For some reason today I got onto thinking about using the Cyberpunk 2020 system as a generic GURPS-esque system - I think I started off by wondering what system I would use for a fantasy cowboys sandbox thanks to watching Django Unchained yesterday, and it sort of snowballed from there.
Here is what I have so far. This is a fantasy/medieval history iteration, not a western one. I am posting it up here for comments and, if anybody really wants to, play testing. You'll need to have some knowledge of Cyberpunk 2020 to know what the fuck I'm talking about, but still.
The basic aim is to try to emulate the grittiness and danger of the Cyberpunk 2020 "Saturday Night Fire Fight" system, as well as the importance of armour and shields. The rationale is: if you are prepared for a fight, fully kitted out, you will be very tough to kill. If you are unprepared/unarmoured, you will die extremely quickly.
Character Generation
Default is to assign 60 points between the stats, but you could roll 9d10 and use the total instead. The 'Iron Man' system of character gen would be to roll a d10 for each stat in order, re-rolling 1s.
'Cool' is renamed 'Fortitude'.
Skills
As standard. Combat skills would include Brawling, Archery, Polearms, Slashing weapons, Bludgeoning weapons, Exotic weapons (for things like whips, nets, bolas, etc.).
Combat
Combat rules are as standard - d10+skill+REF. BTM modifiers apply for both attacker and defender. Hits are randomly assigned, also as standard. Following exceptions to main rules applies:
Damage reduction - all penetrating hits damage armour by SP1, but axes, pole-axes and maces always damage hard armour (i.e. plates) by SP1 irrespective of whether they penetrate.
Edged weapons are armour-piercing against soft armour (e.g. leather, hide, padded) - SP is halved.
Pole-axes, warhammers and military picks are armour piercing against hard armour - SP is halved.
Damage to head is doubled without a helm.
Shields work against all hits to arms, torso or head (though not to rear attacks), and are SP 14 (wooden) or SP 16 (metal). All hits to wooden shields reduce the shield's SP by 1. Shield users suffer a -3 modifier to hit when attacking. [Designer Note: The idea is that if you are fighting a shield-user, you're probably going to have to either wear down his resolve with repeated blows, outflank him, or go for the legs with a called shot at -4 to hit]
Sample armour SPs:
Hide/padded 4
Soft leather 5
Ring mail 10
Chain mail 12
Banded mail 12
Scale mail 14
Field plate 18
Full plate 20
Sample damage ratings:
Longsword 2d6
Two-handed sword 3d6
Battle axe 2d6
Mace 1d6+2
Pole-axe 1d6+3
Spear 1d6
Short sword 1d6
Dagger 1d3+1
Magic
Not thought about that yet.
Saturday, 19 January 2013
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
On Dwimmermount and Lateness
Things seem to have kicked off big time over Dwimmermount. (If that word means nothing to you and you are reading this blog, I would be extremely surprised, so forgive me for not going into the back story on this.) It's not my place to comment on the particulars, which I am not privy to, and it's certainly not my desire to stir shit in any sense, so I'll steer clear of making any sort of statement on the particulars.
But I will talk in generalities: I think Kickstarter is a nice idea, and I have backed some campaigns in the past, but I am highly suspicious of the legal nature of such projects and their likelihood of success. It's my view that a contribution to a Kickstarter should effectively be seen as a gamble, and contributors should only hand over as much money as they would be willing and able to part with for literally no return. A wise gambler only puts down as much money as he has to waste. The same should be true with a Kickstarter and the attitude to success should, as with gambling, be pleasant surprise, not expectation. It's my hope that the behaviour of contributors will come to reflect this.
Personally, as somebody with ambitions to create and distribute material for use in RPGs, I would never use such a campaign, for the simple fact that I know that I am rather feckless (my main character flaw - yes, I do have them, amazingly) and also often extremely busy. My ability to actually complete a project within an acceptable time frame is not high. It would therefore be irresponsible and negligent of me, to say the very least, to promise any completed product by a given deadline in return for punters' hard-earned cash.
