Welcome to the latest chapter of my continuing struggle for understanding and a possible personal breakthrough which I am sharing here.

I had mentioned elsewhere about story being life poetry. That is, like poetry, story uses economy of expression to convey a deeper meaning and is a work of art that is not life itself but bears a strong resemblance

From A Brief Design Manifesto:Memory

andy wrote: In the beginning of gaming, most of us started with a sense of wonder (or at least, a sense of discovery). Human memory tends to be very incident-oriented, meaning that we don't remember a lot of mundane details about life, we remember the highs and the lows (I don't remember what I watched on TV last week, but I will forever remember the moment that my daughter first rode her bike without training wheels).

Andy sort of reflects what I mean by life poetry. Story focuses of the events that are the highs and lows and completely rooting out the mundane, as he puts it. Life is rarely, if ever so tightly fitted, so it must be object de art. The reason why is that, in story, facts are neutral. A good example is the movie Malcolm X. In real life, Malcolm was converted to Islam primarily by two individuals while in prison. In the film, and I understand in the book Autobiography of Malcolm X, they were reduced to a single character. The fact that is was at least two people makes no difference in story. The economy required in life poetry demands that when you have two characters who serve the same function, they must be either combined or one should be expelled. So, in story, facts are not meaningful in themselves.

However, in Simulationism, they are meaningful. Facts are the point. They are important in making a memory. Even though it works much like Andy describes, to make story later, for now, the facts are the matter.

Unfortunately, the only example I can think of for focusing on the facts are negative. Such as, I didn't like the Spider-Man movie for numerous reasons. One reason is that instead of making web-shooting gadgets, the webs are part of the power package he got from the spider. I didn't like that for a couple reasons, but mostly because that's not how it happened. This is a pretty lame fan boy nitpick, and sad that it's one of the things that ruined the experience for me.

I wish I could think of a more positive example.

Side note on Premise

Ron Edwards in Narrativism: Story Now wrote: Egri's statement-construction is very useful for the single author faced with a blank sheet of paper, with the goal at hand being a finished script.

I disagree with this. That is, while is may be possible for a premise to help an author staring at a blank sheet of paper, I think that it is more useful to the author with 500 pages that needs to be cut down to 25. A premise (theme, controlling idea) is better used to cut out facts from your script/novel so that you can sharpen the telling into a fine point, as in “is there a point to this story?”

I also wonder about phrasing premise as a question in a RPG context. What I mean, for the controlling idea to work, it has to allow the counter idea some space.

e.g. In Die Hard the controlling idea could be phrased as crime does not pay... with the ellipse filling in for whatever reason (I didn't bother nailing it down here to avoid discussion of it) AS the movie opens, the terrorists take over the building with clockwork precision. crime pays Bruce Willis manages to escape and when one of the criminal comes to get him,Willis manages to kill him and take his weapon and delivers the body with a taunting note.crime does not pay Willis calls the police but the bad guys have control of the phones and manage to talk the investigating office that everything is fine crime pays ...and so on.

Lajos Egri in Art of Dramatic Writing wrote: ... What is wrong, then? What is missing?

The author's conviction is missing. Until he takes sides, there is no play. Does egotism lead to loss of friends? Which side will you take? We, the readers or spectators of your play, do not necessarily agree with your convictions. Through your play you must therefore prove to us the validity of your contention.

What I'm suggesting here is that the premise question does not remain a question upon contact with the players. If it relies on the author's conviction to drive the point home, then it cannot remain a question but a side is chosen and must be proved through play.

But, the controlling idea works better if the author gives the counter idea a chance to speak. McKee notes that movies such as Oh! What a Lovely War, Apocalypse Now, Gallipoli, Hamburger Hill all work on the controlling idea of “war is a scourge, but it can be cured by pacifism” but nearly every scene echoes with this idea and does not explore the truth we all know, that men love war. It doesn't have the back and forth illustrated by Die Hard above.

The only film on the list I have seen is Apocalypse Now and reflecting on this, I think I know why my favorite scene is the one with the air calvary. In this segment alone do we see people engage in the art of war and enjoying it. The rest of the movie depicts war as some kind of mire the characters wallow in until the film ends.

So while the premise question is immediately answered by the individuals as soon as play begins, they should still entertain the opposing answer as play unfolds to address the premise more strongly

Jack Spencer Jr wrote: The economy required in life poetry demands that when you have two characters who serve the same function, they must be either combined or one should be expelled. So, in story, facts are not meaningful in themselves.

