Doyce writes at length on getting players (and the GM) to focus on the game, cutting down on digressions and the like that have turned some game sessions into lengthy chatting-and-socializing get-togethers. Some thoughts:
- I think for the most part, we (Margie and I at least, and I think most of the rest of our gaming circle) game to socialize, not the other way around. I enjoy gaming, but I’m not the sort that goes to cons to game, I didn’t get involved in the Living campaigns as such, I don’t (except as a last resort) look for strangers to game with, etc. The people I game with are my friends, and gaming is something fun to do together — and, within limits, if we end up getting together and not gaming, I can be happy with that, too.
Thus, for me, as a player (as a GM can be something quite different, I acknowledge), the incentive to crack down and play, dammit is less than it might be for some. (As a GM, it can be really frustrating to be ready to go, to be in game mode, and have everyone else hanging out casually and chit-chatting. Do I contradict myself? I role-play multitudes …)
- Setting can play a role, as Doyce notes. Margie intentionally runs her game in the Living Room, to break with both the Family Room and the Basement Game Table. To some degree, sitting around and trying to play where you also sit around and jabber can lead to the two behaviors mingling. And sitting at the table can at least provide a reminder of why you’re there.
But I think that’s a minor effect, compared to how the nature of the game itself can affect (and effect) digressions. Doyce’s suggestion of moving from the Chat Area to the Game Area might have some merit. The idea of scheduling breaks runs the risk of breaking the mood — but, by the same token, any modern business-person knows that meetings of over 90 minutes or so start to lose their focus anyway.
- A game where the characters are not acting together — in the same room, or at least to the same ends — is going to have more chit-chat. If it’s now Fred’s turn to get the GM focus, and I know Fred will have it for at least 15 minutes, and my stake in what Fred’s doing is relatively small, and I’m not keeping the campaign log, I won’t focus on what’s going on with Fred, but will instead strike up a discussion with Susan. Players will follow the goings-on of characters other than their own to the extent that they’re interesting, and the highest interest is how it will affect them.
In other words, Fred’s at the front of the line and I’m right behind him as he kicks in the door, my attention will remain wonderfully focused. If I’m on a secret mission for Count Benjamin, and Fred’s character is having a separate dinner with him, I’ll probably watch in (as a player).
That isn’t to say that the party should never be split, but when that’s all that’s going on, and the split is not just physical but narrative, trouble is inevitable.
Maybe there are ways to handle that, but having come from a tradition of “the party on a quest,” it’s sort of how my mind works.
- A game where the players haven’t assimilated the game mechanics — such that thoughts become player actions become game actions — will tend toward digressions, as the GM (or others) have to stop and explain, stop and look up, stop and laboriously perform a particular mechanic. That’s one of the down sides of trying new and different gaming systems (balanced against the many up sides, of course).
As well, players who don’t know their capabilities, or how they can affect the world around them (or how the world around them will react) will tend (with some exceptions) to be passive, waiting for some clues/cues. And while they’re waiting, they’ll chit-chat.
- In a similar vein, a game without a strong goal for the players — either for the session or group of sessions or the campaign itself — will tend to produce digressions, as folks let their attention wander. That’s not to say that the players have to be railroaded, or shouldn’t be encouraged to explore and experiment, but to some degree the GM needs to act as the director (keeping the pace up) and producer (pitching a compelling high concept).
Doyce mentions the OA game as an example of one where we stayed focused. Part of that was the very clear direction for each character, each session, and the campaign as a whole. It gave the players both something relatively clear to do with their characters and made it easier to pop back in to the game if digressions popped us out. Similar module-driven games (IDC, ViD, PoA) did/do much the same. Less-defined games (e.g., Nobilis) are more able to drift. (Note that there are other significant compensations for not relying on modules.)
- The GM has to set an example. I freely acknowledge that, as a GM, I am not good at keeping “on task” myself, and am almost as likely to crack wise and digress and chit-chat as the players. But if I expect people to focus, I need to be willing to do so myself. (Interestingly, Margie is much better than I am at maintaining focus as a GM. I ought not be surprised, but …)
I think that, to reduce digressions and lack of focus, rather than looking for ways to stop it — quashing the symptoms — we should be looking more at why it happens, and the extent to which we can affect those root causes.
In the old days, if my players digressed for too long, I just started rolling Wandering Monster Dice. That focused their attention on the game right quicklike.
That certainly remains an option, but I’d rather find some carrots than use that particular stick.
All kinds of thoughts:
1. I think for the most part, we (Margie and I at least, and I think most of the rest of our gaming circle) game to socialize, not the other way around.
Absolutely. One of my main thoughts while banging my post out was simply to acknowledge that we want to socialize and get caught up on the goings on of our friends and simply plan for it… set aside some time for it, so we get that Need met (heh).
