When to Hold ‘em, When to Roll ‘em
Although all criticism of my blog posts is inherently illegitimate, suspect and downright contemptible*, someone raised a fair point in connection with my previous post on negotiations. In short, it pointed out a potential inconsistency in my system for social interaction and my preamble justifying the system. And they were right! However, my attitude toward dice in games may explain why, in practice, there is no inconsistency for me. This attitude is not myopically related to niche negotiation systems; it relates to how I run all RPGs and why I use dice (or randomness) in the first place.
* I jest, of course.†
The Inconsistency
In the preamble to my previous post, I bemoan mechanics getting in the way of social roleplaying. Take the following quote as an example:
“Social interaction eludes efforts to mechanize it. The prototypical example is of a player who gives an impassioned speech in-character, pulling on every heartstring present, not a dry eye in the house. The referee, wiping away a tear, calls for a Charisma test. Nat 1.”
My eminent critic asked whether the above example is sufficiently different from a player giving an impassioned speech on behalf of their character, everyone is in tears, and then the GM rolls Mettle and rolls a 6. At a blush, it feels similar! Maybe even identical. The roleplaying demands an obvious result, but that result is thwarted by the randomness of the dice. How deeply unsatisfying! But I have two responses: one narrow and theoretical, the other broad and philosophical.
The Post-Hoc Rationalization
The narrow, theoretical response is simply that the randomness has a different locus in my system for social interaction than the typical D&Dism. The Charisma test is replacing the roleplaying; it determines how well the character performs based on their own characteristics. In my system, the roleplaying is judged on its own: the referee decides the exchange was weak, fair or strong, and this decision immediately impacts the chance of success. The randomness, rolling the NPC’s Mettle, is not about how well the character argues but how likely the NPC is to be persuaded by a good argument. Some NPCs are headstrong, while other NPCs are easily swayed. The Mettle roll doesn’t replace the player’s roleplay; it supplements the referee’s running of the NPC. But it may indeed feel the same. A feeling that the player should have succeeded and the dice got in the way. But why should we let dice get in the way?
Roll If You Must
Rolling dice, or any other method of disclaiming decision-making to randomness, is for anytime all of the players at the table are unsure of the outcome. (As an aside, the referee is included among such players.) When the fighter says “I hit the goblin with my sword”, we roll to determine if they do. But if the fighter says “I cut the cake with my knife”, it would bog down play and be uninteresting to ask them to make a Dexterity check. Everyone at the table agrees that cutting cake is something they are able to do without any real uncertainty. Similarly, if a player gives an in-character speech so convincing, so moving that I as the referee and all the other players at the table would be shocked if it fails to thaw the NPC’s heart, then going through the motions of rolling dice would be as impotent as rolling to determine whether the fighter cuts the cake. In such a situation, I forgo randomness. Even combat does not inherently necessitate rolling. If the player-characters insist on fighting something defenseless that has no chance to win or even to run, just describe the bloody rout that results. Random chance, dice, playing cards are all tools, not straight jackets. I reach for a tool when I need it. Recognizing when it is needed is a GM-skill worth developing.
If You Must Roll, Make It Meaningful
Don’t roll if the impact isn’t meaningful, and if you do roll, make the impact meaningful. This advice may be redundant to the previous chunk of blog, or it may simply logically follow it. This means rolling dice once instead of twice for any action (for example, getting rid of the duplicative to-hit roll) or overloading each roll with potential results (for instance, the classic overloaded encounter die from Necropraxis that lives in my head). When the dice are rolling, important things should be happening. The best encapsulation of what “important” means is the blog post on Impact from Goblin Punch. If you do make the player roll when their character cuts cake, make that roll matter.
“I Cut the Cake”
A random table, for my sins. Roll a 2d6 when the unsuspecting character drives a knife into a pristine cake without asking “why is there a cake in this dungeon?”
ROLL 2D6
2. A goblin was inside the cake, waiting to jump out to surprise another goblin for their birthday.
3. The cake lets out a human scream. It is otherwise an absolutely normal cake.
4. The cake was a mirage. It dissipates when touched by the knife’s edge.
5. A voice emanates from the next room, “Oh boy, I can’t wait to eat my cake!”
6. A voice grumbles from the next room, “Cake yesterday, cake today, and blimey, if it don't look like cake again tomorrer!”
7. It is just a regular cake.
8. The cake is on a pressure plate. Removing even a slice without replacing an identical weight triggers a trap.
9. In 2d6 minutes, a sentient 5-foot-tall cake with arms and legs enters the room, wielding a carving knife.
10. What they thought was a yellow sheet cake is in fact replete with yellow mold.
11. The cake speaks with a human voice. "Wait! If you heal that knife wound and do me no further harm, I shall grant you a single wish!”
12. The cake is a mimic.
† Or do I?
