[Fifth World] Skills & attributes

Regenerative Culture Social Technology
#1

Hello all. I haven’t had much online time of late, but I do need to get some ideas that aren’t my own. Can’t promise much in the way of well-considered response to this, but I would like to hear people’s opinions. I’m posting this here because I consider RPG’s in general to be a social technology with much potential, and the Fifth World in particular, since we’re actually making it with that in mind. (See also, “The Fifth World Manifesto”)

Anyway, I heard someone once say that much of the challenge of designing an RPG lies in defining things most of us leave undefined. For your traditional RPG’s, this represents no problem whatsoever: you can represent a character by his attributes (strength, dexterity, constitution, charisma, intelligence, wisdom) and his skills (jump, climb, knowledge, etc.). This occurs quite naturally, from the perspective of a universe of objects defined by their innate characteristics.

But the Fifth World needs to draw its players into a more fluid, animistic world, one that doesn’t define people in terms of innate characteristics, but in terms of relationships. Basically, I need to figure out how to extrapolate a kind of E-Prime of RPG character models.

David Abram and Graham Harvey have really helped me to understand much more deeply what animists mean by a “person,” and while I still stumble trying to describe that to others, I think I know it well enough to work on the Fifth World meaningfully. I cannot claim that kind of confidence, though, when it comes to the question of “skills” in the animist mindset. I fear I may still be looking at “skills” in a fundamentally literate way.

So, what does a “skill” mean to an animist?

That poses my biggest question. If you have ideas on how to model a character in an animistic sense in general, I’m open to suggestions. We have some ideas on that already in play, but nothing we wouldn’t reconsider in light of a good suggestion. But mostly, I’d like to hear some opinions from others who really understand animism on what animists think of skills.

#2

Hey, you never got a hold of me, huh? Well, I just had a frickin’ brainstorm, so maybe it worked out for the best.

DOOD!

Instead of skills, what if (not these exact words) you used “spirit relationship”?

And characters with a high capacity for fire-building, had simply a deep relationship with the fire people? Basket weavers, with basket spirits? Hunting, with deer spirits (especially since ability to hunt one animal doesn’t transfer directly to hunting another…so the skill label “hunting” itself lies about the relationship).

You could list the skill levels as degrees-of-relatedness really bascially, using something close to the 5-pip skill continuum as in WoD: Strangers, Far Family, Clanmates, Blood family, Kindred spirits…

I think this would totally rewire all the players brains. It would fuck 'em up but good! Because then they couldn’t even think about anything in the ‘old way’ of technology and ‘hard skills’. To increase ones fire people relationship (and success with fire) by questing for fire (hah), giving gifts to fire, etc. etc. Then the fire people give them insight into better made fire kits, innovation in fire building in the rain, etc.

C’mon. Genius, right?

#3

You’re a hard man to get a hold of, Willem.

But I agree. Actually, we’re kind of already doing that. But some skills don’t seem to translate into those terms quite as easily. What do you do with jumping? Running? You don’t have an “inventory,” you have a colleciton of allied NPC’s (like your knife, or your bow, or your arrows), and how you make them forms the beginning of your relationship. An arrow you don’t have a good relationship with won’t likely fly straight for you.

But what about skills that seem not to involve anyone but you, like running? There, I feel somewhat stuck.

So, what do animists think of running? Where does that come from? Where do animists think a fast runner get his skill from?

#4

hmm, not sure if this helps, but… thinking back to the poetic edda (granted, not animists), it seems “wisdom”, “wise”, and “way(s)” were generally used in place of “skill(s)”.

possibly on a more useful note- seems to me that running (or walking for that matter) involves a couple of things: the land & the body (or, in terms of relationships, perhaps ancestors?). so, perhaps a dual nature?

dunno. puzzling.

#5

Would ones totem help with personal body skills? Like having a relationship with Squirrel helping your climbing. And wouldn’t ones own spirit play a part in that?

#6

I think Rix has it. I personally learn running from Hummingbird. As simple as that. Different animals can teach different kinds of running, and as we know some people sprint well, others can do marathons, etc. So running doesn’ t just sum up as running. What spirit of running do we want to capture?

I think the gamemaster to some extent needs to do a “spirit” calculation of how different relationships coincide…someone with a strong relationship to the grounded earth, and to hummingbirds, will perhaps run marathons twice as well (especially over varied ground), while someone with a strong relationship to deer and cougars and sky may sprint really powerfully, but lose their wind easily over long distances. I think a lot of this should get left up to the ‘gut calculus’ of the referee, as expressed in the particular culture they play in.