Moreover, I am in general suspicious of quick fixes when it comes to creative endeavours. Good art (and yes, I consider game design an art) is produced because, fundamentally, the producer needs and wants to express something. It's not something that they do primarily to make a living, and it is something that they would be doing even if they were not being paid to do it, because they would enjoy it. If you were really going to be producing great stuff to use in games, you would be producing great stuff to use in games anyway, Kickstarter or not. So, then, why would you need a Kickstarter in the first place? (The only possible answer is "To finance art and layout", to which my only response would be, "Did Gygax and Arneson give a shit about art and layout?")
But I will talk in generalities: I think Kickstarter is a nice idea, and I have backed some campaigns in the past, but I am highly suspicious of the legal nature of such projects and their likelihood of success. It's my view that a contribution to a Kickstarter should effectively be seen as a gamble, and contributors should only hand over as much money as they would be willing and able to part with for literally no return. A wise gambler only puts down as much money as he has to waste. The same should be true with a Kickstarter and the attitude to success should, as with gambling, be pleasant surprise, not expectation. It's my hope that the behaviour of contributors will come to reflect this.
Personally, as somebody with ambitions to create and distribute material for use in RPGs, I would never use such a campaign, for the simple fact that I know that I am rather feckless (my main character flaw - yes, I do have them, amazingly) and also often extremely busy. My ability to actually complete a project within an acceptable time frame is not high. It would therefore be irresponsible and negligent of me, to say the very least, to promise any completed product by a given deadline in return for punters' hard-earned cash.
Moreover, I am in general suspicious of quick fixes when it comes to creative endeavours. Good art (and yes, I consider game design an art) is produced because, fundamentally, the producer needs and wants to express something. It's not something that they do primarily to make a living, and it is something that they would be doing even if they were not being paid to do it, because they would enjoy it. If you were really going to be producing great stuff to use in games, you would be producing great stuff to use in games anyway, Kickstarter or not. So, then, why would you need a Kickstarter in the first place? (The only possible answer is "To finance art and layout", to which my only response would be, "Did Gygax and Arneson give a shit about art and layout?")
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
Running the Rule Over Rulings and Rules
There was a huge hullabaloo on rpg.net recently on the desirability of rulings versus rules. To create a synopsis on this strange controversy: there are some people who object to the idea of the GM making rulings, because that is too much like the GM making things up as he goes along based on his subjective judgements, and is consequently unpredictable and open to abuse. There are others who like the idea of the GM making rulings, because it is quick and easy, masses of rules covering all eventualities do not have to be memorised, and it allows the GM to be flexible and respond using his own understanding of his own game and how he wants it to be.
I fall into the latter camp. But what rarely gets mentioned in these sort of debates is that all it is really is fiddling around the margins: even in the most rules-heavy games, the vast majority of the GM's work is composed of making rulings.
Firstly, outside of the specialized and strictured arena of combat, even if the GM is applying a rule mechanic, the means by which he applies that rule mechanic is almost always discretionary. For example, in most skill-based games, the GM provides a numerical difficulty rating which the player has to beat - but since the rule book will not be able to give anything more than a few examples to provide guidance in what that difficulty rating should be for a given task, that rating will ultimately come down to the GM's own judgement: it is, in effect, a ruling, albeit a guided one. Many mechanics in RPGs have this character, when you think about it.
Secondly, once you get away from skill checks and similar, much of what happens in a typical RPG session is effectively at the GM's discretion, though it is not commonly given the title "ruling". For instance, when the adventurers go and visit the Frog King in his throne room and enter into negotiations with him, how does he react to what they say? If the game includes a reaction-dice style mechanic and his reaction is "unfriendly", how does that unfriendliness manifest itself? What does the Frog King think of the PCs - will he try to manipulate them? Threaten them? How cunning is he? These decisions that the GM has to make are all functionally identical to rulings, even though though he probably does not think of them in those terms.
Likewise, in a fight with a group of kobolds, how do the kobolds strategise? How do they choose their targets for ranged attacks? What does Kobold 3 do this round? Does Kobold 4 run to get help, or throw a javelin at the party's magic user? Again, these decisions are functionally identical to rulings: they are down to the individual GM's judgement.
It will ever be thus. In most modern legal systems, especially in common law jurisdictions, judges have a great deal of discretion in how they apply the law. Terms of art such as "reasonableness", "proportionality", and "balance of probabilities" are everywhere; when a provision in a piece of legislation requires that an action be "reasonable", it is down to individual judges to determine the meaning of reasonableness in a given context - to make a ruling - albeit often with guidance. Legal systems recognise the importance of this approach, because it is not possible to write laws which will cover every eventuality and always be so reliable and accurate that they can simply be applied robotically whatever the situation.