It’s a bit like dealing with food (in any setting) — if we don’t set aside time for a meal (and remember that there will *be* a meal), we’ll just graze all night (well, more than normal), which isn’t a great eating habit and tends to get buffalo wing sauce on your pants.
Thus, for me, as a player (as a GM can be something quite different, I acknowledge), the incentive to crack down and play, dammit is less than it might be for some. (As a GM, it can be really frustrating to be ready to go, to be in game mode, and have everyone else hanging out casually and chit-chatting. Do I contradict myself? I role-play multitudes …)
Mmm. I would say the motivation for me is somewhat different — if I do a lot of prep (and we all know I do far less prep than… pretty much anyone), it doesn’t really bother me if we don’t get around to using it — I mean, if we don’t move forward at all, then all I’ve done is get things ready for the next game.
However, I do feel a certain obligation when GMing to provide the entertainment for the evening — when we chat our way entirely out of a night of gaming, I feel responsible for being a poor activity organizer (especially since, as I will note below, I’m usually a leading cause of the chit-chat).
Doyce’s suggestion of moving from the Chat Area to the Game Area might have some merit.
I don’t think of it as a solution so much as a signal — simply to say “okay, we’re going to try to focus on this other activity for awhile”, it’s also something I think would work well as a cue for me.
A game where the characters are not acting together — in the same room, or at least to the same ends — is going to have more chit-chat.
Some day, I hope to run a session (not a whole game, just a session), where people just don’t want to leave the room because they want to know what’s going to happen next… to the other people playing. I want everyone’s story to be so interesting to (or involved with) everyone playing that everyone’s engaged all the way through.
That would be neat.
In a similar vein, a game without a strong goal for the players — either for the session or group of sessions or the campaign itself — will tend to produce digressions, as folks let their attention wander.
Mmm. Dunno. On the one hand, I wanted to say “But Bibliophage didn’t have any kind of goal for the campaign, and we focused just fine” except that it did; I forget that it did because I didn’t create it — to me, that was a very versatile-prep (not to say freeform) game, with no kind of agenda — reading through it later, it reads like the most heavily plotted thing I’ve run in ages.
Hmm. There may be an answer there. I’d thank the system for the help, except it didn’t help much at all with the last Sorcerer session. Hrm.
Doyce mentions the OA game as an example of one where we stayed focused. Part of that was the very clear direction for each character, each session, and the campaign as a whole. It gave the players both something relatively clear to do with their characters and made it easier to pop back in to the game if digressions popped us out.
I’ll take credit for the direction on sessions and campaign, but not characters, that was an investment by the players. I think also that the very clear and strong setting really helped people get back into character after a digression. Vague game = vague gamers? Hmm.
The GM has to set an example.
… which is really where I was going with my post. I have led people into a nasty bit of wilderness, I blame myself fully for it, and I’m basically brainstorming ways to help me lead (my games, at least) back out of it.
Because, yeah, we all want to socialize, but at the same time we do make a significant commitment of time (both to play, GM, prep… the whole 9), and I think that when adult kids make that kind of commitment, we really ought to have something… well, something come of it — maybe I’m selfish, because we have this amazing group of people to game with, and sometimes I think I’m taking it all for granted. (Especially when I read emails and forum posts almost every day from smart, funny, entertaining gamers who, for lack of luck or timing or time or location, just can’t game (or are forced to game via mediums that I’ve long found unplayable).)
[I] am almost as likely to crack wise and digress and chit-chat as the players.
Heh. Well, for my part, I’m far, FAR beyond “almost”. Maybe the whole post is guilt-based. Probably not ‘maybe’.
(Interestingly, Margie is much better than I am at maintaining focus as a GM. I ought not be surprised, but …)
Same thing with Jackie — I (and this is going to sound funny, given how Necropolis ran) always enjoy having her GM, because she just rockets through the BS and gets to the stuff that’s happening.
I think that, to reduce digressions and lack of focus, rather than looking for ways to stop it — quashing the symptoms — we should be looking more at why it happens, and the extent to which we can affect those root causes.
Exactly. Most of my original post amounts to making guesses about this — the lion’s share of those guesses amount to this:
“I think we all really like hanging out and are good friends and enjoy each other’s company, and our desire to visit and socialize is leaking into situations where it’s more distracting, simply because we’re trying to force it out entirely — that’s impossible, so we should embrace it and make as much time for it as we need to, so that one thing doesn’t have feel the need to ‘push in’ on the other as much.”
Or something.
I think also that the very clear and strong setting really helped people get back into character after a digression. Vague game = vague gamers? Hmm.
Maybe so. I think that’s one of the problems I’ve had in Chrysalis — neither a strong grasp of what my character can do, nor of what, in a global sense, she should do. Part of that is, of course, my own responsibility as a player (both to better learn the system and to determine some direction).
Vagueness, per se, isn’t bad. Seeking clarity from vagueness can be a strong focus (as in, by contrast, the first sessions of Chrysalis).