McClaud said:
Then you'd hate playing with me, since XP is like the hardest thing to achieve in my games. It's not about leveling up fast, it's about how you affect the world and change the overall story.
Case in point - my present campaign has been going on for two months now. The players are still level 3. The players have eliminated the goblin threat, allowing their town to now expand. They've helped establish a Guild in their home town and are presently riding on horses they were rewarded with to the nearest city to negotiate a trade agreement. They love it - their actions actually have an impact on the world at large, and they don't need a ton of loot or XP to actually accomplish their goals.
It really depends on the game. I like fast advancement. I like
no advancement. I even like when character advancement is replaced with a painful inexorable
decline. I'm generally wary of slow advancement because it means that the game is slow, too, but I'm not categorically opposed to the idea.
The key thing here is that
games are better when the game mechanics, especially the reward cycle, directly address what the characters are supposed to be doing in the game.
3:16 is a game
about kill-happy space-marine machismo. Your characters are some of the few that have left the veritable paradise of Earth to go explore the galaxy and destroy every single thing they encounter. To them, racking up Kills is like racking up points. The game mechanics reward getting the highest Kill count with a "level", which in turn makes it easier to rack up Kills -- this is the small-scale reward cycle at work. They're not really soldiers, they're semi-sociopathic monsters. It's not really a war, it's a game; it's not really a game, it's serial genocide. If the game-mechanics
didn't make the players feel motivated to keep score while they commit genocide, then it would be a bad role-playing game. Dicking each other over while trying to see who can frag the most bugs is an essential feature of the characters you're playing.
In the long arc, 3:16 is a game about
your characters realizing that they are semi-sociopathic monsters playing a sick game of genocide and seeing what they do about it. The game starts out with simple character stereotypes and has the players build them up in play, turning flashbacks that explore their personalities into their greatest moments of heroism or weakness. The PCs become more and more fleshed out while the missions and levels fade into the background and "Why the fuck are we doing this?" takes center stage -- this is the "Fruitful Void [http://www.lumpley.com/comment.php?entry=119]" circumscribed by the reward cycle.
"Let's see who can kill the most shit!" sounds mucnhkin-y and dysfunctional to a D&D player because you're used to a dynamic where that isn't part of any larger purpose and just distracts you from whatever heroic storyline you're trying to create. I love 3:16 specifically because it demonstrates that
that doesn't have to be the case.
Played for laughs, 3:16 can make damn good black humor; it "out-Verhoevens Verhoeven", as one reviewer put it. Played for drama, it's sick, tragic, probing. And
practically every element of the game is designed to do this -- specifically
this. That's what I expect from a game.
Most of the games I bother to keep on my shelf do something like this with the reward cycle. It would be ludicrous for them to do it the way 3:16 does, of course, because they're not
about the same thing. Examples:
- I've got a game about religion, community, and moral conflicts, where your characters can improve as a consequence of a failed conflict.
- I've got a game about serial sword-and-sorcery storytelling. Sessions are like short stories, so there is no traditional power-up mechanics. Instead, being the underdog in the narrative is rewarded with the opportunity for the character to return in next week's story.
- I've got a game about chivalric tragedy, where your characters grow in zeal through their steadfast devotion to a proud ideal and then
inexorably fall as zeal turns to weariness and they see that their cause is lost.
- I've got a game about 20s-style pulp heroes: explorers and aviators and super-scientists and mystics and whatnot. By default, there is no character advancement. It's unnecessary. You can rejigger the power levels from time to time if you want but there's no reason for the characters to be gaining new abilities after every adventure together.
It frustrates me that, in 30-plus years of its existence, the D&D couldn't get any closer to this than the old "Gold = XP" rule, which only made sense twenty years ago before D&D drifted into the styles it is usually played in today. ("Roleplaying XP", the common ad-hoc solution, is a joke; it's arbitrary and clunky and has next to nothing to do with the game mechanics; since it's just feeding your ability to kill stuff, it doesn't actually close the loop and create a reward
cycle.)
-- Alex