sorcerer platform in 1979. Programmed in BASIC, Wizard’s Castle was an achievement because it was published in a computer magazine. I remember helping my parents type in lines upon lines of code from just such magazines, only to have the game fail to work fifty percent of the time because of a missing comma. This training—which was really more about perseverance and less about coding skill—would serve me well when coding for a MUD later.

Wizard’s Castle allowed the player to choose a variety of races (elf, dwarf, man, or hobbit), gender, and allocate points to three statistics: strength, intelligence, and dexterity. It also featured the all-important light source, illuminating the map depending on the strength of the source. All this in just five thousand lines of code (Barton 2008:50).

Also in 1979, The Temple of Apshai was released from Epyx. Like Zork, Temple of Apshai consisted of one character dungeon-crawling for treasure. As he traveled deeper and deeper, he gained weapons and armor that made him even more powerful. Killing monsters gave him experience and increased his level of power, just like in Dungeons & Dragons.

Like the tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons, Temple of Apshai used printed descriptions in an accompanying booklet to explain what was in each room. This is similar to the layout of the adventures of the tabletop version, where the Dungeon Master would read what was in the room when the players reached that room. In Temple of Apshai, the player reads the descriptions to himself.

I played Temple of Apshai frequently. Because the statistics matched traditional Dungeons & Dragons and could easily be adjusted, I was able to convert my character. The challenge, of course, is that Apshai didn’t use classes or races. Your character was a typical adventurer, capable of wielding weapons, reading spells from scrolls, and using magic items. I determined that the ultimate adventurer was a ranger/thief; rangers could cast spells, and thieves could read scrolls in the first edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Temple of Apshai was the closest CRPG at the time that allowed a player to play “solo” his tabletop character without a Dungeon Master.

In 1980, Rogue was released. Rogue took Temple of Apshai to new extremes. Featuring ASCII graphics where monsters and items were represented by ASCII characters, it established the concept of a random dungeon generator. This idea had already been in the tabletop version of the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide, with randomized tables capable of being populated with monsters and treasure. This made the game ideal for dumb terminals with no graphic interfaces. In Rogue, the character moved through the keypad. Each dungeon had a grid of three rooms by three rooms as well as dead ends. Unlike other games, there was no general store to exchange equipment—the player character was forced to use only what he could find. Later levels included mazes and character tiles.

I played the graphical version of Rogue years later on the Atari 520 ST. I got far, but never far enough to retrieve the fabled Amulet of Yendor. Even if you did get the amulet, you had to get back OUT again, which was no simple task. The most horrible of Rogue’s beasts were ur-viles, I had no idea at the time that these creatures originally debuted in Stephen R. Donaldson’s novel The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever.

In 1980 The Tarturian was released for the Apple II. It featured large parties of up to ten characters and a wide variety of classes: cleric, elf, gladiator, magician, strongman, thief, or wizard. It was one of the first to heavily rely on party dynamics, such that each party member relied on the other for success (Barton 2008:53).

Dungeon Campaign, Wilderness Campaign for the Apple II in 1980 featured some 80 adventurers roaming in a massive mob—more an army, really. This was one of the first games to feature encumbrance limits and food requirements (Barton 2008:54).

Also in 1980 came the fledgling version of Ultima, called Akalabeth, which heralded the Silver Age of CRPGs according to Barton (2008:63). The name comes from Tolkien’s Akallabeth, part of The Silmarillion. Richard Garriott coded it in BASIC for the Apple II, distributing it himself in Ziploc bags until the California Pacific Computer Company bought the rights to distribute it. The player receives quests from Lord British to kill a series of monsters, each more difficult than the last. Akalabeth’s original name was D&D28b, as it was the twenty-eighth version of a Dungeons & Dragons–inspired CRPG that Garriott had coded. Barton theorizes that the first 27 were in fact gaming aids for the tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons (Barton 2008:48).

Akalabeth was also noteworthy because it featured a simple wire-frame first-person perspective, in addition to an aboveground map and text. Akalabeth included many tropes found in tabletop role-playing games, including choice of character class, attributes, experience points, and a leveling system. The game sold tens of thousands of copies (2008:1).

Akalabeth is often considered the first of the Ultima series, and has been referenced as Ultima 0. In many ways, computer games retained these same fantasy elements. Perhaps the most representative of the CRPG genre is the Ultima franchise. Released in black and white in 1980 and followed by seven sequels, Ultima was always improving.

Ultima was famous for its undocumented features. You could bribe guards, even though it wasn’t immediately obvious this was an option. There were unlisted items in shops that would give you a considerable advantage. And there were hidden areas and secret doors which could be found using the search command. By Ultima IV, spell components were included to cast spells and certain mantras were necessary at shrines. The reagents had to be mixed in certain proportions lest something catastrophic happen. Some components even had to be found rather than bought, which required the character to search for them in certain locations at certain times.

Ultima featured a point-buy system across six attributes: strength, agility (dexterity), stamina (constitution), charisma, wisdom, and intelligence. There were four classes to choose from: fighter, cleric, wizard, or thief; and four races, including hobbits. Ultima III allowed control of a party of four adventurers rather than a single hero. Equipment was shared by the whole group. Most importantly, Ultima was a living world—people went to work, came home, and went to bed (Barton 2008:68).

In 1981, Sir-Tech Software, Inc. released Wizardry: Proving Grounds of the Mad Overlord. It was one of the first Dungeons & Dragons CRPGs offering color graphics. As in the later Gold Box games, a party could be created and ported between the games as the characters advanced.

Whereas previous games centered on creating a single adventurer, Wizardry perfected the party experience. Up to six characters from an assortment of races were possible: dwarf, elf, gnome, hobbit, and human; and four classes: fighter, mage, priest, and thief. It featured six stats: strength, I.Q. (intelligence), piety, vitality (constitution), agility (dexterity) and luck. There were also four elite classes, shades of prestige classes that would appear later in Dungeons & Dragons 3.0: bishop, samurai, lord, and ninja. The party then ventured into a maze of ten levels, with each level becoming progressively more difficult.

Wizardry used a first-person perspective and three-dimensional vector graphics supplemented with textual descriptions. When monsters were encountered, the picture of the maze was replaced by the monster.

Inspired by Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, Wizardry was very unforgiving. There was no mapping program, which meant that players had to draw their own map as the game unfolded, just like early tabletop RPGs. The party could be randomly teleported into a solid object, killing them instantly—also an artifact of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Wizardry would go on for another eight installments over the next twenty years.

In 1982 Starpath debuted Dragonstomper. Created by Stephen Landrum and making use of the Starpath Supercharger, Dragonstomper was the only true role-playing game for the Atari 2600 (Glenday 2008: 156).

Dragonstomper involved, appropriately enough, dragonslaying. The character’s goal was to retrieve a magical amulet from a dragon. The player wandered the countryside, killing randomly encountered monsters and gaining gold and experience, thus raising his strength and dexterity. In his attempt to gather enough cash to bribe the bridge guard or find an ID that would let him pass, the character explored huts, churches, and castles populated with vermin, animals, and humanoid menaces.

Having passed the first challenge, the character then entered the oppressed village, where he could sell the items he picked up in the wilderness and buy new equipment. Up to three men-at-arms could be bribed to help the character in his final confrontation. When he felt he was ready, he entered the Dragon’s Cave.

The Dragon’s Cave was a long hallway of traps; poison darts and magical bursts of energy. Using a combination of magic and speed, the surviving character finds himself in the Dragon’s Lair. In the lair, the game alternated between the character and the dragon taking steps towards each other. Menat-arms served as cannon fodder in the fight. Had it not been for the video game crash of 1983, Dragonstomper would likely have heralded future innovative games for the Atari 2600 using the Starpath Supercharger.

Also in 1982, Tunnels of Doom was released by Kevin Kenney for the TI-99/4A computer system. Tunnels of Doom consisted of up to four players controlling the fates of four characters in a standard dungeon crawl. Parties of four characters could choose from the fighter, rogue, and wizard class. The hero class was available only to solo players, making Tunnels of Doom one of the first CRPGs to accommodate a group of players as well as single play. As with the Rogue-likes before it, Tunnels of Doom featured random encounters with monsters, wildly varying treasure, and a final quest that required the lost king to be defeated (Barton 2008:81).

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Cloudy Mountain was one of the first RPGs to be officially licensed for a gaming platform. It debuted on the Intellivision by Mattel Electronics. Cloudy Mountain featured three adventurers (each one representing a “game life”) questing for the two pieces of the Crown of Kings. It took me years to get my hands on Cloudy Mountain. Nearly two decades after it was released, I was able to play the game to completion.

In 1983, Don Daglow, the creator of DNGEON, helped produce Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Treasures of Tarmin. Treasures of Tarmin featured a first-person, three-dimensional view. It was also one of the earliest examples of monster difficulty coded by color (Archer 2004:86).

Return of Heracles was released in 1983 by Quality Software, written by Stuart Smith. Set in Greek myth, Return of Heracles was unique because it allowed the player to take on multiple roles, up to nineteen in total, ranging from Autolycus the thief to Pegasus the winged horse, from Odysseus to his faithful dog Argus. Return of Heracles was one of the first role-playing games to feature non-humanoid creatures as playable characters. All the characters had their own special ability relevant to their role in Greek myth; Asclepius could heal, animal characters could not attack or be attacked by members of their own species, and some heroes came with their own retainers. The heroes then had twelve tasks to complete, similar to the Twelve Labors of Heracles. Each successfully completed quest bestowed an item or advantage, from the Nemean Lion’s hide to the Golden Fleece (Barton 2008:83).

Each character was defined by three characteristics: strength, dexterity, and speed. There were three combat skills: defense, sword, and dagger. Equipment could range from cheap to fine, a first for role-playing games and even for Dungeons & Dragons, which didn’t feature equipment degradation until later editions. The combat system allowed characters to wrestle as well as fight with swords, and equipment had the risk of breaking in combat. Armor reduced damage as well as dexterity, similar to Dungeons & Dragons. There was even poison, which did additional damage after each hit. The game also featured encumbrance, such that characters burdened by equipment moved slowly.

Return of Heracles was also noteworthy for the many fates that could befall characters. It was possible for characters to be turned into nonplayer characters due to a bad choice, like visiting Circe and being turned into a wild animal. The computer then took over for these characters, controlling their movement in the game.

Because my house was within walking distance to the nearby elementary school, all the local kids stopped by on the way to school. We had eight different kids playing Return of Heracles, each playing a different character as we wandered through the game.

The Golden Age of CRPGs commenced around 1985 with the arrival of high-quality role-playing games published in a very short period of time (Barton 2008:92).

Questron was released in 1984 by Strategic Simulations, Inc. Using mostly a top-down view, Questron featured mini-games that allowed the character to increase his attributes or to gamble gold pieces in blackjack and roulette. As play progressed, new equipment and weapons were invented, giving the character new items to invest in. Questron also featured monster immunities, requiring characters to switch tactics to defeat their foes.

As is probably evidenced in other chapters, I’m fond of playing bards. I eventually stumbled upon The Bard’s Tale, released in 1985 created by Interplay Productions (Glenday 2008:156) and written by Michael Cranford. Six characters may choose among bard, conjurer, hunter, magician, monk, paladin, rogue, and warrior classes. As in Wizardry, two advanced classes could be joined by conjurers and magicians with the appropriate set of requirements, sorcerer and wizard respectively. Even more revolutionary was the possibility of importing characters from Wizardry and Ultima III.

Bard’s Tale also featured unique music for each song, and these were key to solving some of the challenges in the game. Finally, CRPGs gave bards the respect they deserved. Bard’s Tale was noteworthy for its spell casting system, which required a combination of letters determined by the rulebook; it also happened to be a software anti-piracy measure. Like tabletop Dungeons & Dragons, Bard’s Tale provided few maps, so the player was on his own.

Bard’s Tale was the first CRPG to use animation on its monster pictures. It also graphically portrayed what spells were in effect on party members. Bard’s Tale introduced the ability to summon monsters to add them to the party. They could range from offensive beasts who breathed fire to living targets that absorbed damage. Bard’s Tale was one of the first games to use spells to solve puzzles.

1985 brought Phantasie, by Winston Douglas Wood and released by Strategic Simulations, Inc. It featured six characters with a choice of classes: fighter, monk, priest, ranger, thief, and wizard. The races included dwarf, elf, gnome, halfling, human, and “other,” which included non-human races. Phantasie combined a series of different styles of play; the town window handled the shop aspect of the game, there was a top-down style view for dungeons and world maps, and a separate window represented party position in a twodimensional view for combat (Barton 2008:103).

Phantasie’s plot revolved around an evil sorcerer and his black knights. Twenty scrolls were required to destroy their powerful soul-stealing rings. I remember Phantasie well. This was the origin of my character Blast, an elf wizard who specialized in blowing things to bits. I later transitioned the character to tabletop role-playing in the Role-Playing Game Association’s Living Greyhawk campaign as an evoker.

Gauntlet debuted in arcades in 1985. This fantasy-themed dungeon crawl from Atari featured four iconic characters: Questor the Elf, Merlin the Wizard, Thor the Warrior and Thyra the Valkyrie. Using a top-down perspective, Gauntlet threw an endless stream of monsters at player characters, which were in turn cut down by weapon or magic, at range or in melee. Gauntlet distilled the most violent, fast-paced elements of Dungeons & Dragons into a format that wouldn’t be replicated on desktop computers until Diablo.

Also in 1985, Wizard’s Crown featured a point-buy system for attributes. Up to eight characters could choose from classes: fighter, priest, ranger, and sorcerer. The game was also noteworthy for its multiclassing. Wizard’s Crown featured a quick combat feature, allowing fights of up to 99 combatants to be handled abstractly without a detailed breakdown of every turn. Wizard’s Crown also used the notion of “reach”—non-ranged weapons like polearms could strike at a distance, a feature introduced in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and formalized in the third edition of the game (Barton 2008:105).

The year 1986 brought The Shard of Spring for the Apple II by Craigh Roth and David Stark. It had a party of five characters consisting of up to five races: dwarf, elf, gnome, human, and troll—but only two classes (wizard and warrior).

Also in 1986, Realms of Darkness featured four races: dwarf, elf, gnome, human—and eight classes: fighter, sorcerer, priest, thief and four prestige classes. It also featured a text parser similar to interactive fiction. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the game was the ability to split up the party, useful for handling different encounters or scouting ahead (Barton 2008:112).

In 1986, Magic and Magic: The Secret of the Inner Sanctum, established a sophisticated universe that would go on for another nine installments as well as a real-time strategy game, Heroes of Might and Magic. Characters could choose from archer, cleric, knight, paladin, robber, and sorcerer as classes. Races included dwarf, elf, gnome, half-orc, and human.

Might and Magic was one of the first games to feature a rest command, which restored all hit points and spell points. Wandering monsters were always a possibility, so the player had to carefully choose where his party rested. The cities were groundbreaking, with certain cycles when items were sold in shops. The spell component system was simple, using just gems.

In addition to the standard spells, Might and Magic spells gave other special effects that would later be duplicated in the tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons. This is most emblematic in the spell Prismatic Ray (the equivalent of Dungeons & Dragons’ Prismatic Spray) which could poison, petrify, burn a target, and more. All told, the Might and Magic series areas were immense, with over twenty of them, each easily the equivalent of a single Wizardry level.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Vol. I was also released in 1986. It had non-linear gameplay and permanent player characters. This CRPG distinctly equated “Fellowship” with “party” (Barton 2008:203).

Dungeon Master was released for the Atari ST by FTL Games in 1987. It introduced real-time three-dimensional gameplay and a variety of innovations, including direct manipulation of the environment by clicking the mouse as well as first-person perspective. Also, the characters’ skills were improved directly through use, in contrast to the traditional Dungeons & Dragons style of “leveling up” to improve skills. Spell casting required a knowledge of symbols and how to combine them to cast the appropriate spell types. Sounds were used to indicate nearby creatures, and creatures were lit depending on the light source in the room. I remember playing Dungeon Master fondly. It went on to become the Atari ST’s best-selling product of all time, reaching over 50 percent market penetration of all Atari STs sold (Barton 2008:235).

Demon’s Winter, a sequel to The Shard of Spring, debuted in 1988. It added more classes: berserker, cleric, monk, paladin, ranger, scholar, sorcerer, thief, visionary, and wizard. Demon’s Winter also featured the worship of individual gods, first introduced in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and formalized in third edition of the rules.

In 1988, Dungeons &Dragons finally became part of the CRPG platform that had spawned so many imitators. Pool of Radiance, published by SSI, featured the standard demi-human races (dwarf, elf, gnome, half-elf, halfling) and classes (cleric, fighter, magic-user, and thief). However, it relied on the same multiclassing rules, particularly restricting multiclassing, which was always a complicated balance (Barton 2008:146).

Additionally, Pool of Radiance hewed strictly to Advanced Dungeons & Dragons rules, requiring spell memorization and slots. It also reinforced the importance of resting, which meant the characters could be ambushed as they rested to memorize spells. Enforcing D&D’s memorization multiplied the level of character management tenfold—memorizing spells during every night’s rest became a chore that wouldn’t be resolved until later versions of the game.

Heroes of the Lance, also published by SSI, followed the same year. Based on the Dragonlance novels by Margaret Weis and Tracey Hickman, Heroes of the Lance was a side-scroller that used actual Dungeons & Dragons statistics. Heroes of the Lance was challenging to play because the monsters were difficult and you couldn’t save the game. However, the game was noteworthy for being a true port—the Dungeons & Dragons statistics for the characters were exactly as they were in the Dragonlance rule book that was released earlier. In fact, part of the copyright protection asked for statistics of the characters that were published in the instructions accompanying the game, but players who played the tabletop version could bypass that protection by looking up the statistics in the book (Barton 2008:148).

Curse of the Azure Bonds, a sequel to Pool of Radiance, was published in 1989. An improvement over its predecessor, the game allowed characters to reach higher levels (fifth through tenth level) and fight more interesting enemies, including the drow in its first CRPG appearance. It also featured rangers and paladins, as well as dual classing. Other improvements included the ability to travel overland and the “fix” command, which cast healing spells on characters and performed memorization of spell slots for casters, speeding up the tabletop mechanics.

Hero’s Quest: So You Want to Be a Hero by Lori Ann Cole and released by Sierra On-line, was a single-player game that took a unique approach to gaming. A customized adventurer chose one of three classes: fighter, magicuser, or thief. Although skills were available to all three, the game flexed to accommodate the player’s choice. Skills were advanced through use rather than the traditional Dungeons & Dragons leveling system.

What set Hero’s Quest apart was its level of realism. There were day and night cycles, as in the later Drakkhen, but Hero’s Quest took realism a step further. The character had to eat, had to rest, and increased his magical aptitude through use alone. It was also noteworthy for its combination of pointand-click movement and exploration along with a text parser (Barton 2008:230).

Tangled Tales, by Origin, debuted in 1988. Tangled Tales was noteworthy for how it portrayed statistics; whereas the majority of CRPGs shared the nuts and bolts of the game system with the player, showing statistic numbers, experience points, and so on, Tangled Tales used adjectives instead for its four traits (charisma, intelligence, speed, and strength). It also featured the now familiar interaction tree for communicating with other characters.

