Part 2 (1/2)

There is also a great excess of information in the module. There are areas that the players will never explore, characters they will never meet, treasure they will never find. Yet, it is all detailed by Gygax and Mentzer on the possibility that it will be a direction that players choose to explore. The village of Hommlet alone includes 33 locations, some of which are extremely mundane. Other locations serve as points of initiating action where players gain important information that leads them to a quest or meet NPCs. However, no one location or character is key to putting together the story as a whole, nor can it be because there is nothing to make players go to each location. For example, the character of Elmo is detailed in area two, where he lives, but Elmo is just as likely to be met at the inn where he spends a good amount of time. It is up to the DM where the party encounters Elmo. In addition, in the print version of the module, the information about the ruined moat house does not appear until after the detailed descriptions of the various buildings in Hommlet, and the clues are not specific to any one building. Instead, it is simply noted that athe following information may be gleaned, piece by piece, through conversation with the villagers of Hommleta (Gygax & Mentzer, 1985, p. 21). It is up to the DM exactly where and how this information is obtained, allowing for flexibility in where the players go and who they talk to.

In fact, there would be nothing to stop a DM from actually starting the story at the Temple itself and ignoring the towns of Hommlet and Nulb completely. Gygax and Mentzer encourage DMs to adapt the adventure to their campaigns. In part two, aNulb and the Ruins,a a note states that it is aabsolutely necessary for the DM to personalize his or her mapa (Gygax & Mentzer, 1985, p. 30). The DM is also encouraged to aadjust details to suit your own concept of a fantasy milieua (Gygax & Mentzer, 1985, p. 28). Interestingly, it is also in this section of anotes for the DMa that the backstory of the temple and Zuggtmoy and Iuz is told. It is not read aloud to players at any given point, but provided to the DM as background to be added in when he or she sees fit. Although it may have gained a reputation for hack and slash combat, it seems clear that Gygax and Mentzer intended DMs to adapt the module to their own campaigns, not follow it to the letter.2 One partic.i.p.ant in my survey explained that such a variation was indeed how their experience with Temple had come about. This respondent explained: Ours was ... different. We ran Temple in an historical fantasy game, prior to the building of the Cathedral of Mont St. Michel in Normandy. In our version, the aElemental Evila was the remains of a Celtic polytheist wors.h.i.+p resisting Christianity. Instead of Zuggtmoy we used Cernunnos with aelementala friends. Apart from that, however, we used the general plot trajectory of a small village, the political subterfuge etc. that is typical of T1a”4. It was just less agood versus evila and more aChristian versus Pagan.a This example shows that the Temple module can indeed be used as a manual; as a tool for creating a story rather than as a story itself. In this version, the DM changed the overall setting of the temple, to put it in more of an actual historical context, as well as significant NPCs. Nevertheless, the DM was able to use the module and its story about the rise of a temple and the political maneuverings involved with it to form his or her own adventure. Taking the CRPG or the novel to a new setting like this is an obvious impossibility, as the narrative details are more deeply embedded in the structure of these media. Yet, even this example kept the same basis for setting in the small town and the temple itself. Certain elements remained the same even when major changes were made between the print text of the module and the text of the actual gaming session.

While the flexibility to completely alter the world is only found in the TRPG, the medium of the computer game consists of its own affordances. In particular, the options of visual representation of the narrative are key to the CRPG. In the computer game, cut-scenes serve a similar purpose to the description pa.s.sages read aloud in the TRPG, but add more visual interest. Cut-scenes are moments in a videogames where the gameplay is interrupted by a visual scene. The player has no control over these scenes, except to skip them, and is presented with visual and often audio narration. These scenes will often reflect events in the story behind the game, and often come at the beginning of a new game and at key intervals. One way that cut-scenes can be used is as narrative rewards. As the player completes key steps in the game, more of the narrative is revealed. Cut-scenes can also be more purely descriptive as the read aloud text in the module. The opening of the computer game is a fairly elaborate cutscene that shows the battle at Emridy Meadows where the original forces of the temple were defeated and Zuggtmoy was imprisoned, thus establis.h.i.+ng the back-story and history of the temple. However, the scene is purely visual. In contrast, the end cut scene is not as visually appealing but is narrated more orally. It shows a book and candle; and brief, ill.u.s.trated, narrative scenes as the story of what happens after the game ends. The final cut-scene also varies depending on the actions the player takes in the game. If, for example, the party helps a n.o.ble trapped in the temple, the narration will explain that he knights the party in return. If the party allies with Zuggtmoy, the narration will describe her overthrow of Hommlet. If they defeat her, it will describe the way that Hommlet prospers. Unlike the human DM in the TRPG, however, the computer does not recognize which elements of the ending are compatible with other parts. I joined forces with Zuggtmoy and Hommlet was destroyed, nevertheless I still received knighthood from a grateful n.o.ble I had rescued, a somewhat illogical pairing of endings. Both the opening and closing cutscenes capture important stories for Temple. Another cut-scene, the entrance into to the temple itself, has no narration at all but serves more to set the mood and visual image of the temple in the playeras mind. The medium of the CRPG allows for these important scenes and images to be represented visually while the TRPG players will have to picture them in their imaginations based on the text read orally by the DM.

