Tag: tabletop games

Today I have an interview with Kieron Gillen about his new game, DIE! It’s based on his popular comic of the same name. This game has layers – layers! It sounds really cool so I hope you’ll check it out. See what Kieron has to say below.

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Tell me a little about DIE RPG. What excites you about it?

I’m going to circle around this before pouncing, as I’m terrible. Sorry.

In my day job, I write comics. My latest book can be basically paraphrased as “Goth Jumanji”. It’s a portal fantasy where kids who got dragged into a fantasy game as teenagers get dragged back as middle aged adults, and so acts as a device to compare teenage dreams with adult realities, explore the purposes of fantasy and do a warped conspiracy-addled history of the development of the RPG. As part of its typically over-researched development, I decided I wanted to do an RPG, in some form. The first arc is called “Fantasy Heartbreaker” which is my mea culpa about the whole endeavour. 

As such, the first thing excites me about the DIE RPG is that it’s not my day job. I am a puppy, running through long grass, on a summer day.

In a previous life, I used to be a game critic – mainly videogames, but I see all games as part of the same form. In terms of adaptations, I tend to believe the most interesting  allow you to replay the underlying structure of a narrative. The 1980s Alien spectrum game was about hunting down the alien aboard the ship, but it randomised which individual actually carried the chestburster. As such, it was interested in the possibilities inside the scenario of the movie rather than the specific example of the scenario played out in the movie. Re-enact the dramatic arc, sure, but find a way to make it your own – that’s how you make it live. I wanted to do something like that. I mean, I had a handful of other design goals, but that was my top line goal – create a structure which allows people to create their own personal version of the structure of the first arc of DIE.

First the players get together and generate a social group of messy, flawed people. Who liked who? Who hated who? How has their life gone horribly awry? Each player makes one of these Persona. “Player” includes the GM. This is a pure piece of conceptual story game.

Secondly, when it’s decided this is an interesting group of people, everyone steps away from the table. When they step back to the table, they’re all in character as the Persona they generated. After the proper level of social chit-chat, the GM’s persona lobs a RPG on the table, and everyone starts playing, generating a character. Yes, you play someone playing an RPG. 

Thirdly, after that’s done, everyone around the table gets dragged into a fantasy world. They go through a psychodrama fantasy adventure based on all the Persona’s faults, dreams and issues. After overcoming them they then go home. Or not. That’s kind of the point.

So, yes, it’s a meta game, and how it moves between modes of modern play is key – the three levels are clearly inspired by the story game tradition, the nordic larp and something more traditional (though, really, a bit trindie). That’s the most obvious bit of flash, but the core of the game for me is that it how the game changes depending what persona you throw into the situation. There’s a lot of flexibility, but with sufficient scaffolding to head towards a conclusion with the details entirely up in the air.  In the current Beta, that’s designed to be in 1-4 sessions. That I’ve been playtesting it for so many games, and being delighted how it works with radically different persona, remains exciting. I’m running it, and I really don’t have a clue how it’ll end up.

I think you’re one of the first designers I’ve interviewed who has talked about meta with enthusiasm and I love it! What did you do while you were designing to bring out that meta – how could an experienced player or designer see the key lines, so to speak? – without making it hard to approach?

Now, I warn you. There’s a line which I think I got from the wonderful Natasha’s Dance, with a quote about the difference between 19th century German and Russian writers, which I’ll badly paraphrase. The former will work out a theory in advance, and then try and put it into practice, and the latter will write what they want, and then, almost as a game, work out a theory which fits what they’ve done. I can come across as a German, but I suspect I’m very much a Russian. So much of DIE’s core design was done by instinct, and then analysed to death, so now it tends to sound I had a grand plan. 

So much just came from looking at the nature of DIE. This is a game about messy people who get dragged into an RPG and transformed into fantasy heroes. They travel a world which is a warped version of their fantasies and fears. They have to all agree to go home to go home. Can they come to an agreement? And if so, at what cost?

Logically, you need…

1) A way to generate a group of messy people.

2) A fantasy world which speaks to the specific nature of those messy people

3) A set of core dramatic in-world rules which gather whatever group of messy people you create towards a satisfactory (or at least, interesting) conclusion.