The same is true of rules and rulings in RPGs: no matter how comprehensive a set of rules can be, the number of eventualities they can actually cover will be vanishingly small. It is not possible, for instance, to draw up a set of rules to cover precise niceties of social interaction - "If the players say x, the monster says y" - and this is why social interaction is basically an exercise in the making of rulings. Similarly, it is not possible to draw up a set of rules to cover all potential combat tactics - "If x, a kobold will do y" - and this is why the decision-making of NPCs in combat is an exercise in the making of rulings.
The great majority of what a GM does in any given session, then, is ruling. It seems quite plain that the only course of action, in light of these circumstances, is not to attempt to develop comprehensive rule systems (a quixotic goal), but to create games which teach novice GMs how to make rulings effectively.
I fall into the latter camp. But what rarely gets mentioned in these sort of debates is that all it is really is fiddling around the margins: even in the most rules-heavy games, the vast majority of the GM's work is composed of making rulings.
Firstly, outside of the specialized and strictured arena of combat, even if the GM is applying a rule mechanic, the means by which he applies that rule mechanic is almost always discretionary. For example, in most skill-based games, the GM provides a numerical difficulty rating which the player has to beat - but since the rule book will not be able to give anything more than a few examples to provide guidance in what that difficulty rating should be for a given task, that rating will ultimately come down to the GM's own judgement: it is, in effect, a ruling, albeit a guided one. Many mechanics in RPGs have this character, when you think about it.
Secondly, once you get away from skill checks and similar, much of what happens in a typical RPG session is effectively at the GM's discretion, though it is not commonly given the title "ruling". For instance, when the adventurers go and visit the Frog King in his throne room and enter into negotiations with him, how does he react to what they say? If the game includes a reaction-dice style mechanic and his reaction is "unfriendly", how does that unfriendliness manifest itself? What does the Frog King think of the PCs - will he try to manipulate them? Threaten them? How cunning is he? These decisions that the GM has to make are all functionally identical to rulings, even though though he probably does not think of them in those terms.
Likewise, in a fight with a group of kobolds, how do the kobolds strategise? How do they choose their targets for ranged attacks? What does Kobold 3 do this round? Does Kobold 4 run to get help, or throw a javelin at the party's magic user? Again, these decisions are functionally identical to rulings: they are down to the individual GM's judgement.
It will ever be thus. In most modern legal systems, especially in common law jurisdictions, judges have a great deal of discretion in how they apply the law. Terms of art such as "reasonableness", "proportionality", and "balance of probabilities" are everywhere; when a provision in a piece of legislation requires that an action be "reasonable", it is down to individual judges to determine the meaning of reasonableness in a given context - to make a ruling - albeit often with guidance. Legal systems recognise the importance of this approach, because it is not possible to write laws which will cover every eventuality and always be so reliable and accurate that they can simply be applied robotically whatever the situation.
The same is true of rules and rulings in RPGs: no matter how comprehensive a set of rules can be, the number of eventualities they can actually cover will be vanishingly small. It is not possible, for instance, to draw up a set of rules to cover precise niceties of social interaction - "If the players say x, the monster says y" - and this is why social interaction is basically an exercise in the making of rulings. Similarly, it is not possible to draw up a set of rules to cover all potential combat tactics - "If x, a kobold will do y" - and this is why the decision-making of NPCs in combat is an exercise in the making of rulings.
The great majority of what a GM does in any given session, then, is ruling. It seems quite plain that the only course of action, in light of these circumstances, is not to attempt to develop comprehensive rule systems (a quixotic goal), but to create games which teach novice GMs how to make rulings effectively.
Monday, 7 January 2013
On Removing Ability Scores
When he wants to, Kent can really write. I mean really write. I read this with a great deal of interest, because it chimed with something I've been thinking about recently: removing ability scores. Scott, in the comments, talks about the same thing.
What are ability scores for? I use them for two things: sometimes, a rough and ready saving-throw equivalent where necessary ("roll under your DEX to see if you fall off the tight rope or not") and a way to envision my character in my own mind, physically and mentally (this also, I suppose, includes selecting a class).
