MUSHy Musings

As is usual for any hobby, I sort of get interested and uninterested in waves. One hobby in particular, however, has had the uninterested (verging on actively despising) part of the cycle going longer and longer and longer each time the cycle runs. It's approached crisis mode since early 2020.

This hobby is “MUSHing”. It's online, text-only RP and when it's working well it's a delight. The problem is that it's not working well much any longer. Instead it's getting dominated more and more by the kinds of people who commit a number of gross RP sins.

The sin I'm going to talk about today is the sin of shutting down RP.

“Yes, and” vs. “no, but”

It's known in improv circles that negation kills scenes dead while affirmation builds them up. The two phrases used to differentiate are “yes, and” and “no, but”. Consider them in use in this pair of dialogues.

“Yes, and...”

Player 1: Damn, it's a hard life working in the meat packing plant!

Player 2: It sure is. I don't know what's worse: the smell, the long hours, or the back-breaking labour.

Player 3: For me it's the pleading look in the villagers' eyes as you cut their throats.

Player 4: Nah, for me it remains breaking their backs. But what you gonna do? The orc chieftain wants his roast human!

“No, but...”

Player 1: Damn, it's a hard life working in the meat packing plant!

Player 2: We're not even in a meat packing plant! But it's a hard life in the space marines!

Comparison

The first scene likely goes on into ever more gruesome, but delightful play. The second scene probably ended right there with Player 1 stalking off to find someone who doesn't suck to play with.

Surely, however, I'm exaggerating things. Surely nobody is actually behaves that way in an improv setting?

Actual behaviour in an improv setting

Here's an exchange that happened on a MUSH recently. The discussion was in an out-of-character communication channel.

Selene Gallio says, “Are you in town still during the evacuation, Stephen?”

Stephen Strange says, “why do you ask?”

Selene Gallio has... desires to look around inside, maybe make notes of the architecture, abuse the ley line it is built upon, talk with Wong about recipes.

Stephen Strange says, “well...It really isn't up to me. The Sanctum has a mind of its own, you know. Actually, OOCly, I am kidding. It is totally up to me, and right now, Stephen is not ICly home.”

Satana rubs her hands together over nothing in particular. Then high-fives Selene.

Selene Gallio is hoping he wasn't and she is wanting to do a bit of 'Gozer' action and create a new kingdom for her to rule from using a potent ritual. Selene Gallio high fives Satana.

Stephen Strange says, “and...honestly....OOCly, people are not getting in the Sanctum if Strange isn't in.”

Selene Gallio wants to take what she believes she is owed. “Even if I got a kryptonian?”

Illyana Rasputina says, “No.”

Stephen Strange says, “What Illy said. Especially with Kryptonians. They no like magic...”

Selene Gallio was trying to create some drama and rp, but that's fair. I'll back off.

Stephen Strange says, “let's put it this way. There has been one instance on this game in which the Sanctum was breached. And that was specifically for a plot, and the person had to power themselves up just to get in through the wards long enough to take one single item. I am not adverse to the idea. I am just saying that, in the middle of an angelic invasion, given the number of relics in the Sanctum and the express desire to not allow them to fall into angelic hands? Yeah...getting in is most likely not going to happen. And getting out would be even harder.”

Selene Gallio says, “I didn't mention getting out, but no that's fine. it's your house, you're free to do as you will on a consent based game.”

Blade says, “Man, I hate to hear what it sounds like when you ARE adverse to the idea!”

Satana snappoints at Blade.

Daniel Chain is late to the conversation but is already envisioning what Strange's version of 'Geddoff my lawn' might be like.

Stephen Strange says, “If I was adverse to the idea. I would just say 'No, drop it' and walk away. Because I don't want people to think I am a cranky old man, I offer the explanation.”

Satana just pinches the bridge of her nose.

Stephen Strange says, “But, now I am going to drop it. If you wish to pursue, please feel free to page.”

John Constantine looks back in here, “Oof. Jayzus.”

(In the interests of full disclosure, I am the player of Satana, not Selene Gallio. I have half a horse in this race because I thought Selene's idea sounded fun and was about to go along with it until... “NO, BUT!”)

Consequences

There are several consequences to Stephen Strange's behaviour above.

1. He killed what could have been an entertaining scene of hi-jinks and things going wrong right in the cradle. Because contrary to his claim that he's “not adverse (sic) to the idea”, he has very clearly shown with literally everything he said that he's not only averse to it, he's likely to openly and flatly negate it all. And in a game based around rules of consent that's a flat-out “NO”. Not even a “no, but” but a straight-up, dyed-in-the-wool “NO”.

2. He's guaranteed that anybody who witnessed that conversation will not be tapping him for any kind of scene ideas that involve any chance of his character being even slightly weak because he clearly has issues around that point.