Released in 1989, Knights of Legend was a turn-based game with stats for fatigue and foresight. It allowed over 30 character classes to choose from. It also featured a body-part-specific wound system.

Marc Blank published Journey: The Quest Begins in 1989. Under the player’s control was a party of adventurers (Montfort 2003:145). The party consisted of a carpenter, a healer, a wizard, and a merchant. It was the last game released by Infocom before parent company Activision closed the Cambridge office, reducing the company to a brand name only.

In 1990, Drakkhen was released by MicroProse. Drakkhen was notable for being one of the first role-playing games to have a three-dimensional playing field. It also featured a day/night cycle and sandbox-style play. Monsters had bizarre appearances as well as creepy sound effects. Four classes were available for the four-person party: fighter, magician, priest, and scout. Drakkhen was notorious for its random encounter tables full of deadly monsters, using its three-dimensional combat engine to great effect as a shadow man drew itself up out of the ground to attack, a giant cat head roared, or the constellations themselves animated and descended for battle. Mostly, Drakkhen was confusing and frustrating.

The year 1991 saw the launch of Eye of the Beholder, a first-person threedimensional dungeon experience. The player controlled four characters that fought monsters with a point-and-click interface. I fondly remember this series and even beat it, only to discover a lame ending with a blue window explaining how my adventurers killed the beholder and returned to the surface. It was followed that same year by Eye of the Beholder II, with the same four adventurers. Unlike the first game, Eye of the Beholder II had a plot and told a story through animated cut scenes. The third installment of the series didn’t do much to improve on its predecessors.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Vol. II: The Two Towers was also released in 1991. Although an improvement on the first volume of the game and an interesting addition its own right, it was hobbled by a brand associated with cartoonish characters from the animated movies and was not successful enough to warrant a third installment (Barton 2008:205).

The last of the Forgotten Realms series of Gold Box games, Pools of Darkness, allowed characters to reach 40th level. Reaching this level of power was necessary as the monsters were formidable. More importantly, the game had a freeform sandbox-style of play that is now common to many games. As a result of the sandbox style, one could concentrate exclusively on “leveling up” rather than being pushed towards a goal.

Treasures of the Savage Frontier, following Gateway to the Savage Frontier, was the last in the Gold Box series. It allowed characters up to twelfth level. Certain nonplayer characters could fall in love with the player character, depending on his actions. It also allowed the option to utilize allied forces, increasing the number of combatants (Barton 2008:157).

With the Gold Box engine starting to creak in its old age, SSI decided to give it a final send-off by creating Unlimited Adventures. Unlimited Adventures was basically a role-playing game construction kit, drawing on all the games that had been created before it for content. Hundreds of different monsters, triggers, and areas could be created, putting the power of adventure design on the computer in the hands of the player for the first time.

The success of Eye of the Beholder continued with Dungeon Hack, similar to Rogue way back when—a three-dimensional, randomly generated dungeon. The game was frighteningly addictive; even my mom was addicted to it!

The official arrival of Dungeons & Dragons in the arcades came in 1994. Tower of Doom featured a side scroller of four different characters (cleric, dwarf, elf, and fighter) fighting iconic Dungeons & Dragons monsters.

After SSI lost the Dungeons &Dragons license, TSR divided up the various settings between different publishers. Interplay took a shot at the genre with Blood & Magic, a real-time strategy game. Players took on the role of wizards, using blood magic to create monsters. It was, in essence, Magic: The Gathering in computer game format.

The biggest story of 1996 for CRPGs was Diablo, kicking off the Platinum Age of CRPGs (Barton 2008:287). Combining the fast action of Gauntlet with a limited character development system (rogue, sorcerer, warrior), Diablo perfected the visual engine for representing fantasy gaming statistics, from its rapid leveling system to its random monster generation. Along with its online multiplayer possibilities, Diablo revolutionized the industry and set the standard for isometric role-playing games (Barton 2008:319).

One of the last settings to be developed for second-edition Dungeons & Dragons was Birthright. Sierra created a real-time strategy game called Birthright: Gorgon’s Alliance. Inspired chiefly by Tolkien’s Middle-earth, Birthright was a universe profoundly influenced by bloodline, nation building, and war. As one of the heirs to a throne, the player took charge of a descendant of the royal bloodline on his quest to take over the world. Part strategy game, part adventure game, it failed in trying to please fans of each (Barton 2008:280).

A huge leap forward in fantasy CRPGs took place in 1997 with the debut of Final Fantasy. Final Fantasy’s influence was felt through comics, books, and even movies. Final Fantasy’s innovations included overland movement, nonplayer character (NPC) interaction, and anime-style combat. Other games may have done it first, but the Final Fantasy series did it better.

In 1998 came the second renaissance of Dungeons & Dragons games. BioWare produced Baldur’s Gate. Baldur’s Gate featured a real-time combat system from a third-person perspective. Alignment was determined by character interactions, and character positions in the party mattered. Plus, magic was rendered in breathtaking detail.

The year 2001 saw Pool of Radiance: Ruins of Myth Drannor, developed by Stormfront as a return to the Gold Box original of the same name. What was different is that it used the Dungeons & Dragons third edition rules set. That didn’t save it. In fact, Pool of Radiance was a disaster, with unforgivable offenses ranging from terrible animation and graphics to a bug that could erase your hard drive. Barton declared Pool of Radiance “the worst CRPG of all time” (2008:356).

Also in 2001, Icewind Dale was yet another sequel from Black Isle Studios. The Infinity engine, like the Gold Box engine before it, started to show its age, but development timelines being what they were meant the game was released anyway. Icewind Dale: Heart of Winter took place in a frosty climate separated from the rest of the world by the mountain range known as the Spine of the World. The plot revolved around the resurrected corpse of an ancient king possessed by some unseen force that gathers the barbarian tribes into a fearsome army. Interaction with a wide variety of NPCs, each with unique motivations, kept the story flowing.

The game allowed customization of six characters from scratch, using standard second edition race and class combinations. Further customization included a choice of weapon skills, portraits, and even character voices. Dualclass, multi-class, and weapon specialization were all included in the game to good effect. Alignment and attributes mattered, too. Characters with various charisma attributes and distinct alignments garnered different responses from NPCs, while some actions reinforced a good character’s nature.

In 2002 Neverwinter Nights (NWN) was released by BioWare (Glenday 2008: 157). NWN was both a module creation tool and an adventure. It allowed players to download other adventures or make adventures and host them just like a “real” Dungeon Master. It was the closest thing to creating a graphical MUD—and could conceivably create a game bigger than most MUDs, with up to 64 players at one time. The adventure was compelling and massive, utilizing third edition rules. The campaign adventure series was surprisingly mature for its type, involving plagues, bad choices, murdered lovers, and vengeance. The combat system worked exceptionally well and even the trade system ran smoothly. Characters were more or less likely to be helpful depending on the character’s charisma. Characters with low intelligence even talked funny (“Me am strong!”). The monsters were beautifully rendered in threedimensional form, taking the static artwork from the Monster Manual to new levels. The game was, however, plagued with bugs.

The next age, our current age of gaming, is termed by Barton as the Modern Age—dominated by action, hidden game mechanics, and consoles that deemphasize typing and mouse use and optimize the controls for a gamepad (2008:365).

The year 2003 brought about Dungeons & Dragons: Heroes. I saw this game at Gen Con and bought an Xbox just to play it. The game played like Basic Dungeons & Dragons. There was no distinction of class, race, or gender, as the characters were pregenerated. The wizard was a female elf, the fighter a male human, the thief a female halfling, and the cleric a male dwarf. Characters started at sixth level. Additionally, the player characters had “ancestral weapons” that used the Japanese RPG-style “socket” technique to increase the weapon’s effectiveness. We’ll delve into sockets later in this chapter.

Baldur’s Gate: Dark Alliance II, a sequel to a sequel from Black Isle studios, used the same engine as Dungeons & Dragons: Heroes. The heroes journeyed from place to place to retrieve certain items at the behest of various employers, all of whom ultimately happen to be connected. Baldur’s Gate II was an inferior sequel that offered more of the same, only easier.

In 2004 came Fable by Lionhead Studios, a console RPG that prided itself on being solely focused on one character and giving incredible freedom of choice to develop him as the player saw fit. The game didn’t deliver on all of its promises but made great leaps in character customization.

In 2006, Elder Scrolls: Oblivion cemented the format of a sandbox fantasy role-playing game. Every character existed in its own routine, with a path it took each day; sleeping, eating and working. Although a plot was woven throughout the game, it was possible for a character to simply wander the world, interacting with the characters as they went about their daily lives.

Fellowship

The challenge of portraying an adventuring party in CRPGs was brought to light in Wizardry, which was enormously popular for its time. Unlike multiuser dungeons, games like Wizardry allowed one player to control an entire group of characters. There are two schools of thought on the subject: role immersion vs. party representation.

Role immersion involves relating to the character. It’s considerably harder for a player to role-play an entire party, with their varying genders, races, and classes. And yet the adventuring group is very much in the spirit of Tolkien’s Fellowship and Dungeons & Dragons parties. It also increases the strategy of the group exponentially; more characters means multiplying the complexity of the game by each person in the party. Tarturian is one example, which allowed a large party of up to ten characters.

It was rare to have a party be developed as anything more than pawns of the player. One notable exception was Ishar: Legend of the Fortress by Silmarils in 1992, which put the removal of a party member to a vote ... by the other party members! (Barton 2008:241).

On the other hand, someone playing one character makes it easier to roleplay the hero. It also allows considerably more control over the game environment. The player achieves more agency and the game can use the frame of reference “you” without pulling the player out of the game’s immersion. Current trends seem to point to the single-hero model (Barton 2008:73).

A compromise between the two types of parties is to start with a single character but then allow him to recruit other party members. These can be “henchmen”—characters just like the player character but in his employ. Or they can be hirelings, mercenaries employed for a fee (formalized in CRPGs in Magic Candle III), or summoned monsters.

Narrative

The aesthetic problem with CRPGs is that they seldom tell good stories. Unlike books or movies, CRPGs emphasize the setting and system over story. Instead CRPGs are actually simulations, almost entirely in the cognitive realm. Unlike interactive fiction, there are underlying numbers determining the majority of events that take place within fantasy CRPGs, turning any element of the game into a series of tactical and statistical decisions.

Because CRPGs tend to focus on combat and its statistical framework, the combats lend randomness to conflict. Different outcomes via a wide range of variables ensure that each playthrough is fresh. This seems to be the driving force behind sandbox games, wherein the game environment is made as expansive as possible—through enough combination of variables, the game generates its own narrative (Barton 2008:28).

With combat the main focus of many CRPGs, the rationale for such conflicts varies little. As Aarseth put it so eloquently, Diablo is basically Rogue with better graphics (2004:50). The nature of what makes games appealing isn’t the stories they tell, but the worlds we experience—which is why a randomly generated map or monster is as satisfying to gamers as a humanauthored character.

One player of Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind summed up the problem with telling stories in these sorts of games:

It’s quite an involved game, with an immensely complicated storyline. But that didn’t matter, because I was hopping and skipping my way to my next Acrobatics skill point while firing off random Destruction magic to try to master more powerful spells. If I saw something in my way I’d stab it for more Dagger experience, and then loot its corpse in an attempt to scrape together enough gold to study cool new spells. In doing so, I completely missed the storyline. I’m sure it was all very interesting—I went back and looked at parts of it later. But what was the point? Just words, right? I could be killing stuff instead of reading! [Smith 2010].

CRPG narratives can be grouped into the following categories (Walker 2007:307).

Search and Destroy

The adventurers are responsible for finding a particular villain and defeating him. On a micro scale, their goal is to fight a series of foes, each more powerful than the last. On a macro scale, the adventurers defeat the main villain, not unlike The Lord of the Rings’ Sauron. You might think the end goal would be the destruction of a ring, given the lineage of role-playing games, but for some reason orbs are popular, perhaps harking back to the palantirs of Middle-earth (Barton 2008:428).

Courier

The heroes collect an object and deliver it somewhere else. Sometimes the adventurers start out with the object, sometimes they must retrieve it. In any case, the item is of some value, so they are likely to be attacked for it. Again, this parallel is found in the quest of the One Ring, which had to be brought to Mount Doom to be destroyed. In this way, the courier quest can also be a part of a search and destroy quest.

Protect

The player either escorts a nonplayer character safely or defends an area from attack. Like Theoden’s last stand, this quest has its roots in The Lord of the Rings.

Explore

The heroes must find something or someone, often as prelude to the courier quest. This almost inevitably involves navigating a dungeon, wiping out monsters, and otherwise providing a public service of exploring an area that most sane people avoid.

Quests serve important purposes. They function as tutorials in how to play the game and encourage the player to explore it. Quests also help in “chunking up” the game so that it can be played in incremental amounts. What collectively would be considered daunting to explore is filtered to the player in a way he can more easily digest (Walker 2007:307).

In the early days when computer processing power was at a premium, instruction manuals acted as part of the CRPG experience. Different parts of the CRPG would reference the manual, which the player would then read. CRPGs combined elements of gamebooks and interactive fiction, while allowing processing power to be reserved for graphics and number crunching, most specifically for combat. Temple of Apshai followed this format, as did Dragon Wars (Barton 2008:199).

The issue of disrupting narrative due to metagame considerations has been with CRPGs for decades. Ideally, the system is invisible (Moulthrop 2004:65), a challenge that becomes increasingly surmountable as technology advances. There are some promising developments. Heavy Rain, by Quantic Dream, is a film noir thriller that features four different characters, each with their own perspective on the plot. There is no standard system for interacting with the game—context-sensitive actions become available as they arise, further reducing the simulationist structure of the game. Death isn’t the end of the game; the player continues with the remaining living characters. If they all die, the story concludes (Quantic Dreams Staff 2010).

Personalization

The majority of CRPGs display statistics as if the player had a rulebook at a table—numbers, numbers, numbers. The format for character creation followed the traditional Dungeons & Dragons method, which was a series of randomized or static numbers assigned to the character.

Dungeons & Dragons originally advocated random ability score generation, wherein the player would roll dice to determine his character’s statistics. This had significant repercussions in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, where certain classes could only be taken up by characters with the right combination of statistics. As a result, players often rolled up characters over and over until they ended up with the character they wanted.

Eventually, players realized that this was a pointless exercise. Although some players viewed characters with significant flaws as a role-playing opportunity, others wanted to play specific character types such as paladins from the outset.

CRPGs worked hard to address these concerns. Players could keep rolling the (virtual) dice until they got the character they wanted, in much the same fashion as a tabletop game. A point system to ensure total player control over the character’s attributes while at the same time limiting just how powerful the character could become was common in CRPGs and became formalized in the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons, which in turn was reflected in Icewind Dale II and Dragon Wars (Barton 2008:353).

Almost all the CRPGs feature statistics of some sort. The most basic utilized strength, dexterity, and a mental stat (usually wisdom or intelligence). These three statistics form the core of an adventurer and provide enough flexibility to allow dungeon exploration. As the classes and characters became more advanced, so, too, did the statistics. For the most part, they hewed closely to the six Dungeons & Dragons statistics. Occasionally some statistics were added, such as perception or the luck mechanic, which debuted in the Call of Cthulhu role-playing game. Realms of Arkania: Blade of Destiny featured qualities both negative (ranging from superstition to a violent temper) and positive (from courage to intuition, including the core statistics of strength, dexterity, wisdom, and charisma), which counterbalanced each other and affected game play (Barton 2008:243).

It wasn’t until Tangled Tales that statistics were described with adjectives instead of a score. Ultima’s Quest of the Avatar went a step further in using the player’s personality, not the character’s, to determine possible classes: shepherd (humility), tinker (sacrifice), bard (compassion), druid (justice), fighter (valor), ranger (spirituality), paladin (honor) or mage (honesty). Garriott created these rules to reinforce the moral lessons a fantasy role-playing game could impart on players at a time when tabletop role-playing games were receiving such a bad rap. The Dark Heart of Uukrul, produced by Broderbund Software in 1989, employed character creation rules using a multi-choice questionnaire rather than rolling statistics (Barton 2008:162). Darkspyre by Electronic Zoo, Elder Scrolls: Arena from U.S. Gold, and SSI’s Prophecy of the Shadow all featured a similar mechanic.

Hit points and armor class are also common in CRPGS, although some were replaced by real-time mechanics wherein the player controlled the character’s ability to dodge or hit a foe. Hit points in particular have been relegated to the background, replaced by an iconic representation: candles (e.g., Times of Lore), life stones (e.g., Might and Magic III: Isle of Terra), potion bottles (e.g., Ultima Underworld: The Stygian Abyss), bars, meters, or a physical depiction of the character reflecting his wounds.

Beyond these two attributes for combat, there was surprisingly little innovation in CRPGs. Dragon Wars featured stun points, which have a parallel in third edition Dungeons & Dragons’ non-lethal damage. Basically, a character who takes enough stun damage loses consciousness, but doesn’t die (Barton 2008:198).

Skill systems were much less common; Advanced Dungeons & Dragons began with “secondary skills”—the term implying that the character’s class abilities were his “primary” skills. Later editions renamed secondary skills “non-weapon proficiencies” to distinguish them from the skills used to kill monsters. Secondary skills were formally introduced to the CRPG genre in New World’s Gates to Another World (Barton 2008:188). Wizard’s Crown was one of the first CRPGs to feature a skill system independent of levels.

One of the reasons Advanced Dungeons & Dragons held off on skills for so long was because common skills blurred the line between classes. The third edition formalized skill usage so that certain classes could buy skills at a cheaper rate, helping maintain the uniqueness of each class despite the skill system. CRPGs, which adopted skill systems much earlier, sometimes made the mistake of providing all classes equal access to skills, as in Sacred from Ascaron Entertainment (Barton 2008:332).

It took a long time before skills manifested as anything more than just numbers on a screen. Thief skills, which were one of the earliest quantified skills in Dungeons & Dragons, are often the most emulated, if only because they’re interesting to portray on screen. Lock-picking became an official minigame with Hillsfar, which has since become popular with console roleplaying games (e.g., Crusades of the Dark Savant).

Alignment was rarely a factor in early CRPGs. Most games had no alignment system at all. Wizardry IV: The Return of Werdna (the reverse of the name Andrew, one of the game’s creators) put the player in the role of the evil Werdna, who had been defeated in the first game. Alignment became more of a factor as CRPGs became more advanced, preventing certain characters from joining certain classes and prohibiting opposing alignments from mixing with each other in an adventuring party.

When alignment did come into play, it featured a simple mechanic. Killing a good-aligned being made the character evil and vice versa. Later games expanded the possibilities of influencing alignment. Among these were donating to a particular religion, performing acts of kindness or cruelty, and the like. Fable demonstrated the dangers of quantifying moral behavior; a player could simply donate to the appropriate evil or good deity to reverse the consequences of ethical choices made in other parts of the game, in essence “buying off the gods” (Barton 2008:381).

