The Value of "Why?"
Posted: Mon May 23, 2022 12:12 pm
I enjoy examining roleplay habits and server behavior, and this thread is solely inspired by some recent realizations I've had. Maybe this is something a lot of us already know on some subconscious level - when I lay out my point, I'm sure it's going to seem kind of obvious to some - but even so, I think there's value in straightforwardly examining and consciously implementing what we may already know by instinct alone. Without further ado, here's my thoughts:
How often do you ask a character, "Why?"
How often are you confronted with that question yourself?
How often do you step back from a scenario and ask yourself, "Why is my character doing this, and how do they really feel about it?"
Let's get a little real first. As a regular average human being, I'm often tempted to conflate questions with ignorance, and ignorance with weakness. In my personal life, there's a roadblock I frequently encounter as a result of my reluctance to ask questions. That's probably not a unique experience - and from cursory reflection on my experiences in Arelith, it's probably a prevalent mindset that pervades roleplay as well. The incurious approach to the story playing out before us, latching onto what cues we find familiar and ignoring other details as superfluous, drawing quick conclusions in the race to be the one with all the answers... And forgetting, along the way, that this whole experience is about the journey, rather than the destination.
Here's an in-character scenario to help demonstrate the point: We have a lot of DM events now, all the time. That's largely because we have a lot of new DMs, plucked straight out of the player base - and many of them are incorporating existing features and events within the world to tell their story. Some of the participants in these events have been around for literally years, and with that longevity comes a sense of, "Oh hey, this is happening again!" They've been around long enough to recognize facets of the current event running parallel to something in the past, and (sometimes justifiably!) think, "We'll just do what we did last time and the problem will go away." Cue the -conjure friendship circle until the thing they want to happen happens. Frankly, I think it's silly to imagine any DM is eagerly attempting to rehash something that they've done or seen before - so why is there the assumption that the story will reach a satisfying conclusion by the routine execution of whatever solution might have been discovered 4 IRL years ago in a vaguely similar scenario? I feel that there often feels like a disconnect between the players and DMs during these events, where there's a reluctance for one side to communicate intention to the other, and that leads to a lot of awkward execution of narrative beats due to a lack of mutual understanding. But I feel that approaching the unknown with the question, "Why is this happening?" or "In what ways is this new and different?" and "What effect is this having on the world around me?" can go a long way towards transforming an event from "something that is happening to you" into "something we are experiencing together." (That goes for you DMs too to an extent!)
Here's another scenario that approaches it from a more personal level (and, in my opinion, is where the real merits of this approach lie): Say your buddy is sharing a story with you about something that happened to them. "I got attacked by Banites, I just barely survived!" And as they're going through the story, maybe you realize that it's somewhat of a dry, detached retelling of the facts. "We met here. He said this. I said that. We fought. I ran away." Like it's some kind of court testimony and they're trying not to get their statements struck from the record. First of all, that's not because they're a bad roleplayer or anything - the ability to tell a compelling, engaging story is something you learn through trial and error, it's actually really rare for someone to just naturally be good at sharing a story without conscious effort. But you would be amazed at how transformative it can be to reply to that person with something as simple as, "Why did you do that?" It's genuinely awesome, like you can sometimes see the person stop walking and suddenly take a long time to respond whereas previously they were firing off messages with a quickness, then after a full minute of silence they hit you with that slightly-defensive one-sentence response and, without even realizing, your posture shifts in your chair and the entire tone of the conversation shifts because you KNOW the game is ON and now you both get the pleasure of digging deep into this character's bones until you find some revelatory nugget of subconscious conviction that you get to coax out into the open. That's where the magic is, guys. You all know what I'm talking about, don't pretend you don't. The only thing better than making that happen for someone, is to have that happen to you.
It works on an out-of-character level too, though it's often in bad form to ask the question directly to your partner. I'm sure we've all seen the familiar trope of a character fresh off the boat with some big self-imposed problem for someone else to solve. "I got cursed by some ne'er-do-well and I'm here to seek out an end to my suffering!" Well, a lot of us problem-solver types are inclined to be the end to their suffering. You ask the standard questions ("Was your mom a Sharran? Did your brother kill your dog in ritual sacrifice? Have you made any weirdly specific deals with forest hermits who smell like moldy cabbages?") and reach a conclusion, which you assertively inform the victim will be the right answer to solve their problem, then maybe you get some friends to stand in a circle and "-conjure" for a half hour... and then the problem persists, even though when you look at the lore or the way spells work or what have you, your solution probably should have worked. What goes neglected on a lot of our parts, when faced with a scenario like that, is consideration towards what this self-imposed ailment is seeking to explore on a narrative level. What theme is this new character embodying? What story do they want to experience? Why has the player chosen this particular ailment for their character? How does it affect the way they interact with the world? On a basic level, we all know the problem isn't "real" - which means the solution isn't either. No one makes a character suffering from some supernatural ailment thinking, "Boy oh boy, I can't wait for some random stranger in Cordor to case Remove Curse on me so I can stop having this character quirk!" I don't think most of these people have a "correct solution" in mind at all when they start out. Because it's about the journey, not the destination. You have to recognize that on some level, they want to suffer. So if you want to be part of that story in a meaningful way, you have to ask, "Why?"
