[Firan] The Elder Game
FiranMUX is the text-based multiplayer internet game that my wife and I have run continuously for the past 11 years. This post will be mainly of interest to designers of internet games, but you pen-and-paper designers might enjoy it anyway.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Firan's "elder" game. In the MMO circles, an elder game is the stuff that the established, veteran players do to keep from getting jaded and bored. For example, in World of Warcraft, the elder game starts when you've hit (or near) the magic level cap (currently 70) and you shift your focus from leveling up to raiding or something else (I'm no expert on the WoW endgame; my human paladin is only like 42nd level and I haven't played in months).
We designed Firan with a philosophy we call "trickle-down role-play." The heart of the concept is that characters are arranged into tiers of importance and the more important characters create role-playing opportunities for the less important characters. Importance is a subjective designation that we assign based on our impression of the character's potential to create a sweeping impact in the game's fictional events. We call this "level" and assigned three tiers.
Level I characters are the Features -- the leading roles of the movie. They are the Clan Leaders and their main heirs, the royalty, the most important nobility, the generals, the crime lords, and other persons of note. Level II characters are the Companions (a term borrowed from Ars Magica) -- the supporting roles of the movie. They are lesser heirs, trusted friends, and associates of the features. Level III characters are Citizens -- the bit parts of the movie. These fill the ranks of the game with soldiers, dressmakers, restauranteers, thugs, gladiators, tax collectors, and so on. (The staff creates all of those I, II, and III characters. We also recently introduced level IV characters, which are player-generated characters. I think of them as "Extras" in the movie.)
Though some players think so, character level does not correspond to how fun playing that character will be -- most of the time. Citizens can be a great deal of fun without the extra responsibility and time that Features require.
Our implementation of trickle-down role-play starts with the introduction of some kind of plot event at the Feature level. The theory goes that those Features will pull Companions into their story and those Companions will pull Citizens (and level IV Extras) into their stories. The action should fan out from a few Features to many, many other characters.
In practice, it works most of the time. A few things can cut off a plot at the knees, however. The main "interruption of plot" occurs when a player chooses not to share a plot with others. This can happen for a variety of reasons. Sometimes, the plot offers some golden opportunity for the main character, whose player gets greedy and tries to obtain that whatever without help, thus avoiding sharing the rewards. Sometimes, a player perceives the information in a plot as dangerous and keeps it to themselves to prevent political destabilization. Sometimes the player just forgets about it or leaves the game before sharing the information.
There's another reason, I've discovered, and it involves the elder game. Those positions of importance? We tend to give them to players who have earned our trust. A lot of those players have proven their trustworthiness through years of playing on the game. They're, more often than not, elders. They've seen and done it all and very little surprises them anymore. Ennui sets in. The lack of surprises -- the lack of real stakes -- causes them to get bored and jaded. They don't leave the game because they're invested in it, but they don't really play much, either. What happens when we hand them a typical plot? Nothing. It dies on the vine. Trickle-down role-play fails. The entire game suffers.
So it's clear, I'm not blaming the elders. I'm blaming myself for bad design. Boredom in this case isn't a character flaw; it's a design flaw. I as a designer have failed to design adequate challenges for the players who have invested the most time in the game. Worse, I've created a situation such that, when I do finally drop something exciting and unique in their laps, they might write it off without a glance -- they expect it to be more of the same, ho-hum, seen-it-before plots.
On World of Warcraft, they carefully dangle a carrot in front of you, let you get it, then show you a bigger carrot. It's a level treadmill. It's a lesson in psychological operant conditioning with random rewards. Firan isn't so refined, but it's also not a combat game. It's a socio-political dynasty game with a bit of "slice of life" role-play set in a fantasy world that has a Greco-Roman feel to it. The leveling up is not literal. Sure, you can make your character more important and we'll change your level from III to II, or from II to I, but it's rare and not really the focus of the game (and it doesn't come with any benefits, really). To level up on Firan, you craft clever political speeches, broker power in backroom deals, and make sure your son marries the right wife so that his kids inherit the Gold Dragon throne. Once you've accomplished all those tenuous goals, then what?
Most of the obvious solutions involve a major shake-up of the game. We could introduce some calamity that rips down the existing power structures and watch everyone scramble for new ones. This might make the game exciting for the people in the middle and at the bottom, but the people on top -- mostly the elders -- will resent it. It isn't an elder game. It's essentially "nerfing" the political power of the people who have it.
Better, and more palatable to elders, is introducing new opportunities. We've done this with some success by having people from other distant nations come to Anarinuell (the home city for the game) to meet the Firan leaders. After a few times, though, the elders feel that this, too, is nothing new. It is difficult to come up with new opportunities that will not put too much power into the hands of a few characters or change the nature of the game too much. For example, we could introduce D&D-style magic or something and let anyone learn it but the game would change too much from our vision.
I think the key lies in understanding why the elders are still around. In short, why haven't they left? What are they waiting for? My theory is that they've invested 6-10 years in a story. We do a certain amount of meta-plotting with dark and sinister secrets, but not a lot, but the elders are the ones who have explored the game's secrets the most. I think they want to see how things turn out. Moving the game metaplot forward might re-energize them, if the elder players have opportunities to learn more by participating. I suspect that elders see the shifting patterns of plot and politics as a static thing and we just need to move it to the next frame, where they don't have it all figured out, and where there are significant challenges for them.
