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What I Think About Stuff-columna Cerului (in Collaboration With Voltech)-part 1



                                                          Title Card by Saimin Boykinov
 
Columna Cerului or The perfect RPG (as imagined by Voltech and Shapescapes)
Thank God for the internet. We live in an age where people from across the world can trade ideas, rapidly exchanging themes, images and stories with the mere click of a mouse in seconds. 
A glorious side effect of this marvelous invention (apart from the ready accessibility of porn for virtually free) is the fact that you sometimes get to stumble on people who are willing to help you in forming an awesome idea you have in your head from a maelstrom of explosion and tits into a narrative.

The spirit animal which aided me in this little dream quest was Voltech. And what you are about to read is the end result of essay-long PMs laid down into a pitch for an RPG.


You might wanna write this down, rich people who will be immediately interested in funding this.

But first, an Introduction:

Columna Cerului is a game that is very much thought out by two people who both grew up on a diet of JRPGS (before they went bad and turned into a huge mess of spiky hair and Prada), meaning that it is a thematic game, focused on certain elements which drive the narrative. According to our research…


Research as in constantly reminding each other that we should refrain from high-fiving each other the whole time and instead focus on a story

The themes that are prevalent in most successful RPGs are both epic in scope, while at the same time allowing the player to relate to. These themes are:

·         A love story
  
Yes, I know Final Fantasy 8 fucked that up and turned the ‘love story’ focus into a horrible contrived mess, but this time the love story will not be a focus, but instead a recurring theme that will affect the narrative.  

What does that entail, you ask? Well, instead of having the plot revolve around saving someone who wouldn’t have the brains to open a cereal box, love can be an underlying motivation -- a thought that impels characters to action, but never demands it.  Why drag the plot to a halt to save some girl drifting through space when you can ride eagles through the sky?

·         A Cosmic Disaster waiting to happen

Does it have to have the razzamatazz of the usual JRPGs? No. It can be something more down to Earth and not immediately world-exploding, but if we can make you care about the protagonist, then it could be just as effective.

A threat to the character -- a conflict, either from another person or a force of nature -- breeds action by that character.  Action breeds plot motion.  Plot motion breeds enjoyment.  You’d think this is something JRPGs would have down by now, but…well, here we are.

·         A deep, meaningful world

We’re not just talking broad and breathtaking. We’re talking about a world that’s immersive and makes you give a damn. We’re talking about Shadow of the Colossus and Planescape, as opposed to oh…


This shit.

Every world, regardless of medium, needs to have a certain character -- not just a mish-mash of concept art or NPCs that only exist to give you time-eating busy work sidequests.  There’s nothing wrong with a “save the world” plot -- but it certainly helps if that world matters.  The people you meet; the folklore therein; the little moments that make you stop and stare at your surroundings.  Give me that in an RPG, and I’ll gladly give you my whole wallet.  

·         A story that shows you what it’s all about as soon as possible, with a very clear focus on its themes.

We’re talking about a story that doesn’t drag its feet or jump around or shift final bosses at the last minute.


Y’all motherfuckers know which story I’m talking about.


The villain and the heroes are presented at the very beginning and the final boss payout is there at the very end. It’s called narrative continuity and we’re bringing it back, since most game developers seem to have forgotten about it these days.

·         A story that, even with meaningful themes and powerful moments, remembers that it’s a game -- and therefore, fun.

Games from both the East and West, regardless of genre, seem to have a certain problem lately: the developers have all formed a conga line where each team member has his head firmly lodged in the ass of the person ahead of him.  On one hand, we have games sacrificing their character to look cinematic and gritty; on the other, we have JRPGs that end on THIS:


Look, there’s nothing wrong with going for a particular style, or working deep ideas into the story.  But there are two important factors. 1) Those themes should be WEAVED into the narrative, not shot in your face with a cannon.   2) You need tonally-different moments to balance them out.  Make us laugh.  Make us go “ooh” and “ahh.”  Make us cheer and shout. 

JRPGs take a lot of flak for being loaded with melodrama.  I say that a shot of fun is just what this dream game needs.  

And now, let’s move on to brass tacks.

THE WORLD

Image by StickerSticker

In the setting’s case, we need a world that feels huge, but is not a sprawling mess of designer landscapes without any function. We need cities that are divided by great geographical features, though spaced moderately far apart. We need a certain flavor to the world, preferably one that says fantasy, but in a good way.

