Going through changes

As promised in Monday's update post, I want to talk a bit about Zodiac Echoes, specifically what is going to change about it and why. You could say I simply want to share a bit of my creative process, but I feel like my musings go a bit beyond that - they have more to do with the tabletop role-playing medium as a whole, in fact. Treat this as a "stream of consciousness" that ties together my last two weeks of reflections.

As you might know, I spent the past weekend playing the heck out of Shinobigami (three different groups, for a total of thirteen people, ran through the same scenario). For those of you that are unfamiliar with Shinobigami, it is a bit of an hybrid product: half storygame half boardgame, half competitive half cooperative, half railroad half emergent storytelling. It's a weird and fascinating beast, with a heavily codified structure that has been the very inspiration for Zodiac Echoes' phases.

This should come as a surprise to no one, but ZE is also heavily based on the tropes of the Persona and Shin Megami Tensei videogame series: the time management element and the way emotional bonds impact your power in battle, not to mention the fact that concepts and beliefs are granted a mythological form in Cogito, for instance.

A more easily missed element was the use of the term Determination, a bit of an homage to Toby Fox's videogame Undertale.

So, what do all these games have in common? Well, several things:

• First of all, whether it's about turn-based battles (Persona), careful character building (Shinobigami) or brilliant and varied mini-games (Undertale), the gameplay is enjoyable and engaging even when separated from the story elements.
• Second, these games all subvert expectations in some way.
  Persona is a dungeon crawler in an urban and contemporary setting, with elements of visual novels and dating simulators thrown in: far from being decorative, these mechanics are key to becoming able to overcome challenges.
  Undertale is, quite literally, a fantasy retro game filled with monsters that you don't have to kill.
  Shinobigami is a Player versus Player role-playing game (something that many would find "impossible to run") that works smoothly without degenerating into a backstabby murderfest until its very final scene.

What's more - and here's where things clicked for me - both Persona and Undertale, while drawing you in with their surface-level experience (battle mechanics, top-tier soundtracks and memorable character designs), also do something else: they drive a goddamn knife into your heart and brain and carve out new thoughts and emotions. When you drop the joystick and turn off the console or PC, the authors have left you with something new.

That's not what I can say of most tabletop RPGs.

I will, of course, explain.

After playing the same Shinobigami scenario several times, I had realized several things:

• The game supported (keyword: support) the kind of over-the-top dramatic story you would expect from an anime movie about ninjas.
• The game worked decently with people who didn't know the tropes of the genre, and amazingly with people who were familiar with them.
• The scenario was good because I, as the person who created it, am familiar with those tropes and spent an entire afternoon carefully crafting it.

On my train ride back home, I realized something that kinda shook me: most role-playing games I had read about, experienced, criticized, appreciated and/or suggested over the course of the years fell within one of two categories.

• Games where the Game Master is expected to provide an experience and content that fits the tropes and expectations of the genre. These are the most common form, be it D&D or Vampire or Symbaroum or Cyberpunk.
• Games where the entire group is expected to provide such experience and content. These are growing increasingly more common, be they a game such as Fate or one like Lovecraftesque. Most of my games fall within this category as well.

Well, this meant that if you wanted to introduce a given concept, issue or struggle within a game, the most common options were saying "Hey GM, make sure to show this in your game" or "Hey gaming group, this game is about this stuff, so if you play it make sure to stick to it".

And don't get me wrong, I think both approaches are valid. But what if you want your players to be exposed to something new and unpredictable, that wasn't part of the game's "official premise"? You know, just like people didn't know that Bloodborne was a videogame of Lovecraftian horror until halfway through playing it. I'm not just talking surprises here, of course - I'm talking about subverting expectations and getting everyone's brain gears to grind new matter. I'm talking about bringing something to the table that isn't part of the GM or the players, but that is brought there by the game.

[boy this is turning into one long post...]

All these thoughts literally buried me under a pile of doubts. I won't lie, I was equal parts excited and terrified.

Zodiac Echoes should be a game about teenagers fighting against the will of humanity.

Why the hell was I making a game that changed nothing in its players, then?

Why was I making a game that required a GM able to weave political and social commentary into a series of mythology-themed battles?

Why was I expecting players to be familiar with the tropes of alternate reality narratives, dreamscape exploration and historical or mythological figures, and allowing them to craft a flawed character that followed their vision, instead of having them play a flawed character that was only partially under their control?

As it is now, Zodiac Echoes doesn't work. I had lost sight of what mattered most: this game should hurt - albeit in a controlled way, of course. See, that's why I said most RPGs fell into those two categories. I've seen some that don't. Examples of this concept are Kagematsu, Montsegur 1244 or Witch: The Road to Lindisfarne.

While I don't think I'll be able to turn Zodiac Echoes into a GM-less game, those games have led me to aim my efforts (and all the changes I will tell you about) toward this:

• Forcing players to come face to face with specific issues of our times.
• Speeding up play and removing as many instances of "blank page terror" as possible.
• Featuring an enjoyable gameplay and captivating visual elements.
• Being accessible while also being replayable.
• Putting players in the mindset of flawed people that are part of a flawed environment, but must nonetheless fight against it in order to preserve the hope of a future.

You will obviously see more about the process in the coming weeks, but I can already summarize several changes that are likely to take place:

Approaches are going to be removed (they make space for something far more important).

Trauma will now be inflicted directly upon Bonds and will no longer force 10-14 results into escalations. It may have other effects but I'll have to study those through playtest.

Bonds will be more detailed (you'll get to name the emotion you feel, for instance).

Echo powers will no longer be tied to a specific suit.

The deck might be reduced to a smaller number of cards, making figures more frequent.

Setup and Character Creation will change quite a bit. Each player will now go through the following steps (they are taken in this precise order):

• Gain a Secret card (these are dealt randomly; some will have to be reworked).
  A Secret is something you haven't allowed yourself to reveal to others.
• Gain a Tag card (these are dealt randomly as well).
  A Tag is a label that you have ended up with. It may or may not represent you, but you feel like you never had a choice about it.
  This addition is a big deal. Given how Echoes are your inner self, the game lacked a strong enough counterpoint to that. Tags are tied to two suits (and enable you to burn those suits). They also feature questions about your social and exterior identity - players can use these when framing their scenes, since they point out what would be interesting to see in play.
  Example Tags may be the Nerd, Weirdo, Punk, Airhead, and even... worse.
• Gain an Echo card (these are chosen; younger players choose first).
  These are your avatar within Cogito. Your inner being and true self.
• Finally, you select a Whisper card (these are chosen; older players choose first).
  These are the harmful thoughts you have helped spread.
  That's right. For a game about teenagers fighting against the will of humanity, the previous version had turned into too much of an "us vs. them" game. In the new version, PCs must fight against the very misconceptions they have contributed to. In this sense, all PCs are (willingly or not) bearers of the Portal secret (which will be reworked, obviously).
  Example Whispers may be "In the end, people can only help themselves", "I get that she's having a hard time, but who isn't?" or "Yeah, sometimes he says terrible stuff, but at least he's honest about it".

Whispers in particular are a useful addition, because they will directly inform the type of situation and entities that the PCs will face (they're GM inspiration fodder). They will always be there on the table, a reminder of the fact that the PCs are no saviors, but flawed characters that may change the course of history through bonding and determination.
Each whisper will also turn into its own King (replacing Prophets as mid-bosses).
Needless to say, this approach to scenarios means that enemies will need to be made quickly (thus being represented on cards or something like that).

... That's most of what I have come up with over the course of these days. Re-reading the whole thing, some of you might take me for a madman. Well, I won't blame you that much if you do!

By all means, tell me what you think.