If we see every human activity, even breathing, as at the mercy of neighbors and family, then I think even human-centric activity we can open up into relatedness.

#7

i just had another brainstorm! yeah!

i’ll write it down soon, but in short it hooks into the compass directions.

#8
hmm, not sure if this helps, but... thinking back to the poetic edda (granted, not animists), it seems "wisdom", "wise", and "way(s)" were generally used in place of "skill(s)".

This seems like a start, but I can’t see where it goes yet…

possibly on a more useful note- seems to me that running (or walking for that matter) involves a couple of things: the land & the body (or, in terms of relationships, perhaps ancestors?). so, perhaps a dual nature?

That might be the core of the problem right there. Right now, the individual is essentially “that which relates,” having little or nothing that it “is,” and defined entirely in terms of how it relates to others. Is that taking a good idea too far? Or are we holding over old ideas here that don’t really hold?

Would ones totem help with personal body skills? Like having a relationship with Squirrel helping your climbing. And wouldn't ones own spirit play a part in that?

Short answer: Yes.

I’m not sure I want to give away the long answer in public just yet. :^)

But one’s own spirit seems to be the question … what is one’s own spirit? Does it really exist? Or is spirit only something you can relate to, rather than something that “is”?

I think Rix has it. I personally learn running from Hummingbird. As simple as that. Different animals can teach different kinds of running, and as we know some people sprint well, others can do marathons, etc. So running doesn' t just sum up as running. What spirit of running do we want to capture?

Hrmph. I hear you, but I’m not sure if that holds across the board. OK, it works for running … what about just lifting a big friggin’ rock? Well, I guess you could learn that from Bear, maybe?

Thing is, lots of people can run fast or lift heavy rocks who obviously have very poor relationships with Fox or Hummingbird or Bear … what I have now is that those spirits can feed into it, so the strength of your relationship with Fox can help you run faster when you need to, but I’m just not sure that really does it.

i'll write it down soon, but in short it hooks into the compass directions.

I kept coming back to your writings about the wise compass, trying to think of some way to base it off of that, so I’m practically salivating here to find out what you’ve come up with.

#9

I must say, running for me means more than a “couple of things.” Yeah the land and the body I take in to consideration for sure, yet at the same time, I also have learned and adapted my run to the flow of winds, rains, sun rays, herbs, shadows, scent, prey, hazards, and more, everything effects my runnin.

#10
#11
Hrmph. I hear you, but I'm not sure if that holds across the board. OK, it works for running ... what about just lifting a big friggin' rock? Well, I guess you could learn that from Bear, maybe?

Thing is, lots of people can run fast or lift heavy rocks who obviously have very poor relationships with Fox or Hummingbird or Bear … what I have now is that those spirits can feed into it, so the strength of your relationship with Fox can help you run faster when you need to, but I’m just not sure that really does it.

Fair enough. I do think that having a ‘skill’ that relies on a silent, unacknowledged partnership with certain neighbors in the community of life, pisses them off, and eventually causes ghosts to eat your ass and bring on a big, hard fall. Much like what has happened to civilization. We can explain crash in terms of stats, but also, the nature powers fuckin’ want to pound us for what we’ve done. and then forgive us instantly of course. :slight_smile: fickle chaos pixie bastards. [i didn’t just say that - zip the lip].

I kept coming back to your writings about the wise compass, trying to think of some way to base it off of that, so I'm practically salivating here to find out what you've come up with.

okay, how about this?

the compass can have an infinite number of directions, obviously, so ultimately it rests up to the needs of the game, but it all starts with the pulsing readiness of pre-false-dawn, the shaman’s hour, then sunrise, noon, sunset, and midnight. So, at least four directions, East (sunrise), South (noon), West (sunset), North (midnight), expandablle to eight if you want a longer continuum, NE (pre-false dawn), SE (late morning), SW (lazy afternoon), NW (dark evening).

This describes the cycle of a human life, and the concentric growth rings of a tree…a non linear path through vastly different energies, not just “levels of skill”, but different qualities of richness of understanding and relationship. The Southerly teen feels the focus and lust for mastery (and the aims of their sexuality), the willingness to suffer and sweat through intense experiences. This differs from the fresh openess of the Easterly child, flexible and adaptable. But a teen can run where a child has yet to really develop that capacity. You know? The Westerly Adult, concentrating on family and service, acquires an ability to do insightful and amazing things, because of the purpose beyond self they embody. The Northerly elder begins to disappear in ego, acquiring that power of the monk or the samurai, of desireless intent, of all things coming together while they silently allow it. The Tao Te Ching describes this pretty well, especially as it dovetails back into the East, combining an Elder’s wisdom with the vitality of the child (‘beginner’s mind’). Thus the connection between old folks and children.