3. He's caused at least two players to once again question if there's any point in even continuing to play MUSHes because of the continual frustration involved in running into people like him. (Full disclosure: I'm one of the two.)

So what instead?

How about going along with it!? Is that such a radical idea? NOBODY except Steven Strange's player was thinking that this would be a cakewalk (nor even that it would be successful in the first place!). A scene could have been had where two powerful, evil characters faced up against Steven Strange's home while he was out dealing with a major problem and found themselves biting off way more than they could chew. That would be a “yes, and” and would be a fun scene.

Or, you know, if Steven Strange's player could tolerate even a small weakness in his character, the pair could get in and actually get at least a part of what they had planned done. Then there would be lead-ins to further RP as he went to get it back, or whatnot. Conflict becomes drama becomes plot becomes story.

But hey, why not just shut that all down with long tirades about not being “adverse” to things while making it clear that nobody had better touch your precious character!

I found today one of the best tools for RPG plotting that I've ever seen. I'd suggest you quickly follow that link and read the file before continuing. After that I'll explain why I think it's great.

Welcome back

So, the first thing to get off my chest is that I hate game plots. In the sense of written plots, I mean. I think everybody who's reading this has had the experience of being in a “plot on rails” game where the GM will tell her story, and damn you if you think you're going to have an impact!

It's these kinds of plots I hate.

On the other hand, I also grossly hate the kinds of “plots” which are supposedly going to automatically happen from people wandering around and doing things in a so-called “sandbox game”.

Plot is not an automatic emergent property of a narrative. Narratives can (and frequently do: just remember the last time your grandfather told you about that time he and his cousin climbed the hill and along the way they ate a watermelon which was purchased from that guy that used to go down the streets with the cart selling watermelons—Smythe was his name, he thinks, and the 'y' always bothered him because most people say 'Smith' and why would anybody choose to spell their name so weirdly – people had values before they decided they needed to be 'special' and 'unique' – ...) meander and mean nothing. “Sound and fury signifying nothing.” Hell, there's an entire literary movement based on this: surrealism. Surreal literature leaned heavily on automatic writing with minimal subsequent editing, thus tending toward incoherent, dreamlike stories that went nowhere.

This may be some people's cuppa. It is definitively not mine.

So what then?

Well, the essence of both the Spark Method I wrote about earlier and this “PlotField Diagram” is that you don't have a plot. But neither do you just have a random, incoherent, disconnected set of plot elements that people stumble over that you hope ends up being a satisfying narrative. By establishing factions, goals, ties, and agenda (Spark) or by diagramming similar concepts (these PlotField Diagrams) you ensure that something like a plot comes out ... and yet you also ensure that what comes out is the result of player action (or inaction).

This is what I love about the Spark Method, but ... wow! For larger stories it's still a better choice, but for small stories it was always a bit much, bookkeeping-wise. It's in this area of smaller stories that I think the diagrams will shine better than the Spark Method.

Scenes are the cornerstone of MUSHing, but scenes all by themselves can rapidly turn into a boring grind of “threat of the day” scenarios which have no life of their own. In the absence of a continuing narrative, scenes, which, in their absence, practically define a dead MUSH, can turn into a rut. A boring sequence of disconnected events that don't leave anything in the way of a satisfying experience in their wake in the long haul.

What's needed is something that gives players a feeling of movement. Of accomplishment (or failure). A sense that they have, through some means or another, managed to change the world (for better or worse).

What's needed, in short, is a story, and what's at the heart of every story is a plot.

Some Definitions

There are many definitions for “plot” and related words so it's not productive to talk about them without defining our terms. Here is a short glossary of terms used in this essay. (Words in italic in definitions will be entries themselves. Words in bold are Spark Method terminology defined in this or other essays about the Spark Method.)

conflict – A disagreement among two or more Factions over one or more Agendas.

narrative – A sequence of connected scenes that relate in some logical sequential fashion.

plot – A narrative that resolves one or more conflicts.

resolution – In the Spark method for MUSHing, a plot resolution is the clear success or failure of a Faction to further its Agenda in the plot.

scene – In the Spark Method for MUSHing, a scene is a play element that begins with a Stage that is Tilted during which actions are taken by players until the scene's Question is answered.

The Spark Method

The plot runner(s) need to perform the following steps to run a plot:

1. Select from the setting and/or create two or more Factions whose Goals overlap in ways that could lead to conflicting Agendas.
2. Select an Agenda for each Faction related to the plot. These selected Agenda are the source of conflict.
3. (Optional.) Present a cut scene or some other equivalent form (I.C. news story, etc.) to present the first conflict.
4. Run a scene for the first conflict presented.
5. Run a sequence of scenes whose Stage is formed by the answer to the previous scene's Question, mixing in further conflicts, if any, at need.
6. End the plot when all participating Factions have their Agendas confirmed or denied.
7. Look over involved Factions to see what impact the plot may have on their Goals (or even existence!).

