Failing at Games

"You have failed me for the last time." -- Darth Vader

Bet that title got your attention, huh? But I'm not talking about playing games badly, I'm talking today about how games handle failure. This topic was recently driven home to me when I ran a game of Burning Wheel.

So, let's compare how Dungeons and Dragons handles failure versus Burning Wheel. In D&D,
it goes something like this:

Player: I want to pick the lock before the monsters get here.
GM: OK, roll your Thievery skill.
Player: *roll* Crap, I get a 7.
GM: Sorry, the door's still locked.
Player: I'll try again.
GM: Sorry, you don't have time. Now you're trapped in this corridor as the ogres charge.

In Burning Wheel, the situation is a little different:

Player: I want to pick the lock before the monsters get here.
GM: OK, so that's your intent. If you succeed at an Ob 3 test, you open the lock and are gone before the ogres arrive. If you fail, the door opens just as they get there. Sound OK?
Player: Sure! *roll* Crap, no successes. Can I try again?
GM: Sorry, but the Let It Ride rule is in effect. OK, you work franticly at the lock. Just as it clicks open, the ogres round the corner and spot you. They charge.

I'll admit this is a simplistic scenario, but it illustrates two different philosophies of failure.

D&D makes almost everything pass/fail. You hit the monster or you miss. You pick the lock or you don't. As the example above shows, that's a fine way to paint yourself into a corner. This is a perfectly fine way to look at things, and it's definitely easy to grasp.

Burning Wheel, on the other hand, is more interested in the Consequences of Failure. It's not interested in whether you succeed or fail at a task, but if you get your intent. The key phrase in the BW example above is "before the monsters get here." With that intent, the GM has some wiggle room. And this is good, because BW is a lot stingier on handing out successes.

A pass/fail system, like D&D, unfortunately creates the mindset "I must win at everything." Failure equals death, or at least something else equally nasty. This encourages min-maxing, so that you win more often than you lose and therefore "win" the game.

In a Consequences of Failure system, like BW, failures make things more interesting (in the Chinese proverb sense) for the players, but doesn't necessarily mean death and destruction. Instead, it forces the narrative off in a new direction. What was a straight path suddenly takes a sharp turn. The players must deal with the consequences before they can get back on track. It might take them somewhere they never thought they'd go.

Here's another example of the Consequences of Failure that you might recognize.

The intrepid explorer stands in the tomb, looking at a gold idol on a pedestal. He takes a bag of sand out of his pouch and carefully measures out a handful of sand, until he thinks it weighs as much as the idol. Carefully, mindful of the traps, he switches the idol for the bag and grins at his companion. However, the bag of sand on the pedestal begins to sink, and the traps in the room begin to go off...

It's not easy to grasp a system like Burning Wheel's that rewards failure as much as success. I played several sessions before I really grasped it. There were times when I was really cursing the GM for what he did to my character. But I had, whether I had known it or not, agreed to the stakes that were set. But, after I calmed down, I saw the roleplaying potential in the failures. Yes, my character has been forced to change, but that's not a bad thing. Both he and I have to then grapple with how this change has affected him. Maybe it could turn out to be a blessing in the end. Who knows? You're off the map and into uncharted territory. That can be scary, but also a lot more rewarding.

To wrap up, here are a few points to keep in mind when playing with the Consequences of Failure:

1. Always make sure that the player and the GM agree on the consequences. Don't try and force it on them.

2. When you fail, try and think what your character will do next. (It pays not to plan too far ahead for your character, because these curve balls will probably junk that plan.)

3. Play up the consequences, if you can, for a humorous effect. Look at Indiana Jones, for example, where it could be argued that he has the worst good luck imaginable.

Good luck!

Reading: Anathem by Neal Stephenson (almost done!)
Movie: Excalibur
TV: Iron Chef America