"Why?" is an invaluable tool in examining that journey, and helping others realize the course of theirs. It's not a test or a "gotcha" to catch "bad roleplayers" in the act - it's an invitation for a character to share a soliloquy, to open up and deepen a relationship, or maybe even discover something about themselves. In that way, it's something you can use to create a better story. It's a catalyst for memorable and character-shaping moments. The best part of any book you've read has probably come from a moment where you suddenly gained new understanding of the world or a character, and that usually comes from the question, "Why?"
This is somewhat of an aside, but I feel like it's important to recognize that on some level, we're all playing out some self-insert power fantasy; and I point out that fact entirely without judgment, because it's just as true for the 10 RPR player as it is for the 50 RPR player. But what separates the 10 from the 50 is the purposefulness of that self-insertion, how consciously the blending of personae is monitored, and what level of self-awareness the roleplayer maintains throughout the performance. It's what makes it so hard to admit shortcoming. Especially nowadays, where it's so easy to find out who's playing what character and who's friends with what faction and who got reported for what rule break - we all feel that our roleplay reflects on ourselves on an OOC level. Which is why the temptation to "know everything" with our characters is so strong, and why it sometimes feels so uncomfortable to allow ourselves a moment of genuine vulnerability through our characters. A lot of us might even have fresh memories of a time where that was taken advantage of. But in the end, we're all logging in because we all want to experience a good story. That's what Arelith provides at its best. I don't think any of us are after a power fantasy, not really - I think deep down we all prefer the fantasy of self-discovery and enrichment. The constant and unending quest for self-improvement. It's so much more satisfying to realize the ways we are flawed, and have friends that care enough about us to help us discover those flaws and work together to overcome it. If you have the ability as a collaborative storyteller to help others reach those revelations, I think you'll find your time on Arelith a lot more meaningful and rewarding. At least, I know I have!
How often do you ask a character, "Why?"
How often are you confronted with that question yourself?
How often do you step back from a scenario and ask yourself, "Why is my character doing this, and how do they really feel about it?"
Let's get a little real first. As a regular average human being, I'm often tempted to conflate questions with ignorance, and ignorance with weakness. In my personal life, there's a roadblock I frequently encounter as a result of my reluctance to ask questions. That's probably not a unique experience - and from cursory reflection on my experiences in Arelith, it's probably a prevalent mindset that pervades roleplay as well. The incurious approach to the story playing out before us, latching onto what cues we find familiar and ignoring other details as superfluous, drawing quick conclusions in the race to be the one with all the answers... And forgetting, along the way, that this whole experience is about the journey, rather than the destination.
Here's an in-character scenario to help demonstrate the point: We have a lot of DM events now, all the time. That's largely because we have a lot of new DMs, plucked straight out of the player base - and many of them are incorporating existing features and events within the world to tell their story. Some of the participants in these events have been around for literally years, and with that longevity comes a sense of, "Oh hey, this is happening again!" They've been around long enough to recognize facets of the current event running parallel to something in the past, and (sometimes justifiably!) think, "We'll just do what we did last time and the problem will go away." Cue the -conjure friendship circle until the thing they want to happen happens. Frankly, I think it's silly to imagine any DM is eagerly attempting to rehash something that they've done or seen before - so why is there the assumption that the story will reach a satisfying conclusion by the routine execution of whatever solution might have been discovered 4 IRL years ago in a vaguely similar scenario? I feel that there often feels like a disconnect between the players and DMs during these events, where there's a reluctance for one side to communicate intention to the other, and that leads to a lot of awkward execution of narrative beats due to a lack of mutual understanding. But I feel that approaching the unknown with the question, "Why is this happening?" or "In what ways is this new and different?" and "What effect is this having on the world around me?" can go a long way towards transforming an event from "something that is happening to you" into "something we are experiencing together." (That goes for you DMs too to an extent!)