Another key affordance of the CRPG is the ability to go back to a previous point in the game. When I played Temple, a NPC named Otis joined my party for a while; however, once he discovered that my party was evil, he refused to keep adventuring with them. In fact, in one version of my game, he turned on me and attacked. As with other unwanted plot twists, I was glad that I had saved the game before that happened and was able to go back to a prior point, although Otis still left the party. The TRPG might allow for the player to negotiate with Otis rather than fight him, but whatever the outcome, there would be no redoing the scene.

Character is another story element that plays out differently depending on media affordances. NPCs tend to remain the same between versions of Temple as well. Zuggtmoy, Iuz, and Cuthbert are part of the pantheon of the G.o.ds and demons that run the universe. Hedrack and Lareth are their p.a.w.ns in the temple. Elmo and some of the characters in Hommlet remain the same also. Again, even in the extremely different version presented by the partic.i.p.ant quoted above, the general types of characters remained. However, the player characters are far more variable. Both the TRPG and the CRPG version offer some flexibility in terms of the player characters involveda”from heroes to greedy mercenaries. At the beginning of the computer game, the player chooses the alignment of the party, such as whether they are good or evil. The opening narration offers two potential sequencesa”a good sequence and an evil one. Interestingly, the scene entering Hommlet is the same visually for both the good and evil openings; only the narrated text differs. The player characters have highly different motivations in these two scenarios. However, the entire party, controlled by one player in the CRPG, is given the same motivation. In the module, as with TRPGs in general, the player controls only one character within the game. Thus, each character and each player may have different reasons for embarking on the campaign.

Naturally, in the novel the reader has no control over the point of view that is presented, yet this medium also brings its own affordances. The heroic characters are those that would be player characters in the TRPG or CRPG. We are introduced to, as our primary protagonist, Shanhaevel, a mage and elf; as well as his love interest, the druid s.h.i.+rral. The novel presents a good deal of depth in terms of character emotions and interactions, as the reader sees the relations.h.i.+p between Shanhaevel and s.h.i.+rral develop and is also privy to many of Shanhaevelas thoughts. Naturally, in the TRPG, relations.h.i.+ps such as this one could also be developed, but all of that material would come from the players rather than the pre-written module. The novel does something else that is a s.h.i.+ft from both the TRPG and the CRPGa”it shows the point of view of the opposing side. Although it is clear that Shanhaevel is the main protagonist, the story s.h.i.+fts between his point of view and Hedrack, the head of the temple. We become privy to Hedrackas interactions with Iuz and Zuggtmoy in a way that we never see in the TRPG or CRPG, where they are simply villains to be fought in combat or powers to be allied with. In fact, it is completely possible to play either the TRPG or the CRPG with no real understanding or explanations of the forces in the temple. In the TRPG, much of the inner workings of the temple must be discovered by players asking the right questions. For example, if the party captures Senshock (Zuggtmoyas emissary) and uses ESP to interrogate him, they will find out a bit about Iuz and his plans (Gygax & Mentzer, 1985, p. 99). However, if the party kills Senshock or misses this encounter altogether, that information may never be obtained or the DM may need to incorporate this information elsewhere in the game. From some playersa comments about the political maneuvering in Temple, it is clear that the motivations guiding the NPCs can be a key part of the intrigue. However, from other playersa comments, it is probable that not everyone who plays the TRPG learns these details of character development. One of the affordances of the novel, then, is the ability to provide multiple points of view where the reader can s.h.i.+ft perspective throughout the novel.