It would probably work best to draw a diagram, but you could just trace each skill as a life cycle through the compass directions, additionally empowered and supported by spirit relationships with natural relatives.

I suppose it works like this anyway, huh? though hummingbird teaches me to run, i myself started with the naive (and so limitlessly possible) exploration of the eastern child, and now find myself in the swagger and diligence of the southern teen. I have yet to reach an ability to ‘serve’ with my running, I just don’t have that kind of power yet. And then as an elder, I may disappear, lose myself and my body in my running, just pure intent moving across the land.

And, like I said, you can add the “gates” of the other directions, NE, SE, SW, NW, to broaden the continuum. Each of those does describe another peculiar transitional quality of the cycle, unique to itself, usually a special time of trial, in my experience. NE the dreamer’s realm, SE the discovery of self, SW the release into rest and day-dream, NW the crusty adult dealing with a body on the edge of (or beginning to) falling apart, mining their lineage for wisdom.

I can’t believe I wrote this all down. I think I broke a personal taboo here. :slight_smile: It just seemed to fit with the game. Maybe this whole role-playing game really can change the way we think about our world, if this cyclical time experience could condense deep into players’ bones.

Duh? I dunno. I guess I didn’t see it this way before. I have my stupid moments too.

In any case, I hope this inspires you as much as it did me. :slight_smile:

#12

Nice Willem.

Jason… I’m starting to see it. I see that this game will change the way role-playing games work, and do more to re-program minds than I ever thought possible. I have to say, pure genius. I felt a little sad from your choice to not post as much at Anthropik, but now that I get what you’re doing even more than before, I feel totally excited and stoked on it. I’d love to help anyway I can, next years GenCon? But more than that, I can’t wait to play the “game!”

I wanted to add a few things to Willems post.

The first thing is Maintenance. In most games once you acquire “level 5” skill or something, you can’t go back down. Indigenous rituals were not about moving up levels, but maintaining what you have. Say you acquire squirrel medicine so you can climb trees. But just because you have courted the squirrel people and they have given you this ability does not mean you get to have it for the rest of your life. It means you have entered into a relationship with the squirrel people, and in order to maintain their powers, you must maintain the relationship through rituals and gift-giving. Whole campaigns could base themselves on maintaining these relationships. "Because our people live from eating salmon, every year we must court the salmon and bring them gifts of physical things such as artifacts (baskets and spears) and also invisible gifts like songs and poems. (I see LOTR fans going nuts over writing songs for plants and animals). But every year the salmon need different kinds of gifts.

It seems like maintanence (or “renewal”) is the point of ritual quests. And the wise compass is the tool used to make the rituals happen. The wise compass is the vessel that allows the people to maintain their relationships. Blah blah. Don’t know if I’m preaching to the choir here or what.

Jensen: You’ve spoken a lot today about the importance of maintenance. How does that relate to the Tzutujil practice of building flimsy houses?

Prechtel: In the village, people used to build their houses out of traditional materials, using no iron or lumber or nails, but the houses were magnificent. Many were sewn together out of bark and fiber. Like the house of the body, the house that a person sleeps in must be very beautiful and sturdy, but not so sturdy that it won’t fall apart after a while. If your house doesn’t fall apart, then there will be no reason to renew it. And it is this renewability that makes something valuable. The maintenance gives it meaning.

The secret of village togetherness and happiness has always been the generosity of the people, but the key to that generosity is inefficiency and decay. Because our village huts were not built to last very long, they had to be regularly renewed. To do this, villagers came together, at least once a year, to work on somebody’s hut. When your house was falling down, you invited all the folks over. The little kids ran around messing up what everybody was doing. The young women brought the water. The young men carried the stones. The older men told everybody what to do, and the older women told the older men that they weren’t doing it right. Once the house was back together again, everyone ate together, praised the house, laughed, and cried. In a few days, they moved on to the next house. In this way, each family’s place in the village was reestablished and remembered. This is how it always was.

Then the missionaries and the businessmen and the politicians brought in tin and lumber and sturdy houses. Now the houses last, but the relationships don’t.