However, in Simulationism, they are meaningful. Facts are the point. They are important in making a memory. Even though it works much like Andy describes, to make story later, for now, the facts are the matter.

I don't think this split is as clear as it seems. Facts are never just facts -- they always have personal meaning to the viewer. Conversely, they always have meaning in themselves. If they are utterly meaningless, then you should drop the story and just have a lecture on ethics rather than fiction.

Jack Spencer Jr wrote: I disagree with this. That is, while is may be possible for a premise to help an author staring at a blank sheet of paper, I think that it is more useful to the author with 500 pages that needs to be cut down to 25. A premise (theme, controlling idea) is better used to cut out facts from your script/novel so that you can sharpen the telling into a fine point, as in “is there a point to this story?”

This is a very good point, I think. There is a very similar quote from Stephen King's book On Writing, where he tells about the good advice he received from a former teacher:

"When you write a story, you're telling yourself the story" he said. "When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story.

Gould said something else that was interesting on the day I turned in my first two pieces: write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open. Your stuff starts out being just for you, in other words, but then it goes out. Once you know what the story is and get it right -- as right as you can, anyway -- it belongs to anyone who wants to read it.

This suggests that there is a dichotomy between creation of material, and the focussing of material into a coherent story. The suggestion of Egri is that you should start from premise -- i.e. you should set out from the start knowing what statement you want to make and create only for that purpose. The suggestion of Stephen King is that you first need to let material flow out of your imagination, and only afterwards you find a coherent story within that flow, and rewrite to include only that.

I would guess that both methods work well -- at some times for some people. It seems to me that Narrativism matches Egri's approach, while it exclude the Stephen King approach. The latter suggests only focussing out story in rewrites, which for an RPG would be things like written session summaries or just verbally tellling what happened before.

It's worth noting that they're writing for different mediums. Stephen King has primarily concerned with novels, while Egri is focussed on plays and movies (in his earlier "Art of Dramatic Writing" book which discusses premise). It is interesting to me that Egri doesn't talk about premise in his later "Art of Creative Writing" book. Anyhow, it strikes me as a basic difference in method (although not necessarily in goal).

John Kim wrote: I don't think this split is as clear as it seems. Facts are never just facts -- they always have personal meaning to the viewer. Conversely, they always have meaning in themselves. If they are utterly meaningless, then you should drop the story and just have a lecture on ethics rather than fiction.

I'm a little confused about where you're coming from here. My point is in story the facts are a construct in making a point or statement. This is where theme/premise/whatever-term-you-want-to-use comes in. Narrativism being story now, not later is along these lines.

On the other hand, Simulationism does not want to make a construct like this since it does not concern itself with making a statement or point about anything except for what is real. What really happened. What's it really like. etc.

The irony is how close together these two items are, especially in roleplaying. Two groups, one with a Narrativist preference, the other Simulationist, each concocts a scene and plays it out just to see what happens. If the scene as it plays out furthers the story and/or work in terms of story, they it works for both. If it falls short of producing story, then it fails for the narrativist group, but still works for the simulationist group. It's what happened. It may not constitute a story event, but it it still works for the simulationst priority.

But this suggests that story events are somewhat contrived, but this is not so. The event does not have a preplanned outcome and contrived events don't work for either priority. In a sense, story events are "what really happens" as well. The events are an artistic contstruct, but it must still have that likeness to life or it doesn't work.

This suggests that there is a dichotomy between creation of material, and the focussing of material into a coherent story. The suggestion of Egri is that you should start from premise -- i.e. you should set out from the start knowing what statement you want to make and create only for that purpose. The suggestion of Stephen King is that you first need to let material flow out of your imagination, and only afterwards you find a coherent story within that flow, and rewrite to include only that.

As far as the Egri approach, I point to the premise/anti-premise and the pitfall of didcism idea from my original post.

You know, in pretty much every book on writing I have gotten so far has poo-pooed the idea of writers writing instinctively. Some suggest the writer must create a full outline of their plot, write up every possibly relavant detail of their characters, fill index cards, etc. etc. All of this leg work before you start to write. All of this in spite of writers who write more or less on instinct, like King, and are successful, and the writers who dilligently follow this dogma and still can't write worth sour owl poop. They would still have you believe there is a good deal of planning and work that must be involved before you begin writing.

I can't agree with this. I can't because if this is true, then I might as well give up on roleplaying. Altogether. Kaput. Ptui!