Each medium offers something to the story that the others cannot. Each shapes the story in a different way. In the TRPG the audience has more control over the framework of the story. The DM may choose to reveal information as he or she sees fit or adapt the story to fit within a different campaign world. However, short of incorporating additional media (such as video) into the gaming session, the DM would have a hard time representing the visual scenes in the story the same way that the CRPG does. The computer version also offers the chance to return to an earlier point in the story and begin again with the hope of a new outcome. The novel offers the least flexibility, but it also gives the reader more insight into different characters, allowing for a more complete perspective that is not achievable in the other media.3 Transmedia Narrativea”The Nexus of Stories.

It is apparent from the examples presented here that there are multiple differences among the experience of the TRPG module, the CRPG, and the novel all called The Temple of Elemental Evil. What is it then that allows us to recognize all three as the Temple of Elemental Evil? How might these texts and others work together to inform our understanding of a particular textual universe?

First and foremost, it appears that structuralist narratologists notion of story as separate from medium does not hold true for the transfer among the TRPG, CRPG, and novel. One very important reason for this is that story in the TRPG exists primarily in the oral discourse created by the gaming group as they play through the module. The module itself has some backstory, but it neither reads like a story nor determines what part of the story the audience will hear. Instead, each gaming group will individually access certain storylines and ignore others. As weave seen, some groups may ignore story altogether and focus more on combat and game mechanics.

What was perhaps not accounted for in the structuralist categories of story and discourse were the ways that elements of story, such as characters and setting, can be removed from the story itself. My study of Temple shows that it is not necessarily narrative that transfers between media. Rather, it is narrative elements, particularly the setting and key characters that transfer across media. In all three version of Temple, the setting remained constant. They all involved the town of Hommlet, the moathouse, and the temple, in that order. Furthermore, the backstory seems intact. In all three versions, there is the demoness that was trapped in the temple before the current adventure begins. Thus, it seems that main NPCs (clearly Zuggtmoy and Iuz as well as Lareth, Hedrack, and even Elmo) transfer to the most versions of Temple. The degree of that each of these characters is important to the narrative, however, may vary in the TRPG, CRPG, and the novel. For example, Elmo is a ranger and agent of the Viscount, but pretends to merely be a drunk. I found his character to be a necessarily ally in the computer game as he is initially a higher level than the player-run characters, and this allowed me to succeed in challenges that were otherwise unplayable. He also figures as a prominent character in the novel, where more of Elmoas story comes out. We find that he only pretends to be a drunk, but instead knows a great deal about the temple and the story behind it. Thus, in some versions of the story, Elmo may only be a drunk encountered in Hommlet, in others he may be a crucial aid to the party.

Another factor that transfers from the module to the CRPG has more to do with gaming than storytelling; the CRPG is based on D&D rules.4 The player characters in both versions have the six ability scoresa”strength, dexterity, const.i.tution, wisdom, intelligence, and charisma. Characters have a cla.s.s (such as fighter or wizard) and a race (such as elf, dwarf, or human). They have hit points, gain experience, and go up in level. As discussed in chapter 2, these are the type of game mechanics that made D&D so influential to other games, and they are the same core ideas that transfer between the TRPG and CRPG. As the novel is not written as a game, one might suppose that these features do not transfer. However, that does not appear to entirely be the case. A good deal of the book revolves around combat, and the characters clearly belong to a distinct cla.s.s and race. In the battle scenes, a D&D player can recognize familiar spells and skills being used. When Shanhaevel and his companions encounter the illusion of the basilisk, one can almost hear dice being rolled as Ahleage fails his saving throw and is thus deceived by the basilisk and temporarily petrified. Of course the book does not talk about dice or saving throws, but even a casual D&D player will recognize this familiar game mechanic.

