Two things happened concurrently to me that have ended up being about the same thing, how I feel about OSR play:
I’m prepping Mythic Bastionland, to run for the first time (hopefully on channel) and it occurs to me that the game has rules for combat – and not much else. Outside of combat, there are lots of procedures – for the hexcrawl, for the omens, for task resolution – but even Saves aren’t really skill checks. It occurs to me that many of my favourite games have combat rules and very little else (Marvel Heroic, Feng Shui, 13th Age….) – and maybe Mythic Bastionland is like this.
I’m listening to Between Two Cairns and the hosts talk about how OSR play is an entirely different schema of play to D&D5e play, just like story-games are, and we should maybe be more up-front about it – as they analyse a blog post from Sam Sorensen about his Three-Question Taxonomy. It makes me think I might have run Mork Borg wrong, even though I (and my players) seemed to have a good time, and wonder if it matters. I’ve run Pirate Borg on YouTube with a player-authored montage in it – was that a mistake?
And thinking about the two together, maybe I actually do like OSR play. I just haven’t realised it yet.
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First up, let’s be clear – in the past, I’ve been pretty sure of myself that OSR play isn’t for me. Nostalgia is a seductive liar, I think the quote goes, and I don’t even think folks played like that back in the day. Maybe I don’t have the right nostalgia – I started playing firmly in the AD&D2e days, where adventures were meant to be epic railroaded story-fests (there’s some analysis to be done looking at this era and Critical Role, I reckon). But even if it was, my gaming today is 1000% better than it was when I was a teenager; isn’t everyone’s?
So let’s look at what I like and don’t like about the OSR play style. Note this is all personal preference, each to their own, etc – don’t come at me. I’ll start with what I don’t like, in an attempt to end on a positive note.
I Don’t Like Meaningless Character Death
I’m fine with death being on the cards, and player character jeopardy is necessary for a certain type of game; I run some games where it’s all but guaranteed. But I can’t stomach taking 4 hp from a random goblin and dropping dead. That’s just silly. I’ll make an exception for DCC funnels when I’ve got 3 more victims, sorry, characters to carry on the legacy, but stories of repeated TPKs in OSR games sound to me like when heavy drinkers describe their nights out to teetotallers. I can’t understand what’s enjoyable about it, and in fact I’d find it quite unpleasant.
Let my characters die in a noble battle against a meaningful foe, or in some hideous death-trap; not in a 10 foot pit. “Ha ha you’re dead”-play may or may not be an OSR feature, but I hear people talk about it after games (while I roll my eyes) too much for me to believe it’s not a feature of this kind of play.
I Don’t Like Puzzles
Or, I don’t like not solving puzzles. I like solving them, and I enjoy discovery and exploration and all that good stuff – who doesn’t? But puzzle solving has two big problems for me – firstly, it takes everyone out of character – not just out of author stance, but out of director stance, and into – I don’t know – crossword stance (?) to try and work out what’s happening. This isn’t just an OSR problem for me – Call of Cthulhu (except when clues are properly hefted at me) has the same issue. A lot of OSR stuff seems to have some quite impenetrable stuff in it, and a few times I’ve played it’s presented with the Second Policeman Problem.
The Second Policeman Problem is what happens when you get to the end of a Call of Cthulhu adventure and the GM tells you (despite your protestations) what you missed. And you asked the policeman about the murders, but you didn’t ask the second policeman, who would have told you more about them. See also, you didn’t search the study twice, didn’t check both bodies, didn’t pull the green lever while wearing the yellow hat. It’s a tiresome trope that incentivises boring play, and I’ll have none of it.
I Don’t Like Avoiding Peril
You’ve heard the tag line – about Runequest, usually, in fairness to the OSR – “Combat is brutal and deadly, so you’ll want to avoid it if you can!” – then why are there all these cool rules for it then? I’m a fighter, and I’ve got a sword, so I want to use it, please – if you’ve got lots of combat rules, the game should feature lots of exciting combat. Similarly, I don’t want to check for traps every three paces, and debate whether to go into a room or turn around at every juncture.
Admittedly, maybe this is a system issue – some of the rules for camping/resting and procedural hexcrawling look fun to me, and encourage this sort of risk/reward peril balancing which I think I’d fine engaging – but I’ve had too many game experiences when the balance falls down to “avoid peril,” and I can’t abide it; I’ll push you into the room with the goblins myself if I have to.
OK, maybe the OSR isn’t for me. But then on the flip side, here’s what I do like –
I Like Dungeons
To be fair, everything’s a dungeon really, but map-based play is great. Having a bounded area to explore is really an ideal set-up for me, and I like that exploration bit of what’s in the next room, do we turn left, finding out what happened diagetically, all that good stuff. I can absolutely see that the OSR is streets ahead of D&D5e in adventure module design (many games are to be fair). When I occasionally run D&D for random board game cafe-goers, I’ll usually adapt an OSR dungeon – the cutting edge of adventure writing really is the OSR.