In some ways, crises bring communities together. Even nowadays, if there’s a flood, or if somebody is going to put a highway through a neighborhood, people come together to solve the problem. Mayans don’t wait for a crisis to occur; they make a crisis. Their spirituality is based on choreographed disasters — otherwise known as rituals — in which everyone has to work together to remake their clothing, or each other’s houses, or the community, or the world. Everything has to be maintained because it was originally made so delicately that it eventually falls apart. It is the putting back together again, the renewing, that ultimately makes something strong. That is true of our houses, our language, our relationships.

It’s a fine balance, making something that is not so flimsy that it falls apart too soon, yet not so solid that it is permanent. It requires a sort of grace. We all want to make something that’s going to live beyond us, but that thing shouldn’t be a house, or some other physical object. It should be a village that can continue to maintain itself. That sort of constant renewal is the only permanence we should wish to attain.

#13
I do think that having a 'skill' that relies on a silent, unacknowledged partnership with certain neighbors in the community of life, pisses them off, and eventually causes ghosts to eat your ass and bring on a big, hard fall.

Hmm, now that is an idea … so people who run fast, or lift big friggin’ rocks, and have piss-poor relationships with the spirits that oversee such things are … just kind of stealing it? Going into the red, as it were, in the great relationship ledger? Hmmm, that is an interesting notion. As far as the game goes, that could even be a good plot driver, because as characters (including communities) start going “into the red,” bad things start to happen, as spirits start just taking things back to balance that equation. Hmmmm…

okay, how about this?

That could work. I’m not sure if I have it yet, but there’s definitely something there … I’ll have to let that simmer and see what I can do with that.

Maybe this whole role-playing game really can change the way we think about our world, if this cyclical time experience could condense deep into players' bones.

That’s the ambition. I think it can. But then, that’s why I’m doing this. :slight_smile:

In any case, I hope this inspires you as much as it did me.

Indeed it does! Which is why I have so little to say. It’s going to take some time to digest that.

I'm starting to see it. I see that this game will change the way role-playing games work, and do more to re-program minds than I ever thought possible. I have to say, pure genius.

Thanks; that is exactly what it’s all about. That’s what I hope it’ll do … this is the part where I have to be more clever than I’ve ever been, and figure out how to make that happen. There’s a lot of Trickster action going on here, and I’m usually more accustomed to the blunt force of, well, as you and Willem put it, “the machine gun.” :slight_smile: If nothing else, it’s good for me to switch up my tactics a bit!

I'd love to help anyway I can, next years GenCon?

Hopefully we’ll be there–I’ll let you know when we get closer. I’ve got plans in that regard. :slight_smile:

The first thing is Maintenance. In most games once you acquire "level 5" skill or something, you can't go back down. Indigenous rituals were not about moving up levels, but maintaining what you have.

That is brilliant. That’s going to make its way in. I don’t know how yet, but it will, and for anyone who encounters this game, it’s going to make it impossible to ever think of who they are in the same terms again. Brilliant!

Whole campaigns could base themselves on maintaining these relationships. "Because our people live from eating salmon, every year we must court the salmon and bring them gifts of physical things such as artifacts (baskets and spears) and also invisible gifts like songs and poems. (I see LOTR fans going nuts over writing songs for plants and animals). But every year the salmon need different kinds of gifts.

I’m pleased to report that that much is already in there. :slight_smile:

Blah blah. Don't know if I'm preaching to the choir here or what.

To some extent, maybe, but one of the things I love about game design is that they are to philosophy what a computer program is to a theory. It forces you to really get down to brass tacks and really be very clear in what you mean. So “preaching to the choir” is fine, because it helps us start to really pin down exactly what those things mean, you know?

#14

I LOVE this story!!! :smiley:

Yeah, little kids love running around messing stuff up, but they make truly brilliant mud builders.

The wildfires in California hammer home the question of how well “permanence” serves us as a quality of our shelter, our homes. Or maybe just that the perception of permanence–the perception of human “mastery” over powerful fire, wind, water–makes these phenomena more painful to people.

#15

An idea to add an additional element to the chance aspect - a roulette wheel around a compass which is spun in conjunction with the dice rolling, different directions having associated spirits. If the ball lands in the rock spirit direction as the player attempts to lift a rock success becomes more likely. Also the potential for superhuman feats increases, one could determie whether or not the action becomes extraordinary with another dice role, as a rare bond between the player and the spirit forms, possibly increasing the skill itself as the spirit imparts a tutelary lesson to the player.