Are either of these things necessary? Not in the slightest. Whether a character achieves a task can just as easily be determined by the DM telling him to roll a d6 and achieve a certain result based on what the DM knows about the character and the situation. And envisioning a character should surely be possible with or without stats.
However, it must be said that there is something in the random generation of stats which makes the character creation process really shine. I love having a blank character sheet and rolling dice and seeing what comes up. It sets the mind racing with creativity and promise. There is something almost primevally powerful about the way an actual living being seems to come fully formed from the ether thanks to a few d6s.
Replicating this process without stats is difficult: randomly generating a class seems the obvious choice, but it is not as satisfying in anything like the same way. Nonetheless, I think I am faced with the proposition that stats may in fact be of primary use as a process rather than as a mechanic or rule. There is, in fact, a huge amount of discourse in my field on the value of law as a process rather than a series of rules; to my eye, it seems that much could be said of RPGs, although that may require elaboration in a future post when I am not full of cold, exhaustion and red wine.
What are ability scores for? I use them for two things: sometimes, a rough and ready saving-throw equivalent where necessary ("roll under your DEX to see if you fall off the tight rope or not") and a way to envision my character in my own mind, physically and mentally (this also, I suppose, includes selecting a class).
Are either of these things necessary? Not in the slightest. Whether a character achieves a task can just as easily be determined by the DM telling him to roll a d6 and achieve a certain result based on what the DM knows about the character and the situation. And envisioning a character should surely be possible with or without stats.
However, it must be said that there is something in the random generation of stats which makes the character creation process really shine. I love having a blank character sheet and rolling dice and seeing what comes up. It sets the mind racing with creativity and promise. There is something almost primevally powerful about the way an actual living being seems to come fully formed from the ether thanks to a few d6s.
Replicating this process without stats is difficult: randomly generating a class seems the obvious choice, but it is not as satisfying in anything like the same way. Nonetheless, I think I am faced with the proposition that stats may in fact be of primary use as a process rather than as a mechanic or rule. There is, in fact, a huge amount of discourse in my field on the value of law as a process rather than a series of rules; to my eye, it seems that much could be said of RPGs, although that may require elaboration in a future post when I am not full of cold, exhaustion and red wine.
Friday, 4 January 2013
On Economic Factors and Play Styles
I was thinking earlier on about AD&D 2nd edition, which is the iteration of D&D I probably played the most during my formative years. It occurred to me that for a long time the only books I had were the DMG and the Monstrous Manual. I was only about 12, and didn't have a part time job, and my pocket money was at most about £5 a week, and the money I did have was being mostly spent on Warhammer plastic skeletons, so I couldn't afford the PHB. I just ran games using the classes from Red Box Basic and tried to guess at what the abilities of rangers and paladins were; likewise, we just cribbed the combat rules from the Red Box.
So from the very start, I've been used to house ruling and coming up with decisions on the fly. There was no question of playing the rules as written because we didn't know what they were.
Without trying to sound too much like a grumpy old fart from Yorkshire, kids nowadays probably don't experience that kind of making-do mentality that we had to put up with, because kids nowadays tend to want for much less than people of my generation did (which is of course more true the further back you go).
I wonder if, then, there is a partial economic explanation for the fact that "DIY D&D" (rather than complete and all encompassing rule systems like 3rd and 4th edition) is so popular with those who are somewhat older, above and beyond the obvious notion that it is based on nostalgia and familiarity.
So from the very start, I've been used to house ruling and coming up with decisions on the fly. There was no question of playing the rules as written because we didn't know what they were.
Without trying to sound too much like a grumpy old fart from Yorkshire, kids nowadays probably don't experience that kind of making-do mentality that we had to put up with, because kids nowadays tend to want for much less than people of my generation did (which is of course more true the further back you go).
I wonder if, then, there is a partial economic explanation for the fact that "DIY D&D" (rather than complete and all encompassing rule systems like 3rd and 4th edition) is so popular with those who are somewhat older, above and beyond the obvious notion that it is based on nostalgia and familiarity.
