First, please accept my apology for the wonky appearance of the blog page over the past few days. One of the perils of selecting a platform for its ecommerce capabilities, with blogging features as a secondary consideration, is that you get something not specifically built to support a blog. I assure you all that the preview looks the way want it to, but somehow in execution what’s published does odd things. It’s a learning curve, not so much to understand how the software works, but to understand where it doesn’t, and how to compensate for its quirks and flaws.

It’s still better than trying to run ecommerce with Wordpress plugins.

Today I want to talk about systems. What most people call rules. Without going into a tirade many of you have heard before, I dislike the word rules because it implies structure where it shouldn’t be, creates boundaries in terms of thinking about creative choices, and connects to the whole game/winners/losers thing.

My preference is to call them systems, efficient and consistent ways of doing things. A system is far more flexible and accommodating. With a strong core mechanic that’s adaptable, you don’t need a lot of “rules”. Riding a bike, casting a spell, or wooing one’s paramour all operate along the same underlying principle. It can be as simple as roll a die, add a modifier, overcome a target number, but that requires consistency in how modifiers and target numbers are determined as well. If you have all of that in a concise package, you can focus on other things, like interesting worldbuilding, creating roleplaying opportunities and character development, and constricting interest storylines.

A pet peeve of mine – of which I have several, admittedly – is the term “rules lite”. Ugh. It implies that there is a universally correct amount of rules, and that the system being referred to is somehow lacking. As if it’s an inferior product, “diet roleplaying” or something, a specialty category or a niche for a particular type of player. My experience is that most systems that get painted with that brush fall into my previously stated preference: here’s a strong core mechanic, you can figure out the rest without having every single iteration of every possible action spelled out for you.

The people that bandy this terminology about tend to be the roll dice/kill orcs ilk, carrying on the vestigial wargaming mentality, rather than those interested in fostering a creative, collaborative experience. There’s also something authoritarian about it. There is a documented correct way to do something; if you attempt something outside of these parameters, where there is no rule for it, you are simple wrong. Or, the game master must make something up, if they determine that it’s allowed.

If you didn’t already know, I dislike the term game master for several reasons, but we won’t go down that rabbit hole at the moment.

A solid core mechanic, in theory, should support anything a player decides to try, regardless of whether it’s explicitly spelled out in the rule book. It should enable the guide to easily interpret how to utilize it in any situation, and not have to declare things to be impossible because it’s not in any of the 32 rules expansions they own.

The term rules-lite also feels dismissive of the fact that different roleplaying experiences might require different densities of rules. It might be true that a superhero setting requires an extensively detailed explanation of each individual power, where cozy fantasy setting might only need the barest amount handwavium to manage all possible types of magical expression. Because someone will inevitably put words in my mouth, no, I’m not saying that all rules should be simple. What I’m saying is that rules should never be more complex than they need to be. This is for the sanity, creativity, and wallets of both players and guides.

Here’s where I’ll end today. Please leave comments below, spread the word about this blog, and as always, I hope you’re doing well today.

Berin Kinsman