Showing posts with label Vision. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vision. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Throwing Shit at a Wall and Hoping for the Best

Following up yesterday's post, I got a comment from JB of BX/Blackrazor, that in turn led to this 2002 article from the WOTC,  the very same year that Ryan Dancey got turfed from the company (taking JB's word on that).

I don't know how much business-talk gibberish you've personally encountered in your life; I've encountered a lot, particularly during the unhappy time I worked for a $30-billion company.  Dancey's pulling a rabbit out of a hat here, hoping that what worked for an industry utterly unlike his own will work for him:
"In about twenty years ago, a guy named Richard Stallman was a grad student at MIT. During his time there, he participated in a community of software developers who shared code between themselves and were at the cutting edge of computer programming. When those people started to leave the university and go into private enterprise, they stopped being willing to share their code, because the standard corporate philosophy is to keep secrets rather than share them.
"Stallman thought that was a mistake. He feels that the best way to get good software is to let everyone see the source code, and be able to make changes to that code if they think the changes necessary. Stallman in fact considers this a "natural right," up there with the right to free speech, the right to assemble, and the right to practice a religion. He's a little on the extreme side, but he has been proven (at least partially) correct."

Whereupon Dancey then clumsily tries to apply this logic to the development of D&D, apparently being confident that once open content is released, it will be like a magic spell that rejuvenates the creativity of D&D game design.  I want to stop for a moment and say that yes, open source design definitely works.  It worked for Europe and Western Civilization after the invention of the printing press, which enabled people everywhere to see the work that other people were doing and then build on that.  We certainly don't have to pull up Linus Torvalds and Richard Stallman to prove that.  On some level, I grant that it is an important way of looking at things.

But Torvalds and Stallman didn't just throw doors open.  They had a vision of what they wanted to accomplish.  They understood when to shut that door against cranks and incompetents and they knew what wouldn't add to their vision.  Dancey here has NO vision.  He doesn't know what D&D should be or where it should go ... he's hoping the grass roots will tell him.  His approach to what to publish is scattershot thinking.  They're going to learn something from Palladium, Warhammer, Rolemaster, Diablo and Everquest.  They're going to create a "new" book of creatures, spells and magic items, as if THAT hasn't been done all through the 1990s.  He has No Ideas.  Not of his own.  Dancey is a business manager.  He might as well be selling Lawn Furniture, Bathroom Fixtures or Women's Panty-shields.  Business is business.

In the video I linked yesterday, in the part where Nicholas Means is describing the Skunk Work's design of the U-2, there's an important lesson for every designer (22:22 in).  The CIA knew that what the U-2 could do, spy on Russia, had a window of practicality ~ about 18 to 24 months, before the Russians would figure out how to shoot it down.  So they didn't sit around making a bunch of these planes and resting on their laurels.  They immediately started a new and better design that would replace the U-2 before that practicality ended.

Companies that do not do this go out of business.  And good fucking riddance.

A company as old as TSR/WOTC was in 2002 should not have still been making splat books with creatures, spells and magic items.  They should not have been employing people who brought these ideas to meetings.  They should not have been thinking about what they could learn from companies that had never had the participation level of D&D.  If necessary, Dancey should have laid off everyone not directly connected with revisioning the company, brought in some game experts and spent time determining what future D&D needed to be.  Not more rules, not more junk, not a reinvention of the wheel, not emphasizing that D&D had been a far, far better game in 1979 than it was in 2002 by releasing more material from the past and proving that point to a wide number of their customers.  But he didn't do that.  And he was rightly fired.

What we have now IS a vision for the new D&D.  One that works ... for the company.  A gutted, infantile, simplistic, minimally scaled version that enables 10-year-olds and adults with the mental capacity of 10-year-olds to play the pretend games they liked when they were 10.  And it sells.  It sells great.  It translates well to cheesy low-budget productions that advantage quirky personalities in the late Youtube age, it translates well to brick-and-mortar game stores eager to keep afloat but bringing in customers and selling them candy and energy drinks along with plastic swords, dice and character sheets.  It translates well with DMs who don't want to design and with players who don't care.  And right now it is one of the few departments that is keeping a failing, collapsing Hasbro barely afloat.

What it doesn't have is a future.  Despite every effort, American toy sales aren't going to turn around and Hasbro will go under.  Youtube is changing into something glossy and expensive, and clearly what we're seeing online related to D&D isn't keeping up on viewer numbers.  So don't count on too many more seasons of your favorite D&D web series.  Brick-and-mortar stores are definitely going to die.  Sorry.  There's just so much pop you can sell and Covid is seriously going to execute a lot of them right out of the gate.  This will be a huge part of the WOTC's getting young kids hooked on D&D crack with their parents approval not working as well in 2023 as it did in 2018.

Likewise, we can count on No One at the company working diligently to build the visionary plane that will replace the D&D equivalent of the U-2.  I have no doubt that the company has, thinking it had built something sustainable, begun to realize that it isn't.  And that a few people are starting to sweat at night realizing that time moves on and D&D isn't.

D&D needs a new direction.  And I don't think anyone working there has the slightest idea that it does, much less what a new direction would be.

Friday, May 22, 2020

Weltschmerz

All right.  You're bored.  You've had two months and more to diddle around with your game design and try gaming by video ... how is that going?

Making you think, isn't it?  Oh, I know some of my readers are stubborn, very stubborn.  It may take five or six more months for it to sink in with them.  What, you might ask?  Ennui, my friends.  Ennui.