Temple of Apshai was groundbreaking because it was a CRPG explicitly modeled after the traditional tabletop RPG style of play. Although characters from tabletop Dungeons & Dragons could be imported into the game, the dizzying variety of magic items couldn’t be accounted for. As the manual explained, “the limits of a microcomputer-based system do not yet permit the use of all the different sorts of magic items you may have picked up from other games” (Johnson 1982:9). The upper levels of the game were suitable for up to third level characters, while the lower levels were suitable for up to sixth level (Barton 2008:57).

Speaking of magic items, Japanese role-playing games introduced a “socketing” feature that is related to the Dungeons & Dragons “+N” system. The socketing feature combined magic item acquisition with weapons and armor improvement. This allowed different improvements, such as a green gem socketed into a weapon or armor bestowing acid damage or acid resistance, respectively.

Another feature common to Japanese CRPGs is the ability to combine items, thereby creating a different, more improved item. This variant, similar to socketing, provides incentive to mix mundane items with new results, providing each piece of equipment at least two or more uses. Arx Fatalis featured this mechanic (Barton 2008:315).

Spell-casting is perhaps where CRPGs varied most from the Dungeons &Dragons template. As established in earlier chapters, Middle-earth didn’t have a quantifiable magic tradition, and the Vancian school didn’t sit well with many game designers. Spell points were usually the solution, which allowed for quicker recovery of spells, a reflection of the psionics system introduced early in Dungeons & Dragons.

Other spell systems included combining elemental glyphs, finding reagents (Ultima), runes (Arx Fatalis) or even hand gestures (The Summoning). What’s interesting is that although Advanced Dungeons & Dragons implemented a component-based system (divided into verbal, somatic, and material), the careful accounting required of every component meant that in practice few players kept track of it. CRPGs provided a means of tracking components and holding the player accountable for the missing items, which meant spell casting became more of inventory management challenge (Barton 2008:266).

Risk

Unlike interactive fiction games, CRPGs channel a player’s energies into a narrower role, usually combat. Inheriting the Dungeons & Dragons legacy of miniatures rules and complexity, this is the mechanic best defined in fantasy gaming. As a result, CRPGs tend to emphasize this aspect of the game more than any other.

From a pure challenge perspective, although combat can be difficult, it is statistically surmountable. Solving a riddle in an IF game can lead to frustration, as it’s an either/or proposition; the player either solves the riddle or he doesn’t. Combat, using a dizzying number of variables, can be won. This leads to a form of trial and error on the part of the player, who experiments with such variables as party configurations, what magic to use, and what class and race combinations work best (Barton 2008:27).

One change to fighting monsters was to increase the difficulty in combating them. In Dungeons & Dragons special weapons were needed to defeat some monsters, and this was formalized in the third edition. Well before the third edition, Questron did it first (2008:100).

Another option that didn’t involve combat was parley. Early versions of Dungeons & Dragons emphasized the importance of negotiating with monsters when the player characters were outmatched. Wizard of Zot included a bribe system. Temple of Apshai featured a similar system as well as Phantasie, but it has never been a popular recourse in games that emphasize combat. Pool of Radiance took parleying to new levels, giving different options to approach the dialogue: haughty, sly, nice, meek or abusive (2008:146). Bloodwych from Konami in 1989 extended this mechanic further to allies, who could have their ego stroked so much that the end result ranged from overconfident henchmen to flattered merchants offering a better deal.

Wandering monsters best exemplified the combat focus of CRPGs. Characters could encounter monsters just by sitting still, forcing the player to always be on the alert. It was less of an issue for CRPGs that did not have a rest mechanic—wandering monsters had a penchant for striking at resting characters, who in turn posted guards. Wizard’s Crown featured just such a mechanic (Barton 2008:107) and Bard’s Tale would attack a party in real time, ambushing players who were away from their keyboard.

Resting is intimately tied to the Vancian form of spell recovery; spell point systems tend to regenerate over time, thus obviating the need to rest to recover them. But there were other ways to threaten characters besides combat.

One common mechanic that appeared early was feeding adventurers. The simplest games used food as a form of healing. Starting with Akalabeth and through the Ultima series, food was critical to survival. If the player character ran out of food the game was over. Dungeon Campaign, Wilderness Campaign continued the trend, expanding the amount of food consumption to a much larger group, on the scale of miniature wargames. Rogue, Might and Magic, and Dungeon Master all featured this mechanic, either inflicting damage if the character didn’t eat or preventing him from healing (Barton 2008:236).

Dungeon Campaign, Wilderness Campaign featured another complication borrowed from Dungeons & Dragons—encumbrance. The careful accounting of weapons, armor, and miscellaneous equipment had a price, especially for heavily burdened characters hauling treasure out of a dungeon. Because the onus is on the player to tabulate every item’s weight and because there are significant disadvantages to being overencumbered, few tabletop gamers do a good job of keeping track of encumbrance. CRPGs have no such restrictions.

Another means of inconveniencing characters was through a fatigue system. Fatigue could be used to restrict movement so that characters couldn’t easily flee or fight for long periods of time. Temple of Apshai used this mechanic. In addition, Dungeons of Daggorath featured a beating heart that sped up during combat and movement. Taking too many actions too quickly would cause the character to faint (Barton 2008:81).

Vision is another means of inconveniencing characters. An adventurer who can’t see can’t detect approaching monsters, falls victim to traps, and has difficulty mapping a dungeon. Perhaps the best example of this mechanic was Wizard’s Castle, which used text descriptions of what the character could hear in the distance and icons on a map to display what he could see (Barton 2008:49). Sword of Fargoal and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Cloudy Mountain also featured a “fog of war” mechanic.

Speaking of mapping, automapping took a long time to arrive in CRPGs. In early games it was assumed that the players would draw their own maps in much the same way that a player would be designated a mapper for Dungeons & Dragons.

Perhaps the biggest inconvenience for players in CRPGs is a meta-game challenge: saving. Fantasy role-playing games tend to be much more complex and in-depth than other games, with a higher reliance on continuity. As a result, save points were sometimes few and far between, as the game would have to account for a multitude of variables before saving. Early CRPGs didn’t even bother with saving due to these considerations, running the game in real time. Other games saved at certain points, like when resting or reaching a town.

There seems to be real discomfort on the part of game designers with the save game feature (Juul 2004:138). The ability to start over meant players could “game” the system by determining the best possible choice in a game without long-term consequences. Saving also pulls the player out of the game’s narrative, creating a form of dissonance that prevents agency because the player is reminded each time that he’s playing a game (Mateas 2004:27). Developers reacted by penalizing the player. Some games charged a penalty for saving, such as Legend of the Fortress, which charged the player (and thus his characters) gold (Barton 2008:242), while Blade of Destiny charged experience points.

Other CRPGs overtly discouraged saving, like Elder Scrolls: Daggerfall, which warned players about abusing the save game feature (Barton 2008:301). Most extreme was Shadow Sorcerer for the Dragonlance series: “If unavoidable interruptions do occur, you can save the game to disk. However, repetitive saving is not encouraged—take your losses like a man...” (SSI Staff 1991:3).

Roles

Temple of Apshai’s instruction manual describes tabletop role-playing as an onerous experience that requires a group of “reasonably experienced players,” a knowledgeable game master willing to put in “the tremendous amount of time necessary construct a functioning fantasy world,” and large chunks of playing time lasting from four to up to twenty hours. Temple of Apshai argued that a CRPG was better—with just one character to keep track of, “You can play for just as long or short a period as you like, and return whenever you feel like it.” In essence, it allowed players to adventure with just one character or “solo” (Johnson 1982:6).

Creator Roles

The advantage of having a computerized game master is that it keeps track of the virtual party. At a tabletop, dividing up the party either required extra recordkeeping for the game master or a co-game master. Realms of Darkness, Crystals of Arborea, and The Magic Candle all featured this option, which was a long time in coming. The Magic Candle split up the party even further by allowing the more craft-focused characters to stay behind and earn money (Barton 200:124).

Adventure Designer

Creating a game engine is key to making a profitable game. After creating a single unifying game engine, developers simply produce plug-in scenarios for subsequent installments. When the game system begins to show its age, game publishers release construction sets that allow the public to create their own games, thereby increasing the popularity overall. Sometimes, the users of these toolsets crafted content superior to that provided by publishers themselves.

The first of these toolsets was the Adventure Construction Set, published by Electronic Arts in 1985. It leveraged Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and The Return of Heracles as toolsets and included two scenarios, one based on Gilgamesh (Barton 2008:84). The Bard’s Tale Construction Set expanded the enormously popular Bard’s Tale series. Unlimited Adventures built on the even more expansive “Gold Box” games. These games created a sort of computerized game master, creating content that could be played by other players. Unlimited Adventures was followed by BioWare’s Neverwinter Nights (Barton 2008:172).

Bullfrog’s Dungeon Keeper made an entire game out of creating dungeons. While the tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons has always emphasized that the Dungeon Master is not the sole opponent of the players, Dungeon Keeper clearly cast the role as a foe. In Dungeon Keeper, the Dungeon Master was tasked with stocking his dungeon with monsters, ordering around his minions, and keeping the lot fed, happy, and alive in the face of invading adventurers.

The most recent innovation in creating CRPG content for other players is of course Neverwinter Nights. I tried my hand at creating an adventure with the toolset but never finished it. The time investment was more than I could spare.

Participant Roles

In Wizards of the Coast’s survey of gamers, 8 percent of gamers play or played CRPGs, approximately 7.3 million people. Of that group, approximately 4.5 million people, or 5 percent, played CRPGs monthly. Females comprised 21 percent of gamers. Of the computer role-playing gamers, 33 percent played tabletop role-playing games monthly and 13 percent played miniature wargames monthly (2000).

Video games are more and more a common ground for the sexes. Beck and Wade (2004:49) found that female participation rates were increasing.

Player

The world of games is deeply, implicitly commercial (Beck and Wade 2004:61). It is specifically a consumer experience, oriented in a selfish fashion to the player. All the game’s resources are centered on the player—it is, in essence, a carefully constructed piece of theater. It is supremely self-affirming, with few of the consequences that players are likely to encounter in real life.

Character Roles

One of the major differences in a CRPG is the addition of graphical avatars. The appearance of these avatars has a powerful effect in how the avatar is conveyed to the player. They are central to both immersion and the foundation of virtual communities (Taylor 2006:110).

Early games used a tile system to represent characters that eventually evolved into portraits. These portraits in turn became animated, adding audio components that further fleshed out each character’s personality. Portraits became three-dimensional characters, usually in the form of either an overhead view or an isometric perspective. This isometric perspective is similar to the use of miniatures on a tabletop game. Beyond the isometric perspective, threedimensional games place the player in the head of the character, viewing the world through his or her eyes. Barton makes this distinction between playing with tabletop miniatures and a textual description in which players visualize the setting in their own imaginations (2008:317). This distinction is as much about visualization as it is about role-playing. Miniatures on a tabletop provide a literal and figurative form of distance between character and player. Conversely, first-person-perspective CRPGs put the player in the shoes of the character, creating a sense of agency (Pearce 2007:311).

Gender

Like interactive fiction games before them, CRPGs generally avoided distinguishing between genders. But computer graphics required a gender commitment that interactive fiction did not, and thus the majority of player characters were always male. CRPGs that have a female protagonist are extremely rare. Later games gave an opportunity to choose the character’s gender, leaving it up to the player.

As CRPGs became more advanced, gender interaction developed too. Characters could have romances and liaisons, even seducing other characters. Troika’s Temple of Elemental Evil was the first to allow two male characters to marry (Barton 2008:357). More recently, Fable allowed characters to marry, but the act had little impact on the game itself (Barton 2008:380).

It should be noted that pen-and-paper role-playing games introduced gender modifiers to ability scores by race first and Pool of Radiance followed suit. Legend of Faerghail also differentiated gender, providing females with better wisdom and constitution and males with higher strength (Barton 2008:199).

Race

Races across CRPGs vary greatly. Many stuck to the traditional Dungeons & Dragons races identified by Gygax as “demi-humans”; elves, dwarves, and hobbits. Still others branched out. After all, the Original Dungeons & Dragons boxed set allowed for virtually any character to advance, despite the later misgivings evidenced in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

Tolkien’s influence on races in CRPGs is strong. As Barton points out in Dungeons & Desktops, many early CRPGs hewed closely to the Fellowship model from The Lord of the Rings, including races named “hobbit” (2008:202). Like Dungeons & Dragons, races were predominantly Caucasian in appearance. One unfortunate exception was Blood and Honor, which cast an African American as the sole thief character (Barton 2008:310).

Phantasie is perhaps the best example of fantasy race diversity, where the player couldn’t intentionally choose which character he received but could nevertheless still play nonstandard races including gnoll, goblin, kobold, lizard man, minotaur, ogre, orc, pixie, sprite, or troll. Might and Magic’s Day of the Destroyer even featured the ability to add a dragon to the party. Phantasie didn’t just provide a wide range of races, it made a point of having the race attributes matter in the game, including race relations with merchants, certain races able to enter certain areas, and even differing age rates (Barton 2008:102).

Race-level limits were ignored by most CRPGs, as were multiclass restrictions—rules that only debuted later with the transition of official Advanced Dungeons & Dragons to the desktop.

Class

Early CRPGs featured one character, a jack of all trades. These multitalented characters were less susceptible to the inherent flaws of the Dungeons & Dragons class-based system, which were made to rely on each other. In CRPGs, everyman heroes could battle competently as a fighter, sneak quietly as a thief, and read scrolls or cast a spell as a wizard or cleric. All in all, early characters were much more like Dungeons & Dragons bards or rangers.

As CRPGs evolved, the classes became more specialized, featuring the same combination of classes available in early Dungeons & Dragons: fighter, wizard, and thief. The reasoning for those three classes is likely due to the complexity of the system required to handle each class’s abilities. Fighters interacted only with the core combat rules, and thieves were marginally more complicated in interacting with the environment (walls, doors, and so forth).

Wizards, on the other hand, complicated the game immensely with their spells. Spell-casters go beyond the basic rules of combat. In early CRPGs, spell systems were simple affairs that could be cast regardless of the player character’s abilities or class. Spell casting in CRPGs evolved to a point-buy system, with the majority abandoning the Vancian style of magic. The spellslot system didn’t make an appearance until Advanced Dungeons & Dragons– licensed games made their debut.

Perhaps the class that became most popular as a result of CRPGs is the bard. The Bard’s Tale worked hard to make the bard an appealing, charismatic character. It also featured an array of bard songs, fleshing out the class well beyond the original sketch of Dungeons & Dragons (Barton 2008:94).

Participant Roles

According to the Wizards survey, the average age of computer gamers was 26, the average age of a console gamer was 23, and the average age of gamers who played both was 20. Of gamers who played computer games, the majority (52 percent) were single, and 46 percent had partners.

Of the games played monthly, 72 percent of computer gamers played tabletop role-playing games as well, 57 percent played both console and computer games, and 54 percent played only console games. As Dancey explains, people who play electronic games still find the time to play tabletop role-playing games. “It appears that these two pursuits are ‘complementary’ or ‘noncompetitive’ outside the scope of the macroeconomic ‘disposable income’ competition.”

Nonplayer Characters

Nonplayer characters (NPCs) were perhaps the biggest challenge for CRPGs to bring to life. So long as the player was controlling the character, the apparent intelligence of the character was evident in the player’s decisions. But when the circumstances required interaction, CRPGs faced a serious challenge. Early CRPGs could only script NPCs, such that they would smile or fidget in place while the player character robbed them blind (Sheldon 2007:121), a flaw not systematically dealt with until the advent of Elder Scrolls.

MERCHANTS • A staple of fantasy games, the merchant is the beginning and end destination of most adventurers. It is through the merchant that they buy equipment necessary to survive and sell the loot recovered from a dungeon incursion. Early merchants were merely a currency rate exchange, as in Wizard’s Castle, where there is no actual personality to interact with. The merchant himself was a cipher, simply conducting transactions in exchange for treasure. Most of these merchants lived in the dungeon where the adventurer was engaging in a life-and-death struggle with horrible monsters just next door.

Merchants often altruistically sold items at cost. Eventually, this changed, and soon merchants in more advanced CRPGs were influenced by a variety of external factors including the player character’s charisma, his race, his allegiance, his country of origin, and even his gender.

HENCHMEN • Players who wanted to flesh out their party relied on a different NPC, the henchman. Henchmen differ from other NPCs in that although they are allies, the computer still controls at least some of their actions. This is similar to the henchmen in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, who had their own morale modifiers to help determine their reaction to danger. Perhaps the best known implementation of these features was Baldur’s Gate, in which henchmen took into account alignment considerations, distinct personalities, and morale (Barton 2008:346).

The age-old problem with computer-operated henchmen is that they do not perform as well as a player character. Beyond fighting, defending, and engaging the enemy in a strategic way that meshes with the player’s tactics, the most often mentioned challenge with henchmen is pathfinding.

Pathfinding is a henchman’s ability to find his way around obstacles and even opponents. Players understand how to navigate around a table, through a door, and into the next room. A computer-controlled henchman, however, might stop at the table, or, deciding that the door is too much trouble, walk out of the building and take a circuitous route to reach the rest of his fellows. This is particularly dangerous in monster-infested dungeons, where a moment’s hesitation can mean death. More than one player has been frustrated by a henchman wandering off due to poor pathfinding, never to return.

M_OUNTS AND P_ACK A_NIMALS • Despite horses and pack animals being standard fantasy fare all the way back to The Lord of the Rings, mounts rarely made an appearance in CRPGs. When they did appear, mounts were primarily mobile containers, there for the sole purpose of expanding the characters’ ability to carry more equipment.

Dungeon Siege featured mules as important members of the party. Mules were so critical that they took up a slot that would normally be filled by a henchman. This forced the player to choose which he valued more, an extra arm in combat or the mule’s considerable equipment-carrying capability (Barton 2008:335). Dungeon Siege II expanded mules and other animal companions so that they advanced in level like other henchmen by feeding them unwanted equipment.

Status

Advancement in most CRPGs is through the standard accumulation of experience points gained by killing monsters. Few CRPGs stepped outside the experience point “grind” paradigm. Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind was a notable exception, in which skills were improved through practice. While this theoretically ensures that characters advance only in the skills they use most, in practice players can easily abuse the system by endlessly repeating a particular action to artificially boost its efficacy.

Levels in CRPGs, with their sped-up time cycles, made adventuring around the clock much more feasible. The Dungeons & Dragons rules that were originally created for long periods of intermediate play were subjected to a much faster rate of combat, adventuring, and experience. This resulted in characters achieving higher levels than ever envisioned by the creators of the original tabletop game.

Gates to Another World was one of the first CRPGs to unveil the results of unlimited level progression, with hundred of enemies and weapon bonuses numbering in the double digits (Barton 2008:188).

Pool of Radiance was the most faithful adaptation of the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons rules to the CRPG platforms. Racial restrictions were present, complete with level caps, taking fantasy role-playing games back to their roots but also representing a step back in their development.