Thursday, 3 January 2013
On Rudeness and Play Styles
Beedo wrote an interesting post yesterday on the need for DMs to have good social skills. He focuses on negotiation and willingness to adapt, and to discuss potential problems. All eminently sensible. I found this paragraph of particular note:
Which made me think - yes, I agree that DM needs to be able to talk to headache players, but at the same time, isn't part of being an adult adapting and compromising on what you in particular want or need out of a given situation?
My favourite types of game are sandboxy, objectively GMed, and entirely open-ended, but if I'm with a group who are all into heavily plotted campaigns and want to play a supers game, I'm going to do my best to take that seriously and fit in with what they want. Isn't that just good manners?
One of the biggest geek social fallacies that I seem to come across, again and again, is this idea that it is your job to try to make everybody happy all the time by giving them what they want. No: being an adult is about compromising in the name of the greater good, and in role playing games that includes players as well as GMs. Beedo is right that it is important for the DM to be able to tackle headache players, but in the broader context, why on earth should he have to?
I've had a few irksome situations in recent memory, cementing my tenet that a DM needs to be able to talk to headache players, ie, confront the mismatch head on. I've had the guy that wanted to treat the scripted, linear adventure path as an extreme sandbox, blatantly ignoring agreed-upon "missions" to hi-jack the sessions. I've had the guy that insisted the only character he wanted to play was that neutral evil half-orc assassin, who promptly started messing with the other players as easier sources of XP than the dungeon. I've had the guy that thought old school exploration was a quaint and interesting throwback to the ancient times; real D&D involved a fully laid out miniatures battle mat, with both sides set up on the table ahead of game time, so the session could always start with the first combat.
Which made me think - yes, I agree that DM needs to be able to talk to headache players, but at the same time, isn't part of being an adult adapting and compromising on what you in particular want or need out of a given situation?
My favourite types of game are sandboxy, objectively GMed, and entirely open-ended, but if I'm with a group who are all into heavily plotted campaigns and want to play a supers game, I'm going to do my best to take that seriously and fit in with what they want. Isn't that just good manners?
One of the biggest geek social fallacies that I seem to come across, again and again, is this idea that it is your job to try to make everybody happy all the time by giving them what they want. No: being an adult is about compromising in the name of the greater good, and in role playing games that includes players as well as GMs. Beedo is right that it is important for the DM to be able to tackle headache players, but in the broader context, why on earth should he have to?
Monday, 31 December 2012
The Gaming Year
Games Played
Rules Cyclopedia D&D
Cyberpunk 2020
Microscope
Blood & Honor
Risus
Lamentations of the Flame Princess
Lady Blackbird
In A Wicked Age
Murderous Ghosts
Murderous Ghosts
Diaspora
Games Bought
Apocalypse World
Cyberspace (literally bought yesterday, in fact)
Palladium Fantasy 1st Edition
Diaspora
3:16
Call of Cthulhu 6th Edition
Games I've Wanted to Run But Didn't Have Time to
Pendragon
Changeling: The Dreaming
Call of Cthulhu
Least Fun Game of the Year
Diaspora. I just didn't "grok" it (as I believe the kids would put it).
Most Fun Game of the Year
Actually, it was probably the one-shot of Risus we played. The Cyberpunk 2020 campaign was fun and extremely unlike how a Cyberpunk 2020 game really should be (it mostly involved impromptu DJing in inappropriate circumstances). And there were some great moments in the Rules Cyclopedia and LotFP games because, well, D&D always has great moments.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
On DMing Strengths and Weaknesses
I introduced my old friend Nate, who keeps an irregular blog, to RPGs around about a year and a half ago, and he is now running a LotFP campaign set in a fantastical simulacrum of real-world Finland. It is interesting to see somebody's DMing-style develop. I was in (I think) the first session of a game he DM'd, and so I have seen him progress from a novice to a regular, running proper campaigns. (Little Nathan has all grown up.)
What is most interesting about this is that I have noticed that Nate is very strong in two areas that I see as my weaknesses - creating very memorable NPCs on the fly, and creating a more fairy-tale kind of a mood. My NPCs tend to blend together, unless I put on a funny voice or accent, being universally sarcastic, cynical, mean-spirited, and rather unhelpful. (Except if they are women, in which case they are just overtly flirtatious, even if they are 80 years old.) I'm not sure why this is the case, but it's definitely the area I need to improve on most.
