Why create a "cookbook"?

 

There has often been a debate between "Rules and Written" (RAW) and "Rules as Intended" (RAI). The debate goes back to the earliest days of gaming, and can probably be traced back to the concepts of rules versus rulings. I've indicated a number of times over the years that I'm not a big fan of systems that build convoluted sets of mechanics that detail different ways of resolving different types of task. I prefer an overall system that will basically approximate everything, and keep the complexity of the game to a manageable level. I know it's not as "realistic", but what is "realism" in a session of fantasy escapism anyway.

The post above prompted my thoughts on this. It's kind of the reason why I'm developing the "SNAFU Cookbook". Cortex had its "Hacker's Guide", showing ways you could adapt the system for various purposes.

A lot of this comes down to issues I've discussed many times here on the blog (A, B, C, D, E, F, and many others). One group doesn't see a problem in the rules because they tend to play the game according to a similar methodology to what the designer had in mind. Another group isn't playing in quite the same way, so they might feel that the rules don't give the experience they're after, or the system might be so bloated and complex that they don't even know there are specific rules that cover their ideals...so they make up some of their own. 

There are a few ways I'm interested in taking my thoughts with regard to this, but the "plain English" usage of terms to describe what I'm seeing is mired in a field of landmines that have been laid by the Forge and it's provisional glossary. 

I've already described my trinity of gaming extremities, using Forge parlance, Gamism (the desire to use the mechanisms of the session to reach a "win" condition), Narrativism (the desire to use the session as a pathway to create new stories), and Simulationism (the desire to immerse oneself in the liminal space of the situation and become one with the imagined world). The Forge looked at these as ideal paragons, and types of gaming that should be aspired to without the influence of each other. It considered any games that lingered between these ideals as "lacking coherence"... personally, I thought at the time that this was a load of crap, and I'm glad that gaming theory has moved away from that (even among the originators who talked down to us at the time). Like ingredients in a recipe, straight up sugar is sweet but rather than adding interest of it's own, it's often used to counteract some of the bitterness and astringency of other flavours... straight up ginger has a powerful kick that overwhelms other flavours... it might just be me, but the flavour of straight nutmeg is just wierd... but when you add these flavours together in the right proportions (and add a few other bits and pieces, like cinnamon and cloves) you get the seasoning of gingerbread and I can eat that stuff non-stop. The lack of coherence in the ingredients isn't a bug, it's a feature. Anyone can mix and match the ingredients to provide the flavour profile that right for them.

The written game rules set a basis for the recipe. The cook (our analogy for the GM) modifies the dish based on what they've enjoyed when producing an outcome from the recipe. The diners (it's not a perfect analogy for the players, but it will do for the moment) order from the menu, and the cook works to create it according to the recipe they know, the modifications they've become known for, and the requests presented to them... they then decide whether they want to eat the dish, send it back because the seasonings aren't to their liking, or just leave the diner and go somewhere else. 

I want to use the term "drift". The GM/Narrator will always drift from the rules as written, perhaps turning their session into more of a mechanically drive game, perhaps focusing more on the interpersonal drama of the characters, perhaps working more toward immersing the characters in a specific world or mood. Some games have a very narrow scope of drift, this is especially true of the early 2000s indie scene. It was often a case of "this game is set in this location with these characters, it is designed to tell this type of story only, and if the players are playing 'correctly' they should feel this way at that point of the game, and should feel emotion X when the game reached it's resolution". If you drifted from the designers intentions, you'd yet dozens of comments on online forums saying that you'd played it wrong. On the other hand, there are games with a massive scope of drift, D&D for example... where it's almost expected that you don't play it RAW because everyone wants something different from the game, and the rules are such a stagnant juggernaut that a lot of DMs/players feel they need to add their own pizazz to them to actually get some fun out of them.

The indie games of the early 2000s are a specfic recipe for Waldorf Salad, D&D is the list of procedures for making the entire range of menu options at a McDonalds restaurant. If you love Waldorf Salad, you play that indie game, but as soon as you change one of the ingredients, it isn't the same experience. If you want quick and dirty that every knows, you just go McDonalds and order your choice, while others in the group order their choice...it's still Maccas... it ain't fine dining by any stretch of the imagination, but wherever you go in the world, you can expect similar flavours and experiences from what you order. 

What I've been aiming for in terms of a cookbook is somewhere between these extremes. Some recipes (combinations of rules and rulings) that give generally predictable outcomes in a session experience, and some ideas for how you can change the nuances of the game with suggestions of how this might modify the session experience. I've seen a few games attempt to do this over the years, but not to the degree that I'm envisioning... only the Cortex Hacker's guide comes close. (There may be other options out there, I'm told that there's something similar for Blades in the Dark, but I haven't had the chance to look at it yet)