CRPGs really pushed the envelope with the possibilities of multiple class combinations. Multiclassing debuted with Wizardry, where characters could select a combination of other classes. Prestige classes, which were a part of the third edition of Dungeons & Dragons, were presaged by Wizardry, Bard’s Tale, Phantasie, and Realms of Darkness (Barton 2008:71). Bard’s Tale went even further, allowing characters to combine four classes to join a fifth prestige class without the holdover of experience point penalties for multi-classing. Other games that allowed “prestige” classes included Trial by Fire, published by Sierra On-line in 1990 (Barton 2008:230). Baldur’s Gate featured the official third edition CRPG version of the prestige classes. After reaching 20th level and doing enough research about their past (which cost gold, of course), the characters could join prestige classes.

Conclusion

CRPGs continued the evolutionary path of Dungeons & Dragons, improving and experimenting with the rules, often bending them beyond their original intent. Rules that might be rarely used in a tabletop game suddenly became very important in CRPGs. For example, age limits on characters existed in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons but were not a major factor in play—only a handful of monsters were capable of aging characters prematurely. But in a CRPG clicking quickly through its own timeline, it was entirely possible for characters to age and die (Barton 2008:324).

Other rules were tried and ultimately discarded. Reading text from manuals, mimicking a game master reading text aloud, was abandoned as computer processing power caught up. Computers now convey narrative by displaying text, having a narrator read the text aloud, or simply show a sufficiently detailed graphical representation that needs no narration. Similarly, mapping a dungeon—a staple of Original Dungeons & Dragons—became obsolete with automappers that are now a standard part of every CRPG.

The accelerated design cycle of CRPGs is most evident in the rules governing races and classes. Multiclassing rules were discarded, and eventually any race was allowed to play any class. Alignment, originally a tool to keep errant players in line with their character’s role, shifted from an insignificant label to a much more complex means of interacting with the game universe.

Just as Dungeons & Dragons shifted focus from simulation to storytelling to a hybrid between the two, the pendulum for CRPGs followed the same path ... only to revert to a simulation focus again with the advent of console gaming. The industry is still largely figuring out what works and what doesn’t (Mechner 2007:115). With story-focused games like Heavy Rain, there’s hope that future CRPGs will put the “role” back in role-playing.

EIGHT

MASSIVE MULTIPLAYER ONLINE ROLE-PLAYING GAMES

You can form a party like you do in a D&D game, but your party can only “kind of” cooperate with each other. It’s just not the same thing as actually being together in a group and doing it. Something gets lost in the translation [Dave Arneson, 2004].

Introduction

Massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs) arose out of several influences. Strictly speaking, they are graphical multi-user dungeons (MUDs), but that’s an oversimplification. In fact, MMORPGs are more a blend of computer role-playing games (CRPGs) and MUDs.

Massive multiplayers added two new aspects that make the form distinct and separate from its predecessors: graphics and size. In terms of size, massive multiplayers multiplied the access to MUDs. Parties ballooned in size to take on much larger challenges that can include upwards of ten players attacking a foe at once. It also meant worlds were subjected to considerably more volume, from the communication channels to the monsters, from treasure to the exchange system. This would prove problematic for MUDs scaling up. The one MMORPG that carried many MUD traits forward into the new format, EverQuest, did extremely well.

Graphics also changed gameplay. Combat had a graphical element over which players wanted more control because they could see the weapon swings and spell casting. It didn’t always work that way, of course, and it would take some time before massive multiplayers could provide that sort of interaction.

The environments were another design challenge. When water was rendered, players wanted to learn how to swim. Horses, a staple of role-playing games, led to mounts and pack animals. Better graphics especially affected spells; different forms of spell casting could have different visible effects.

Perhaps most affected by the graphics were the avatars themselves. Players wanted control over their height and weight, tattoos and clothing. This became most prevalent amongst female characters who were highly fetishized in appearance. How a character walked, jumped, bowed, and sat suddenly mattered in a way that had never been visualized before.

Combined, these two factors of graphics and size rocked the very foundation of the game servers they were built on. MUDs, which were so powerful on college servers, were sharply curtailed in scope precisely because networking power wasn’t up to the task of handling all the variables. Massive multiplayers have to contend with a multitude of calculations, from the weather to the terrain to the damage condition of every nonplayer character on screen. It’s a lot of load, and only recently have distributed servers over the Internet been up to the task.

Chris Perkins explained in Worlds and Monsters (Wilkes 2008:87) how the fourth edition was influenced by MMORPGs. According to Perkins, talent trees were a natural evolution of all fantasy game design. D&D was simply following the same path that other game developers had already trod. He does admit, however, that the D&D design team “learned a few things” from MMOs.

History

Perhaps the first first-person shooter was Maze War in 1974, created for the Imlac PDS-1 by Dave Lebling and Greg Thompson (Glenday 2008:184). Supporting up to eight players, this three-dimensional first-person game allowed characters to shoot one another in a vector-drawn maze.

In 1977, Moria was one of the first graphical MMORPGs. It offered a first-person, three-dimensional wireframe view of dungeons. Characters could work together in groups, but a large group could also be run by one player. There were only four stats in Moria: cunning, piety, valor, and wizardry. Each statistic was tied to the four guilds the player characters could join: thieves, brotherhood, knights, and wizards. Instead of hit points, Moria featured vitality, used in combat as well as other actions, and which was recharged only if the character had food and water on hand. Moria was noteworthy for its graphics at a time when MUDs were spreading, but it was confined to PLATO due to its proprietary programs (Barton 2008:33).

In 1979, Avatar was released by Bruce Maggs, Andrew Shapira, and David Sides at the University of Illinois. Avatar allowed up to ten different races and was modeled more closely on Dungeons & Dragons, including the standard six attributes. Avatar was noteworthy for allowing allowed up to 15 players to form parties and fight monsters as a team (Barton 2008:34).

In 1985, Randy Farmer and Chip Morningstar of Lucasfilm created Habitat for the Commodore 64. It supported over 16 players at once. Habitat would coin the term “avatar” as a representation of a player.

By the late 1980s, Sierra On-line and Genie had their own persistent worlds on proprietary networks, but they were not available to the Internet at large. Commercial use of the Internet was limited by the National Science Foundation Network’s (NSFNET) acceptable-use policies. As these restrictions were relaxed, other game companies began to launch games on the Internet.

On AOL, Neverwinter Nights was launched by Don Daglow and Cathryn Mataga. The first official MMORPG for Dungeons & Dragons, it ran through 1997 (Archer 2004:86). It allowed up to 500 people to play together online. Neverwinter Nights also saw the rise of player guilds.

In 1992, Shadow of Yserbius by Joe Ybarra was released on the Sierra Network.

Launched in 1996 by Sierra Online, The Realm Online was a two-dimensional graphics engine that featured Dungeons & Dragons–style character levels, a basic user interface, and turn-based combat. I played the Realm briefly as a rhyming troll and remember it fondly—especially the rat killing. At its peak, the Realm reached 25,000 subscribers, but it suffered later as the threedimensional massive multiplayer online role-playing games arrived. As of 2007, it had approximately 12,000 subscribers.

The first MMORPG available to the Internet was Meridian 59 (Glenday 2008: 170). Released in 1996 by 3DO, Meridian 59 incorporated a large number of players into a persistent world. It was Trip Hawkins, a co-founder of Electronic Arts, who helped coin the term “massive multiplayer.”

Meridian 59 was also noteworthy because it used three-dimensional graphics, the same technique used in games like Doom. With up to 250 people at a time on each server and twelve servers, Meridian 59 was one of the largest graphical games on the Internet.

Meridian 59 established a flat monthly fee instead of the hourly plan that the subscription services used. It was one of the reasons the MMORPG population broadened to a larger market. Codifying the fee as monthly would also become the norm for MMORPGs thereafter.

The path was laid. It was up to the next game to bring brand power to the MMORPG world. In 1997, it happened. Origin Systems released Ultima Online, a descendent of Richard Garriott’s (a.k.a. Lord British) Ultima series.

Unlike Meridian 59, Ultima Online featured a top-down perspective, which was consistent with Ultima VI (Glenday 2008: 178). With over 200,000 players, Ultima Online proved that the MMORPG market was viable.

Ultima Online peaked at 240,000 subscribers shortly after the release of the supplement Third Dawn, a number briefly outstripped in 2003 with the launch of Age of Shadows. Since then, Ultima Online has been in steady decline, down to 75,000 subscribers, two-thirds of whom are from Japan. After my own player-killing and pickpocketing experience, I let the free trial lapse and never looked back.

In 1996, Jake Song released Kingdom of the Winds through Nexxon in Korea. Because a World War II law prevented games from being imported from Japan, Korea was ready for a homegrown game it could call its own. With Korea’s large gaming population and investment in broadband, Kingdom of the Winds attracted over one million subscribers.

The year 1997 was the Golden Age for MMORPGs. Ultima Online, EverQuest, and Asheron’s Call all exhibited unrestrained growth. The games weren’t cannibalizing yet from each other, as there were enough players for all three games. Estimates placed yearly growth at 152 percent (Woodcock 2010).

NC Soft released Song’s next game in 1998; Lineage. A top-down, twodimensional game, Lineage was less about leveling up and more about resource management. Lineage took into account larger team groups, as opposed to the clannish U.S. groups that tended to be much smaller. This made Lineage a social phenomenon that encouraged large groups of players to sign in at once. With over two million players in Korea and another million in Taiwan, Lineage’s player base totaled over four million players worldwide. Since then, Lineage’s subscription numbers have declined, due in part to the competition of Lineage II and World of Warcraft. By 2007, Lineage had only a million subscribers, a mere six thousand in the United States.

The year 1999 saw the release of a three-dimensional MMORPG, EverQuest. EverQuest attracted a lot of attention; Newsweek took notice. Players sold virtual items for real cash. Compared to Ultima Online, it was less about innovation and more about translating the MUD medium to a threedimensional graphic engine. At one point EverQuest’s growth seemed unstoppable. It peaked at 460,000 subscribers. By 2007, EverQuest’s subscriptions dropped to 175,000.

Soon after, Asheron’s Call was released by Microsoft in 1999. Asheron’s Call made an effort to shake itself free from The Lord of the Rings roots, exchanging elves for Olthoi (cat people) and Sclavus (lizard men). At its peak, Asheron’s Call had 120,000 subscribers. The expansion pack Dark Majesty boosted its numbers, but they declined after that. As of 2007, subscribers were at 15,000. (Barton 2008:408).

In the late 1990s, the MMORPG genre expanded to settings other than fantasy, and by 2001 MMORPGs seemed tapped out. Anarchy Online, a sciMMORPG, stumbled when it launched. Ultima Online 2 was canceled in development. This was the Age of Transition, as dubbed by Bruce Sterling Woodcock (2010). The growth rates of Asheron’s Call and EverQuest slowed, and Ultima Online’s player base began to shrink. Customers of Ultima Online who had anticipated joining the Ultima Online 2 beta quit the game entirely when the cancellation was announced. With Anarchy Online and Dark Age of Camelot on the horizon in beta test form, both games began to cannibalize the Big Three’s player bases. Although the monthly fee commitment was certainly a factor in determining how many games a player could commit to, available free time was likely the biggest drain.

Dark Age of Camelot in 2001 returned to the fantasy roots and was a critical success; it launched without major bugs, had better integrated player killing, and required less time to level. Dark Age of Camelot was likely responsible for much of the player drain from the other three games. According to Woodcock, EverQuest and Ultima Online lost nearly 200,000 subscribers, subscribers he believes went to Dark Age of Camelot. Dark Age of Camelot reached 250,000 subscribers at its peak. Woodcock estimates the number of subscribers as of 2008 as low as 45,000. The market was becoming saturated. The average yearly growth for MMORPGs during this time was 55 percent.

Beginning in May 2002, dubbed the Age of Competition by Woodcock, competition got ugly. Many fledgling MMORPGs were canceled before they were released. Player bases shrunk. The average yearly growth in subscriptions was just 37 percent. Then World of Warcraft showed up and everything changed.

In 2004, World of Warcraft exploded onto the scene. It didn’t just outperform the other MMORPGs, it created new records around the globe, becoming the market share leader in North America, Europe, and China. Just as Ultima Online built on its franchise, World of Warcraft built on the Warcraft brand and launched with far fewer bugs and hiccups than its predecessors. The polish was rewarded with unparalleled subscriptions, easily surpassing its nearest rival, EverQuest II. As a result of this eight-hundred-pound gorilla, other MMORPGs diminished, growing just 17 percent subscriptions on average.

World of Warcraft perfected what the other MMORPGs struggled to achieve and, at the time of this writing, continues to dominate the MMORPG field. As of 2010, it has over eleven million players and the majority share of the massive multiplayer subscription market.

On August 4, 2005, the Chinese government announced a ban on all “violent” gameplay for minors under 18. Chinese officials declared violent any game that involves player vs. player combat, a common feature among MMORPGs. Later in August the same year, the Chinese government imposed online gaming curbs so players could not play more than three consecutive hours.

In 2006, Turbine, Inc., released Dungeons &Dragons Online. Dungeons & Dragons Online is set on the continent ofXen’drikin the Eberron campaign setting. Players can create characters similar to those in the tabletop game. Dungeons & Dragons Online features dwarves, elves, halflings, humans, and a new race of robot-like humanoids known as warforged. For classes, players can choose from barbarian, bard, cleric, fighter, ranger, rogue, sorcerer, and wizard. As of 2007, Dungeons &Dragons Online had 45,000 subscribers. In 2010, Dungeons &Dragons Online became Unlimited, no longer charging access to play.

In April 2007, The Lord of the Rings Online was launched. It was the first massive multiplayer online role-playing game featuring Tolkien’s world (Glenday 2008:185).

Fellowship

The design of synthetic worlds shares the same philosophy as Dungeons & Dragons—creation of a community to belong to (Taylor 2006:32). It is no small comment on contemporary society that people will pay money to enter such a universe that requires teamwork between complete strangers (Castronova 2005:274).

Most MMORPGs feature a means of finding a party or group (Taylor 2006:39). Although players can form groups through guild allegiance, metagame associations, or simply walking up to another player character and asking if they’d like to work together, there are considerations that make such party formation more viable. Foremost in determining party compatibility is roles. Unlike in a tabletop game, where everyone’s role is established and stabilized because the same players show up to each game session, MMORPG players are highly variable. The odds of a particular player being available are greatly increased if a formal commitment is made through a guild or some other structure. Failing that, players can leverage the power of the MMORPG’s population by having the system suggest available players who are also looking to join a party.

One RetroMUD player I interviewed felt more comfortable finding new players on MUDs than on MMORPGs:

I find that in large MMOs it is harder for me to start talking to people. In MUDs, the smaller player base of more familiar faces allows me to get a bit more comfortable. While this may be the case, it is much more difficult to find a party for a specific task at any given moment when there is a smaller player base. Despite the fact that I get less comfortable on public channels when there are more people in a player base, I need there to be a social experience when I play either WoW or RetroMUD. The smaller player base actually made it easier for me to find people to talk to, strangely enough. Perhaps it was because people were more friendly in a smaller setting [Simes 2010].

Parties have a system to support them. One player, usually the party leader, determines the movement for the group. All of the party members receive the same tag, whatever the party name is. They gain and share experience points between them. Each party also has its own channel of communication to facilitate play, much like players chatting to each other in tabletop play. By coordinating their efforts, parties can take down larger monsters and go on longer quests, thereby reinforcing the importance of these social mininetworks (Taylor 2006:40).

Level is also a factor in determining these pairings. High-level characters make it easier for those of lower level to succeed in killing a monster or surviving a trap. Some MMORPGs curb this “free ride” by reducing the amount of award the lower-level characters receive when assisted by a much-higherlevel character (Barton 2008:421).

Players can also assist each other without being in a party, even at random. “Buffing” (bestowing a bonus on a character for a limited time, usually through a spell) and “porting” (transporting a character to a different location) are an integral bonding experience. Some characters charge money for these services, while other high-level characters bestow these boons on lower-level characters to encourage play. Like the party constraints, these benefits skirt the purpose of parties and cooperative play, even though they are inherently social (and, many would argue, beneficial).

World of Warcraft and Dungeons & Dragons Online both feature “instanced” dungeons, dungeons that are formed exclusively for the group playing. There is no possibility of encountering another group, ensuring there is no “farming” or other means of interacting with a party outside of a town. This means a group’s adventure experience is unique; they live and die by their own fortunes (Barton 2008:420).

Another unique aspect of Dungeons & Dragons Online is its parties of up to six players. Group play is supplemented by a narrator, providing an overview of the game’s features that could not normally be expressed by text or graphics alone. In addition to sight and sound handled by the game engine, the game designers can express smells and feelings. This is conveyed by a virtual Dungeon Master of sorts, with some of the dungeons even narrated by the late Gary Gygax. Until DDO, narrative voice-over structure was primarily relegated to tabletop games (Douglas and Hargadon 2004:200).

Dungeons & Dragons Online even has a mechanic for dividing up treasure fairly, apportioning loot in such a way so that the players receive their own shares according to their level. It’s noteworthy that killing monsters are not always central to the adventure; the completion of the adventure, not the killing in itself, provides experience, just as in the tabletop game. Upon entering an adventure, the party can choose what level of challenge they wish to experience (normal, hard, elite) with the addition of a solo difficulty for players who enter an adventure without a party. Each difficulty has a minimum level requirement, and characters three levels below the level requirement aren’t allowed in. The adventure’s experience is adjusted depending on the overall level of the party, taking into account both high- and low-level players.

Beyond the basic party framework, few MMORPGs stretched the boundaries of the original tabletop gaming paradigm. What was missing was the ability to harness the power of large groups, which became unwieldy in traditional Dungeons & Dragons. In response to this need, EverQuest was one of the first MMORPGs to debut the “raid” feature. Raids are groups larger than the traditional party (in D&D Online this is up to 12 players, in EverQuest up to 200) all working together against a common foe. Raids can be against one large monster or multiple foes, but must be made within a certain time limit (Taylor 2006:40).

To support these raids, groups of like-minded players sprang up, called guilds. There are two kinds of guilds, social and raiding. Social guilds are communities of players who have a common mindset but are not necessarily dedicated to a specific in-game goal. These guilds can often be larger than the game itself, with tentacles in a variety of MMORPGs. Geezer Gamers, for example, supports adult gamers who just want to have fun (2010).

In stark contrast to social guilds are raiding guilds, dedicated to certain achievements in the game. Raiding guilds have a much more rigid hierarchy and a highly structured approach to gaming (Taylor 2006:45). Multiple characters are not uncommon, and the ones most optimized are shared amongst the guild members. Advancement typically has requirements, and players are expected to participate in raids when called upon, dropping whatever else they are doing. Members are also expected to contribute considerably more time and effort for a commensurate increase in reward on the game.