Yesterday, I came across this little screed from Gygax, in issue #16 of the Dragon.  You can find the start on p.15 of the link.  It is dated from July, 1978.  Prior to the passage shown, Gygax wails about the fact that D&D is a game, and games are for diversion and amusement ... and then in explaining what a game is demonstrates he's never read a book about what a game is.  This does not surprise me about Gygax; never was a man so ignorant, and so sure that he knew best.  He was the Dunning-Kruger effect walking.

In the passage shown, Gygax makes the same mistake that every anti-realist makes, with the same arguments and the same supercilious pedantic nonsense about how the game can never be real or represent reality, nyah, nyah, nyah.  And like every other anti-realist, he absolutely misses the point.  He misses the point by a country mile.

Being that this was written in 1978, more than half the readers of the magazine would have gotten their start in wargames.  Early D&D is soaked in wargame rhetoric; it drips from most of the pages in the Dragon and floods their advertisements.  D&D is a new game.  I was deep into wargaming in 1978, had been since I was 10, hadn't even heard of D&D yet; and everyone I played with in those early years played D&D and wargaming, exactly like the picture shown.  D&D hadn't proved itself yet ... whereas the "realistic" games that Gygax carps about in his essay HAD proven themselves.  Realism wasn't a bugaboo, it was functionally proven.  Gygax must have really looked like a dumbfuck worm to those people when he wrote this.  He didn't make any friends with it.

[hm.  reminds me of me.  that can't be important]

How was realism "functionally proven"?  Wargamers did not only care about little figures on fields of green.  They cared about the real thing, too.  They studied, re-read, argued over and lived accounts about Napoleonic battles, WW1 and WW2 ... hell, some of the people I played with had BEEN in World War 2, that ended only 33 years before 1978.  Some of Gygax's readers would have been in Korea and Vietnam, too; and some in the Arab-Isreali wars.  Imagine how Gygax's crying bullshit about realism went down with that crowd!

Realism mattered to them, and it matters now, because whatever may be going on with the little metal figures on the battlefield, or watching my 12th level D&D character die, the feelings I am having ARE real.  Realism is about having real feelings.  And the reason that people work so hard to insert realism into what is happening during the game is so that they will care what happens.

D&D, and the way it is played by millions of people, is unrealistic, silly and infantile.  The sheer magnitude of Gary Gygax's misconception absolutely astounds me!  He tries so hard in the article to sell D&D as a "fun time," as an "amusing diversion," or gambling, or sheer fantasy, or any of the other frivolous ways he chooses to describe the game ~ particularly in the way he tries to hammer home the facetiousness and shallowness of game play as something that should not be taken seriously.  Well, exactly.  The way he saw the game, it wasn't.

And the way that his detractors saw it, then and now, is simply, "If it isn't serious, then why should I give a fuck?"

Checkers isn't all that serious.  It seemed like fun when I was 9, but I don't play checkers now.  I haven't played checkers in 20 years.  And when I last played it, I didn't care.  I played it for the sake of my nephew, who wanted to play.  Right now, I would rather do the dishes, or pull up all the carpets and wax my floors, or carry garbage out to the dump, than play checkers.  At least I'd be doing something I vaguely cared about, where the result was meaningful.  If Gygax, and all the little droids who have followed him through my 40 years of playing, want to argue that I should change my view of the game to make it something insubstantial and pointless, then guess what:

I would quit playing.

And most do.  Most of the people who have ever played this game, quit this game.  And mostly, I would argue, because they ran into this brick wall of a philosophy that said, "NO!  We will not make this game matter!  Damn it, the game is supposed to be fun!  It is just a game!"

Shut up, Rudyard.

I can't imagine what an obtuse, thickheaded self-important little vain, preening egomaniac Gygax must have been, but reading this article with a clear eye ~ and others he wrote in those early days of the magazine ~ sure make it pretty damn plain.  We know from hundreds of sources that he did not make D&D on his own, yet every reference he makes to the game sounds like he's defending his own baby child, which is helpless to defend itself without he himself girding on a sword and going to war.  Given the man's actual experience ~ his minimal success as a student, his lack of ever holding a position of real responsibility, the utter fuck-up he made of his company, basically handing it over to sharks ~ I have no idea where his certainty came from ... but his rhetoric and approach to everything reminds me of another inexplicable "success story" that managed to bloat his way into the highest office of the land.

Okay.  Not bored now, are you?

If you find yourself grumbling after some rough isolation about what the game is to you or what it means, or why video seems like a stillborn birth with the cow's placenta poured out on the ground (thank you, Disney channel), the reason is this.

You've managed to distract yourself with company and babble and jokes and personal social contact.  You've convinced yourself that good company came about because it was a good game.  And now that you're stuck with the game, and just the game ... which you've tried to work on, because hell, you've got the time and you're bored ... you're feeling an inexplicable ennui about everything.  You're hoping this whole covid thing can just end so you can return to your friend's company and escape having to resolve this issue between you and the game as it stands; but that doesn't look like it's going to happen soon.  In the meantime, you're looking at this game, this game you love, and for reasons you can't put your finger on, it doesn't seem to love you back.

In fact, it just sits there, waiting to be played.  Only, you're not having as much fun playing it.  For some reason.  You get online and set the game up with cameras and ... you don't feel anything.  For some reason.

If the game is just a game, then why do you even care?