What I’m saying is, we need consistency. And consistency means a world that is based on a single theme/power source/historic period with some deviation between regions, but not enough so it hurts the eye and you sensibility.

Personally, I’d go with a 16th century feel. Why is that?


‘Cause bitches dig 16th century.

Because this century is the century that marked a turning point in art, civilization and technology in mankind’s history. It was the age of Great Discovery, it was chock-full of conflict and because it was essentially the peak point of the Renaissance.

Also, the 16th century was the age of alchemists and occultists riding side by side with scientists. It was the age of batshit-insane theories walking side by side with the theory of gravity. It was the age when people had a pretty clear view of how the world worked, but hadn’t yet agreed on the details.


Also, the Age where uncharted waters with fickle weather conditions meant ‘here be sea dragons’

The world is divided into four great nations (the land nations) and the Sky Nation.

Each Nation is defined according to its characteristics and its main source of power. Their division is based on metals, in an attempt on our behalf to try and get all Moorcock up in this bitch.


Word to your mother, yo.


Ferrum: The nation of Iron is the greatest military force on the planet and the homeland of the story’s main antagonist. It’s a land run mostly by its military, its economy and politics based on aggressive expansion.

Ferrum’s aesthetics are mostly based on Victorian England, though parodied so it can be represented as both a nation possessing a current technological advantage, but also bloodthirsty to boot. So far, its attempts to conquer neighboring nations have failed due to their combined strength.

Ferrum intends to change that pretty soon.

Cuprum: Cuprum is a nation of magicians, its power source mostly based on the exploitation of spirits and magical constructs. Granted, its power once rivaled (and even exceeded) Ferrum’s but they appear to have gradually degenerated.

Cuprum’s aesthetics are mostly based on Renaissance Italy. They are a center of knowledge but also dwell in the shadow of a once great empire. They are also reminiscent of Byzantium, in their way of foolishly adhering to their older, less advanced ways.

Cuprum wishes not so much to rise in power, as to eliminate the competition.

Argentum: Argentum is a nation in between, a nation of merchants, diplomats and engineers. Its power source is mostly its mediation, as the nation set between Ferrum and Cuprum, mostly responsible for handling their relations. Argentum is also the main character’s nation of origin.

Argentum is very much like 16th century Spain, a mediator in the affairs of other nation. Their power lies behind the scenes and would be helpless in a direct confrontation. Which is the reason they choose to sabotage the conflict since the beginning of the story.

Argentum wants things to remain as they are and will do anything in its power to make sure it is so.

Brunzus: The nation of Bronze is a recently born nation, fuelled by illusions of grandeur. It is comprised of people from Cuprum and Stanoum (a lesser nation), recently liberated from the collapsing Cuprum Empire.

Brunzus is a miniature replica of 16th century Europe, with its mismatch of styles, politics and technological differences. Granted, it is the greatest center of learning, but it lacks focus. It tries to center on spiritual magic, while at the same time attempts to replicate Ferrum’s technological superiority.

Brunzus wants to be the next great nation.

THE SKY NATION:


Though not technically a nation, it is inhabited by people who are indigenous to the game’s world (and also natives from other worlds, though the exact details are never quite explained).

The Sky nation is a great landmass that rotates through the material world, through the Spirit world and into other material worlds in an arbitrary fashion. No one is exactly certain how this rotation takes place, but the four nations have noticed that the Sky Nation materializes in their world every 4 years.

But what does it have to offer to them, besides a bitching tourist attraction you will ask? Well the Sky Nation is the one place in the world where the spirits are indigenous to it and can appear willingly, without any need for summoning processes or binding.

It is also the home plane of the Padisha Emir Daiphel, the great Iphrit.

Of their number, he is the only one with the power to grant wishes able to affect the history of an entire world. But to gain that advantage, one must compete in a great tournament for his amusement, with his spirit companion by his side.

Only the champion of a nation that manages to reach the feet of Daiphel’s throne will be allowed to speak their one true wish, a wish that can (and will) affect the world’s history, until the next one appears.

The previous champion was a spirit binder from the Argentum nation, who wished for the status quo to be upheld and wished great fortune to befall his country and himself.

But this time, the Ferrum decides to play for keeps. Argentum on the other hand, secure in its previous victory, does not pay the proper attention toward both choosing its champion and his spirit companion.