It’s telling that guilds have a form of allegiance that goes beyond the game. Guild allegiance is so powerful that they are known to travel in packs from MMORPG to MMORPG. This speaks volumes about player engagement with the game and the powerful ties of social networks. MMORPGs that pride themselves on player loyalty often fail to create enough of a social cost for players to exit. Guilds are a guaranteed network that cuts across multiple games, more powerful than any one can provide (Taylor 2006:87).

I was extremely excited to play Dungeons & Dragons Online and joined with many of my friends who were geographically dispersed. The biggest challenge was the lag. Because each instance of the game was run separately on each computer, playing with my wife against hordes of kobolds was impossible, lagging the game so hard that it looked like a photo collage. Eventually she gave up playing and I soldiered on alone.

The problem, as evidenced by the introduction of the solo option, was that it was difficult to find a willing party of enough players, specifically of the right combination of classes. Adventuring was fun when it happened, but finding a party was hard. As a bard, I tried to fill multiple roles, but role specialization made it difficult to find a combination of party members. By emphasizing party roles, it was imperative that the party combination be just right—in other MMORPGs, this isn’t as much of an issue because soloing is possible. By discouraging soloing, party optimization and coherence is critical but not always feasible.

I would say Turbine’s D&D online was probably the closest to emulating the tabletop experience. It did make the attempt to have more engaging adventures and I applaud them for trying, but I think history will look on their efforts as mostly failing to capture the spirit of the game from which it is derived. The result was a game unappealing to the MMORPG gamer and frustratingly limited compared to the source material for the table top gamer [Joseph Tresca 2010].

When my friends stopped playing, there was no longer a guarantee of finding a party. For a player who didn’t have friends, Dungeons & Dragons Online became impractical. I let my subscription lapse and didn’t look back.

Narrative

While tabletop role-playing games ventured farther astray from their basic simulation roots, Greg Costikyan posited that massive multiplayers went in the opposite direction, becoming almost completely devoid of story (2007:9). This deficiency is twofold. The amount of processing power to customize the world to create a cohesive story for all players is prohibitive due to the massive number of players on the game. And a story of sorts is already being told through social networks and interaction; in essence, the players make their own story by adventuring in each other’s company. It’s possible that this deficiency is lessening as MMORPGs become more advanced. A player of Asheron’s Call (AC) had a different experience:

I found AC to be the most similar to tabletop D&D, since it was one of the first MMORPG’s to have a constantly evolving storyline through monthly updates from the developers. That kept the game from being stale, and afforded the players opportunities to participate in quests that advanced the storyline. The developers were very good, in my opinion, at responding to player feedback in the way that a good GM would steer the story to keep the players interested. In the early years, there were some elements in the game mechanics that would augment your role-playing style if you weren’t interested solely in climbing the power ladder. I spent more effort to have the most complete trophy collection than I did trying to gain levels [Jellig 2010].

It’s interesting to note that the MMORPG genre continues to be dominated by fantasy games (94 percent, according to Woodcock). MMORPGs ferociously defend their copyrights, a challenge muddled by the question of ownership in virtual spaces that are largely defined by the community which inhabits them. EverQuest, for example, hews closely to Tolkien’s original vision of orcs, elves, halflings, and animated trees (Taylor 2006: 143). Unfortunately, even The Lord of the Rings MMORPG experience was found lacking:

While I enjoyed the updated graphics, I was disappointed in the quest system. I felt there was too much “hand-holding,” where you would spend most of your time running back and forth between NPCs who clearly told you what the next step was, leaving nothing for you to figure out as a player other than the location of the next NPC [Jellig 2010].

There seems to be an untapped potential for other non-fantasy genre MMORPGs, and yet new fantasy MMORPGs continue to launch.

As Eskelinen explains (2004:38), the multiple perspectives engendered by MMORPGs craft a unique narrative for each player and the group as a whole that can’t be easily be replicated in other media. Even the notion of evil players is not without its own filter. Evil characters almost always have a sympathetic story to tell. This allows gamers to role-play evil characters while at the same time making them not so loathsome that they are universally reprehensible to even the player. By existing in an important axis of the good/evil dichotomy, these evil characters fill a role just as much as good characters, reinforcing the notion that ethical choices are indeed made in the virtual universe (Castronova 2005:118).

Ultimately, one of the fundamental lessons of massive multiplayer games is that cooperation is necessary. Players are thrust into a world with total strangers and expected to work with them towards a common goal, reinforcing the “massive” and “multiplayer” in MMORPG.

Personalization

Graphics greatly expand a MMORPG’s ability to customize the environment to a player’s tastes. Graphics have a variety of components, providing a limited form of diegesis by graphically presenting an environment without explaining what it is. Players generally understand what a tree and a rock are, and expect both to stay in their place. However, in interactive fiction or a MUD, the player is not aware of those elements unless the game tells him they exist.

The other difference is the ability to customize characters. This form of personalization provides a personal connection between player and character that didn’t exist previously. In addition to the player customizing his character through a set of numbered statistics, his achievements, and the equipment he acquires, the player can now “skin” his character. This skinning is an important representation of this connection. Conversely, characters who have no customization (even naked) are a sure sign that the character is not nearly as important to the player (Jenkins 2004:128).

Risk

MMORPGs, because they involve large quantities of other people, must conduct their combats in real time. As a result, combat tends to be a fast, messy affair, with considerable resources dedicated to allowing a player to make the right tactical choices quickly and effectively. This is a notable difference from CRPGs, which have the luxury of turn-based combat (Barton 2008:433).

Travel in MMORPGs is a significant risk. The majority of MMORPGs have wandering monsters, which will ambush characters who wander too close. Players who trigger the notice of monsters can cause “trains” of monsters to pursue them, endangering everyone in their path (Taylor 2006:34). Strategic players can use this to their advantage, a process called “kiting” in which monsters are lured into a trap as they pursue a potential victim.

Death in MMORPGs is temporary but not without risks. In EverQuest, for example, experience points are lost every time a character dies and he or she restarts (“respawns”) at the last save point in the game. The character leaves a corpse behind at the scene of death, which means the newly formed replacement must find the corpse to retrieve his equipment. In this regard EverQuest has much in common with MUDs (Taylor 2006:33).

I played Ultima Online for a three-month trial, joining my fellow game developer Doug Schonenberg. I spent most of my time slaughtering sheep, for which I would crack joke after joke (“I feel sheepish!” “Am I sleeping or did I just kill another one?” “Do we have enough RAM to run this?” and so on), but even that got old after a while. I tried to play it without the company of my friends, only to discover that Ultima Online’s system protected player killers.

Player killers are the ugly side of the disinhibition theory I laid out earlier in the MUD chapter. They are players whose goal is to defeat other players, preying upon them. Generally speaking, player killers (or PKers) are not looking for a fair fight. They prey upon other players because they have something to gain, be it actually mugging the virtual character or merely scaring off the competition. In Ultima Online’s case, I discovered that being in a city wasn’t safe. I sat in a room, went to eat a sandwich, returned and found another character sitting near me. It turned out he was attempting to pick my pocket over and over.

When I retaliated, a guard immediately appeared and cast a fireball, blowing my character to bits. In other words, it was okay to attempt thievery but not to attack a player who had successfully attempted thievery. Yes, technically this meant that a thief could thieve with impunity so long as he wasn’t caught.

It begged the question: why have pickpockets in the game at all? What was the purpose? It was fundamentally an anti-player function and, given the griefing theory, one performed by the strong who preyed on the weak. In other words, newbies were usually the victims.

This quandry was further exemplified by a legendary moment in Ultima Online’s history; the death of Lord British. It was during a beta test that Lord British, holding forth to his followers, was assassinated. The assassin didn’t know if he could kill British or not, but he gave it a go. Tellingly, he did it by picking the pockets of someone else and using a spell from a scroll he found. After successfully killing British, he fled (Howard 2009).

The assassin, Rainz, was banished from the beta test. The official response from the Ultima Online team was that Rainz was “exploiting flaws” in the system to go on a “huge killing spree.” Going on a killing spree, the author reiterates, “is fine, but doing it when no one that you are attacking has a chance to defend themselves because of your advantage is not fine.”

This incident summed up Ultima Online’s problem. At one point I and my party were killed by more powerful characters, who slaughtered poor Talien over and over. There was no recourse. There was no way to beat them. It was irrelevant to me as a player whether or not they were more powerful because of a bug or because they had legitimately earned that power. Ultima Online, in its efforts to create a fully interactive experience, didn’t take into account my theory of anonymity and disinhibition.

I played Asheron’s Call for a similar three-month trial period. I wandered the huge terrain for hours. Bored and unable to find other intelligent life, I set my character on autopilot and promptly switched to another screen. Only I forgot my character was still jogging in that direction, hours after I had gone to lunch and returned.

At that point, my character was halfway across a desert. A dragonfly was pursuing him, so I ran for my character’s life, ducking into what looked like an abandoned house. What ensued was a game of cat and mouse as I tested the AI of the dragonfly, hiding around the upstairs and downstairs, circling back around the steps to stab it in the back. I survived, but barely. I then couldn’t find my way back and promptly gave up on the game when my trial ended.

Roles

The barrier to entry for online graphical games is quite high. In comparison to say, becoming a registered user of the New York Times, players have to pay monthly fees, download special software, or learn a new interface (Castronova 2005:45). One RetroMUD player shared her experience in transitioning from MUDs to World of Warcraft (WoW):

In a game like WoW, the interface is much more intuitive, seeing as there is no need to be extremely specific with the game when you tell it what you want to do. I was absolutely stunned by the visual effects of WoW when I first began playing. However, I actually enjoy RetroMUDs interface just as much if not more. This is because a text based interface does not make the proper course of action as immediately obvious as a graphical one. The objects in WoW that can be interacted with either glitter or glow, or even just stand out in a painfully obvious manner. Further, interacting with these objects is a simple click. In RetroMUD there can be secrets within a room to find by looking within specific objects of that room and figuring out how to interact with them. Therefore, one must learn how to sort through what is relevant, and have a keen sense of problem solving [Simes 2010].

Like D&D, MMORPGs simulate human society by providing multiple players with a finite list of quantifiable traits to choose from. Both games attract players willing to invest large amounts of time, up to twenty hours per week (Beck and Wade 2004:56). And yet 25 percent of EverQuest gamers play with their romantic partners, with 70 percent of female players gaming with romantic partners vs. one-sixth of male players (Yee 2001).

Creator Roles

Coding Authority

Like the game master of tabletop role-playing games, the coding authority has a special role in massive multiplayer online role-playing games. Unlike MUDs, MMORPGs have a population that might at first seem unmanageable. Like MUDs, the role of the game master has been parceled out amongst the artificial intelligence of the program, such that nonplayer characters are largely (if not exclusively) the domain of a program that reacts according to its instructions—there is no human intelligence guiding its every move.

The coding authority is the game developer, the company that created the game and presumably runs it. Unlike MUDs, the coding authority is separate and distinct from players. It is less responsible for the day-to-day activities of nonplayer characters, but still has many of the responsibilities handled by game masters; they act as God in charge of nature, as the state in charge of justice, and as jester in charge of fun (Castronova 2005:204).

Comparing the responsibilities to those outlined by Gygax for game masters, the coding authority is responsible as the moving force to keep the game interesting, the creator to code the actual characters, the designer in modifying the rules, and the director in moving chess pieces (from luck, to weather, to other characters).

What’s missing, and what Castronova correctly points out is seriously lacking in MMORPGs, are the roles of arbiter interpreting the rules, overseer in crafting narrative for long-term play, and, most importantly, referee. In essence, it’s anarchy (2005:213).

Some coding authorities do develop an overseer role, providing events and narrative that alter the game world, but these are rare. Generally, the game grinds on in an automated fashion without dictates from the people who created it.

The reason for this anarchy is that the coding authority is not inclined to spend any more energy than necessary to generate a profit. Customer service is expensive and time consuming; the level of attention a game master provides is beyond the reach and resources of most coding authorities. Therefore, player killers go unpunished, violations of the game’s atmosphere and ethics are allowed to fester, and the game shambles on. Only if a majority of the population begins to stop playing the game and thereby threatens its profitability does the coding authority intervene (Castronova 2005:214).

EverQuest, for example, went so far as to offer a server that provided a greater level of customer service called Stormhammer: The Legends. Players took issue with the server’s existence, which they felt provided a level of service that should have been provided across all servers. Sony closed the server in 2005.

Coding authorities in the past have largely relegated governance to the players themselves, the implication being that in a sort of Wild West atmosphere, no one villain will step too far out of line because there is the possibility of being killed by someone bigger and meaner. This thinking falls flat in practice, as the culture degrades to the lowest common denominator—players take every opportunity to get away with murder (Castronova 2005:209).

This also applies to role-playing immersion, wherein certain players treat their characters as actual roles, while other players treat their characters as merely extensions of themselves. It can be as subtle as a character with an inappropriate name like “Kermit the Barbarian” or as blatant as discussing a real-life football game in a virtual medieval tavern. The membrane between reality and synthetic worlds is so porous that attempts to enforce any sort of continuity ultimately fail. The coding authority is unable and unwilling to preserve it.

As a result, the characteristics that attract players to MMORPGs are much broader. Whereas a tabletop role-playing gamer may have an interest in fantasy literature and a wargamer may have an interest in historical battles, a massive multiplayer’s qualifications are only a credit card. There are no “soft” factors guiding the player into or out of the game, factors that come into play through personality conflicts and differences in playing style in other forms of gaming. As Vesna explained (2004:259), communities on the Net are tightly tied to e-commerce, malls, and credit card systems. Coding authorities are interested only in profit, and this is reflected in the only type of player they seek to screen out—the non-paying kind.

Extending this role to its logical conclusion, it is in the coding authority’s interest to not adjudicate actual play but to keep players coming back. As such, there is a genuine concern that a game’s addictive qualities are largely unregulated, that the coding authority takes on a predatory cast with the intent of enveloping players, even if it is to their detriment. Castronova calls this “toxic immersion” (2005:238) and it is a very real problem.

I personally experienced toxic immersion when playing MUDs. All my friends did, to different degrees. Because I was always a good student, my grades actually improved when I was addicted to online games. My friends were not always so lucky; one of them played so often that he had to drop out of college with a .9 average. Fortunately, by the time massive multiplayers came around, we had all overcome our addictions.

Participant Roles

Nick Yee (2001) found that the average player in EverQuest was 25.7 years old. Castronova’s survey (2005:60) of the EverQuest population skewed slightly younger, with an average age of 24.3. In fact, Castronova (2005:61) discovered that the vast majority of EverQuest players played less than 30 hours weekly, less than the average weekly TV viewing hours of most adults.

According to Castronova, the global virtual world population will increase in size by 8.4 percent annually, reaching 40 million by 2020 and nearly 100 million by 2030 (2005:53). The majority of subscribers are in Asia, with China having the single largest number of users and Korea having the highest density. As access to high-speed Internet spreads, so too does virtual gaming participation—that number will only continue to increase. The Digital Software Association estimated that there were 73 million online gamers in 2003, 38 percent of whom were hardcore users, which amounts to approximately 27 million global hardcore gamers. For the United States, of 14 million people polled, 7 percent were estimated by the Digital Software Association as being involved in persistent-world game play (DFC Intelligence 2003).

Although MMORPGs feature graphics for characters, there is still a layer of anonymity between player and avatar. Peter North demonstrated the effects of anonymity with an experiment in World of Warcraft. He conducted an experiment to test an avatar’s reactions to peer pressure. Anonymous players compared a weapon in one room with three in a separate room. Ten confederates were placed in the second room and instructed to give the same wrong answer. North discovered that avatars were much more likely to give the right answer despite peer pressure, in contract to humans in a similar experiment. However, the more of an investment a player had in his avatar, the more normalized the response to real-life behavior.

In another experiment, North recreated the traditional “prisoner’s dilemma” from economic game theory. In the prisoner’s dilemma game, two players are offered reduced punishments for tattling on the other. The best collective result is for the two players to hold fast and not betray the other, but they have no way of knowing what the rival player’s plans are. If the game is played repeatedly, trust improves as the players begin to predict how the other will react. In World of Warcraft, the end result was that, even in repeated games, the players ratted each other out. Although World of Warcraft’s party system seems to encourage collaboration, “within virtual realms, people don’t feel the same sense of consequence or responsibility for their actions,” said North. “There is a definite distinction between a person and their avatar” (Dagger 2007).

Gender

The addition of graphics changes the nature of online games for massive multiplayers in subtle but important ways. Many massive multiplayer games have characters that are statistically equal when they are first created despite their difference in gender, but the female is sexually exaggerated (Castronova 2005:117; Taylor 2006:13).

Because there are visual cues in online games, there is more flexibility in presenting one’s avatar as something other than oneself. This is a gender-crossing activity (Sinha 1999:118). Whereas boys might be criticized for dressing and grooming a doll, both genders can try on thousands of different outfits and appearances on their avatars—even if that means beating the pulp out of someone else with said avatar (Beck and Wade 2004:50). A study at Nottingham Trent University found that 15 percent of players in MMORPGs routinely switch genders (Poole 2003).

There are contrasting views as to the status of female gamers. On the one hand, female gamers comprise nearly 40 percent of gamers in the United States if the broad definition of online gaming encompasses all forms of online gaming. Taylor posits that free time is one reason for why female gamers are rarer in fantasy MMORPGs (20 to 30 percent) and the upper echelons of power gaming in particular. Due to domestic pressures, many women may simply not have the time to devote to this sort of time-intensive gaming (2006:73). One RetroMUD player explained her experience growing up as a female gamer:

Growing up I tried very hard to find gamer friends, and therefore the majority of my friends turned out to be male. It seems there is a shortage of female gamers in my area. However, a couple of my female friends do play console games when the mood strikes them. I would hesitate to call them gamers themselves however, as they did not immerse themselves into the gaming world beyond a few games with one exception. My closest female friend growing up was a gamer as well. I was always the more prolific about it than she was though, and when we would get together we often played single player games. She enjoyed watching me play through Resident Evil and similar titles, though multiplayer games between us was rare. I am not really certain as to why, as she certainly played when I was not around. She still plays console games now, but not nearly so frequently any longer [Simes 2010].

Soloers

Soloers play the game by themselves without the benefit of a party. The plight of the soloer is particularly vexing to game developers, who build their interactive worlds on the basic principles of Dungeons & Dragons, which requires teamwork. A population of soloers breaks down many of the inherent social benefits that gamers take for granted, most particularly the incentive to help new players. The cost of “social exit” is what helps bind the community together—even if they don’t like the game, they don’t want to leave their friends. An unfriendly, selfish community is hostile to new players, who by definition are weaker than the higher-level players they partner with. A shared sense of weakness and vulnerability is critical to group cohesion and party advancement, and soloing circumvents this (Taylor 2006:36).

Still, one of the largest problems in MMORPGs that soloers cite as their reason for soloing is that they are unable to find parties. The reasons for soloing can range from picking a character who is not suitable for most parties (highly specialized classes often suffer from this), to the time of day when the player is on, to the fact that the player does not have the necessary social contacts to form a party quickly. Soloers, in essence, arose out of a more casual style of play necessitated by the constraints of modern living. Soloers are not limited to these reasons, of course. Many players shift in and out of solo play as circumstances require, fighting lower-level monsters until they are able to find an appropriate party.