And the mood of my games leans towards the gritty; I don't do the fantastical very well. Nate has a good line in the fairy-tale-esque - I'm not sure how intentional it is, but there is a heavy dose of the Brothers Grimm and a (very dark and bleak) Hans Christian Andersen in his work. I like the tone of my games, but I would also like to be able to vary it, and bring in some fairy-tale flavouring from time to time.
It's interesting, don't you think, that learning from other people's DMing style is something that is almost never remarked upon in the RPG blogosphere? It's often noted that people who blog are very good at creating content (monsters, spells, maps, etc.) but very poor at discussing more fundamental issues like how to be a good DM. I'm reminded once again of Zeb Cook's advice in the 2nd edition AD&D DMG: "Take the time and effort to become not just a good DM, but a brilliant one". That must start off with learning from others, but in general it is something we tend not to talk about.
What is most interesting about this is that I have noticed that Nate is very strong in two areas that I see as my weaknesses - creating very memorable NPCs on the fly, and creating a more fairy-tale kind of a mood. My NPCs tend to blend together, unless I put on a funny voice or accent, being universally sarcastic, cynical, mean-spirited, and rather unhelpful. (Except if they are women, in which case they are just overtly flirtatious, even if they are 80 years old.) I'm not sure why this is the case, but it's definitely the area I need to improve on most.
And the mood of my games leans towards the gritty; I don't do the fantastical very well. Nate has a good line in the fairy-tale-esque - I'm not sure how intentional it is, but there is a heavy dose of the Brothers Grimm and a (very dark and bleak) Hans Christian Andersen in his work. I like the tone of my games, but I would also like to be able to vary it, and bring in some fairy-tale flavouring from time to time.
It's interesting, don't you think, that learning from other people's DMing style is something that is almost never remarked upon in the RPG blogosphere? It's often noted that people who blog are very good at creating content (monsters, spells, maps, etc.) but very poor at discussing more fundamental issues like how to be a good DM. I'm reminded once again of Zeb Cook's advice in the 2nd edition AD&D DMG: "Take the time and effort to become not just a good DM, but a brilliant one". That must start off with learning from others, but in general it is something we tend not to talk about.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Annoying SF/Fantasy Movie Cliche #5,674
Watching the first instalment of The Hobbit reminded me of a cinematic cliche that never fails to irritate me, and which I always try to avoid in a game. It is as follows:
SF/Fantasy Movie Cliche #5, 674: "I am a powerful, vicious, skilful predator, but I will give you a chance to flee/attack while I roar and look scary for the cameras."
I have seen this moment in so many films I could not possibly count them. The hero is in peril, menaced by some powerful threat. Yet he does not know it. The enemy is creeping up on him unawares. Skilfully, silently. Soon, it will be in striking distance, and then it will be a simple matter to dispatch him effortlessly, quietly, and efficiently, like any true predator would.
But instead, the creature waits...and waits...for no apparent reason...until the hero finally turns around and notices it...whereupon, instead of administering the coup de grace and tearing out his throat, the creature just goes "RAAARRRRRRR!!!" and waves its claws around for a few seconds while the camera zooms in on its face - and the hero runs away or attacks, whereupon an exciting chase or fight scene ensues.
Sometimes it is even more patently absurd. This is probably the most egregious example from recent years. Watch what the red thing does when it has Kirk at its mercy, and tell me it isn't just plain stupid.
Solitary predators are efficient, cold, methodical, and stealthy, and even then they do not tend to catch prey very often - not even half as often as they try - because catching prey is really hard. If predators spent 10 seconds roaring at every single prey creature they wanted to catch, the prey would always run away and the predators would all starve.
Among the many, many lazy things that Hollywood directors and screenwriters do, this ranks pretty highly. In that one moment - the close up on the creature's face, the ferocious roar, the CGI saliva - a huge mass of cheap shorthand is communicated to the audience. Instead of building genuine tension and excitement through skilful direction we get a mere sledgehammer: THIS IS A SCARY MONSTER!
It it also often used as a naff plot device to get a character from A to B - in Star Trek, for instance, running away from the ice monster is how Kirk ends up bumping into Old Spock. It's because, you see, the director doesn't credit his audience with having an attention span longer than a gnat's, or himself with enough talent to maintain our interest without something loud happening on screen; it isn't enough to have Kirk just meet Spock. There has to be STUFF HAPPENING! at all times.
