RPG Errata: Against the Apocalypse, and Simulations vs Abstracts

Against the Apocalypse, designed by Oleander Garden, is a game about war, last stands, isolation, and death. It is a game where the players are soldiers in a war against the Demiurge, who sends their hollowmen every Sunday in an attempt to kill the players. They have little in the way of supplies or hope, and the game will end the way all wars must, in death.

The game is, in a single (compound) word, Anti-narrative.

Divided into two parts — the fighting and the downtime — the game encourages the players to unfold their character’s lives in the manner things would happen, not should or could. The book asks players to be honest with both themselves and their imagined world: the goal is not to tell a story, but to simulate life.

The fighting portion of the game embodies this ideal in its mechanics. You aren’t just “rolling for damage,” but multiplying the mass of the bullet by the force of its impact to figure out how much harm the bullet does. Tables in the back of the book detail exactly how long humans can survive without food or water, how long it takes to build a fence, and even how many fractions of seconds it takes to pull out a sidearm or adjust your aim.

Against the Apocalypse has very emphatically taken sides on the Abstract vs. Simulation conflict with RPGs. What is the difference between a Simulation RPG and an Abstract RPG? At its simplest, this is the distinction between Fiction-first versus System-first games, as well as rules-light versus rules-heavy.

A Simulation RPG attempts to use the system to model a “real world” of a sort. They strive for a realism that other RPGs may not bother with. It might seem trite to use examples after Against the Apocalypse’s ballistics math, but a game doesn’t have to go that far to be considered a Simulation RPG. RuneQuest, for example, modeled its combat system after real-world melees, with different hit-locations causing different effects. These RPGs might also track regular meals or avoid cinematic abilities and supernatural powers.

Abstract RPGs, on the other hand, use the system lightly and demand interpretation. Rather than forcing players to keep track of time spent sleeping or exactly where each sword-stroke lands, players are encouraged to build a narrative through the dice. This interpretation has spawned the creation of RPGs that use tarot cards or surreal images as die replacements.

Okay, so far so simple…but that word “interpret” is an interesting one. Do simulation RPGs have no interpretation? All RPGs have both a game- and meta-narrative, so surely it must be a spectrum, right?

But it’s not really, because — as I have said before — the game and the story can be in opposition. In a simulation, a dragon is slain because you rolled a 14, which overcame its armor, and then rolled an 18 for damage, which reduced its HP to 0. In the abstract, you duck and weave between bursts of flame, striking at its armored belly. Slipping your blade between its scales, it shrieks in anger, batting you aside as it flies off, eager to find easier pray.

So far so good? Here’s the kicker: those situations are not in opposition; you could have both at the same time.

“No,” you say, “they’re not compatible at all. In the simulation, the dragon is dead. It reached 0 HP. The abstraction says the dragon flies away.” But then you pause, because you are a thoughtful and open-minded sort — which is something I respect about you — and consider; They must have had a reason for suggesting they’re compatible…what might that reason be?

Well, the first step is to question our priors. “The dragon is dead because they reach 0 HP” is an interesting assumption; Even Against the Apocalypse uses “Harm” instead of hit locations and monitoring blood-flow. HP has always been an abstraction, and the more abstractions there are in a system, the more complex the kayfabe.

See, we don’t have HP. HP is an abstraction of “Staying power.” At its most core definition, HP gets reduced during combat, until it reaches zero, and then the unit is “out of the fight.” Dead? Possibly, but why not unconscious? Why not driven away? Why not surrendered? Why not captured?

If you replace 0 HP with a state other than “dead,” you suddenly have a lot more narrative flexibility.

This brings us to the one idea I want to explore: if even a tactical combat system can be turned into an abstract system through a gentle interpretation of the dice, what if all systems are narrative systems?

Yes, even the simulation-like ones. Consider that a stiletto knife will kill someone just as quickly and resolutely as a sledge-hammer. A sword cuts just as deep as a butcher’s cleaver. A 9mm bullet is no less deadly than a .50 BMG cartridge, why does Against the Apocalypse ask you to multiply their mass by energy?

Okay, hold on, technically that was all nonsense. A person hit with a .50 BMG is going to die a lot faster than someone hit with a 9mm, and with a lot less chance of a doctor saving their life. Cleavers and stilettos aren’t designed for war, so a knight will always do better with a sword or mace in hand.

But did you catch my clarifications? Someone hit with a .50 BMG will die faster. Stilettos aren’t good in a war. And let’s not forget, getting hit between the eyes by a 9mm will still kill someone a lot faster than getting hit in the foot with a .50 BMG. It’s all situational.

We RPGers have all had that frustrating moment when we roll a 1 for damage after rolling a critical hit. Our battle-axe wielding barbarian could have done up to 17 points of damage…and we only end up doing 4? It’s annoying, sure, but it’s also weird. We hit our target, and we’re swinging with all our might…Why only 4 damage?

So here comes the narrative: It was a glancing blow, perhaps, or your dastardly foe was ducking at the time. Perhaps you only lopped off their pinkie finger, or maybe your foe is just so powerful that a critical hit doesn’t do that much damage. Playing Fiction-Forward is not only the purview of abstract games, rules-heavy systems also require narrative justification. Whether it takes one roll or fifteen, dice tell stories, and it is the players who are left to interpret them.

That turns dice-rolling into a kind of oracular ceremony, doesn’t it? We “read the bones” to divine whether or not the axe glanced off the steel armor, or bit deep into the enemy’s chest. A natural 20 isn’t a promise of anything, it’s just a favorable omen.

Of course, then anyone with a functioning memory will say “but the thief did 12 damage with their knife two turns ago…why does a critical hit from a barbarian’s axe do less than a normal hit from a thief’s piddling dagger?”

Mechanically a critical hit is only the chance at doing more damage than usual, but narratively it’s something else, isn’t it? Narratively, a critical hit is supposed to lop off limbs or carve massive wounds. It’s supposed to be decisive, not flimsy or ignorable, right?

I’m not even talking about meta-narratively, I’m talking ludo-narrative. Critical hits in combat are almost always designed to do more damage. If a regular hit results in 6 damage on a d6, and a critical hit results in 2 damage from 2d12, something went wrong, didn’t it?

What happens when the system of an RPG fails?

A loaded term, yes, but worth discussing. Can a system fail? Is ludo-narrative dissonance indicative of an error in design? As has been said before, when you add dice to your game, you bring them into your story as well. Is a wise wizard or strong warrior failing what should be a simple task because of a poor roll, or a critical hit dealing less damage than an average hit, necessarily failure?

Against the Apocalypse requires multiple math equations just to get to the same place that GURPS gets to with two die-rolls. Is that thematic focus, or poor design? Dream Askew is largely a narrative conversation, but prevents certain actions without acquired tokens. Is that structured play, or ludo-narrative dissonance?

What actually does a “bad RPG” look like?

Next time, I’d like to show you one.