It seems pretty obvious, but it took a long time to get here. Eleven years.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Firan's "elder" game. In the MMO circles, an elder game is the stuff that the established, veteran players do to keep from getting jaded and bored. For example, in World of Warcraft, the elder game starts when you've hit (or near) the magic level cap (currently 70) and you shift your focus from leveling up to raiding or something else (I'm no expert on the WoW endgame; my human paladin is only like 42nd level and I haven't played in months).
We designed Firan with a philosophy we call "trickle-down role-play." The heart of the concept is that characters are arranged into tiers of importance and the more important characters create role-playing opportunities for the less important characters. Importance is a subjective designation that we assign based on our impression of the character's potential to create a sweeping impact in the game's fictional events. We call this "level" and assigned three tiers.
Level I characters are the Features -- the leading roles of the movie. They are the Clan Leaders and their main heirs, the royalty, the most important nobility, the generals, the crime lords, and other persons of note. Level II characters are the Companions (a term borrowed from Ars Magica) -- the supporting roles of the movie. They are lesser heirs, trusted friends, and associates of the features. Level III characters are Citizens -- the bit parts of the movie. These fill the ranks of the game with soldiers, dressmakers, restauranteers, thugs, gladiators, tax collectors, and so on. (The staff creates all of those I, II, and III characters. We also recently introduced level IV characters, which are player-generated characters. I think of them as "Extras" in the movie.)
Though some players think so, character level does not correspond to how fun playing that character will be -- most of the time. Citizens can be a great deal of fun without the extra responsibility and time that Features require.
Our implementation of trickle-down role-play starts with the introduction of some kind of plot event at the Feature level. The theory goes that those Features will pull Companions into their story and those Companions will pull Citizens (and level IV Extras) into their stories. The action should fan out from a few Features to many, many other characters.
In practice, it works most of the time. A few things can cut off a plot at the knees, however. The main "interruption of plot" occurs when a player chooses not to share a plot with others. This can happen for a variety of reasons. Sometimes, the plot offers some golden opportunity for the main character, whose player gets greedy and tries to obtain that whatever without help, thus avoiding sharing the rewards. Sometimes, a player perceives the information in a plot as dangerous and keeps it to themselves to prevent political destabilization. Sometimes the player just forgets about it or leaves the game before sharing the information.
There's another reason, I've discovered, and it involves the elder game. Those positions of importance? We tend to give them to players who have earned our trust. A lot of those players have proven their trustworthiness through years of playing on the game. They're, more often than not, elders. They've seen and done it all and very little surprises them anymore. Ennui sets in. The lack of surprises -- the lack of real stakes -- causes them to get bored and jaded. They don't leave the game because they're invested in it, but they don't really play much, either. What happens when we hand them a typical plot? Nothing. It dies on the vine. Trickle-down role-play fails. The entire game suffers.
So it's clear, I'm not blaming the elders. I'm blaming myself for bad design. Boredom in this case isn't a character flaw; it's a design flaw. I as a designer have failed to design adequate challenges for the players who have invested the most time in the game. Worse, I've created a situation such that, when I do finally drop something exciting and unique in their laps, they might write it off without a glance -- they expect it to be more of the same, ho-hum, seen-it-before plots.
On World of Warcraft, they carefully dangle a carrot in front of you, let you get it, then show you a bigger carrot. It's a level treadmill. It's a lesson in psychological operant conditioning with random rewards. Firan isn't so refined, but it's also not a combat game. It's a socio-political dynasty game with a bit of "slice of life" role-play set in a fantasy world that has a Greco-Roman feel to it. The leveling up is not literal. Sure, you can make your character more important and we'll change your level from III to II, or from II to I, but it's rare and not really the focus of the game (and it doesn't come with any benefits, really). To level up on Firan, you craft clever political speeches, broker power in backroom deals, and make sure your son marries the right wife so that his kids inherit the Gold Dragon throne. Once you've accomplished all those tenuous goals, then what?
Most of the obvious solutions involve a major shake-up of the game. We could introduce some calamity that rips down the existing power structures and watch everyone scramble for new ones. This might make the game exciting for the people in the middle and at the bottom, but the people on top -- mostly the elders -- will resent it. It isn't an elder game. It's essentially "nerfing" the political power of the people who have it.
Better, and more palatable to elders, is introducing new opportunities. We've done this with some success by having people from other distant nations come to Anarinuell (the home city for the game) to meet the Firan leaders. After a few times, though, the elders feel that this, too, is nothing new. It is difficult to come up with new opportunities that will not put too much power into the hands of a few characters or change the nature of the game too much. For example, we could introduce D&D-style magic or something and let anyone learn it but the game would change too much from our vision.
I think the key lies in understanding why the elders are still around. In short, why haven't they left? What are they waiting for? My theory is that they've invested 6-10 years in a story. We do a certain amount of meta-plotting with dark and sinister secrets, but not a lot, but the elders are the ones who have explored the game's secrets the most. I think they want to see how things turn out. Moving the game metaplot forward might re-energize them, if the elder players have opportunities to learn more by participating. I suspect that elders see the shifting patterns of plot and politics as a static thing and we just need to move it to the next frame, where they don't have it all figured out, and where there are significant challenges for them.
It seems pretty obvious, but it took a long time to get here. Eleven years.