Predators don't roar at you. They aren't out to scare you. They're out to kill you. That's what they do.
SF/Fantasy Movie Cliche #5, 674: "I am a powerful, vicious, skilful predator, but I will give you a chance to flee/attack while I roar and look scary for the cameras."
I have seen this moment in so many films I could not possibly count them. The hero is in peril, menaced by some powerful threat. Yet he does not know it. The enemy is creeping up on him unawares. Skilfully, silently. Soon, it will be in striking distance, and then it will be a simple matter to dispatch him effortlessly, quietly, and efficiently, like any true predator would.
But instead, the creature waits...and waits...for no apparent reason...until the hero finally turns around and notices it...whereupon, instead of administering the coup de grace and tearing out his throat, the creature just goes "RAAARRRRRRR!!!" and waves its claws around for a few seconds while the camera zooms in on its face - and the hero runs away or attacks, whereupon an exciting chase or fight scene ensues.
Sometimes it is even more patently absurd. This is probably the most egregious example from recent years. Watch what the red thing does when it has Kirk at its mercy, and tell me it isn't just plain stupid.
Solitary predators are efficient, cold, methodical, and stealthy, and even then they do not tend to catch prey very often - not even half as often as they try - because catching prey is really hard. If predators spent 10 seconds roaring at every single prey creature they wanted to catch, the prey would always run away and the predators would all starve.
Among the many, many lazy things that Hollywood directors and screenwriters do, this ranks pretty highly. In that one moment - the close up on the creature's face, the ferocious roar, the CGI saliva - a huge mass of cheap shorthand is communicated to the audience. Instead of building genuine tension and excitement through skilful direction we get a mere sledgehammer: THIS IS A SCARY MONSTER!
It it also often used as a naff plot device to get a character from A to B - in Star Trek, for instance, running away from the ice monster is how Kirk ends up bumping into Old Spock. It's because, you see, the director doesn't credit his audience with having an attention span longer than a gnat's, or himself with enough talent to maintain our interest without something loud happening on screen; it isn't enough to have Kirk just meet Spock. There has to be STUFF HAPPENING! at all times.
Predators don't roar at you. They aren't out to scare you. They're out to kill you. That's what they do.
Monday, 24 December 2012
A Christmas Eve Review of The Hobbit For Your Edification
Amongst meeting family and friends I managed to fit in about 37 years to sit down and watch The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey today. Fuck me, that was long. I'm not sure in what universe Peter Jackson is living in if he thinks he needs 9 hours to tell this story - other than "MGM has been in bankruptcy proceedings-verse" - but financial returns are a reason to have 3 films, not to make them 3 hours each. This could quite easily have been 100 minutes long and been leaner, faster, and better.
This ties into my main criticism of the film, which I would say is probably in the 2-3 star range: Jackson is a good director who totally gets the look of Middle Earth, but not a natural story-teller who understands its tone. There was far too much exposition going on, so much so that it utterly swamped the story. Tolkien didn't see the need to detail the backstory of the dwarves at the beginning of The Hobbit, nor to explain who the Necromancer was, nor the history of the descendants of Thrain and their battles with the orcs; some of it he introduced in snippets through the story, some of it comes in exposition (but crucially, only once we are rolling along with the story and we already know and love the characters), and some of it remains unsaid. It's because he understood this was a story for children and such stories need to be entertaining and to cut to the chase. And I don't think anybody in the world has ever read that book and said "Christ, I can't understand what's going on here - this thing needs more info dump!"
Oddly, I think Jackson can learn a lot from pre-prequels George Lucas. When Lucas was penning the script for Star Wars: A New Hope, he well understood that backstory and exposition would get in the way of what he wanted to achieve: a pacey, exciting movie. He gives you all the information you need in the first 30 seconds, then just barrels along without stopping to tell you who Darth Vader is, what the Empire is doing and how long they have been around, what the Senate is, all that jazz. (You can't trust much of what George Lucas says, but he attributes this willingness to forego exposition to watching Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece The Hidden Fortress; watching 1950s Japanese cinema as a Westerner, you don't have much of a clue of the background to what you are seeing, but it doesn't matter a jot in terms of the story. George Lucas learnt that lesson, although oddly he somehow unlearned it later on, along with how to make an entertaining flick.)