I believe that with learning the skills and practice, it is possible for an individual or group to turn out some cracking good stories. I think it is a skill that must be learned and developed. Just as you can't expect someone who has never played a piano before to be able to peck out a tune.

The story may not be perfect. A good deal of rewriting has to do with polishing the novel/script/etc for market. A roleplaying session is for no one else except those present. How it will be remembered and retold to others, if ever, is none of my concern because that will happen anyway. My concern is in that moment during the heat of composition.

...

Now I'm getting a little weird. I hope I clairified or strengthened a couple points.

Jack Spencer Jr wrote: I'm a little confused about where you're coming from here. My point is in story the facts are a construct in making a point or statement. This is where theme/premise/whatever-term-you-want-to-use comes in. Narrativism being story now, not later is along these lines.

I think I disagree with this. What you seem to be saying is that all written stories are created solely for the purpose of making a statement, with no regard for fact or other qualities. That's not true. Now, roughly speaking this is the Egri method -- to consider Premise foremost and change anything else which doesn't fit that Premise. However, not all real authors approach their stories with exactly Egri's method. For example, I will quote from Ursula Le Guin's essay "Dreams Must Explain Themselves", where she is talking about writing the Earthsea trilogy:

Ursula Le Guin wrote: The Farthest Shore is about death. That's why it is a less well built, less sound and complete book than the others. They were about things I had already lived through and survived. The Farthest Shore is about the thing you do not live through and survive. It seemed an absolutely suitable subject to me for young readers, since in a way one can say that the hour when a child realizes, not that death exists -- children are intensely aware of death -- but that he/she, personally, is mortal, will die, is the hour when childhood ends, and the new life begins. Coming of age again, but in a larger context.

In any case I had little choice about the subject. Ged, who was always very strong-minded, always saying things that surprised me and doing things he wasn't supposed to do, took over completely in this book. He was determined to show me how his life must end, and why. I tried to keep up with him, but he was always ahead. I rewrote the book more times than I want to remember, trying to keep him under some kind of control. I thought it was all done when it was printed here, but the English edition differe in three long passages from the earlier American one: my editor at Gollanec said, "Ged is talking too much," and she was quite right, and I shut him up three times, much to the improvement of the whole. If you insist upon discovering instead of planning, this kind of trouble is inevitable. It is a most uneconomical way to write. The book is still the most imperfect of the three, but it is the one I like best. It is the end of the trilogy, but it is the dream I have not stopped dreaming.

Now, Le Guin is intensely aware that the book has a message, but she is not simply trying to make a statement. In fact, she is struggling with what her character says. This seems at least partly Simulationist -- writing something because that is what her character would do, rather than because of the statement it makes. This essay, BTW, is available in the collection "The Language of the Night" (ISBN 0-399-50482-6).

Jack Spencer Jr wrote: You know, in pretty much every book on writing I have gotten so far has poo-pooed the idea of writers writing instinctively. Some suggest the writer must create a full outline of their plot, write up every possibly relavant detail of their characters, fill index cards, etc. etc. All of this leg work before you start to write. All of this in spite of writers who write more or less on instinct, like King, and are successful, and the writers who dilligently follow this dogma and still can't write worth sour owl poop. They would still have you believe there is a good deal of planning and work that must be involved before you begin writing.

I can't agree with this. I can't because if this is true, then I might as well give up on roleplaying. Altogether. Kaput. Ptui!

I believe that with learning the skills and practice, it is possible for an individual or group to turn out some cracking good stories. I think it is a skill that must be learned and developed.

Based on this, I think you would like both Le Guin and King's stuff on writing. They are both are disparaging of "writing method" books of this sort. They do emphasize a lot of work and rewriting in turning out a good story, but they also emphasize following inspiration during initial writing.

Hi John,

I'm responding to what I think is an over-dichotomized perspective on creating fiction, on your part.

I don't think it's a matter of "method first" vs. "inspiration from material first." I think that discussions of writing often degenerate into a kind of tug-of-war between these things that I call "Golden Mean Babble."

Golden Mean Babble arises when at least one person in the discourse can always shift a little to the left, and then shift a little to the right, and then shift a little to the left ... it prevents agreement and perpetuates the discussion, and most importantly, it keeps at least one person in the driver's seat. It's a very, very common professor trick.