It seems, then, that the audience for this book is not intended to be significantly different that the audience for the TRPG or CRPG. In fact, the book was released by Wizards of the Coast and is likely meant be read by D&D players already familiar with their products or by those with an interest in gaming to begin with. Likewise, the CRPG version held certain advantages for the player who was already familiar with D&D and the Temple story. A GameSpot review of the videogame by Greg Kasavin (2003) calls it aone of the most authentic PC Dungeons & Dragons experiences of the past few years.a The problem with this, he notes, is that when advancing a character, a nona”D&D player may be completely bewildered. The game draws on previous knowledge of the both the antecedent genre and the story and seems designed best for those who want to relive the Temple adventure in digital form.

Furthermore, I found that because I was reading the book and playing the CRPG at the same time, I was able to make valuable connections between them. Because I remembered in the book that Shanhaevel and his friends had entered the temple by a secret entrance in a well, I recognized a well I found in the CRPG as an entrance to the temple. In addition, when I encountered Hedrack, I knew right away that he was a major player in the temple, connected to Iuz and Zuggtmoy. I also knew that I needed to find the gems to go in the Orb of Golden Death to defeat Zuggtmoy. Finally, from reading the module, I knew that there was a good chance when Iuz came down to join in the big battle scene, so would his opposing G.o.d, Cuthbert. While I experienced each media differently, they worked together for me to form a more complete picture of the Temple story, setting, and characters.

This larger picture expands beyond just the iterations of Temple in different media. One partic.i.p.ant, in addition to relating the story of Temple, explained: My personal exposure not only included the aReturn to Temple of Elemental Evila PC game but also casual references to it in the 3.5 edition module aExpedition to Castle Greyhawka and minor references to it with the Lareth the Beautiful miniature stat card for D&D miniatures.

This partic.i.p.ant refers to other texts; those that are not direct retellings of Temple, but that draw on the larger textual economy of Temple. The TRPG module exists within the larger campaign setting of the world of Greyhawk. Thus, other adventures within that setting may reference what occurred at the temple as it became a part of the history of that storyworld. Similarly, the miniature figures that Wizards of the Coast puts out often include specific characters from famous campaigns, such as Lareth from Temple. Thus, it is not surprising that many of the partic.i.p.ants in my survey had heard of Temple without having played it themselves.

While the question of what makes up a particular genre or medium and how texts transfer between mediums is still an important question, it appears that a question of equal or greater importance has to do with the way that textual systems draw on multiple texts within multiple genres and media. Temple exists culturally, not as a single text, but as a textual system that draws from a common universe and some common characters with some of the same storylines. Each iteration within the textual system may add to or change the universe; each player will create new characters and the story may change. The media and the genre shape each telling. However, these texts cannot be seen in isolation.

In our current culture, we find more and more that games are made from movies or books and that movies and books are made from games. No longer do we encounter a particular story in only one format. Jenkins (2002) explains that aincreasingly, we inhabit a world of transmedia storytelling, one that depends less one each individual work being self-sufficient than on each work contributing to a larger narrative economy.a The idea of a narrative economy is one that warrants further discussion in both genre and narrative studies. Rather than a.s.suming that we transfer a story between media, this chapter shows how an audience might take bits and pieces from several related narratives told in multiple media in order to form a full view of a particular story. As audiences, we increasingly decide which versions of stories to accepta”do we hold to the view of Harry Potter in our heads from reading the book or do we replace it with an image of Daniel Radcliff from the screen? Perhaps we can do both. Temple shows that while each medium gives us certain advantages, certain affordances that shape the telling of a story, texts work together to form a more complete view of a storyworld, characters, and even plotlines.

4.

The Reconciliation of Narrative and Game.

So far we have seen that the stories play a key role in role-playing games; both tabletop role-playing games (TRPGs) and computer role-playing games (CRPGs). However the question of whether games should be considered narratives or not and, thus, whether they can be studied using narratological tools, has formed the basis for a heated scholarly debate. Marie-Laure Ryan (2006) gives a thorough explanation of the opposing sides of this debatea”the ludologists and the narrativists. Ryan (2006) notes the disagreement often comes down to the different definitions of narrative and the politics ascribed to by scholars following different disciplinary traditions. As she points out, the position of the ludologists1 to study games (videogames in particular) as unique artifacts is an important one for establis.h.i.+ng their work as a new discipline (Ryan, 2006, p. 181). These scholars resist subsuming games under forms of literature and using means of a.n.a.lysis originally designed for the study of literary narrative to look at games.