I like Procedural Play
Look, I made my convention name running Mouse Guard, one of the most procedural games imaginable – literally “this is a mission” procedural. I love to see mini-systems, for hexcrawling, making camp, and all the stuff that gets handwaved too often in other games. I also think procedural play is bigger than just that – PBTA Moves are procedural play, 13th Age Montages are procedural play; “Describe a Feng Shui fight scene by listing cool things the players can do” is procedural.
I also like procedural prep, which might be why Mythic Bastionland is blowing my mind so much at the moment; and I’ve been running Stay Frosty a lot where procedural random events occupy the majority of the game.
I Like Random Characters
This may be a feature of running lots of convention one-shots and having to make sets of 6 pregens, but I’d generate random characters for everything if I could. I like the idea of adventurers as hapless turnip farmers who’ve just picked up a sword, and while chargen is overrated generally, I often really like it in OSR. Yesterday I sort-of-rolled up 4 Mythic Bastionland PCs (well, the players gave me their rolls and I parsed them onto a character keeper) and 5 Trophy Dark (admittedly, not OSR) adventurers, and it was the best kind of lonely fun. I wish more trad games could make chargen as much fun as Cairn, for instance. I really do.
So, do I actually like the OSR? Or do I, like most gamers I suspect, contain multitudes? I’d really like to experience some authentic OSR play to make sense of it – if anyone wants to step forward and offer me some, I’d be very grateful, and I’m sure I can return the favour. Just don’t kill me with a random goblin arrow!
This sounds very much like my feelings on OSR…
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For what it’s worth, a dimension to consider when parsing rules and how much of the rulebook is devoted to combat (or anything else): how great is the overlap with your ordinary life? I genuinely hope that for combat, it’s virtually zero; even those who’ve been deployed to a war zone probably didn’t fight with swords and shields (or laser blasters). More rules are essential to make an alien experience sensible and playable. We don’t need the same page count for activities less distant from 21st-century life.
As for the lethality of combat, that’s really more up to referee choice, module design, and system selection. Opinions run a wide spectrum. OSR-ish and adjacent systems have a tendency to discourage direct confrontations with foes, instead rewarding careful planning, fighting dirty, and efforts to make and take advantage of an enemy’s weaknesses. But you’re still going to end up matching swords, risking your life, and that’s a significant part of the game.
That said, if you die from a goblin’s arrow at my table, it’s because you made a series of poor decisions, and any observant player (and their companions) can trace it afterward pretty easily. Danger is telegraphed. Risk often foreshadows reward. The important distinction is that many things, even small ones, can kill you, but never randomly. Every character death should leave the player ruminating on mistakes made, and the entire table better prepared for the future.
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Yeah, I get that. My issue with the “careful planning, fighting dirty, and efforts to make and take advantage of an enemy’s weakness” are twofold: –
Firstly, what parts of the system actually support those approaches? If we sneak up on the goblins and jump them, where are the mechanics for that, if that’s what we’re supposed to be engaging with? Because there are plenty of rules for stand-up fights. If that’s the ideal model of play, why is it resolved by GM fiat?
And secondly, how do you do that in a game with random encounters? When you might suddenly bump into 2d6 bugbears and there might be 12 of them?
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I picked up the B/X rules, because they’re physically closest to me, but I suppose every ruleset has its particulars. Page B23 has the rules for surprise, which includes how to handle it for random encounters. (Short version: roll dice, but common sense takes precedence. Do a quick search for “OSE surprise” for a very similar mechanism.) If the situation’s adjacent to the text – such as the PCs setting an ambush for those goblins – reasonable effort can offer them an advantageous surprise round. In all likelihood, that’s the mechanical outcome they’re asking for.
In situations where something occurs outside the specifics of rules text – and creative players will ensure that – I have a brief aside with the table. I make an offer of how to resolve the event, and we negotiate until we’re all on board. If they auto-surprise the goblins, that means an enemy ambush operates under the same rule. Maybe they accept a die roll to mitigate the potential of bad effects for them. Maybe they expend resources, including time, to improve their odds. If it’s a regular occurrence, I add it to our shared house rules document. It’s under my control as referee, but part of a negotiated contract with the table. Adding or modifying the rules with group approval strikes me as philosophically in line with everyone agreeing on the ruleset we’ll use in the first place.
Yes, any ruleset has its uncovered territory, which we’ll need to resolve when players’ actions lead us there. Setting an ambush for the goblins isn’t too much of a stretch; common sense can guide us fairly for all parties. Maybe they scout the spring the goblins use for fresh water, setting a snare to capture one for interrogation. Not that hard to adjudicate in a way that rewards their efforts, right? What if they hatch a plan to lure the nearby troll over to deal with the goblin problem, instead? I’m guessing that’s not spelled out anywhere in the rules, but it’s a bold and risky move, and I wouldn’t dream of shutting them down. No matter how that turns out, for good or ill, they’re going to remember it.
Part of the trick is encouraging those player actions and requests, resolving them in a manner that’s fair and consistent with the spirit of the rules as interpreted by the table, and being nimble enough to work with them in the moment.
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