Character Roles

Although EverQuest has a role-playing preferred server, Firiona Vie, most players don’t otherwise role-play outside of this server (Taylor 2006:30). In fact, players can have up to eight distinct characters per server, and usually share their player identity with others such that characters are easily identified by their owners (96). This was not true of all MMORPGs. One of the players from my Dungeons & Dragons campaign shared his experience with Asheron’s Call (AC):

I started AC one week into the retail launch. Some of my D&D friends had been playing during Beta, and convinced me to join. I played regularly for seven years, then took almost two years off, then came back for another year before finally retiring. I created a Gharu’ndim mage, though the game was strictly skill-based, and there were no rigid class distinction. You were free to create an armor-wearing, sword wielding character that also could cast offensive spells. I continued my emphasis on role-playing in AC, choosing skills that were more suited to the character I wanted, rather than trying to “min-max” the system. I rarely spoke out of character for the first couple years in the game [Jellig 2010].

This player’s experience was very different from his experience with the Lord of the Rings (LotR) online game, which focused more on status established in the early creation of the game’s community during the Beta:

During the time I spent in LotR beta, I did not find as many people interested in role-playing as I did in AC. I think there may have been a couple of reasons for that: There was an opportunity to save some advancement of Beta characters when the official launch came, so people were more inclined to power level to ensure the maximum benefit when the launch came. There seemed to be a larger gap between the older, more advanced Beta players and the newbies. It seemed that more of the established groups were not interested in recruiting lower levels into their allegiances. This may have also been a consequence of the Beta experience, as there was no guarantee that your followers would keep the allegiance after the launch (especially once the extra levels were lost and everyone was on more or less of an even playing field) [Jellig 2010].

Race

EverQuest’s races include traditional races from Middle-earth: halflings, gnomes, dwarves, several species of elves (high, half-, dark, and wood), dwarf, and human (Taylor 2006:12). Barbarians, a class in tabletop Dungeons & Dragons, are instead a race in EverQuest—taking the outsider view (that barbarians are a group of people) rather than an insider view (that any race can be classified as a barbarian). Like the Tinker gnomes of Dragonlance, gnomes in EverQuest are also associated with technology (Taylor 2006:14).

In EverQuest, all humanoid characters are white or tanned except for the dark elves, who have blue skin, and the erudites, who are dark brown. Erudites are a human-like race, juxtaposing a curious differentiation between species and race—they are not human, yet seem to represent a darker-skinned human analogue (Taylor 2006:114). As Van Dyke noticed in Dungeons & Dragons, this is likely due to the biases inherent in a fantasy framework drawn from European myth.

Class

EverQuest has traditional Middle-earth archetypes: bard, ranger, rogue, warrior, and wizard. Others include tabletop Dungeons & Dragons classes: cleric, druid, monk, and paladin. New classes include enchanter, magician, necromancer, shadowknight, and shaman. All of them continue the previously covered roles of MUDs and tabletop RPGs in exploring the various classes. They differ primarily in graphical effects.

Status

Unlike other MMORPGs, Dungeons & Dragons Online has fewer levels, with four steps between actual levels. This spreads out the bonuses received in comparison to the tabletop game. It seems to be more of a compromise to keep the two in sync. Since fourth edition Dungeons & Dragons goes no higher than thirtieth level and most MMORPGs range up to 100, the modifier of four roughly equates the level systems.

MMORPGs reinforce the Sisyphean level-grind. The character increases in a perpetual growth arc. This is also of true in Dungeons & Dragons, which discourages death as detrimental to a long-term campaign, and it’s true in massive multiplayer games, in which death is a mere inconvenience. It is a world of limitless growth, of clearly designated rewards, of an ascension punctuated by an increase in power and opportunity. It is, in essence, the remedy to what real life so often promises but fails to provide to the middle and lower class ... a clear path of upward mobility (Castronova 2005:274).

In EverQuest, the maximum levels have gradually been increased, from 50 up through 70 (Taylor 2006: 28). In World of Warcraft, leveling is automatic. Cash buys access to training in new skills and characters gain a point in their skill tree.

In WoW, once you’ve leveled you cannot lose that level, which is a nice perk. However, new skills or spells feels somewhat rare after new levels, and while certain levels have a big skill or ability or item you can get, many levels feel like they are stepping stones for the more important levels [Simes 2010].

Conclusion

MMORPGs benefitted greatly from CRPGs and their online hybrids like Diablo. Advancing in fits and starts, MMORPGs were initially defined by processing power and network speed. With broadband access and more powerful processors, those two factors became less important in determining the breadth of a MMORPG.

Development of fantasy games seems to have largely shifted away from CRPGs to MMORPGs, if only because MMORPGs are based on a subscription model that keeps making money for the game company. As Castronova explained, game companies have little incentive to promote immersion in a role—they are primarily concerned with making back their investment by having players return again and again. So long as that happens, MMORPGs are a very appealing model for success.

On the other hand, the MMORPG has largely taken the tabletop paradigm and simply expanded it to thousands of players, which results in some odd aberrations. In Dungeons & Dragons, the players are heroes and central to the plot. In MMORPGs, the world is populated by heroes. Nowhere was this more evident than Ultima’s failure to create a fully functioning ecology. MMORPGs do not mimic normal ecologies, but rather are filled with roving bands of superpredators—the adventurers. Recent MMORPGs haven’t really evolved beyond World of Warcraft. World of Warcraft did everything EverQuest did, but better—better graphics, fewer bugs, and a more defined world.

Where do MMORPGs go from here? In large part, MMORPGs still struggle with how to handle their massive player bases. Taylor theorizes that there might be advantages to a smaller game world in unforeseen structural, economic or organizational ways (2006:160). In this regard they can learn from MUDs, which have a much more personalized focus on their players, and PBBGs, which harness the power of large groups without requiring them all to be logged in simultaneously. Guilds and clans will continue to become a formal part of the game experience rather than a meta-game artifice created by players.

Sliding the media richness scale from MUDs, which provide only text to describe a world, to MMORPGs, which provide graphics and sound, Castronova theorizes that the online multiplayer game will eventually reach a “steady state” satisfying all the needs of a live action role-playing game without the barriers to entry. This world will hold more than a million users simultaneously, consist largely of player-created content, will be controlled via voice and hand motions (increasing the media richness even further), and will look exactly like Earth (Castronova 2005:98). We explore LARPs in the next chapter.

NINE

LIVE ACTION ROLE-PLAYING GAMES

Introduction

Live action role-playing games (LARPs) are games in which players are physically present, acting out their roles without exclusively sitting at a table. The Turku School defines LARPs as “a game where you try to do everything as concretely as possible, and do your best to avoid any means that are not part of the game world” (Pohjola 2003).

Unlike traditional tabletop role-playing games, LARPs have few universal elements to them. There are usually referees and player characters who work together to form an interactive story, but the similarities end there. LARPs focus more on storytelling than simulation. To help create agency, players sometimes dress as their characters or use physical props (Harrigan and Wardrip-Fruin 2007:2). Some games also take a considerable amount of time. The effort put into producing and participating in a LARP makes it one of the most time intensive of any form of fantasy gaming (Faidutti 2007:95).

Live action role-playing also encompasses a variety of other formats that blur the line between improv acting and gaming. Renaissance Fairs have their own rules for participants. These rules are not necessarily gaming rules, but the actors depicting nonplayer characters have a certain code of conduct for staying within character. Games like True Dungeon translate the tabletop dungeoncrawl experience into live action without requiring the player to become fully immersed in the role. There are also crossover events like “bashes” or “cons” where MMORPG gamers come dressed as their characters (Taylor 2006:2).

History

LARPs have always been with us. Any childhood game involving imagination and a role could be classified as the first live action role-playing game. From shamans acting out mythological tales to children performing a school play, the foundation of the LARP has always been part of the human experience. The Commedia dell’Arte tradition of the 16th century is a particularly notable early form of live action role-playing games.

In 1905, G.K. Chesterton published The Club of Queer Trades, which includes a story describing an organization that stages LARPs for its customers, laying the framework for the gaming medium we know today. In the 1920s, Model League of Nations formed LARPs as a recreational pastime. Also during this time, Jacob L. Moreno used the LARP format for psychotherapeutic purposes, calling it psychodrama. Modern improvisation began in the 1950s with the theater games of Viola Spolin and Keith Johnstone. Spolin used these games to train actors rather than as purely entertainment.

Fantasy live action role-playing took off in 1966 with the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), as a result of a party hosted by Diana Paxson in Berkeley, California. In addition to popular fantasy author Poul Anderson (author of Three Hearts and Three Lions, the inspiration for paladins and trolls in Dungeons & Dragons), Steve Perrin and Steve Henderson went on to create Runequest from Chaosium, Inc. (Raymond 1994). Richard Garriot began Ultima IV with a visit to a “RenFair” (Barton 2008:21). All were members of the SCA.

The SCA was soon followed by the Markland Medieval Mercenary Militia in 1969. Both the SCA and Markland were less concerned about fantasy than with the accurate representation of medieval culture and history. It was only after the publication of Dungeons & Dragons that LARPs came into their own.

Dagohir Outdoor Improvisational Battle Games was founded by Bryan Weise in 1977, and in 1980 the Assassin’s Guild was created at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). These involved live-combat-style games, with the goal of assassinating the opponent. It was also during this time that the Swedish LARP group Gyllene Hjorten was established.

In 1981, the International Fantasy Gaming Society (IFGS), a name inspired by Larry Niven and Steven Barnes’ Dreampark novels, incorporated live combat with Dungeons & Dragons–inspired rules. That same year, the Society for Interactive Literature was founded by Walter Freitag, Mike Massamilla, and Rick Dutton. They held the first modern theater-style live action role-playing game in 1983 at the Boskone Science Fiction Convention.

In 1983, Amtgard was established. In 1985, live action role-playing games took hold in Finland. That year also saw the release of Lazer Tag, my introduction to the world of live action role-playing games at the age of thirteen. Unlike other forms of live action role-playing games, Lazer Tag was primarily combat oriented, although there were ranks and experience gained, as per the official rulebook. We were playing a rudimentary form of LARP—there are LARPs that incorporate Lazer Tag and other laser games as a form of combat resolution. The Darkon Wargaming Club was established in 1985.

In 1988, NERO LARP was launched by Ford Ivey. In 1989, live action role-playing games took hold in Norway.

In 2004, True Adventures was launched at Gen Con Indy by Jeff Martin. True Adventures consists of two parts: True Dungeon, and True Dungeon Fantasy Tavern. True Dungeon is the most popular event at Gen Con, drawing over 3,000 people each year.

The first MagiQuest opened in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, at noon on June 15, 2005. Additional MagiQuest locations have subsequently opened in or have been announced across the United States and around the globe. MagiQuest is a franchised, commercial LARP that patterns itself after the popular Harry Potter franchise. Its interactive experience and live action roleplay are uniquely suited for its audience.

In Nordic countries, LARPs, known as “laiv play,” have a very different reputation. Laiv play is viewed as an art form, separate and distinct from tabletop role-playing games, more akin to improv theater. Laiv play has few stats or event resolution, and players use short written summaries to determine who they are and what they are capable of. This summary covers the character’s biography and daily routines. In-character role-playing is paramount. Laiv plays also don’t usually incorporate an overarching plot, allowing individuals to pursue their own aims based on their characters’ experiences (Brenne 2005).

Narrative

In LARPs, resolution is handled differently due to the level of immersion of the players. If a player has to roll dice, it is a game artifact that clearly pulls the player out of the experience. Rolling dice is a meta-mechanic that most LARPs prefer to simplify to keep the game moving and keep the player in character. Different resolution mechanics include rock, paper, scissors, hand signals, or a deck of cards. Some LARPs lack conflict resolution entirely, like murder-mystery games, focusing exclusively on social interaction and investigation.

Because LARP sessions take place in real time and in physical locations, the surroundings dictate the game as much as the physical appearance of the players. It’s also possible to have games take place where other people are unaware of the game and thus not active participants, but this can be perceived as disruptive and potentially illegal.

Unlike LARPs, True Dungeon embraces its Dungeons & Dragons roots, using similar tabletop rules. Combat involves sliding a weapon counter on a shuffleboard. The sliding piece must come to rest within certain areas of the shuffleboard in order to hit the monster. Because all attacks are made before any hits are determined, a team member’s weapon counter can be knocked into or out of a hit area. Damage is determined by the direction the numbers on the weapon counter are facing in relation to the damage indicator on the shuffleboard.

True Dungeon prides itself on being an official Dungeons & Dragons experience translated into a life-sized, walkthrough dungeon environment. It emphatically labels itself as “not a LARP”; True Dungeon focuses on problem solving, teamwork, and tactics, all with exciting sets and interactive props, but it does not require role-playing a separate persona. Jeff Martin, creator of True Dungeon, explains:

We never ask the player to put on a persona. True Dungeon is about see how “YOU” would do in a challenging environment, and we don’t want to take people out of the fun by asking them to play someone else. The game is designed to be enjoyed upfront and viscerally. There is no need to have a character to enjoy the intense gaming action [Martin 2010].

True Dungeon’s approach is distinctly different because it infuses the dungeon-crawling experience with the diegesis of live action, replicating the sights and sounds of a dungeon. This is most evident in traps and puzzles, which require players to physically interact with their environment to solve the challenges in a way tabletop play never could. It’s one thing for a player’s thief to casually roll dice to disarm a trap and quite another to willingly place your bare arm into the maw of a gargoyle in hopes that the opening does not contain a trap.

In MagiQuest the players take on the role of Magi, using an infraredemitting wand to complete quests, interact with objects, find gold, and duel. The wand “remembers” the player’s progress with each visit. The objective of MagiQuest is to build and gain power by obtaining magic runes. These runes are awarded for completing certain tasks, using the infrared wand to activate targets marked with a stylized Q.

Darkon features two types of events, battle days and adventures. Battle days are a series of team battles, with players free to use any skills or spells designated for normal combat—it is a player vs. player conflict. Adventures, on the other hand, are pre-scripted scenarios where referees recruit nonplayer characters as opponents and even monsters. Players use only the abilities designated for adventure events, many of them non–combat-related.

Personalization

Character descriptions and resolution differ significantly between LARPs and tabletop RPGs. The player’s body influences his description. He can modify his appearance with clothing, props, and makeup, but he is what he is; it’s much harder to play a different gender or a different race than in a conventional tabletop or online game. Certain attributes can still reside within the realm of imagination, so that the player can perform superhuman powers in-game or perform skills he does not ordinarily possess.

The Alliance LARP allows players to take the role of elves, “hoblings,” dwarves, or even biata (gryphon-like beings) and sarr (cat-people). It features seven character classes, including fighters, mages, and rogues.

In Darkon, all participants must wear fantasy garb at all times, including a tunic-style shirt with colored pants. Jeans are expressly prohibited. Nongenre footwear is permissible but must be covered. Different classes have different costume choices that they must wear to identify their type. Mundane contemporary items like cell phones must be hidden out of sight.

Darkon’s spell casting system uses spell points, with each spell having an energy cost. These spell points regenerate only after midnight, rather than perpetually as in MUDs and CRPGs. In order to cast a spell, the player must read the full length of the spell from his spell book or scroll. The caster cannot move, speak, or fight while casting (including being hit by an opponent).

Once the spell is cast, the caster can then hold the spell indefinitely; during this time he may not speak, and can only move up to five steps from his original position—shades of third edition Dungeons & Dragons’ five-foot step. Should the caster be struck while holding the spell, he suffers the effect of the spell. This means fireballs held in abeyance will explode on the caster!

Risk

Unlike a tabletop game, rolling dice is less feasible in a LARP, if only because the players are standing or actively moving about. This doesn’t make it impossible—some LARPs use oversized dice as if the floor were a tabletop.

Another form of resolution is physical combat. Weapons coated in foam and made with PVC or fiberglass are used in a form of “boffer” combat. The goal is not to hurt the opponent but to score hits, which deal damage depending on the type of weapon used. Spell-casters throw a soft item, usually a bean bag, at an opponent and describe the effect.

Spell balls are between six and twelve inches in diameter, stuffed with foam or cloth, and sealed on all sides. Each spell has spell balls of different colors. The spell-caster must then throw the spell ball at the opponent. If it even grazes the opponent, the effect is visited upon the player. If it hits the ground or another object, the spell detonates with the impact point at its center. Any foes in the radius are also affected. There is a video on YouTube of this sort of spell combat in action, with a caster hurling spell balls at a troll and shouting “Lightning bolt!” over and over. What might seem peculiar to nonparticipants is in fact an important part of the game (Sexdwarf 2005).

In boffer combat, communication is important. The combatants use three phrases: “On guard,” which means to prepare for the fight, “Lay on,” which means to fight, and “Hold,” which is the equivalent of time out or a signal that the fight is over. Targets that are off limits include hands, feet, groin, neck, and head. Those who are hit are supposed to acknowledge that they’ve been hit.

Another system, known as the Live Steel Combat System, uses actual blunt weapons. Dispensing with the foam of the boffer system, carefully trained players use realistic fighting in duels and other conflicts.

If there is a hit to a limb, that limb cannot be used—fighters can therefore lose access to a weapon or shield arm, or even movement if struck in the leg. Although some systems do use hit points, Amtgard only uses the limb system or two hits in total (preventing the ridiculous scenario of an armless warrior attempting to fight on, shades of the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail). Armor can extend the player’s life by adding more hits to those limbs.

Temple of Apshai modeled its combat system after the Society for Creative Anachronism as an antidote to “systems ... which are tedious at best and, because they almost necessarily overemphasize such unusual occurrences, are statistically as inaccurate as simpler systems” (Johnson 1982:7).

True Dungeon has a different form of combat. Instead of rolling dice, weapon counters are slid on a shuffleboard. Different discs representing different weapons must come to rest within certain predefined areas of the shuffleboard to hit the monster. All attacks are made before any hits are determined, which means it’s possible to bump a teammate’s successful attack off the board or nudge a missed swing so that it connects. Damage is determined by the direction the weapon counter faces in relation to the damage indicator on the shuffleboard, randomizing damage as well. To give fighter, ranger, and paladin classes an advantage, they have the opportunity to practice prior to entering the dungeon.

Another mainstay of True Dungeon is its puzzles, which often require a team effort to solve. Each class brings certain abilities to the game that enable them to help solve these various puzzles. In addition to the puzzles, players are challenged with physical obstacles that give individual players with a knack for problem-solving an opportunity to shine. Martin explained the design philosophy of riddles:

I wanted TD to be cool in that it takes a good balanced team to do well in the adventure. So, I designed the tests to challenge various cognitive and physical abilities. This means that a group of MENSA geniuses is more likely to get slaughtered on the physical skill checks such as combat. You not only need some good puzzle solvers, but you need some players who can perform exactly physical tasks under pressure. It just seems more like the archetype D&D experience where you have a diverse group of individuals contributing their own particular skill for the welfare of the whole party [Martin 2010].