Factions

Every plot requires participants in conflict. In a small-scale plot the unit of conflict may be individuals. In a large-scale plot the unit of conflict may be entire nations or planetary systems. The generic term for such participants, at any scale, is Faction. When designing a plot thought must be given to which Factions are involved. For a feeling of grounding in the game world at least one Faction should be drawn from the game's setting where possible, even if indirectly. Other factions can be plot-specific (and may grow into world-rooted ones). Some examples of Factions at varying scales of plot could be:

• The Soprano Slayer (individual)
• The U.S. State Department (national government)
• The Bonneville P.T.A. (local government)
• The Iron Claw Guild (crime league)

A Faction must have three things: a name, a Goal, and an Agenda. It is also strongly advised that each Faction participating in the plot have a Face. Factions will also have Ties among each other.

Factions should be selected in such a way as to justify a conflict between their Agendas. Note that the factions involved do not have to be enemies necessarily. They could even be allies! All that needs to be present is a conflict between Agendas. Two allies could, for example, disagree on the timing of an action: one wanting to press now while the other wanting to consolidate before pushing forward.

Goals

Each faction has a Goal, which is to say a common purpose that defines the reason for a Faction to exist and what it is the Faction hopes to accomplish. Faction Goals are what helps determine its Agenda in a plot. Faction Goals are generally long-term. Examples of Faction Goals could be:

• Perform the Ritual of Consummation with the Cosmic Bride
• Destabilize oil-producing nations to keep the economic engine running
• Keep the Bonneville school system running smoothly
• Control the demimonde through terror and deceit

Faces

A Faction can be an individual or it can be a group. Its Face is the individual that represents that Faction in the plot. When Factions are individuals, they are their own Face, but when they are a group, it is best to have an NPC representing that Faction in the story. (Note: there may be multiple NPCs from each Faction in the plot, but the Face is the most important and/or representative of these.) Some examples of Faces could be:

• The Soprano Slayer (individual Faction)
• Undersecretary Maxwell Steele
• Emma Paisely, legal counsel
• Black Bart

Ties

Factions have Ties, mutual or asymmetric, with each other in the setting and within a plot. Ties can represent alliance, rivalry, hostility, or outright enmity. Mutual Ties are the same for both sides of the Tie, while Asymmetric Ties have some form of hierarchical relationship. It is the Ties which can be used to help set Agendas to ensure conflict. Examples of Ties could be:

• The Justice Society is seeking The Soprano Slayer, who is evading them (asymmetric enmity)
• The U.S. State Department is fast allies with the House of Saud (symmetric and allied)
• The Bonneville school system is hiring the law firm of Cohen, Cohen, and Paisley (asymmetric and allied)
• The Iron Claw Guild is infiltrating the City of Daermouth's government (asymmetric and hostile)

Agendas

A Faction's Goal is its long-term reason for existence. Its Agenda is the current thing it is trying to accomplish to further its Goal. An Agenda must be selected for each Faction in a plot such that it generates natural conflict between them. Note that the player's characters are either in one of the participating Factions or comprise such. Thus it is a good plan to think about (but not mandate!) player character agendas too. Some examples of Agendas could be:

• Give Edith Lee the Rite of Suffering to see if she is the Cosmic Bride
• Foment discord among oil-producing nations to prevent them from acting in concert
• Conceal the malfeasance of Director Laird from the press
• Kill the ruling council of the City of Daermouth

Assessment

As with the Question in running scenes, the Agenda determines when a plot's conflict is resolved. If the Faction manages to accomplish its agenda, the plot ends with that Faction ascendant, having taken another step toward accomplishing its Goal. If the faction's Agenda is blocked by another faction, then it is regressing in its Goal. Ascendant Factions will gain prominence (and the attention of other Factions, perhaps introducing new allies, rivals, or enemies in the process) while regressing Factions might lose allies or encourage rivals and enemies. Regressing too long can spell the end of a Faction. Ascending long enough can result in the Faction expanding its efforts.

Conclusion

As with the Spark Method for running scenes, the method for planning plots is designed to minimize the effort of the plot runner. Not every satisfying plot conceivable can be modelled with it, much as not every scene conceivable can be run with the Spark Method for scenes. What both accomplish, however, is reining in the chaos and complexity of plot- and scene-running by providing a simple structure that nonetheless permits busy gamers to make satisfying and memorable game experiences.

Scenes are the cornerstone of MUSHing, yet too often we don't do them. We wait for others to do them and join in. This is a problem for two reasons. First, it puts an unnecessary burden on the small number of people who run scenes and burns them out. This means this is not only a small number, it's a shrinking one. Second, and probably more important in the long run, it robs us of one of the deepest joys of role-playing in MUSHes: creation.