Here's another scenario that approaches it from a more personal level (and, in my opinion, is where the real merits of this approach lie): Say your buddy is sharing a story with you about something that happened to them. "I got attacked by Banites, I just barely survived!" And as they're going through the story, maybe you realize that it's somewhat of a dry, detached retelling of the facts. "We met here. He said this. I said that. We fought. I ran away." Like it's some kind of court testimony and they're trying not to get their statements struck from the record. First of all, that's not because they're a bad roleplayer or anything - the ability to tell a compelling, engaging story is something you learn through trial and error, it's actually really rare for someone to just naturally be good at sharing a story without conscious effort. But you would be amazed at how transformative it can be to reply to that person with something as simple as, "Why did you do that?" It's genuinely awesome, like you can sometimes see the person stop walking and suddenly take a long time to respond whereas previously they were firing off messages with a quickness, then after a full minute of silence they hit you with that slightly-defensive one-sentence response and, without even realizing, your posture shifts in your chair and the entire tone of the conversation shifts because you KNOW the game is ON and now you both get the pleasure of digging deep into this character's bones until you find some revelatory nugget of subconscious conviction that you get to coax out into the open. That's where the magic is, guys. You all know what I'm talking about, don't pretend you don't. The only thing better than making that happen for someone, is to have that happen to you.
It works on an out-of-character level too, though it's often in bad form to ask the question directly to your partner. I'm sure we've all seen the familiar trope of a character fresh off the boat with some big self-imposed problem for someone else to solve. "I got cursed by some ne'er-do-well and I'm here to seek out an end to my suffering!" Well, a lot of us problem-solver types are inclined to be the end to their suffering. You ask the standard questions ("Was your mom a Sharran? Did your brother kill your dog in ritual sacrifice? Have you made any weirdly specific deals with forest hermits who smell like moldy cabbages?") and reach a conclusion, which you assertively inform the victim will be the right answer to solve their problem, then maybe you get some friends to stand in a circle and "-conjure" for a half hour... and then the problem persists, even though when you look at the lore or the way spells work or what have you, your solution probably should have worked. What goes neglected on a lot of our parts, when faced with a scenario like that, is consideration towards what this self-imposed ailment is seeking to explore on a narrative level. What theme is this new character embodying? What story do they want to experience? Why has the player chosen this particular ailment for their character? How does it affect the way they interact with the world? On a basic level, we all know the problem isn't "real" - which means the solution isn't either. No one makes a character suffering from some supernatural ailment thinking, "Boy oh boy, I can't wait for some random stranger in Cordor to case Remove Curse on me so I can stop having this character quirk!" I don't think most of these people have a "correct solution" in mind at all when they start out. Because it's about the journey, not the destination. You have to recognize that on some level, they want to suffer. So if you want to be part of that story in a meaningful way, you have to ask, "Why?"
"Why?" is an invaluable tool in examining that journey, and helping others realize the course of theirs. It's not a test or a "gotcha" to catch "bad roleplayers" in the act - it's an invitation for a character to share a soliloquy, to open up and deepen a relationship, or maybe even discover something about themselves. In that way, it's something you can use to create a better story. It's a catalyst for memorable and character-shaping moments. The best part of any book you've read has probably come from a moment where you suddenly gained new understanding of the world or a character, and that usually comes from the question, "Why?"
This is somewhat of an aside, but I feel like it's important to recognize that on some level, we're all playing out some self-insert power fantasy; and I point out that fact entirely without judgment, because it's just as true for the 10 RPR player as it is for the 50 RPR player. But what separates the 10 from the 50 is the purposefulness of that self-insertion, how consciously the blending of personae is monitored, and what level of self-awareness the roleplayer maintains throughout the performance. It's what makes it so hard to admit shortcoming. Especially nowadays, where it's so easy to find out who's playing what character and who's friends with what faction and who got reported for what rule break - we all feel that our roleplay reflects on ourselves on an OOC level. Which is why the temptation to "know everything" with our characters is so strong, and why it sometimes feels so uncomfortable to allow ourselves a moment of genuine vulnerability through our characters. A lot of us might even have fresh memories of a time where that was taken advantage of. But in the end, we're all logging in because we all want to experience a good story. That's what Arelith provides at its best. I don't think any of us are after a power fantasy, not really - I think deep down we all prefer the fantasy of self-discovery and enrichment. The constant and unending quest for self-improvement. It's so much more satisfying to realize the ways we are flawed, and have friends that care enough about us to help us discover those flaws and work together to overcome it. If you have the ability as a collaborative storyteller to help others reach those revelations, I think you'll find your time on Arelith a lot more meaningful and rewarding. At least, I know I have!