Roleplaying with Miniatures

Assertion: miniatures don’t kill roleplaying.

Since D&D third edition came out, and really probably since somewhat before that, people have been claiming that miniature-based RPG combat kills roleplaying because you can’t roleplay while you’re shoving miniatures around a battle map. This drives me absolutely nuts, on account of how I’ve been roleplaying during miniatures combat since I started playing Champions with the estimable Carl Rigney and crew. On the other hand, it would be somewhat foolish of me to deny that putting a tiny plastic figure on a square grid often deactivates the roleplaying portion of a gaming group.

This is the post where I explain everything.

Here’s why minatures fuck up our roleplaying. Actually, let’s be precise: here’s why strongly tactical combat systems mess up our roleplaying. If you’re anything like me, and if a tactical combat system appeals to you, you’re going to get into the tactics. You’re going to want to think about the optimal choice, and you’re going to want to use your resources effectively, and you’re going to want to do the right things to win the fight.

Thus, a combat becomes an exercise in what you the player think you the character should do at any given point. The question of the character’s desires tends to fall by the wayside, since those desires do not affect the tactical situation in any way.

Making the right tactical decision improves the chances of survival for both your character and the other characters in the game. That makes the other players happy. You get the satisfaction of beating the GM, which is also kind of fun. The frame changes from whatever it was before (telling a story, exploring the world, whatever) to winning the fight.

Yup. Miniatures fuck up roleplaying.

Here’s how miniatures make your roleplaying experience better.

This is, by the by, tricky. I think that it’s as much a skill as anything else you do while roleplaying. I mean, roleplaying itself is a skill. Roleplaying flashbacks effectively, that’s a skill. Roleplaying in such a way as to accentuate another character’s spotlight time is a skill. Roleplaying the Shadow in Wraith is definitely a skill. Roleplaying in an Amber campaign full of player character conflict is a skill (and if you don’t get that one right the campaign will have problems, oh yeah).

But like most roleplaying skills, nobody’s written a tutorial for roleplaying with minis. (I am willing to expand on what you’re about to read for inclusion in your roleplaying book for very reasonable rates. Or just steal this post, actually, if you wanna.)

Also it’s not for everyone, any more than playing Wraith or Amber or Prime Time Adventures is for everyone. If you read this and you say “but I don’t like tactical combat because I just hate tactics,” then this technique is not something you should even worry about. I’m not saying this is the one true way, I’m saying that it’s a way to do things. Miniatures don’t have to suck all the roleplaying out of the room. That’s all.

OK, first I’ll explain how to do it; then I’ll explain what you get out of it. This is not just a cute fun theory thing to do; there is a humungous benefit to this technique that can improve your roleplaying as a whole. I’m saying it’ll make the non-combat bits better as well, if this is the kind of thing you dig.

Step one: make sure everyone at the table knows what you are going to do. That’s huge, because you probably have a social contract that involves trying to win fights. You’re not going to be tactically perfect any more. You can’t be: as I just noted, being tactically ideal conflicts with prioritizing your character’s desires. So if you do this without warning people, you will piss them off.

Step two: get into a combat.

Step three: think about the combat just the same way you always have. Don’t try and turn off your brain. You like your brain, if you’re anything like me, and tactical analysis is fun. Or if it’s not, don’t worry about it — I assume you’re getting something out of it if you’re playing a game with heavy tactics, but what do I know? All I’m saying is that I can’t stop caring about tactics in this sort of game, so I don’t try.

Step four: make your character do whatever your character would do. Fuck tactics. If your character wants to blow off the big bad because the guy he loves is at the other side of the room getting eaten by a basilisk, charge across the room and take opportunity attacks and save his lover’s ass. When in doubt, do the less tactically advantageous thing. Get used to screwing up, you big damn hero. Heros screw up all the time!

Step five: explain why it’s happening, out loud, to the other players. Let them read your character’s mind a bit, even if that’s not normally the kind of thing you do. They need to know why your character just did that, and they need to believe it’s a character decision.

Step six: apologize to the other players and maybe to the GM because possibly the GM set up that encounter with the idea that the players wouldn’t make their characters do unwise things. Remind them that you talked about this earlier. Tune your play as needed to keep the group happy. I am assuming you play with these people because you like them, so don’t be a dick.

Step seven: keep refining your technique. Find the sweet spot for the group. Just keep thinking hard about step four, and keep doing step five, and get used to filtering the tactics through your character’s senses.

It’s maybe pretty obvious at this point what you get out of this, but I’ll go over it just in case. You are not doing this just so you can smugly say “look at me roleplay.” I mean, sure, you’re being more immersive and all that, but that’s not why you’re doing it…

Oh, yeah. I’m a pretty immersive player. If you’re doing it for the narrative, though, you can do all the same stuff. Just in step four, instead of focusing on what your character would do, focus on what’s best for the story. When I talk about being immersive or filtering through your character’s senses, replace my words with priorities that concern you. I’m pretty sure this all still works.

End digression; back to the point. You are not doing this to make a point or to be macho. You do it because it gives your character’s actions gigantic power.

Every time you make a choice and everyone knows it’s not the optimal choice, you set up a contrast: you’re creating a discontinuity. You’re calling attention to the choice, precisely because it is not the expected choice in the framework. The framework of a tactical combat system will always call for tactics, by definition, so the suboptimal choices will always stand out to a degree.

That emphasizes the importance of your character’s reasons for making such a choice. It is a big enough deal for her that you the player are happy to sacrifice efficiency for the cause. That is absolutely one hundred percent noticeable.

And yes, this is tricky, because it also looks a lot like asshole play where you’re blowing off everyone else’s goals — winning the fight — for the sake of your own cheap amusement. The bit where you let everyone at the table read your character’s mind? Very, very important to avoid looking like you’re being a dick.

Eventually you can turn that knob down, because your friends will come to understand and trust you. I don’t think you ever turn it off all the way, though. Maybe you wind up revealing the reasons for your character’s actions through roleplay later? But you want people to nod and say “Oh, yeah, I /get/ it! We didn’t know, but Threk was mad in love with Cvein and he couldn’t bear to see that basilisk do that thing! COOL!”

Give your choices power. Give your roleplaying power. When your character makes a sacrifice, that is a cool moment, and every single tactical combat can be full of little sacrifices. Each one of those sacrifices helps define who your character is and what she cares about. It’s an amazing technique and it’s a hard technique and I wish more roleplaying books taught it. I don’t think everyone will want to do it but I do think it’d be nice if people knew the option was there.