Enter…

THE MAIN CHARACTERS

To start listing every character would be a waste of your time, so instead we are going to focus on the protagonists and their companions. First, our main character:

Ren, the unlikely hero:

 
Ren’s a fanboy. He’s the son of the previous champion, he’s been looking up to his father his whole life and he’s wanted nothing more than the chance to be him.

The problem with Ren is that this is his only purpose. The other problem is that he lacks the resolve. His head is in the clouds and he has lived the last four years a pampered existence, during which he has solely focused on this one purpose.

But with the death of his father, the frailty of both him and his family becomes apparent. Ren, who had been the sole focus of their lives loses the backing he needed and everything begins to fall apart in his little world. His older brother, freed from their father’s affectations toward his younger brother, becomes a bitter old rival to him and his mother, who has lived her entire life supported by the champion husband, finds herself lost.

Ren’s original purpose is to get to the Sky Nation, enter the tournament and wish that his family returns to the way it was, without once realizing that he is the glue that holds the family together and that this crisis could have been averted by his personal intervention.

Ren gets his wish (halfway) granted, when he is chosen to compete in the Sky Nation’s tournament by the spirit…

Quillo:


Quillo given form by BlackPassion

 Quillo is a Rakshasha, a shapeshifting trickster spirit and Ren’s companion. He chooses the child because he reminds him of himself when he was a lesser spirit, a creature that had no priorities, was short-sighted and foolish.

Quillo doesn’t help Ren in the beginning of the story. Instead, he showers the child with abuse and enjoys his failings, showering him with the abuse he thinks is good for him, the very thing he went through when he stuggeld to survive in the spirit world.

That is not to say that Quillo is all powerful now. He is still a struggling spirit without purpose, lacking a moral compass. Together, Ren and Quillo complement each other, yet fail to truly learn anything in the first part of the game.

It is in this part that we meet their counterparts of the Ferrum nation and antagonists…

Nauna:

Nauna is Ren’s complete opposite: unlike Ren’s little fanboy motivation taken too far, she has been trained since birth by the Ferrum nation for this purpose: to compete for the wish of the great Daiphel and wish for her nation to grow strong enough to crush its neighbours.

Unlike Ren, Nauna was never raised for any other reason and her training was her sole focus in life and the only way she could hope to earn her parent’s affections. Also unlike Ren, she hates this tournament with all her heart and wishes to end this in the vain hope that turning her country into an expansionist giant will somehow earn her their love.

Her spirit companion is…

Ogun:


Ogun is a rakshasha-born, a spirit that was born of the union of two greater spirits and had her entire existence planned out for her. She was also one of Quillo’s bitterest enemies in the spirit world.

Ogun was bound by Nauna’s masters to train with her for the tournament for years and has grown tired of the material world. She will fight dirty so she can both get rid of her cruel master and get back home.

She will also go to lengths so she can pound that uppity little upstart Quillo into a fine thin paste.

Due to the article's absurd size, I'm breaking it down. Awesome ideas continued in part 2!


Voltech is the electronic projection of the man called Rhamy Payne, who was used in a secret government experiment concerning digital immortality in the 90's. Having evolved past his flesh-form, he has decided to keep a blog and use his digital superiority to take games and movies apart and post his opinions on the internet. You can find his greater self/dream projection blog at:

Cross-Up

What I Think About Stuff-human Slaves Of An Insect Nation


Human slaves of an insect nation by VDen


Role Playing Games Or Human Slaves of an Insect Nation

DISCLAIMER: This is a rant article, presenting highly subjective opinions. That is all.
I’m a role playing nerd. No, I do not mean console or computer rpgs and I hate MMOs

Why yes, I am perfectly aware I’m just one guy versus 10 million players. No, I do not give a shit.

I did not like Skyrim (found it impossibly droll and boring in comparison to New Vegas) I cannot make myself give a shit about Baldur’s Gate 2 and don’t get me started on Diablo.

But I would get down on my knees and propose to Fallouts 1&2 every day if I could only get the chance.


To me, computer rpgs are linear, stifling games that lead you on with the promise of greater challenge, promising bigger numbers in exchange for a narrative that doesn’t exactly take you into consideration. With very few notable exceptions (again, New Vegas) I didn’t see myself making a difference in the world I was adventuring in

With the exception of getting me much more bitchin’ weapons.

