Cobwebs, and GM-Less Games

Cobwebs is an RPG about, quote: “reluctant investigators uncovering terrifying conspiracies and getting far more than they bargained for. It combines elements of noir, horror, and science fiction to create a uniquely haunting mystery built collaboratively.”

Cobwebs centers around two specific characters: the Darling, and the Missing. The Darling is the “investigator,” the person who — in their search for the never-present Missing — gets pulled deeper and deeper into the truth of a conspiracy. Think Agent Cooper and Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks, or Leo and Naadirah in Mute.

During play, the players alternate between three roles: the aforementioned Darling, the Shadow — that is, every character who is not the Darling — and the Machine, who establishes scenes, provides descriptions and backstory, and generally plays the other half of the GM role.

The Game Master is one of the mainstays of traditional RPGs; a person who does not play a hero or main character, but rather everything else. They play the monsters, the traps, the townsfolk, the stellar nebula, the political situation, the weather…they are the Narrator, the Editor, the arbiter of arguments and the judge of the imagined world. They know where the secret doors are hidden. Whether called Dungeon Master, Storyteller, Referee, Master of Ceremonies, Keeper, Warden, Guide, Strife player, Hollyhock God (yes, really), or whatever name the system cares to use, they know the story behind the screen.

It’s similar to a board game, really. In chess it’s white vs black. In monopoly, it’s shoe vs top hat. In RPGs, its GM vs players.

Well, no, that’s reductive. If we are comparing RPGs to board games we should also look at co-op games like Castle Panic, Forbidden Desert, Spirit Island, and of course Pandemic. In these games, the role of the “opposition” is played by the rules themselves. With this framing, the GM is a neutral entity. They play the monsters, yes, but also the treasures and friendly allies. They are as bound by the rules as any other player.

But even that’s incorrect. One of the most groundbreaking differences between RPGs and other kinds of games is the flexibility that a neutral arbiter provides. Board Games, video games, sports…they all have clear and codified methods of play to win. In a video game, even if you know for a fact that you can use a scissors’ blade to unscrew a vent-cover from a wall, the game may not let you progress until you find the screwdriver. In Monopoly, you can’t have Top Hat stage industrial sabotage in Shoe’s flagship hotel; there are no rules for it.

But in an RPG, the GM can say “roll your stealth and let’s see if you get caught;” there are no rules against it. This is another way RPGs seem to be nothing but hacks and mods. The “correct solution” to bypass an obstacle is judged in the moment by the GM. This allows players to engineer their own creative solutions.

And then, RPGs decided to question the necessity of GMs.

A GM knows the rules, yes, but experienced players know the same rules. There is nothing that a GM knows that isn’t in a book somewhere, and if a non-GM player doesn’t know the answer, they’ll do the same thing that the GM would do: look it up.

A GM arbitrates the game, yes, but mature players can do the same on their own, working through disagreements and discussing compromises without an authority. Democracy, Anarchy, and Rule by Consensus are methods of governance every bit as viable as a dictatorship, and usually far more functional.

A GM plays everyone who isn’t a player-character. Ah, now we’re getting somewhere interesting. Without a GM, who will embody the monsters and the extras? Well, RPGs like Fiasco or After the War encourage players to play NPCs in addition their own characters. AI Cards could also be adapted to provide NPC reactions and keep their behavior surprising.

What about monsters in combat? Some games provide basic AI for their monsters: Monster AI, Goblins and Orcs provides one example of such a system, Gubat Banwa’s Gambit Dice is another. Alternately, it is possible for players to keep each other honest and accept the fact that the goblin would attack their helpless wizard, that it might kill them, and that’s just how the game is played. Asking a player to perform double duty as “character who wants to win” and “monster who wants character to lose” is possible, if ambitious.

In fact, if we let go of “Rule Zero” the idea that the GM is some kind of superior arbitrator, we can see that GMs are actually no different than non-GM players, they just play the rest of the world instead of a single character. If this job is given to the other players, there is no need for a GM, is there?

But now there is the last job of a GM, the singular thorn in the side of us old geezers: you need to have a GM because a GM designs the adventure. An RPG without an adventure is just a bunch of people sitting around a tavern table. The GM knows the secrets. They know the things that the players don’t know about the map, the monsters, and the story. They know what happens next.

Now, pre-built adventures are as old as the medium itself. GMs who don’t have the time or energy to craft a single dungeon, much less an entire world, can fall back on the resources of those who did. Usually these adventures relied on having a different GM at the table, but a little design trickery can compensate: games like Gloomhaven organize their rulebooks so you don’t see what’s in the next room until you open the door. Choose Your Own Adventure books use similar page-flip methods to make sure that the players are kept ignorant of what will happen next.

But I submit that pre-built dungeons and modules are not GM-less games, but rather GM-distant. Someone built those adventures, so to get rid of a GM we have to get rid of pre-built sessions altogether.

The easy solution is Oracles. You know what Oracles are, they’re simply tables and charts. They’re in countless RPGs, either as suggestions to speed up character creation, or to decide what wandering-monster the party runs into. To replace a GM, all you need is enough charts so when the players would turn to the GM and ask “what happens next,” they instead turn to the dice.

Ironsworn is a perfect example of this: If the players decide its time for a new journey but don’t know what to do or where to go, they can roll on the Oracles to get, for example, the prompt “defy disease.” So, obviously, a plague has come to town, or perhaps is coming, and it is up to the players to work out the details. How did they learn about it? Who told them? Who got sick? How will they try to stop it? They can roll again to find out any of these questions, or jump in and start roleplaying.

But Cobwebs is a Mystery game. Mystery and suspense stories are tricky things to tell well at the best of times. Mysteries in RPGs are no different, and in fact can be far trickier; how do you handle a mystery if characters miss a clue at the crime scene? What do you do if they steadfastly refuse to catch on to your obvious foreshadowing? What if the characters just roll poorly? A GM might be able to compensate, but Cobwebs doesn’t have a traditional GM, either to build or manage the game…so how is this mystery created, much less revealed?

During the game, as the different scenes are built upon, players keep track of their Theory of what happened, adding hunches and ideas as the game progresses. Periodically they are able to confirm aspects of these theories in-game. It is a mystery created as it is revealed, organically, effectively meshing the game- and meta-narratives.

When you read a mystery or thriller, you experience a series of revelations, moments when the mists part, the curtain lifts, and you learn something important that you didn’t know before. Cobwebs manages to create this same experience by having you learn these revelations as you create them.

Now obviously, not everyone sees the value in a mystery that is solved by imagining it. Some players will scratch their heads, wondering why people enjoy solving mysteries that aren’t actually mysteries. You can’t “figure out the puzzle,” because the answer is made up as you think of it. At the same time, is there really that much difference between the “ah-ha” moment achieved from solving someone else’s mystery, and creating your own?

But instead of going down that rabbit-hole, I’d like to explore the idea that there isn’t much difference between GM and non-GM players. Next time, let’s strip away some of the extraneous chaff and talk about games with only two players.