Of course there's a reason for the reticence: coming up with scenes is hard! And running them is even harder! There's so many details you have to come up with and keep track of. And, always, there's the problem of players. Players ruin all your plans, so all that work just gets thrown away and the scene ends in chaos. It takes a special kind of person who can pull this off and make it work.

Only...

What if I told you there was an easy way to do scenes? That, while it can't cover every scene you'd want to have on a MUSH, it lets you do a large number of them in ways that are simple, quick, and satisfying to all. Not only that, how would you react if I told you this technique works for scenes that have scene runners equally as well as it does for scenes that are quick pick-ups for a bunch of people who just decided to have a scene without a plan? Would you call me crazy? Well, call me crazy, then, because there is a way!

An obscure game published in Canada called Spark is the source of this technique. It is a tabletop RPG firmly fixed in the “storytelling” style, and, more to the point, in the modern vein of games like Fiasco or FATE: Accelerated Edition. It is meant to be quick to pick up with a group of players and be playing in a custom-created setting within half an hour. It's a bit too formally structured for some RPer's tastes, but it has good ideas which can be mined for other styles. And its method for setting up and running scenes is gold!

At the cornerstone of this technique are four components:

1. The Stage.
2. The Tilt.
3. The Question.
4. The NPCs.

In a runner-driven scene, all of these may be firmly in the grasp of the runner, or one or more of them may be farmed out to other players. In an impromptu, improv scene, players will amicably negotiate among themselves for who gets which pieces. In the end, though, all four components will be readied quickly.

The NPCs

The final component—NPCs—is the simple one. Who are the major non-player characters that will influence the scene. It could be as simple as “the shadowy figure with the gasoline cannister” or as complex as a full-blown character write-up of an important NPC if the scene is part of a longer-running plot. One player could be responsible for all the NPCs, or each player may introduce one, or some other arrangement is easily conceived. Key to this component is simply that the NPC have some bearing on the scene. The sailor who gets trapped by a burning wall of cargo. The shady captain who's trying to destroy some evidence of malfeasance. The major NPCs are “major” precisely because they have relevance to the scene and its resolution somehow. The amount of detail depends on just how important they are both to the scene and to any ongoing activity.

This leaves the remaining three pieces, each of which has a mysterious-sounding name. The first of these is the Stage, and it's simply two things combined:

1. The setting (in time and space) of the scene.
2. The relationship of the scene to other scenes in an ongoing storyline (if there is one).

An example of a stage might be: “Dockyards of Brunei, after dark, where the heroes have discovered the Midnight Emerald is due to arrive with its illicit cargo.” This stage sets us in a location (dockyards), at a point in time (after dark), and ties it in to what was presumably an ongoing investigation about some kind of illicit dealings. It puts everybody in the scene on the same page and gives them something to talk about, discuss, plan, and, if newcomers to the story are present, catch up on. Soon, however, as the Stage is introduced and then entered, the Tilt arrives.

The Tilt

The Tilt is an evocative name for what it is. Picture the players as actors gathering on a stage. Then physically tilt the stage to drive the actors to where they're supposed to go. That's the role of the capital-T Tilt. It's the initial action (and the overriding challenge) of the scene. It motivates the characters to do something and to do it now. An example of this for the Stage set earlier might be: “The Midnight Emerald arrives, and as it is starting to get unloaded, a sudden, and massive fire erupts in the cargo hold!”

This is the time for heroic action! Sailors must be saved! An arsonist must be caught! And that vital evidence—the illicit cargo—must be protected from the flames to have any hope of the perpetrators of the larger plot getting caught! Other challenges will happen. Individual small things like the shady captain trying to escape in a lifeboat, the sailor caught behind a wall of burning bags of popcorn, that shadowy figure who so obviously started the blaze making her getaway will happen, but it's all under the purview of the Tilt. The scene is run until the Question is answered.

The Question

Which leads us to the final unknown component: the Question. This is the key component in keeping scenes under control and providing them with a definite end. It is simply a question whose answer, one way or another ends the scene. It could be as simple as “will the heroes rescue the princess from the enemy encampment?” or as complex as this one for our sample: “Will the heroes get the evidence they need of the Midnight Emerald's illicit activities while saving innocent sailors and dock workers, or will it all get burned to a crisp in the fire?”

NO MATTER HOW IT IS ANSWERED, once the question is answered, the scene comes to a close, each person making a closing pose. The answer will provide hints of how an overall story can continue in a longer-term plot, or of how characters can react and report to others in spin-off scenes. The answer will, in short, drive further RP that may snowball into more scenes by more people until everybody on the grid is sceneing and feeding their scenes into each other's!

Summary

So there you have it: a simple, easily-followed way to make scenes that are controlled both in scope and duration, yet satisfying to participants. And while this technique doesn't work for all possible scenes, it works for a good number of them and thus gives us an important tool to enjoy our RP!