Which is why, when I was told of Dungeons and Dragons and of the intricate narratives you can weave YOURSELF and the interactive experience of playing with your friends and the boatloads of fun that everyone was having with it, I immediately ran for it, screaming “SIGN ME UP FOR THAT SHIT” the entire way.

I started off at the age of 17, a clueless young boy with three core books chock-full of rules, numbers definitions I had to learn by heart and made the grave mistake of offering to run that very first epic game by myself.

Only problem was that the edition of Dungeons and Dragons I started with was 3.5

Ominous Music! Latin! Latin! Ominous Music!

Now I was young back then, had just gone through school and was in my University freshman year, which meant that I had a shitload of time on my hands and hardly any grasping of the rules, so the game seemed absolutely awesome to me. In fact, it was the pinnacle of entertainment, the absolute awesomest thing anyone could ever have fun doing ever.

And then I grew up, opened my books and went:


What?

No, I had not forgotten what any of this meant. In fact, I could read the stats better than ever, but I just kept looking at all the numbers and shit and going, “Holy shit! Why did they put all this crap here in the first place?”

It was the moment I realized that the game I had been playing for almost seven years of my life was an overburdened behemoth, held up by the collective folly of hundreds of thousands of players worldwide.

It was not a matter of systemic error. It was not about what class works best with what feats or what things you need to put together so your character can pull of 6 attacks in 6 seconds underwater with a lungful of ocean. Hell, it was not even about hit points (and that’s a matter that for some reason keeps plaguing the role playing community as if it’s the very nature of afterlife or some shit).

It was about the sheer volume of rules upon rules upon rules, the titanic blocks of text that occupied all the source books and supplements of that edition alone, all the crap that everyone obsessed over and used as leverage in their games the entire goddamn time. 

I called it “The Rules Lawyer Infestation”

The scales were lifted from my eyes and suddenly my very good and well-versed in D&D friend’s face seemed so damn punchable. The long debates I held with my good gaming buddies suddenly rang like the din of the world’s most annoying school bell. I spent some time trying to convince everyone else to see things my way, but kept failing at it. Then I tried to get myself back into liking the game and couldn’t.

Was it my fault? Or was everyone else crazy but me?

“Oh well, guess I need to kill them all now…” you, reading this in Dr. Farnsworth’s voice.

I didn’t ponder over it too long. In fact, it took me a month before I realized that what busted my balls was how I saw the rules overwhelming the story. How I saw everyone playing as wizards, dwarves, elves 

And in one case, as a priest whose brain we transplanted into a golem because it sounded like a great idea at the time

And instead of reveling in it, they kept bitching about their gold-piece-to-challenge-rating-ratio, their standard-experience-point-rewards and their magic-items-by-level.

For fuck’s sake people! You’re playing as swashbuckling sociopaths that chug spells at impossible creatures so you can steal their shit, get more powerful and kill even more impossible creatures! You’re trying to save the world! Your cleric wants to be the next Pope! You met alien beings from another reality! What the fuck will it take for you to stop looking at goddamn numbers?

No, tits don’t work, in case you were wondering.
My rules-lawyery friend with the punchable face (in a sudden fit of clarity, possibly brought about due to divine intervention) once told me:

“Tabletop rpgs are the games where you can pick the fourth option out of the available three”

That quote blew my fucking mind.
It was the very essence of role playing games, distilled in a few words and I was hearing that from a man who had spent nearly half a campaign cock-fencing with a rules-lawyer over which prestige classes they could pick.

So it got me thinking: how could I shift attention to the narrative? How could I turn my players into actual human beings, instead of termites clad in human skin, interpreting the rules in an inhuman, literal fashion?

Long story short, I found that I could not. Not because of my lack of trying or because of our consumerists’ society pressure generating a desire for escapism through the generation of imaginary strongmen, but because people just plain old like making invincible (or near-invincible) characters and thinking that steamrolling over every challenge equals fun. Unless you’re just as psychotic and nitpicky as they are and you’re willing to cock-fence, you’ll never win and end up having your heart broken. So what you need to do, instead, is change your approach entirely.

So put on your Storytelling Capes and wear your DM screens as helmets, cause here come my

STEP BY STEP APPROACH TO ALTERNATIVE GAMING FOR THE EXASPERATED GM

That’s you, just brimming with excitement.

Find a system that suits you:

This is the simplest, most sound piece of advice ever given from one DM to another. It’s so effective, in fact, that everyone gives it to everybody else and they’re all thankful for either giving or receiving such wonderful, effective advice.