Yet, the link between narrative theory and the field of literature or literary theory has itself begun to dissolve, allowing for a broader perspective of the study of narrative. Ryan (2006) explains that athe trend today is to detach narrative from language and literature and to regard it instead as a cognitive template with transmedial and transdisciplinary applicabilitya (p. 184). In addition to seeing narrative as a cognitive template, I would add that seeing it as social and rhetorical force further opens the door for an interdisciplinary approach to the study of all genres and media with narrative elements. I maintain that games and narratives have been seen as incompatible, in part, because of a limited view of what const.i.tutes either. Thus, I revisit the narrative versus game debate with two new perspectives in mind. Ludology, or games studies, has focused almost exclusively on video gaming which, as we have seen, was highly influenced by tabletop role-play but did not replace it. I thus bring to bear on the narrative versus game debate the inclusion of the TRPG as a game genre. Furthermore, the debate hinges on concepts from structuralist narratology; a perspective that warrants challenge from both post-modern and rhetorical theory. I argue here that a rhetorical approach to narrative offers a valuable framework that explains the narrative nature of gaming without discounting its other important features.

Games Versus Narratives.

In order to understand the position that games (even those that seemingly have a storytelling element) are not narratives, we must look at the definition of narrative that has been appropriated by many ludologists. This traditional definition comes from early linguistic studies of narrative that rejected anything other than oral storytelling with a clear narrator and narratee. Linguist William Labov (1972) defined narrative as aone method of recapitulating past experience by matching a verbal sequence of clauses to the sequence of events which (it is inferred) actually occurreda (pp. 359a”360). Gerald Prince echos this definition in his Dictionary of Narratology, originally published in 1987 and revised in 2003. He defines narrative as athe representation of one or more real or fictive events communicated by one, two, or several narrators, to one, two or several narrateesa (p. 58). Prince accounts for collaboration here as well as fiction, but still defines narrative in terms of representing (rather than creating) an event and in terms of having narrators and narratees.

To separate them from other types of speech for linguistic a.n.a.lysis, narratives involve longer turns at talk, where an interlocutor recalls the events of the past in an order that shows the cause and effect relations.h.i.+p necessary for the progression of the story. When we hear statements such as athe king drank from the poisoned cupa and athe king is dead,a we know that the second statement is a result of the first statement. Cognitively, we have a sense of the linear progression of narrative; thus, we are able to establish a connection between these two events as a story. This sense of causality and linearity from the study of oral narrative persists, even in studies that examine new media. Objections to viewing games as narratives are based often on the non-linear progression of games2 and the fact that the story is created through play rather than a retelling of the past (Ryan, 2006, p. 186). In addition, Eskelinen (as cited in Ryan, 2006) rejects that games are narratives even if they involve stories because they do not always have a clear narrator (p. 185). By using such a limited definition of narrativea”one that was intended for the linguistic study of narrativea”schol- ars have been able to argue that games should not be seen as narratives because they do not fit with this linear or causal model or because they do not have a traditional narrator.

The use of the concepts of story and discourse, and the positioning of the concepts as separate, is another way that ludologists have used narrative theory in order to argue against a narratological approach to games. Espen Aa.r.s.eth (1997) makes this distinction when he talks about fiction versus narrative. For him, fiction pertains to content while narrative pertains to form. The form of a narrative must be linear. Thus, he insists that a game or a hypertext can be a fiction without being a narrative (Aa.r.s.eth, 1997, p. 85). For these particular ludologists, a story (or at least a storyworld) can exist without an actual narrative. Narrative is seen as the particular way that discourse unfolds, and it is seen as separate from the plot of a story. However, as I have shown in the previous chapter, story is not as separable from discourse as one might imagine. To aseparatea a story from the medium is to change the story.

The strongest point from the ludology camp is that games represent something new, something that cannot be explained simply with our old methods for studying narratives. Aa.r.s.eth (1997) articulates this point clearly saying that ato claim there is no difference between games and narratives is to ignore essential qualities of both categoriesa (p. 5). He criticizes scholars for ascribing to the aspatiodynamic fallacy where the narrative is not perceived as a presentation of the world but rather as the world itselfa (Aa.r.s.eth, 1997, p. 3). It is easy to see where such criticism comes from when we look at scholars at the other end of the spectrum. The enthusiasm of Janet Murray (1998) for games as narratives extends to games such as Monopoly, which she regards as aan interpretation of capitalism, an enactment of the allures and disappointments of a zero-sum economy in which one gets rich by impoveris.h.i.+ng oneas neighborsa (p. 143). Even Tetris, she says, has a aclearly dramatic contenta (p. 144). While she may have a point that Monopoly or Tetris can be constructed into a story by the gamer or may tap into cultural metanarratives, there is no obvious narration within these games. Murray clearly takes things too far and, in light of this, one can see where the instinct to find a new perspective on games emerges. Not only does she blanketly apply the idea of narrative to games, she does very little to separate different types of games from one another.