I have other complaints - chief among them being the total lack of understatement, but that is probably a matter of taste; for me, one of the great pleasures of Tolkien's writing is that he doesn't go for the grandiose very often - only when it matters. The Hobbit is a delightfully understated book. It is only when you meet Smaug that it turns into an epic, and that makes Smaug seem genuinely epic. Peter Jackson starts with the epic at 11; there is nowhere you can go from here, and when every single moment of danger is met by one dwarf or another screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" (Jackson must have been the only person who watched Star Wars: Episode III and thought "That bit where Darth Vader stands up was awesome!"), when every single scene involves moody stares with a dramatic orchestral swell in the background, when every bad guy (except for the refreshing exception of the great goblin) bellows with exactly the same bassy rumble, when every climactic moment involves the dwarves getting yet another last-but-not-last-because-they'll-get-another-one-in-a-minute burst of energy... It all seems to merge together into one rather bland morass.
It looked pretty, and it was enjoyable on its own merits, but I feel like Peter Jackson and I simply like the exact opposite things when we look at Tolkien's work. Also, to those who have seen it, is it just me or do all the evil characters in the film have exactly the same face? The trolls, the orcs, and Gollum all seem to screw their visages up into precisely the same scowl the entire time. They need to get a new make-up guy in.
This ties into my main criticism of the film, which I would say is probably in the 2-3 star range: Jackson is a good director who totally gets the look of Middle Earth, but not a natural story-teller who understands its tone. There was far too much exposition going on, so much so that it utterly swamped the story. Tolkien didn't see the need to detail the backstory of the dwarves at the beginning of The Hobbit, nor to explain who the Necromancer was, nor the history of the descendants of Thrain and their battles with the orcs; some of it he introduced in snippets through the story, some of it comes in exposition (but crucially, only once we are rolling along with the story and we already know and love the characters), and some of it remains unsaid. It's because he understood this was a story for children and such stories need to be entertaining and to cut to the chase. And I don't think anybody in the world has ever read that book and said "Christ, I can't understand what's going on here - this thing needs more info dump!"
Oddly, I think Jackson can learn a lot from pre-prequels George Lucas. When Lucas was penning the script for Star Wars: A New Hope, he well understood that backstory and exposition would get in the way of what he wanted to achieve: a pacey, exciting movie. He gives you all the information you need in the first 30 seconds, then just barrels along without stopping to tell you who Darth Vader is, what the Empire is doing and how long they have been around, what the Senate is, all that jazz. (You can't trust much of what George Lucas says, but he attributes this willingness to forego exposition to watching Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece The Hidden Fortress; watching 1950s Japanese cinema as a Westerner, you don't have much of a clue of the background to what you are seeing, but it doesn't matter a jot in terms of the story. George Lucas learnt that lesson, although oddly he somehow unlearned it later on, along with how to make an entertaining flick.)
I have other complaints - chief among them being the total lack of understatement, but that is probably a matter of taste; for me, one of the great pleasures of Tolkien's writing is that he doesn't go for the grandiose very often - only when it matters. The Hobbit is a delightfully understated book. It is only when you meet Smaug that it turns into an epic, and that makes Smaug seem genuinely epic. Peter Jackson starts with the epic at 11; there is nowhere you can go from here, and when every single moment of danger is met by one dwarf or another screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" (Jackson must have been the only person who watched Star Wars: Episode III and thought "That bit where Darth Vader stands up was awesome!"), when every single scene involves moody stares with a dramatic orchestral swell in the background, when every bad guy (except for the refreshing exception of the great goblin) bellows with exactly the same bassy rumble, when every climactic moment involves the dwarves getting yet another last-but-not-last-because-they'll-get-another-one-in-a-minute burst of energy... It all seems to merge together into one rather bland morass.
It looked pretty, and it was enjoyable on its own merits, but I feel like Peter Jackson and I simply like the exact opposite things when we look at Tolkien's work. Also, to those who have seen it, is it just me or do all the evil characters in the film have exactly the same face? The trolls, the orcs, and Gollum all seem to screw their visages up into precisely the same scowl the entire time. They need to get a new make-up guy in.
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