It is also the single balls-hardest thing ever to actually pull off with any degree of success.

The internet is just chock-full of free, alternative gaming systems (a lot of which are really damn good). You’ve got rules-heavy, rules-light, freeform and narrative-based token systems (don’t get me started on those) and they’re all there for the taking.

In order to pick the proper system, you need to know what it is you want from your games. What kind of stories do you want to tell? Are you looking for socio-political intrigue? Super-powered adventures through the universe? Grim and gritty tales of survival in a dystopian alternate reality? Cosmic or existential horror?

Balls-to the wall insanity?

There’s a system for every one of the flavors you’re looking for. You need to know what kind of story you want to run and then pick the system that fits you. Then comes the toughest part: how can you tell if the system you picked will actually work for you?

There’s no surefire way to tell. Sure, you can read online reviews and you can ask the nerd on the street, but what you’ll get are highly subjective opinions. You might pick up a system that everyone tells you is the absolute best in its genre and still turn out to be shit when you put it to the test.

The key ingredient here is experimenting. Try to get into games using this system or run some mock games with friends just to see if it fits you. Yes, this will take a while. No, there’s no way around it.

But when you find it, man oh man did you just flick the shit hose on and sprayed yourself in the mouth, because now you’ve got to…

Know exactly what kind of story you want to tell:

Here’s one of my old campaign notes from way back when I got into this rpg deal:

“The characters are transported through the Omni-Torn device through the multiverse and into Lodoss, where they fight the Grand Warlord, a mysterious man set to take over the world with his Seven Warchief henchmen.”

This is shit. It’s a shitty note, it was a shitty idea and it turned out to be a shitty campaign, primarily because I wanted to set it in an anime setting

“Hey, screw you man, this idea is awesome!” 17-year old me, asking for a slap in the mouth.

But mostly because I wanted everything to turn out the way I wanted them to turn out and experienced a severe amount of butt-hurt when they did not, thus ending the campaign.

Now, here’s a much better note, 10 years later:

“A group of adventurers find themselves tangled in a war that is to shape the destiny of an entire continent, their powers and abilities the only thing that can stem the tide of coming darkness. They will fail.”

This note turned into a 3-year campaign that went way better than I expected.

Yes, yes…exactly as planned…
Why? Because I did not exactly plan this out. I set the basis, the conflict, the opposing sides, the factions and the tone (as well as a couple adventures) and let my players roll all over the map, stirring shit up and generally being awesome.

Sure, they did mess up some of my plans, but you know what? The end result was way better than I could have ever imagined. The reason was that I made the story, but let them have their way with the characters, which made everything better.

Thus allowing me to get to my next point…

 The players will affect the story in every way you CAN’T imagine:

Pfft. Fucking amateur.

Out of the 100% of your awesome narrative, you’ll only get to run 50% of it, tops. There’s going to be a shitload of things that your players will miss, won’t get or plain old fuck up in every way unimaginable.

You need to understand this: when narrating a story in an rpg, you should not think like a writer, whose purpose is to attempt to grab the interest or tug at the heartstrings of an audience that he’s never met in an attempt to get his grubby creative hands on their money.

Your audience will comprise of friends or gaming buddies, whom you’ve known for a while and might know exactly how to manipulate their reactions and how they can mess with your plans. What you’re doing instead is giving them a world and a suggested purpose, with a more or less specific goal in mind then sitting back and arbitrating the fireworks, while simultaneously controlling the damage.

You are, after all, one man. You’re not an entertainment monkey, you’re not a composer of epic sagas and you sure as hell aren’t God.

You’re a glorified kindergarten teacher, trying to stop his players from sticking dice up their nose.
You need to know that at any point in the game, your players can derail it or fuck it up. You need to come to terms with the fact that yes, maybe they will stab the archbishop in the face (the one you spent hours researching so you could make him as realistic as possible) and just shrug your shoulders and go: meh, it’s okay. I’ll just replace him.

Take any and all adversity like a man and work around it. Who knows? Maybe it will turn out to be a good thing in the end. But you should always, ALWAYS tell yourself that…

This is not a group effort. It is also not something you should dwell on:

Gaming’s wonderful way of getting you down.

A lot of gaming articles will tell you stuff like the campaign being “a joint narrative effort” and that “this is not your story”. This is bullshit, plain and simple as that.