Now, this is not to say that I'm particularly agreeing with Jack's points, and in fact, I'm not especially happy with this thread because it seems to be Jack Meets Fiction and Struggles with It rather than a focused inquiry or discussion of role-playing. But I can live with that.

What I am saying is this:

1. It is not hard to imagine that both principle-based methods and moment-to-moment inspiration are involved in the creation of fiction, in a bewildering profusion of order-of-application and interrelationship.

2. Egri presents one side of this issue very, very well. Since I think it's the crucial side, I emphasize it. The other side can take care of itself.

3. None of it has anything to do with how the author experiences the process. This is key. I really don't care how Ursula LeGuin "feels" about the characters as she writes them. Her process is Premise-rich - how can I tell? Because her stories are powerfully thematic, most of the time, and if they weren't rich in Premise, then I as reader, or most people as readers, wouldn't be involved in them.

I really think a lot of people are confusing method and personal experience of story production with content of story production. It drives me nuts that when I describe Narrativist play observationally, people always try to "test" it by checking in with their experiential data. That's like trying to understand whether you "meant it" when you slept with your boss - an exercise in tail-chasing.

Now, here's the final point I want to make, specifically about your paragraph:

Facts are never just facts -- they always have personal meaning to the viewer. Conversely, they always have meaning in themselves. If they are utterly meaningless, then you should drop the story and just have a lecture on ethics rather than fiction.

So speaks the Narrativist, and I can't believe I'm the one to be saying this. You sound just like me back on the Gaming Outpost, when I kept trying to articulate to Illusionist-Simulationists that they were not making stories. Of course, they were, but not in the sense I was driving at, i.e., through play itself of the characters' decisions. And it was absolutely opaque to me that anyone would ever be interested in fictional material (making or experiencing it) in the absence of emotional connection ("meaning").

But some folks are. Let me give you an example that's near to your own experiences of play. Ken Hite criticized my supplement Sex & Sorcery in Out of the Box as follows:

... in many ways the most problematic of the three. ... [Edwards contends] that genuine roleplaying must be an emotionally involving experience for the player -- the notion of a simple, tactical ("gamist") hack-and-slash, sneaky conspiracy, or space-battle experience is "bland" and uninvolving, with no possibility for thematic juice. Your mileage may vary. Mine certainly does.

How I profitably read this book was to assume that it's only for people who want a genuine emotional (as opposed to physical-adrenaline, or intellectual) charge out of the games they play and create, and want to separate their experiences from those of their characters. (Ron also spends a bit of time dismissing "immersive" play as self-delusion. He's making friends all over with this book.) This subset of gamers includes many gaming omnivores, who appreciate a variety of gaming experiences -- in stereotype, they might play D&D for the tactics, and Vampire for the emotional charge. Edwards only wants to tell these gamers about their Vampire games. With that assumption made, you can read this book less as a primer of issues to take into account (there's very little about those, which is odd, given his thesis) and more as a spectrum of emotional conflict and choice -- stories that acknowledging (and indeed privileging) gender issues can make possible. ... The least essential of Edwards' three supplements, Sex and Sorcery remains a provocative, interesting examination of how sex (and its symbol, sorcery) drives stories -- if you let it. Paul Mason's clean layout and much of the art work well, and the text includes thoughtful quotations that illuminate the arguments. Experienced (in all senses of the term) gamers of any stripe will likely find food for thought, and gamers who already agree with Ron's thesis will still gain much profit from studying its ramifications.

Now, you've role-played a lot with Ken. In multiple conversations with him, which I imagine probably accord well with your own experiences of play with him, I have learned that he favors the intellectual content (or more accurately, the aesthetic possibility) of the GM's premise over all other aspects of play.

Did the Templars engineer the assassination of the Kennedys? They could have. So we will run a session of black-ops who stumble onto the plot, and many things will ensue, but the point is that we all appreciate that the Templars could have done it. Period. We've all read the Illuminati Trilogy and Foucalt's Pendulum. Enjoying that is the point.

So your comment to Jack, although it accords absolutely with my own aesthetic sensibilities, my own understanding of fiction, and my own preferences in role-playing ... is still synecdoche, as I see it. Specifically, the primarily-Narrativist saying, "Dude! But it has to have meaning, or it's not anything but babble."

Nope. To some, it's a (squinting here) "fact" that the Templars could have done it. Cool! I'll be the Latvian agent and you'll be the addled American activist. We'll stumble onto the plot and end up trying to save RFK. Irony all over the place. Templars. Cool.