Death is an awkward condition in live-action games. The player is obviously still alive, so removing him from the game requires physically relocating him to another location, usually outside of the play area. True Dungeon eventually abandoned this mechanic so that the deceased can now follow the party as a ghost, present but incapable of affecting the game or helping the party.

This solution, which is popular on MUDs, MMORPGs, and first-person shooters, enables the player to remain somewhat social without completely disengaging the deceased character’s play from the game. In RetroMUD, we used a similar ghost mechanic but eventually abandoned it for a confined afterlife area. Ghosts were only capable of observing and incapable of speech, but they were otherwise free to roam. As a result, ghosts often scouted ahead for their adventuring party, relaying information using out-of-game tools.

In True Dungeon, roaming ghosts are much easier to moderate—referees can clearly tell if a player is speaking or otherwise interacting with the environment. Players who violate these rules are asked to leave, and if they must leave for other reasons (bathroom breaks or real-life emergencies) they are permanently deceased. Another advantage is that if the deceased player’s character is brought back from the dead, he can immediately rejoin play rather than wander the dungeon to find his compatriots.

In Darkon, characters that are killed cannot move, speak or perform any actions for two minutes or at the discretion of an Elder (a referee). The character is then relegated to Hades, where he must spend some time before returning to the game. He will not have any memory of the last five minutes immediately preceding his death, including who killed him—this is presumably to prevent a perpetual stream of vendetta killings as players attempt to attack their killers in an act of revenge. If a player is resurrected through magical means (within 12 minutes of his death) he retains all of his memories.

Hades is a designated area considered out of play, in which players spend time to repair equipment, heal wounds, and restore life. Combat is forbidden in and around the Hades area. A referee known as the Hades Elder records the names, times, and reasons for players entering and leaving Hades. Dead players hold their weapon overhead to signify that they are ghosts returning to Hades, incapable of communication with players beyond a nod of their head to confirm death. Death in Hades is 12 minutes long (Darkon Wargaming Club 2009:85).

Roles

LARPs differ from tabletop role-playing games through the addition of physical reality to construct diegeses (Montola 2003). In a role-playing game, when the game master describes a rock, he does not provide the million little details that instantly convey the rock’s physical reality. He only creates the impression of the rock. In a live action game, the rock is an actual rock, and thus the texture, size, physical space, distance, color, smell, weight, and so on are all instantly accounted for.

Because physical reality’s complexity is beyond the scope of any one person’s ability to catalogue all of its intricacies, this can create some peculiar disparities, such as elements in the physical world inappropriately intruding on the game. Contrast this with the diegesis created by MMORPGs, where every object and character in the world is catalogued and indexed.

Renaissance festivals are another form of live action game, although the level of engagement of the characters and players varies according to the festival. Characters play roles and some have goals to be fulfilled either by actors portraying the characters or by the visitors themselves.

Perhaps the ultimate passive live action role-playing game of this style is Medieval Times. My wife and I had our wedding at Medieval Times in New Jersey. Because our entire wedding party was dressed in character, visitors had difficulty distinguishing us (the players) from the staff (stagehands). At one point, my father was asked for directions to the restroom, which he gladly provided in his best British accent. The unsuspecting visitor never knew the difference.

Creator Roles

Nonplayer Character

Where LARPs differ most from tabletop games is in the handling of nonplayer characters (NPCs). The physical performance necessary to pull off a role in a LARP makes it impractical for a single person to handle many NPC roles. As a result, there is often a cast of characters who take on the roles of other NPCs. Unlike the players, the NPCs usually know the game’s plot and have some idea of the narrative (Branney and Leman 20).

NPCs, then, are a form of pseudo-player. They play the game, their characters have somewhat more limited goals, but they are ultimately constrained by the plot. Because LARPs are generally free-form, these players need direction as to how to continue with the plot when events don’t go as planned— which is inevitable in a less controlled environment.

Referee

Most LARPs have at least one referee, although some live action games are moderated by a small group of players. In Darkon, players with at least 31 battle credits are eligible to become referees, a system similar to the player/wizard advancement of MUDs. Darkon’s referees are referred to as Elders. Every country must offer at least one member to act as an Elder at each event. Each Elder is identified by his plain white tabard with the word “Elder” printed on the front. Elders adjudicate battlefield events and combat and can levy penalties for infractions.

There are analogues to the referee in the “puppet masters” of alternatereality games (ARGs). In ARGs, players experience “power plays,” games in which strangers are brought together to perform certain acts in public at the puppet master’s behest. The title is apt; puppet masters are often anonymous, posing questions, riddles, and challenges without directly interacting with the players (McGonigal 2007:252).

Marshal

In Darkon, marshals are volunteers that help with the administrative duties. Marshals have a variety of distinct duties—there is a Head Marshal and several assistants. Marshal specialties include armor, coin, costume, land, poison, potion and scroll, relic, spell, and weapon.

Stagehand

Because of the level of staging necessary to conduct a live action roleplaying game, there are also stagehand roles. These people are not active participants in the game but support staff necessary to coordinate the events, handle props, and otherwise ensure that the non-interactive aspects of the game run smoothly.

In elaborate LARPs, these stagehands are also special effects crews who perform everything from pyrotechnics to makeup artistry. They can make people look wounded or remove wounds, conjure smoke at the appropriate time, or animate monster props that dispense riddles.

Participant Roles

Matthijs Holter explains what makes immersion in a role feasible (2007:21): Characters and setting should be believable and detailed; the story’s flow should be well-paced with smoothly incorporated game mechanics; and players should have time to visualize and think ahead as well as be experienced with immersive play. He also listed elements that can break immersion: consulting the rules often, resorting to them frequently, or mechanics that don’t directly translate into game-world descriptions; games that are too fast-paced or that force players to make snap decisions for their characters; and players talking about things outside the game or using meta-game thinking to make character decisions.

I experienced all of these elements in my first LARP experience at ICON. It was a science fiction setting wherein everyone in the room was considered in-character, and anything outside of the room was considered out-of-character. Different characters were seated throughout the room. To learn about the current events taking place in the game, a player would sit at each of the tables and chat up the character in turn.

The setting was contained and thus considerably more believable. It was a “cybercafe” and tightly focused on one spot in the universe. The thrill was in the players acting their roles—there were few props indicating a futuristic setting other than what characters said and did. There weren’t even any mechanics.

After interacting with several characters, I waited my turn to speak with a young lady. When the player ahead of me finished speaking with her, I sat down and began my dialogue, trying to figure out what was going on at the local spaceport. Much to my surprise, the male player returned and, interrupting our dialogue, asked the girl out. It took a minute to work out that the other player was not playing in character: He was asking the actress out, not her character.

I was yanked out of the immersion. Players were talking about events outside the game. To say that I was shocked was an understatement. The player, who had interpreted her in-character flirting as an advance, took her interaction with his character as a sign of her personal interest in him. The girl was understandably flustered, and this was further complicated by the fact that she was much younger than the guy thought. The female player was acting in a role in which she was more confident, which made her seem older than she was.

For me, the moment was ruined; it was difficult for me to play a confident, brash character when reality intruded so abruptly. I couldn’t react to the turn of events, because they technically didn’t happen in game. I left the game, frustrated and upset and not entirely understanding why. I didn’t play LARPs for a long time after that.

There are times, of course, when the mixing of role-play and real life can have a positive effect; my own wedding at Medieval Times is an excellent example and it certainly isn’t the only one (Fortugno 2007:265).

Player

Different LARPs have different levels of player engagement. Generally speaking, players in a LARP are expected to be in character first and then signal their desire to speak or act out of character second, the reverse of a tabletop game.

No discussion of LARP roles would be complete without an examination of the events of April 15, 1979, when James Dallas Egbert III, a Michigan State University student, disappeared (Hatley 1999). Dallas, as he was known, was a 16-year-old computer genius, so smart that he had been repairing computers for the United States Air Force since he was 12. He was a typical gamer geek and smart enough to attend college early. On August 22, private investigator William C. Dear was hired by Dallas’s family to find him. As a highly successful PI and friend of the Egberts, Dear agreed to take on the case.

During his investigation, Dear theorized that Egbert may have confused his role in the game with his role in real life, an unfortunate statement that would have repercussions for Dungeons & Dragons well beyond the investigation. The disappearance was reported widely in the press, and Rona Jaffe’s fictional book Mazes & Monsters soon followed. Inspired by Egbert’s case, Mazes & Monsters concerned Robbie Wheeling, who snaps while playing a Dungeons & Dragons–like game in the steam tunnels of Grant University (Jaffe 1981). It was later turned into a movie starring Tom Hanks.

The danger of role-playing immersion posed by Mazes & Monsters stoked Hollywood’s fertile imagination. In the public mind, Mazes & Monsters was conflated with the Egbert case. The damage was done; Dungeons & Dragons earned a reputation for dangerously corrupting children. It wasn’t until 1984 that the facts were laid out in William Dear’s book, The Dungeon Master: The Disappearance of James Dallas Egbert III.

So what really happened? Dallas, a D&D player, was fond of playing a LARP in the steam tunnels under MSU’s buildings, a distinction the media failed to mention. Depressed and driven to perform in school, Dallas became suicidal.

When Dear tracked down Dallas, he postulated several theories as to what happened to him, ranging from suicide to kidnapping to getting lost in the fantasy of Dungeons & Dragons. A shrewd investigator who was no stranger to the press, Dear was concerned that if his kidnapping theory was publicized and Dallas really was kidnapped, he would be killed. Thus, Dear let the Dungeons & Dragons theory percolate: “You have a Dungeon Master—he designs the characters. Someone is put into the dungeon, and it is up to him to get out,” explained Dear. “In some instances when a person plays the game you actually leave your body and go out of your mind.”

Dear was very good at his job. One month later he located Dallas in Morgan City, Louisiana. Under pressure from his mother and struggling with his own sexuality, Dallas had attempted to commit suicide in the steam tunnels beneath Michigan State University by taking sleeping pills. When he awoke the following night, Dallas fled to the house of a friend, a gay man in his early twenties.

The relationship between Dallas, a minor, and his adult friend had legal implications. When the story broke, Dallas was shuttled between houses as each host became increasingly concerned about the media scrutiny. Dallas was sent on a train to New Orleans, where he attempted suicide yet again. Dallas found a job and a place to stay, but eventually all involved decided that he should give himself up.

It’s obvious that Dungeons & Dragons had nothing to do with Dallas Egbert’s disappearance. Unfortunately, it was also clear that Dallas’s homosexual relationships were a concern for Dallas and those involved with him. Dear promised not to divulge the details of the case to protect Dallas’s younger brother, Doug, leaving Dungeons & Dragons to blame. The facts didn’t come out until five years later in Dear’s book.

It is not uncommon for those not familiar with gaming culture to see role-playing as weakening the player’s identity, implying that the players have difficulty distinguishing between what is real and what is fantastical. Roleplaying games can be actually quite healthy. Benefits include sublimation of aggression, the encouragement of “imagination, creativity, reading, group cooperation, social interaction, and the benefit of mutual assistance even with diverse racial perspectives” (Gygax 1989:150).

The pernicious belief that role-playing is somehow anti-authority persists even today (Thomas 2010). The 7th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals recently upheld a prison’s decision to restrict a prisoner from playing role-playing games, which promote “competitive hostility, violence, addictive escape behaviors, and possible gambling” (Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals 2010).

However, players are very clear about this distinction and use specific terms and modes of address to clarify when they are in-game and out-of-game. This is particularly important in LARPs. Some LARPs conduct “afterlive,” a meeting after the LARP session to resolve any lingering issues or questions and help players transition from fantasy back to reality (Mortensen 2007:303).

These same techniques are used during intense role-playing sessions for training purposes, wherein players placed in emotionally stressful situations are then allowed to “draw down” in a safe environment. I have participated in business training sessions in which I was thrust into a surprise role-playing experience, and my decades of gaming served me well. I was much better able to adapt to the shifting frames, from that of the player to that of another character. My colleagues, who had never experienced this form of gaming, found it emotionally jarring, enough to reduce two of them to tears. The training’s conclusion carefully compartmentalized the role-playing experience and allowed the players to celebrate their success in passing the course.

Character Roles

True Dungeon players are provided character cards which they wear around their necks. Each of these characters includes typical Dungeons & Dragons statistics of hit points, armor class, level, and the six attributes (strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma). These are complete nonplayer characters, which include gender and race.

There are five different clans (with parallels to Dungeons & Dragons classes) in MagiQuest: Majestic (cleric), Shadow (rogue), Trixter (the bard), Warrior (fighter), Woodsy (druid). The players interact with both digital and live-action characters. Those characters draw parallels to characters from the Harry Potter series, including the Dumbledore doppelganger known as Questmaster to Z’nort, who bears a strong resemblance to Dobby.

Gender and Race

When players select a character, they select only a class. Although gender and race are sometimes assigned, they are not usually a factor in play. In Darkon, players may choose to play any race they like, but there are no modifiers. They are encouraged to dress as the race they have chosen (Darkon Staff 2009:34). In True Dungeon, “Races and gender listed do not imply that a player must play up to that designation as the game is truly about the player’s abilities, not the characters” (True Dungeon Staff 2006:8).

Class

In True Dungeon, every character class has a specific skill that applies in the dungeon. True Dungeon divides its implementation of abilities into two categories: minor feats of physical dexterity and mnemonics. At the start of each session, the players are given time to practice their skills until they are ready, when a Dungeon Master then leads them into the dungeon.

For physical tasks, paladins and fighters practice sliding discs along the shuffleboard table. Rangers can slide two discs at once, representing their skill in two-weapon fighting. Rogues must have a steady hand to pick locks or disarm traps, simulated by moving a metal stylus through a small metal maze without touching any of the sides.

For mnemonic tasks, clerics must be able to recall the best focus item for casting a spell or turning undead. Wizards must remember which plane of existence aligns with which spell. Bards must recall the meaning of ancient glyphs found in the dungeon.

This does not preclude the penalties from being physical, however. Beyond actual damage inflicted to the characters, players may experience an electric shock, get blasted with a puff of air or sprayed with water.

BARD • Bards in True Dungeon are similar to third edition bards. They can cast spells, use scrolls of all types, and are responsible for memorizing glyphs, a simulation of the fabled bardic lore. Bards are also able to sing or rhyme, resulting in a +1 damage bonus to all other party members—an ability that is increased if the bard has the right musical instrument.

I played two adventures in True Dungeon, as a bard, of course. One of the requirements for a bard to bestow his bonuses upon his party is to sing. In tabletop games players of bards are not usually expected to act out their performance. Even in Dungeons & Dragons Online, bards only play a handful of tunes. While bards are assumed to be singing or playing a musical instrument in the tabletop version of Dungeons & Dragons, actual singing by the player seems to be discouraged.

That didn’t stop me. When it was time to encourage my party to combat a monster by singing, I sang my fool head off. Come to think of it, I never heard another bard sing—either because no one else was playing a bard or because they were too bashful to sing. And what did I sing? U Can’t Touch This of course, by MC Hammer. This caused the Dungeon Masters who were present to exclusively target me with monster attacks “because of my horrible singing.” And before my very eyes, on the big twenty-sided die, on two separate occasions, the Dungeon Masters rolled a natural 1. Not just a miss, but a total and complete whiff. Can’t touch this indeed!

A_SSASSIN • Players can be assassins in Darkon. Assassins are required to carry a twelve-inch-square piece of black cloth as a symbol of their class. The assassin gains the ability to disguise himself, climb walls, backstab, and, of course, assassinate other characters.

Assassination is the only way to remove a character from an adventure for longer than the usual 12 minutes. After obtaining a writ of assassination from one of the three guildmasters of the Assassin’s Guild, the assassin is free to perform the assassination by dagger, arrow, or poison. The attack must be a mortal wound. When the assassination is performed, the writ is left with the victim. Assassinated players are out of the game for 24 hours. At higher levels, assassins can torture other characters, make poison and detect the disguises of other characters.

CLERIC • The True Dungeon cleric has a lot of similarities to the tabletop version. Prayer beads are associated with virtues, and the player is required to memorize those virtues to maximize the effectiveness of the cleric’s spells. Turning undead is grouped as an ability along with the cleric’s other spells.

Clerics in Darkon have access to many of the same spells as their Dungeons & Dragons counterparts, including healing spells. They can turn undead at eighth level and are able to return dead players to life at tenth level.

FIGHTER • In True Dungeon, fighters are defined by their ability to slide discs on the monster shuffleboard—that is, the player’s skill is measured, not the character’s. However, they do have one in-game advantage: Power Attack. Using Power Attack, the fighter hitting a monster by sliding a 19 or 20 adds +5 or +10 damage respectively. Anything less is a miss. In this way the ingame effect of the character enhances the player’s skill at sliding.

In Darkon, fighters are permitted to wield any weapon, use any size shield, don any armor, and wear any style of costume. They gain the ability to bind their own wounds by tying a white cloth with a red cross on it around a wounded limb so that it can still be used. At higher levels they can repair destroyed shields and armor.

M_ONK • Monks seem like an odd choice for a True Dungeon, but given the abstraction involved in using pucks on a shuffleboard table to attack monsters, monk attacks are just variants of equipment tokens. In essence, a monk adventures with only the clothes on his back. His armor class is higher than his companions’ without the benefit of equipment. He can attack with two sliders at the same time, representing the “flurry of blows” ability of the third edition monk. He can also stun a target once a day on a successful hit. The evasion ability—taking half or no damage from an attack—can be used once per combat. The monk can even deflect missile weapons once a round.

In Darkon, monks are able to use their hands, feet, or weapon to deflect incoming non-magical missile weapons, a trait that carries over from Dungeons & Dragons. Monks must call out “Monk” upon making a deflection. As the monk advances in level, he can feign death and heal himself. He becomes immune to disease, poison, and illusions, and his skin becomes tougher, bestowing armor-like qualities.

PALADIN • As in the tabletop version, paladins in True Dungeon can detect evil three times during an adventure, cure a certain amount of hit points split in any fashion across the party as per the “lay on hands” ability, and can smite an evil monster once during an adventure for an additional +3 damage.

Instead of paladins, Darkon has cavaliers. Only those with the noble title of Knight Baronet can join this class. Upon joining, the Knight Baronet forfeits all battle credits achieved with the noble character and begins as a first rank cavalier—effectively a prestige class. Unlike paladins, cavaliers must pick an allegiance to an alignment, and thus can be neutral, evil, or good. Cavaliers wear a sash of white, gray, or black to represent their allegiance. Cavaliers must also adhere to a code of chivalry, which is very similar to the code for cavaliers as presented in Dungeons & Dragons’ first edition Unearthed Arcana: death before dishonor, combat is glory, honor to all above station, and the like. Cavaliers receive a variety of paladin-like powers, including immunity to disease, healing spells, turning undead, and creating a holy weapon.

RANGER • The ranger in True Dungeon is primarily defined by his twoweapon fighting, sliding two pucks at the same time. Interestingly enough, rangers receive a bonus against undead (perhaps a variant of the “favored enemy” of rangers from the third edition). There is no parallel to the tabletop ranger’s tracking ability, likely due to the difficulty of reproducing tracking in a live action environment.