That you’re making a group of players instantly makes it Meta, and there’s just no turning back from it, and I lean into it as hard as I can. There’s a frisson and delight there. You’re people pretending to be people playing a role playing game. That just amuses me, and I tend to pursue it in the games I run. My standard con game of DIE has all the Persona playing people at the con they’re actually at, for example. Seeing what other people approach the idea is the best thing about actually releasing it – if someone had told me how much fun it was to see what people do with a structure you’ve created, I’d have done this years ago.

Not quite as much in the RPG in the Beta stage, but there’s a lot of the other kind of meta in DIE as well – the world itself is made up of elements that all went into the making of the RPG, from German Kriegspeil to Tolkien WW1 horror and more. It’s all about our fantasies, why we get lost in them and so on. A lot of that works its way into the game as well.

How do Personas work? I love this idea of layers of play, and I wonder how the mechanics here function! What really drives a Persona, and how does that punch through the layers of game?

The Persona’s are absolutely the thing which makes the game interesting, for me. It’s deliberately the rules-lite approach. It’s just a series of formalised (or less formalised questions) spinning off a given context.

In the Beta, I’ve narrowed it slightly to “You are friends who played an RPG as teenagers, and now have got back together years down the line to play a game.”  That narrowing of a certain shared history makes it easier to give a reliable “This will definitely work” for the later stages in the Beta, but I’ve ran it with completely different set ups too.

There’s a bunch of suggestions for useful angles of questions – “how did the group form? Was it around a shared social interest?” “Was it at school? What kind of school was it?” – which lead to more questions, about the specific nature of individuals (“What did you play in the RPG?” “How did you do in class?”) and their interactions (“Did you fancy any of the persona?” “Are any of you siblings?”). You then work out the gap – “How many years is it since you used to play?” “Why are you getting together to play a game now?” The Gamesmaster is also making a Persona at this stage, and the players are encouraged to ask questions to each other as well. 

There’s guidance in terms of whether to ask soft questions, hard questions or extremely hard framed questions depending on the tone and level of inter-group personal messiness you’re looking for. “Do you hate your brother” versus “Why do you hate your brother?” for example.

While this is happening, the Gamesmaster is noting all the information that’s relevant. Some of this is absolutely surface stuff (“He really like Harry Potter!”). Some of it is more deeply personal (“He has a really strained relationship with his husband.”) Some of it what I call the character’s core drive – the thing which they’re missing in their real life, and they’re looking for (“I always wanted to be an artist, and have never, ever pursued it.”) The latter is generally approached tangentially, but in a real way, it’s what the game is about – finding out how a group of people respond to being offered their desire… and then discovering what they may have to do to get it.

The players have huge freedom to invent whatever they want about the people’s real lives – this actually continues into the more traditional fantasy adventure. The Master asking the player about details of their persona’s life is a constant. Those details, and all the previous ones are then warped into the fantasy.

Part of the dichotomy of the game is that everything at the Persona level is almost entirely freeform and without classical RPG rules. Conversely, everything in the game is deliberately mechanistically neutral, with all characters being treated equally by the system, and all the persona’s character’s edges coming from in-world reasons. It’s a bit odd that I’ve come back to a hard (if light) simulationist core from a hefty narrativist tradition, but I figured in a game which is about the nature of reality (“Is this place real?”), if the rules already give you the answer (“No, it’s not real – only we get to roll the dice.”), it’s somewhat pointless.

Basically it’s kind of a Cartesian thing – the Persona level is very much mind and the character is the body, and the lack of a true connection between the two is interesting. The game’s more obviously meta in other ways (the “why are these people playing the game?” of it all) but I think this is the stuff which really interests me. A lot just is my love song to the RPG, in lots of different ways.

One of my current things is trying to find ways to write something akin to a Scenario – there’s an early take that we’ll be releasing in the back matter of DIE. It’s basically a more structured set of questions, so rather than being entirely freeform, you can create a social dynamic just by asking the questions. It’s a formalised version of my standard Con game – basically all the group are people who work in the comic industry. So one person is the publisher, another a creator, another a fan and so on. By hard framing questions, you generate a dynamic that gives a lot of space for player expression, but still can be meaningfully prepared for. It’s been fun. The question I most like basically goes like..