To me, that's nearly babble. To Ken, it's rock-and-roll content. To me, Sex & Sorcery nails it. To Ken, Sex & Sorcery is clearly fringe.

If you see that (as I do) as a vast gulf between nearly-entirely incompatible aesthetic standards and goals of play ... then there you are: the N-S divide, in my model.

Best,
Ron

Just a note, Ron. Where you may have thought this discussion isn't appropriate for the Forge, I did want to say that I have come away from this with a MUCH greater understanding of Nar play vs. Sim play than any other thread.

This makes sense now. It also explains why I'm so confused myself.

I want both... and I'm often desiring incompatible things myself.

IN game... I'm more Sim. What happens, happens. Actions and events, cause and effect flowing organically with verisimilitude. That's what I want.

But afterwards... when I'm done. I want it to be a story. I want it to have meaning/theme/premise. I want to have touched on universal concepts... emotional impact. I want an external "reader" to read my game summaries and see character development through rising action, climax, denoument... and come away with "Hey, that was a neat examination of the life without mercy!" or whatever.

My problem is, even knowing what I want "post game" I feel it is "cheating" to try and force it DURING the game. To discuss premise, and blatantly put it into the game feels contrived to me... feels fake.

Jack's example above:

The irony is how close together these two items are, especially in roleplaying. Two groups, one with a Narrativist preference, the other Simulationist, each concocts a scene and plays it out just to see what happens. If the scene as it plays out furthers the story and/or work in terms of story, they it works for both. If it falls short of producing story, then it fails for the narrativist group, but still works for the simulationist group. It's what happened. It may not constitute a story event, but it it still works for the simulationst priority.

This is me completely. I want a sim that, in the end, furthers a story... but I feel like I'm cheating to FORCE the story... therefore your "incompatible" creative agendas are warring within me, and I think to some extent, might be as well in some others I know.

So, for what it's worth, this thread has been incredibly enlightening on the GNS theory... for me at least.

Jack Spencer Jr wrote: The irony is how close together these two items are, especially in roleplaying. Two groups, one with a Narrativist preference, the other Simulationist, each concocts a scene and plays it out just to see what happens. If the scene as it plays out furthers the story and/or work in terms of story, they it works for both. If it falls short of producing story, then it fails for the narrativist group, but still works for the simulationist group. It's what happened. It may not constitute a story event, but it it still works for the simulationst priority.

I want to comment on this specifically, because it jars with my understanding of Narrativist play; in specific, the sentence that I highlighted. I don't think a Nar group can play out a scene "just to see what happens". Or rather, they can, but it isn't supporting their agenda, it's part of ordinary exploration. For a scene to show Nar leanings, someone at the table must choose to address the premise with that scene. If the scene just happens to address premise as it goes by, that's not Nar, that's Sim+theme.

This does not mean (as some people seem to think) that someone at the table takes the scene and jerks it around to fit premise. And it does not have to be a conscious "Aha. I will address premise here!" either, but it does need to involve active 'movement' in the scene by one or more characters that touches on the premise. Passive movement will not do. I think this is the fundamental difference between Narrativist and Sim+theme.

Whether or not a good story comes out the other end for either agenda is really a red herring.

James

RDU Neil wrote: ... I want a sim that, in the end, furthers a story... but I feel like I'm cheating to FORCE the story... therefore your "incompatible" creative agendas are warring within me, and I think to some extent, might be as well in some others I know.

So, for what it's worth, this thread has been incredibly enlightening on the GNS theory... for me at least.

Hey, Neil. Glad you find this helpful.

It sounds like you have a choice to make. You could either let go of the Simulationist priority and focus on creating the story object or you could be satisfied with the story quality of your memories after the fact playing simulationist. Note andy's post quoted above. You will remember your games in a similar manner so simulationism will work well for you. But, narrativism will work too. It amazing how easy it is to, not so much not worry about facts, but to worry only about facts that have meaning, as John's talking about.

The beauty is yoiu don't have to select one and are locked in for the rest of your life.

~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~~^v~

Hey James,

Well, that's the problem with a hypothetical situation. It didn't really happen. But then, as a side note, I am imagining a group with an internalized sense of story that "seeing what happens" is a loaded situation.

They will "see what happens" in a sense heavily loaded to develop story. In a neutral scene, they will make choices that will proactively develop story.

This what I was picturing this sort of thing, which depending on the skill of the player, may still fail if they drop the "ball" somehow. Sorry for the confusion.