#16

Um… also, I picture the balls being made of different semiprecious stones representing the elements, such as blue quartz for air etc, each slot on the wheel having a different assigned meaning, and an aditional independent wheel around the roulette wheel, engraved with something, totems perhaps, to be spun as well. These 3 factors and their numerous corresponding orientations would make things complex but interesting - for example, landing on eastern[direction]/hungry[roulette slot]/bear or either bear or crow if the ball rests in the space aligned imbetween two, could create a list of actions related to the three that if undertaken by the player will receive rolling bonuses or some other kind of modification, and each player could have intrinsic or developed aversions or affinities to certain directions & totems based on what time of the day they were born, where they were born in relation to where they are at the time, what they most identify with - pursue relationships with - have a history of bad blood with, etc resulting in further bonuses or detriments when those factors either accord or clash with the end arrangement.

I also envision a trough of water surrounding the whole device or a basin beneathe into which hot rocks are dropped to make steam, making it look cooler or something, and candles placed in holders around the circumference, one candle… brought by each player and the game ending once they all gutter out. &, to take it further, the RP group… could place the compass on a flattened circle of dirt in the center of the apparatus, the dirt having been placed a platform of some sort raised above the spinny part, each player contributing a cupfull or handfull of earth. Then the system would incorporate dirt, fire, water, steam…

Yeah… probably just another jinksy pipe dream. Sticking with dice would be much easier, obviously.

#17

Actually, looks like we won’t be using dice at all, but the roulette wheel increases the cost of playing the game. One of the design goals is for this to be something you could pull together and play entirely with primitive means.

#18

Jason, if there’s a developer’s page or something I could sign up for to work a little closer on this project, I’d love to. I’m a huge RPGer and I’m big on game design.

Here’s my take on the whole “spirit relationship” idea:

As I’ve read so far, it sounds like simply replacing the name of a skill with the name of a relationship. Psychologically this does something, but in game terms, it’s the same thing.

How about this instead: Don’t have the spirit relationship line up one to one with skills. Instead, anytime you undertake an action appropriate to that spirit, you gain the bonus.

Think of it like this: instead of making a “deer” check when running, you make a running check, and being favored by deer gives you a bonus. Different spirit relationships could work on the same check, and ecah spirit relationship would apply to multiple types of checks.

So being favored by deer and being favored by the wind both add to your ability to run, but deer also adds to, say, foraging, and all rolls involved in a competition over a mate. Whereas Wind also helps with forecasting the weather and maybe carries your voice farther.

Don’t make a list of spirits and their abilities. Instead, keep it freeform. Let the character choose their spirits, and then during play figure out what actions they help with. If a character does something, they’ll then ask “do you think my being favored by bear will help” or better yet “does bear come to my aid?” Then all the players around the fire will by consensus decide “yes, he does”, or “no, that’s stretching it”. If anyone doesn’t buy it, then it doesn’t apply. This allows the player to explore the nature of the spirits because it isn’t spelled out. They will always be thinking “how can I imagine this task in such a way that it falls under the purview of my spirit relationships?” It also lets the group practice consensus building, a very important skill.

As far as primitive randomizers go, nothing works better than colored stones in a bag. Have two bowls, one with stones of one type, one with stones of another type. They should be visibly different but not feel different in the bag. One is success stones, the other is failure stones. Then there is a bag. When a player needs a randomizer to determine success, you put 5 of each stone in the bag by default. For every factor in the character’s favor (spirit relationships, circumstantial modifiers, excellent tools, really simple task, etc.) replace a failure stone with a success stone. For every factor that works against them (spirit relationships, difficult tasks, etc.), replace a success stone with a failure stone. No matter what, there should always be at least one success stone and one failure stone in the bag. The player then draws one from the bag, and the stone they draw determines success or failure. Longer tasks, difficult tasks, or tasks that have multiple parts might require you to draw more than one stone. If ANY are failure stones, you fail.

When two characters are working against each other, you make a draw bag for each player. They then each draw from the bag. If one draws success and the other draws failure, then the contest is decided. If they both draw the same, then the contest goes another round. Tell the story about how both did so well as to stalemate each other, or how both did so poorly as to make no progress. Then draw again, WITHOUT replacing the previously removed stones. Keep going until the contest is decided or the players are out of stones. If all 10 draws are a tie, then you have a legitimate stalemate.