Unfortunately, in trying to find a unique lens through which to study games, some scholars have ignored the important role that narrative plays in many games altogether. Along with Aa.r.s.eth (1997), Jesper Juul (2001) and Bernadette Flynn (2004) reject the aspatiodynamic fallacya and argue that games often involve an exploration of a world without involving a narrative structure. Flynnas (2004) article on aGames as Inhabited s.p.a.cesa suggests that games should be seen through an aesthetics of s.p.a.ce, which she states is agrounded in immersive aesthetics, maps, tours, modes of navigation and geometric landscapes,a rather than in narrative aesthetics (p. 54). However, in Flynnas attempt to avoid conflating game and narrative, she makes her own reductive moves. Her argument avoids placing games into the narrative pigeonhole only by ashoehorninga them into a new slota”one of spatial exploration. To consider every aspect of the game as narrative, is indeed to try to fit something expansive in a restrictive and inappropriate structure. Yet, the same holds true for reducing them only to an aesthetic of s.p.a.ce. To recognize that games can fit in both a narrative and a spatial aesthetic is to acknowledge their diverse and complicated nature. Furthermore, the degree to which a spatial versus a narrative aesthetic applies to games depends on the game in question.

Both Jenkins (2002) and Ryan (2005b, 2006) offer possible conciliatory positions in this debate between game and narrative scholars. One of the problems that Jenkins sees with the entire argument is that it deals with games in binary terms, looking only at whether a game is or is not a narrative rather than at what narrative elements might exist in a game. Ryan (2005b) explains that there is a difference between being a narrative and apossessing narrativitya (p 347). A text that possesses narrativity is aproduced with the intent to create a response involving the construction of a storya (Ryan, 2005b, p. 347). Many games, including the TRPG, appear to fall into this category.

While Jenkins (2002) is careful not to equate the storyworld with the actual telling of a narrative, he does see the potential for what he calls aspatial storytelling.a What he means by this is that storyworlds are created in games that either provoke previously known stories or provide the potential for creating new stories. For Jenkins (2002), games are as.p.a.ces ripe with narrative possibility.a Similarly, Ryan (2006) talks of games as amachines for generating storiesa (p. 189). In these more recent studies, we see that the earlier debate suggesting that games must be viewed either through a narratological or a spatial aesthetic falls to the wayside when we think of the way that s.p.a.ces create the potential for narrative experience rather than sticking to a strict structural a.n.a.lysis of narrative forms.

What we have seen throughout this debate on whether or not games should be studied as narratives is a disciplinary and methodological struggle. As new texts emerge, we have been forced to test whether or not our old methods for studying texts are still applicable. Thus, a discussion of traditional narratological definitions, such as that found in Labovas 1972 study, has been warranted. When videogames first came on the scholarly scene, this debate caused a separation between those who wished to create new methods to study them and those who wished to apply and adapt already existing methodology. This split is only now beginning to be reconciled as scholars work to expand both the definitions of narrative and games. Yet, the majority of the discussion of games still revolves around videogames. If we keep the discussion focused only on new games and emerging technologies, it seems we will never get past this continual reevaluation of older methods in the face of new texts. Videogame technology is evolving at a pace that moves much faster than our scholarly debates about it. It seems to me, however, that there is value in looking at the debate not in terms of new technology, but in terms of longer existing genres that may also challenge our methodological views. I thus present the TRPG, rather than videogames, as a test case for the argument surrounding defining games and narrative. Showing that a game nearly as old as Labovas definition can present a challenge to these definitions may very well prove to shake the foundation of narrative and games studies in a way that a more modern critique cannot. It is one thing to say that our definitions of narrative and games must change to account for new technologies; it is another to say that they have never completely accounted for existing ones. The social and rhetorical elements of narratives did not enter the scene with digital technology, but have always been a neglected part of our narrative worlds.