Some seasoned DMs and Storytellers will brag about how they keep their players on a tight leash and how nothing ever gets out of their control. Know this: these people are assholes.

The kind that need a Total Party Kill just to get it up.
You cannot hope to keep your story completely under your control and that’s a good thing: your idea, no matter how complex or beautifully presented, is still your idea and therefore something you have completely and utterly anticipated that will bore you to tears in the telling. This also means that your audience consists of cabbage-headed biological automatons instead of people.

Beep boop! What an engaging story! Please tell us more [OH GIFTED MASTER]

People will fuck up, but they will also add color and complexity to your story. But they’re not included in the narrative, not in any way that matters. Because you built the world, the setting, the characters and they just star in it, but that is all there is to it. This story was set up and outlined by you and you alone. They just live in it.

That’s not to say that they won’t do crazy shit. After all, that’s what Earth Monkeys do. To fight against it would be a catastrophic miscalculation of the highest magnitude. Instead, what you should do is let them, but first ask them:

Why?

I’ve found that this is the most efficient approach to any oddball player idea. “My character wants to infiltrate the mob boss’ compound and kill him in his sleep.” Okay, but why? “Our super-powered characters have decided to kill the UN Security Council and take over the world!” Sure, go ahead! But why?

There’s no way you’ll stop them. But you can make them question the soundness of their plan.

And if they rip off Stalin’s head and force it down Truman’s throat, causing an incident of such magnitude that ends in the complete annihilation of mankind in nuclear fire, then all you have to do is roll with the blow.

Because this is a story and this is a game and shit happens. You can’t let it get you down, because you know what? You’ve got better things to do. You’ve got a job, a significant other, kids and drugs and the disaster of a narrative shouldn’t ever be allowed to become a focus.

Unless you’ve spent a shitload of time making it. Which brings is to the matter of…

Prep Time:

He was ripped to pieces, three panels later.
In order to run something as time-consuming and entertaining as an rpg campaign, you need to plan ahead. You cannot consider the whims of players, but you need to have everything in order and remember shit like how magic works or if your world has gravity as you near its rim, etc.

You also need to plan ahead on your antagonists and the plot’s progression. ‘Cause this stuff is kinda important, too.

But how much time should you put into it, considering the fickleness of human endeavor and the overall cruelty of the uncaring universe we inhabit? Well, experts set the minimum effort at 4 hours a week’s worth of prep time, which is a load of horseshit if you’ve got a job.

I own my own business, which means I have to work upwards of 50 hours a week, not counting anything else that might come up or business-related emergencies. By the time I’m done with work, I’m too pooped to actually sit down and consider what Padishah Qadi of Usul, the Great and Mighty Pale Claw, will do should the players see through his diplomatic ruse.

Now I could wing it, but that won’t get me through the campaign. I can’t count on working with stuff off the top of my head and I sure as hell don’t have time to deal with fucking statblocks, strategies and logistics.

If I wanted to do my goddamn taxes, I’d just wait 3 months.

What you should do instead is this: give each part of the game the maximum of effort you can put, tops. But always come prepared. Do not count on planning way ahead, unless you have absolutely nothing better to do. If something does not work as planned, then have a backup, but do not waste too much time dwelling on it. If the back-up fails, wing it.

Your story preparation should be done way before you begin the campaign (an outline made before you even announce you’re going to run a game, when you’re not pressed for time). Your mechanics, rules and combat preparation should take up 2 hours of your week, tops. Remember: you’re with friends and you’re narrating a story to an audience you know. Work with them and what they give you. This is not theater, where a performance needs to be stellar and flawless. This is amateur improv, with the sketch planned ahead of time and some audience participation.

You’re busy people. You don’t have the time to shoulder yourselves with another responsibility, especially a trivial and made-up one like this.

But what should always keep in mind is that you should…

Have Fun:

It’s a hobby. It’s a pastime. It’s entertainment. Running a roleplaying game (or participating in one) is not an honest-to-God, useful social skill. If you run a good game, then you should enjoy it and make sure your players enjoy it as well (after all, what’s a story without an audience to share it with?). If you end up making pop culture references and burning down villages or wearing eviscerated dogs as hats, then do it.

You’re going to misinterpret the rules and you’re going to mess up a battle at least once or you’re going to find yourself one-upped by your players. That’s to be expected. Just shrug, admit you were wrong and keep on trucking.

But above all, have a laugh and enjoy yourself.