Darkon, on the other hand, features an elaborate system for adjudicating ranger abilities. They have access to the tracking skill, which performs in much the same way as it does in tabletop games without requiring the player to actually identify tracks—all the information is determined by an Elder. Rangers also get a small selection of spells, like the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons ranger. At higher levels rangers can scout an area, learning key information shared on behalf of his region. Using their exploration ability, rangers can even roll twice on a random monster encounter table and choose the more beneficial of the two.

ROGUE • Rogues in True Dungeon have a sneak attack ability, inflicting +10 damage per encounter. They also can disarm traps and locks via a stylus mechanism reminiscent of those used in the board game Operation.

In Darkon, thieves can appear like any other character, but must carry a skeleton key on their person to symbolize their class. All thieves have the ability to quickly loot a body, presenting their skeleton key to the dead character’s player and searching each body part.

At second rank, the thief gains the ability to pick pockets, which allows him to loot living characters. This is tricky, as the diegesis of the situation requires an Elder to be aware of the attempt but the player to not be. After informing the Elder of what he plans to steal (presumably out of earshot of the intended victim), the thief must put his hand on the object to be stolen and remain in contact for 15 seconds if the thief is under tenth level, 10 seconds from eleventh to nineteenth level, and just five seconds for twentieth level thieves and up. Once that time has been fulfilled, the Elder signifies that the task is complete. The Elder then notifies the victim and retrieves the item from him, to be given to the thief.

At third rank, Darkon thieves can climb walls. Like picking pockets, this act is simulated. The thief can climb any wall by lying flat ten feet away from the wall and crawling to it. This obviates athletic ability on the part of the player, but mimics the character climbing the wall. Assuming the thief makes it to the wall, he may the enter the structure by passing through it (removing the rope, tape, or whatever represents the wall). Thieves caught climbing the wall may be attacked by missile weapons or polearms. A prone person makes a much larger target, in the same way that a person climbing might. A thief who is struck while climbing falls, suffering a light wound to both legs.

Third rank thieves can also backstab. They must quietly approach a victim from behind and attack with a dagger to his torso. It inflicts a considerable amount of damage depending on the character’s armor, usually resulting in death.

At fourth rank, a Darkon thief can open locks. Each lock has a rating (1 to 15), and the thief places his hand on the lock he is attempting to open for three minutes. For every difficulty level above the thief’s rank, an additional minute is added, up to a maximum of ten minutes; more than ten minutes means the lock is beyond the thief’s ability to open it. If the thief is of higher rank than the lock’s ranking, the time to open it is reduced by 30 seconds for every difficulty level below the thief’s rank.

Disguise allows a thief to pass as belonging to another country, but not as a specific character. The thief must actually wear some physical representation of the disguise; by doing so, he can exceed the armor and shield restrictions of his character. In exchange, he cannot use any of this thief abilities for 15 minutes after the armor or shield is removed. As the Darkon rulebook explains, “This skill relies heavily on role-playing, both on the part of the Thief, and the other players surrounding him. Often, players will notice a disguise when the characters do not; all involved are encouraged to act as if the Thief fits normally in his surroundings.” This is a case where media richness is a hindrance in role-play, conflicting with the diegesis of the costume; players are encouraged to role-play ignorance. Conversely, fifteenth-level thieves can detect disguises, determining that a character is disguised without revealing their true identities. After interacting with the suspect for 60 seconds, the thief declares his rank and asks if the player is in disguise; the player must respond truthfully. The act of asking is out of game, but the observation must be in-game.

W_IZARD • In True Dungeon, wizards, like clerics, are chiefly defined by the spells they cast and the mnemonic they are required to use to cast their spells. By correctly remembering the various planes and their interaction, a wizard casting a spell can increase its effectiveness. Interestingly, the wizard’s spells are the most varied. Continual flame provides a glowing orb instead of one of the faux flickering torches provided at the start of the game. Some attack spells (magic missile, ray of frost) deal straightforward damage. Melf ’s Acid Arrow, however, requires a shuffleboard slide to strike a target.

In Darkon, wizards are called mages. They wear knee-length robes as part of their costume and must use material components to cast spells. They have the full range of spells granted to wizards in Dungeons & Dragons, ranging from pure offensive spells to transformation (growth, gaseous form) and other miscellaneous spells (enchant item, animate dead).

Fellowship

In True Dungeon, adventuring parties are composed of eight players. A stand-by pool of additional players rounds out any party missing the required eight members. In this way, some groups are introduced to new players while others are groups of old friends.

Because many of the challenges in True Dungeon require teamwork, the teams that fail are the ones who fail to cooperate most effectively. This is similar to MMORPGs and FPS, which also throw disparate groups of players together. Treasure is divided up amongst the team members, which is always a cause for stress due to conflicting priorities (greed and personal gain vs. teamwork).

One way True Dungeon helps reinforce sharing and cooperation is through lighting. Light sources are limited to torches or continual flame orbs, forcing players to huddle together to read a hint or examine a glyph. The group must also contend with time limits, as the party can stay in each room in the dungeon for approximately ten minutes.

Another interesting aspect of the True Dungeon adventuring party is that there are no class duplicates. Each character class is uniquely suited to their role in the game, a necessity in part of the considerable planning of True Dungeon.

Parties are also possible in Darkon, but the game goes one step further to allow groups to form countries. Countries are teams of at least four players, with a specific banner and tunic. Countries can trade with other countries, establish alliances, and even wage war. Each country designates two leaders, known as senators, who attend senate meetings and vote on rules for the overall game.

Status

True Dungeon advances players just as if they were characters. However, the experience points and leveling are tied to the player, not the character. These experience points carry over across all “True” events (including True Dungeon and True Heroes). All experience earned for all True Adventure events, past and present, are tabulated to calculate the player’s level.

The base award for an adventure is 650 experience points, plus 50 points for every room that the player survives. At first level, the player can access certain special events, like True Arena. At second level, the player gets the first pick of the character class before any first level players choose. Third level players roll off to see who chooses first. Fourth level players get free admission into the “Tavern,” a role-playing staging area where nonplayer characters roam. Normally players are only allowed in the Tavern before and after they play True Dungeon. At fourth level, they can come and go as they please. Fifth level players gain a title of Lord or Lady, which gives certain privileges in the Tavern and possibly on the True Dungeon forum.

Darkon players who have attended five or fewer events are required to attend a new player speech, which reviews Darkon rules, duties of Elders, and safety. They must register as a fighter first until they have attended five events, at which point they can switch to one of the other classes. New members are also restricted in what they can do in-game. They are prohibited from wearing armor and using any two-handed weapon until they have attended five events. Bows, crossbows, and javelins are prohibited until a new player has attended ten events.

In Darkon, characters advance through battle credits. These battle credits are earned by participating in various events. Players receive credits for fullday events, playing a nonplayer character, and introducing a new member to Darkon. For every five credits a character receives, he increases in rank. Powers in Darkon exceed 20 levels, with some classes getting new powers at twentyfifth level.

Conclusion

LARPs were the inspiration for many other forms of fantasy gaming. Although LARPs existed before the advent of Dungeons & Dragons, their popularity soared after its debut. LARPs fed into the fantasy gaming culture and greatly benefited from it. Conversely, the American public’s misunderstanding of how LARPs work ultimately harmed Dungeons & Dragons’ reputation. This stigma stuck with tabletop gaming for decades and is still a concern to this day.

LARPs also influenced CRPG development, as evidenced by Temple of Apshai and the Ultima series. The exchange of ideas continues between LARPs and other forms of gaming. The racial diversity of MMORPGs is reflected in Darkon. Darkon and True Dungeon owe much to the first and third editions of Dungeons & Dragons.

On the scale of personal investment, LARPs are one of the most timeintensive forms of fantasy gaming. Participants would say it’s all worth it; the level of immersion is unparalleled, the emotions and sensory experience unequaled. Although other forms of gaming wax and wane as new technologies are introduced, LARPs will continue. So long as people tell stories and act them out to an audience, LARPS will be with us for a long time.

CONCLUSION

So where do we go from here? Now that we’ve covered the evolution of fantasy gaming tropes and their various forms, from The Lord of the Rings to live action role-playing games, what’s next?

At heart, the struggle to define the “role” in role-playing game is about media richness, from completely anonymous users with few physical cues to distinguish them (MUDs) to environments so media rich that unintended physical cues creep in (LARPs). I hope this book has made it clear that each medium has an important effect on how the game is played.

We also explored the tension between simulationism and narrative. Dungeons & Dragons started out as a simulation of man-to-man combat, itself a descendant of tabletop wargames. The role-playing aspect came later, through game masters and players stretching the game beyond its wargame roots. By adjusting circumstances to their players’ decisions, millions of game masters created a customized media-rich fantasy environment in their players’ imaginations.

From there the two paths diverged. Interactive fiction tried to recapture the game master’s ability to spin a narrative structure by sharply restricting a player’s narrative choices. Early computer role-playing games embraced the simulation wholeheartedly, focusing on tactics and leveling up. Massive multiplayers, on the other hand, sacrificed narrative for the social aspect of the tabletop game—the other players. Gone was the narrative conceit of a small Fellowship of player characters as the sole heroes. In its place was an entire community of heroes, all working in tandem to achieve their goals.

On a smaller scale, LARPs have the same challenge. It’s not easy to moderate large groups of people and populate the world so that every character feels real. But there are nonplayer characters played by actual people who fill in the blanks. When you play a LARP or any media-rich game like True Dungeon, you can’t help but be immersed in the game because every sense is plunged into it. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the player achieves agency. It’s possible to create immersion, but that requires the right mindset on behalf of everyone involved—players, nonplayer characters, role distance, and environment all cooperating in tandem.

Reviewing each of the gaming mediums reinforced how precious free time really is. As the pace of the modern world increases and other forms of entertainment vie for our attention, games that require long-term personal investments will continue to decrease in popularity. IF and MUDs have lost ground year after year as PBBGs and massive multiplayers became more pervasive. What they lack in immersion these games make up for in convenience. The Internet has given us the world’s largest gaming table, with an endless variety of players to recruit.

The latest gaming mediums will continue to evolve. As the power of computer and console processors increases, massive multiplayers will attenuate to the LARP experience without the massive time investment. Castronova envisions that the convergence of media richness in gaming mediums will eventually become seamless, with LARPs and MMORPGs indistinguishable from each other. Controls and filters that harm a sense of agency will become more smoothly integrated. When you swing a sword, you’ll have a Wii-like remote to do it for you. This kind of physical interface won’t be for everybody, but it will certainly recapture some of the visceral feel of “boffer” style combat in LARPs.

The innovations will not only be in the online social space. I speak from personal experience in first-person shooter games when I say that anonymity harms group cohesion. Teams thrown together who don’t know each other have difficulty establishing leaders or dominance. Strangers worry about themselves first, their team second. However, guilds and clans that work together are considerably more effective because the million little factors that determine our compatibility have slowly been worked out. We know who is better at which game, who should choose the maps, who should lead, what weapon they’re best at wielding, and so on. This group cohesion takes time and effort. It has not, to date, been facilitated by the games themselves. Few MMORPGs have an actual structure to support group cohesion; they rely instead on metagaming techniques like clans to integrate teams. In other words, it’s not necessarily a good thing that massive multiplayers have millions of people playing the game. What’s important is dividing up huge social networks into humanrelatable chunks of compatible players, a lesson PBBGs have learned well.

If one pattern is clear across the various forms of fantasy gaming, it’s that the character/race/class paradigm does not translate perfectly into other gaming mediums. Dungeons & Dragons was originally created for small groups of players sitting around a table. Players had specialized roles and games were moderated by a flexible narrator/referee for up to six hours at a time. Whenever other gaming mediums break this paradigm, the game starts to break down.

Tabletop gaming groups, for example, know each other and play together often. The ever-changing nature of MUDs and MMORPGs detracts from this style of play, with no guarantee that the right combination of roles is available at the right time. Players then resort to solo play to make up for these shortfalls, both in role imbalance and time constraints.

From a narrative perspective, role-playing has always been about invisible limits. Although the game master certainly has some boundaries in mind, they are not immediately visible to the players. Interactive fiction, gamebooks, and computer role-playing games all are forced to artificially restrict the player’s progress with a tightly-walled world due to the constraints of the system. No current game system can reproduce the depth and breadth of human imagination. It’s possible we never will.

This is not to say that the simulationist style of play, with its multitude of numbers and attributes, has no place in gaming. If anything, it has defined gaming. But simulationist gaming has evolved remarkably little since the advent of Dungeons & Dragons. It was years before MMORPGs took advantage of their massive player bases with raids. It took just as long for PBBGs to fill the niche of casual gamers who had very little time available to play. We have come a long way, but we have a long way to go.

Each of the previously discussed gaming mediums will never truly disappear. Hobbyists will keep them alive in perpetuity. It’s what they can learn from each other that matters more: adopting the narrative immersion of LARPS, the rules adjudication of MUDs, the power of massive groups from MMORPGs, the problem-solving of IF, and the statistical framework of tabletop RPGs.

But there’s hope. With innovations like the CRPG Heavy Rain and the live action True Dungeon, the rules are adapted to the narrative instead of the other way around. We are at the brink of a new era of immersive gaming.

Of course, the old games will never be forgotten. They live on in our hobbies, in our storytelling, and in our memories. I rediscovered Wizard’s Castle two decades after I first encountered it on a PET computer in fourth grade. A simple game with simple graphics, it’s beckoning me from my desktop now. I’ve played it every time I worked on this book. And I still can’t find that damn orb.

GLOSSARY

AC (armor class): The defense of a character, relating to his armor as well as his other equipment. This term was inherited from a naval battle game, where the term “class” is used in a different context to differentiate ships. It is somewhat archaic, so modern games rarely use the term.

AD&D (advanced dungeons & dragons): A later edition of the original game led primarily by Gary Gygax. It usually references the first edition of AD&D.

agency: The ability for a player to interact with a gaming environment in a natural, engaging way.

BD&D (basic dungeons & dragons): The offshoot of the original Dungeons & Dragons game, led by J. Eric Holmes. It had simplified classes and less distinction between races.

class: A profession, job, guild, or occupation that helps define a character’s role in a fantasy universe. This term has become less popular over time as it’s not used in modern parlance.

CRPG (computer role-playing game): A graphical role-playing game played on a console (e.g., Xbox, Playstation, Wii) or computer that involves at most a few players.

cyberdrama: A new type of storytelling that encourages players to participate in shaping the story through the game.

diegesis: A fictional world in which situations and events occur. In gaming terms, diegesis is the level at which role-players experience their role. Generally speaking, the less media-rich a gaming environment, the less likely diegesis will occur. However, there are advantages to reduced media richness in that it allows anonymous participants to handle a role.

DMG (Dungeon Master’s Guide): Can refer to any edition of this series, beginning with the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons edition. All were published in hardcover format, the basic and original rules being boxed sets.

ergodic literature: Dynamic text where the reader must perform specific actions to generate a sequence, which can vary with each reading

farming: Collecting items of value in a MMORPG or MUD by exploiting repetitive elements of the game’s mechanics.

frame: A situational definition constructed in accord with organizing principles that govern both the events themselves and participants’ experience of those events.

gold: The gold standard has never been perfect and was not, in actual medieval times, standardized across nations or around the globe. Dungeons & Dragons set the staple of gold currency as being the basic exchange rate. Other coins have fluctuated in Dungeons & Dragons, including copper (pennies), silver (quarters), electrum, and platinum. Some have changed this to accommodate the setting, but most games stick with the “gold piece” format. Whenever gold is mentioned in this book, it’s a reference to any form of valuable currency used in a fantasy setting and does not necessarily mean gold.

grind: To perform tasks repeatedly in the hope of gaining some advantage, be it a higher level of experience or acquiring some item.

group: A party in a MMORPG.

HP (hit points): An abstract combat system representing the physical ability of a character to survive as well as his heroic chances at avoiding damage. The term has transformed over time to represent ONLY physical damage, as defined in other role-playing games (Palladium’s Megaverse, Call of Cthulhu, among others).

IF (interactive fiction): A text-based adventure game that usually involves only a single player.

LARP (live action role-playing game): A game in which players physically act out their character’s roles. Props, environment, and costuming are optional.

level: Levels have a variety of definitions in fantasy gaming. These include overall level, representing a character or monster’s power; ranking in a class representing power in a chosen profession; spell power representing increasingly powerful spells that can be cast by a character (but not necessarily representative of his level in a spell casting class); or even dungeon level. These confusing terms have been gradually discarded to mostly refer to the character’s overall level.

LPMUD: MUD server software named after creator Lars Pensjö (LP).

MMORPG (massive multiplayer online role-playing game): A graphical multi-user game capable of handling hundreds if not thousands of players at once.

MUD (multi-user dungeon): A text-based multi-user game. Although I prefer multiuser dimension to encompass the broad range of MUD types that go well beyond a dungeon, Castronova set me straight: the acronym is a reference to the DNGEON interactive fiction game. Generally speaking, MUDs are distinguished from the MMORPGs by their smaller scale and lack of graphics.

OD&D (original dungeons & dragons): Refers to the boxed set published in 1974. It consisted of three books: Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and Underworld & Wilderness Adventures. The term also covers the later additions to the game: Greyhawk, Eldritch Wizardry, and Gods, Demi-Gods and Heroes.

party: A group of characters adventuring together.

PBBG (persistent browser-based game): A cross-platform asynchronous form of roleplaying game that uses a web browser (on a computer or a mobile device) to access the game. Technically, the full title would be persistent browser-based role-playing game but PBBRPG seems to be yet another unnecessarily long acronym. In the context of this book, PBBG refers to fantasy role-playing games.

PHB (Player’s Handbook): Can refer to any edition of the Player’s Handbook, beginning with the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons edition. All were published in hardcover format, the basic and original rules being boxed sets.

primary framework: The external forces of real life that have nothing to do with the game but nevertheless influence it, like bathroom breaks and player schedules.

race: The sentient species of a character. Like class, this term has an entirely different meaning outside of role-playing games.

role-player: A player who interacts with the primary, secondary, and tertiary frameworks of a role-playing game.

role-playing game (RPG): Any game in which the player controls a character in a fictional world and develops him or her throughout the course of play.

roll-player: A player who interacts with the primary and secondary frameworks of a role-playing game.

secondary framework: The framework in which a player experiences a role-playing game’s rules and statistics.

soloing: Playing a MUD or MMORPG without a party.

tertiary framework: The framework in which a role-player takes on another persona within the context of a role-playing game.

Table of Contents

Front Cover

Acknowledgments

Preface

Introduction

ONE: The Lord of the Rings

TWO: Collectible Card Games and Miniature Wargames

THREE: Tabletop Role-Playing Games

FOUR: Play-By-Post and Browser-Based Games

FIVE: Gamebooks and Interactive Fiction

SIX: Multi-User Dungeons

SEVEN: Computer Role-Playing Games

EIGHT: Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games

NINE: Live Action Role-Playing Games

Conclusion

Glossary

Sources

Index