Campaign Settings in D&D.

One clear objection to seeing games as narratives is that games draw on vast s.p.a.ces, storyworlds that players explore with or without an actual story present. With seemingly endless maps of dungeons, to what degree is Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) about an exploration of s.p.a.ce? To what degree is it about creating s.p.a.ces that serve as storyworlds for potential narratives, but not about the narratives themselves? The next section looks in-depth at how worlds are created in D&D during gameplay and by Dungeon Masters (DMs) and game designers. First, I look at spatial exploration during gameplay. I argue that while TRPGs involve a degree of spatial exploration, this aspect is far less important than it is in most CRPGs. The D&D storyworld is filled with unrealized narrative possibilities. Nevertheless, the argument that games should be considered in terms of spatial rather than narrative aesthetics does not hold up when we look at the TRPG.

Jenkins (2002) mentions that before collaborative story development can take place, the DM must create the s.p.a.ce for it. In order to know more about how world building works in D&D, I talked to both the DM of the Sorpraedor campaign and well known game developer, Monte Cook. In particular, I discussed with Cook the way that he developed the Ptolus campaign setting. Rather than a module that is meant to be played in one setting, Ptolus is a published campaign world. It involves the details about the city of Ptolus and the world surrounding it. Furthermore, it involves a set of adventures for players to engage in and non-player characters (NPCs) for players to interact with. Both Sorpraedor and Ptolus are considered campaign settings. In other words, they are settings for the adventures in a D&D campaign to take place in. The major difference between these two worlds is that Sorpraedor was created for a home campaign by one gaming group and DM, while Ptolus has gone on to be published for multiple gaming groups to use.

Sorpraedor, like Ptolus, is based on the rules from the D&D rule books, yet, as a creation, it stands as a text on its own. Scott created multiple maps that visually laid out the world. Much like Earth, Sorpraedor has continents, bodies of water, countries, cities, mountain ranges, etc. The DM must create more detail about the world than he or she conveys in the narrative. However, while the world exists independently from the way the characters and players progress through it, the partic.i.p.ants of TRPGs do influence the development of the world. For example, Scott created a town named Lugyere that had twin brothers as rulers. He knew that that one brother was good and the other was evil. However, it was not until the party decided to visit Lugyere that he fleshed out the motives of the two brothers and their city. Any part of the Sorpraedor world can be fully created as the partic.i.p.ants express an interest in it.

In addition, players may influence parts of the world as they determine the background for their characters. The way that Ptolus evolved as a storyworld is very similar to the way Sorpraedor evolved. Monte Cook explained to me that he created Ptolus as the world for his own home run D&D campaign. Like Scott, Cook added certain elements of the world based on player interest. He explained that one of his players really wanted to create a character with an Arabian sort of background, so Cook incorporated a setting where this was possible in the world of Ptolus (personal communication, June 30, 2009).

The interests of the players and the questions they ask also affect the world in more detailed ways that more directly influence the narrative. For example, the following section of the Blaze Arrow story shows the way the players both explored the spatial environment, but also added details to that environment.

I slide the message down the tube and a whoos.h.i.+ng sound carried it away. I then composed a message to Gateway, aOrcs took Blaze Arrow, 12 dead. Orcs after Skullbash group in the mountains near Barrenstone. We told them to leave humans alone. So far they have complied.a As I dropped this message in the tube, it made a sputtering sound like it had gotten stuck. I looked at David. We decided to send a atesta message to the Black Tower tube asking them to confirm receipt. About three minutes later a note arrived back saying the message was received. I replied that the tube to Gateway seemed not to be working and asked them to forward my message and ask the magistrate to reply directly to me.

While we were waiting for a response, David began examining the machine. He discovered that the label for Gateway was loose. aPerhaps it has been switched,a he suggested. We decided to try a test message through the third unmarked tube. Almost immediately we received a letter back, aMessage received. What status?a I repeated the story once again and told them the tube had been mislabeled. The operator on the other end replied that they had been attempting to connect the tubes to Barrenstone but so far had been unsuccessful. We were of course suspicious as to why the labels had been changeda”that someone was purposely trying to screw up communication.