Into the Woods, and Practicing

Into the Woods is an RPG wherein your only goal is survival. Akin to the stories of Robinson Caruso, Swiss Family Robinson, and Castaway; and taking inspiration from games like Aground or Don’t Starve; Into the Woods is focused on the challenges of keeping yourself alive in a hostile ever-changing environment.

An interesting idea in itself; the cliche RPG experience is one of “Humanity vs. Monstrosity,” where evil enacts its will on the innocent, and the heroic players step in to save them. It’s perhaps unsurprising, then, that RPGs would start to explore the other kinds of storytelling, such as “Humanity vs. Society,” or in this case, “Humanity vs. Nature.”

Into the Woods is also a Solo RPG. There is no GM, no other players.

The draw of Solo roleplay is fairly simple to understand. First off, scheduling large groups can be difficult, and if you’re a GM, planning a whole session can be tiring. Or perhaps what time you have is a windfall, a surprise from a recently canceled appointment, and collecting a group together to do anything isn’t feasible.

But perhaps most fascinating to me is that while Solo RPGs strip away a core component of RPGs, Solo RPGs are as old as the medium itself. Choose Your Own Adventure books have been around since the mid ’70s, and the Players Manual of the Dungeons & Dragons red-box set included a personal dungeon to adventure in as a kind of tutorial for the game itself. (It’s absurdly cute. Your first enemy is a goblin, and you roll your d20 until you roll a 12 or higher. The goblin never hits you, so you roll until you hit it, and then it runs away. Your character having a name is optional. The first line of the manual is “This is a game that is fun.” It’s adorable.)

So, what’s different about this new crop of Solo-RPGs? First of all, with the shear volume and experimental nature of the indie sphere, current Solo-RPGs have more bespoke systems. Into the Woods is about survival in the woods, not adventuring into dark tombs or flying spaceships to different planets. It’s not D&D, where you can take your character and wander next door to the next adventure whenever you like. It is a singular self-contained story.

Secondly, Solo-RPGs are becoming more random. While the systems themselves are bespoke, the experiences they create are not. CYOA books are the same every time you open them. The pre-built solo dungeons of yesteryear never change their map-shape. The new era of Solo RPGs, on the other hand, utilize oracles, dice, and cards to ensure that every time you play you get a different and yet still fulfilling experience.

Solo play is an interesting concept when looked at beyond the confines of RPGs; it’s not uncommon in usually communal activities. Solo play is a kind of practice: whether shooting hoops or running through chess openings, solo play can be looked at as a mixture of training and experimenting; looking for new, different, and better ways to engage with the game without the pressure of “needing to perform well.”

Then there is the more common solo play of single-player games, such as solitaire, peg jumping games, and crossword puzzles. These cannot be practice because there is no other form of play; they are merely single-person activities, designed to exercise the mind in the same way going for a jog exercises the legs.

So which is a Solo RPG? Is it practice for group-games, or is it just playing alone? It certainly has the trappings of practice, especially when looked at through a historical lens: You take your character sheet and move your persona through a dungeon, getting experience points, gold, and items, all of which stuck around for when you rejoined your group. Even if you don’t carry your character on past the solo game, it can be a fun way to experiment with a different kind of character, learn a new subset of the rules, and make mistakes that don’t interfere with other players enjoyment of their game.

At the same time, there are a lot of solo RPGs that don’t use previously made characters or established systems. And sure, Solo RPGs could just be a way to pass the time, but you could read a book or watch a movie too, couldn’t you? What does a Solo RPG give you that other RPGs don’t?

In his video, Why it’s Rude to Suck at Warcraft, Dan Olsen of Folding Ideas talks about the type of play that has evolved in MMORPGs like World of Warcraft. To copy some of his work, there is an interesting question to ask: What does it mean to be “good” at a game?

There are a lot of answers, though you might only accept one or possibly two as correct. Some people think “being good” at a game is absurd. Games are like food: you are not “good” at a game, anymore than you are “good” at eating. Games and food are good or bad based on whether or not you are enjoying yourself.

Alternately, you might consider yourself good at a game if you are able to control it effectively and regularly; you know how the systems interact, and whatever the game asks of you, you know how to do it efficiently.

So to specify: what does it mean to be “good” at RPGs?

We can certainly imagine being “good” at a specific system. A player may know all the tips and tricks to get the most out of their die-rolls, choosing to use their best assets at appropriate times, but the system is only a small part of an RPG, and not even the most important part.

We can imagine what a good GM might look like. A GM needs skills in designing NPCs, building worlds, and structuring adventures. They need to know how to run games and manage players, as well as an understanding of basic roleplaying safety tools.

Most of what it means to be a “good” player depends entirely on what sort of game you are trying to play. A system-first game might require knowing the ruleset and using its rules efficiently. Helping maintain game-tone is useful in Horror or Comedy games. A clear sense of narrative structure or a flair for the dramatic could help in story-focused games.

One obvious answer is that Solo-RPGs are an excellent way to practice roleplaying. Putting yourself into a crafted persona, imagining the world around you, and reacting to what the game gives you. Even with all the benefits of schedules and ease of play, indulging in personal roleplay can prepare you and make you better at RPGs in general.

But Into the Woods is about survival and resource management, not “being a character.” Roleplaying can require devotion to the fantasy and sincerity in your play. Are there any single-player games like that? Any Solo-RPGs that ask for emotional investment rather than knowledge of a system?

Why yes, yes there are. Next time, I’d like to talk about Journaling RPGs.