“Fan – you want to work in the industry. What job do you want to do?”

“I’d love to be a writer.”

“Writer – does the fan have any talent at all?”

That’s very much DIE at its hard-framing most, I stress. That whole scenario is wicked, but I want to do some other set approaches. I’m hoping the structure gives people enough to write their own, if they want.

One of the things that comes to mind while reading your responses is the subject of nostalgia – if I were playing a game with old friends, a game we’d played before, I’d expect to have some of that. Does nostalgia show up as a theme in the game? Is it something that was relevant for you as a designer?

Well, designer and a writer both. The first series I did as a comic writer was called Phonogram: Rue Britannia, this urban fantasy about magicians who use pop music (Phonomancers). It was used as an inspiration for the excellent LARP My Jam recently, which was a delight. Anyway – that first series was about – I quote – “Nostalgia, memory and history”. It’s how those things tangle together, and get in each other’s way.  So it’s always been there, and it’s certainly there in the DIE RPG.

What’s more there is a certain critique of nostalgia – it’s like how nostalgia can sicken. It’s not that time any more – what has changed with you? Worse, what hasn’t changed? How much have you failed to escape the person you were there, and the desires you had? I normally describe the comic as comparing these teenage dreams with adult realities, but transformed into an RPG it becomes about the two periods in the persona’s life. They were there. Now they are here. How has their live gone awry? What are they going to do about it?

Nostalgia turned creepy is certainly the another element. There’s one optional element in the design we call the Box Of Crap, which the GM drops on the table at the start of the Persona section of the game, claiming it’s the actual game that a bunch of kids were playing when they disappeared back in the 1990s. The box contains anything the GM collects – I suggest old RPG supplements, and the game dice as a useful minimum, but we cram in anything in there. I’ve included some of my own teenage RPG maps I drew, and character sheets, for example. If a group is okay with it, putting stuff from their own real life games in there is also a move, and very much fourth-wall blurring (as in, putting player nostalgia in the mix, as well as persona nostalgia). There’s not much with the box in the current beta rules, but in terms of stuff in the Arcana (i.e. what I’ll be releasing as optional weird rules) it’s basically used as a tarot deck during play as a device for inspiration.

I’m fascinated by the deeper fantasy world, since it reflects the Personas and the characters themselves. This is something that’s rarely codified, even if it’s alluded to in games. What is this like for the Master and the players to experience? What does it end up looking like to play in?

In terms of what it’s like to experience, what I’m trying to evoke is the experience of being listened to. 

What happens in the world riffs off what this persona a player has invented. Rather than a lot of games where narrative creation is direct (i.e. a player gets to define a world directly) DIE tends to primarily works as a once remove (a player invents and the GM twists and gives it back). The magical thing is that it’s both the big things the player are aware of (for example, if a player’s persona spends some time talking about how they’re closeted and are scared to come out, that may as well be an explicit ask for that to be a theme in the game) but also what they’re saying without being aware of (for example, a player’s persona making a joke about a random TV show they’ve binged watched, having elements of that show pop up in conjunction with their main theme). One of DIE’s core bits of GM advice is taking one of those big things the players want included and adding an element which the players may not actually have ever expected to be integrated. One core thing, and a twist, both of which show they were being listened to. It’s like being given a present, even when it’s horrific. Sometimes it’s really subtle, with just grace notes. Sometimes it’s just incredibly obvious – in a playtest where all the persona were people who met on a Buffy fanforum back in the day, I just downloaded the map of Sunnydale and went from there.

It’s always a way to externalise a persona’s problems and have them deal with it. It’s how DIE the comic works, and trying to get that explicitly in a game, and codify ways for players to make that work easily at the table was absolutely what I was aiming for. An early playtester noted that the DIE RPG is kind of a manual and mechanisation of how to create a Kieron Gillen Style Story, which made me nod in recognition. Trying to nail down specifically what the story does, so it can either be turned into mechanics or play guidelines was very much what I was trying to do.

It’s been lots of fun. I wish my designer friends had told me how much fun it was to see someone take a structure you’ve created and go and do awesome things with it, as I’d have done it years ago.

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Thanks so much Kieron for the awesome interview! I hope you all liked it and that you’ll check out DIE today!