On Rules, Incentives, and Play in TTRPGs

I've fallen into a well. It's been a full week, and I haven't been able to get a new TTRPG out of my head. It's called Girl Frame,¹ and it made me dig into a ton of what I took as core to how TTRPGs function. I, like many TTRPG players, come out of playing DnD. I've watched or listened to a few other systems, tinkered with Pathfinder, and am currently running a Penumbra Citycampaign. For the last year or so I have been actively trying to explore new TTRPGs after finding DnD to not fill what I want out of the hobby, and the prospect of homebrewing to fix the holes is too immense to imagine. However, in doing so I ended up exploring systems that share DNA with DnD, and while they each may have had interesting mechanics and concepts, they still run with a very similar framework.

This framework is the incentive structure of the "level." PCs go out into the world, adventure, and as a result of their exploits gain funny numbers each time they perform certain actions. Then, once their number gets big enough, they level up.² Often gaining new powers at once, somewhat disconnected with what they were doing before. To this end players chase whatever can enable them to level up. It is after all how they get their fun buttons, the path towards 'advancement.' The level is the main mechanical motivation of most RPGs I've encountered.

The question I believe is, what is the point of these incentive systems? Whatever they encourage by its nature becomes the central focus of the players; no matter how much interesting design is placed in other systems, they become tertiary. If there are no reasons to utilize those systems to achieve the primary goals, it is easy for those systems to be left by the wayside. These are the only systems a DM can reliably trust their players to explore and utilize without explicit instruction or encouragement.

Reward Structures and Optimization

The natural reaction to any of these systems, especially in nerd culture, is to immediately attempt to optimize play in them.

This however leads to a situation many find uncomfortable, where the "optimal" play effectively ends up being to shoot first and ask questions never. If the reward of the game comes from violence, most of the game's systems revolve around combat, and roleplay is a messy and challenging-to-navigate space, it is easy to default to the optimal play (i.e. to fight and kill whatever your DM puts in front of you). With the increase in players wanting to play traditionally "evil" species (i.e. orcs, goblins, undead, or kobolds) and examinations of how generalizingothering entire groups of sentient beings as being evil by definition isn't the best look.

One of the responses to this has been to adapt the system, in perhaps the most boring but straightforward way: Simply dole out rewards equivalent rewards for violent (selfish) actions, as peaceful (selfless) actions. This is effective in regards to shoving the conflict between the player's desired action and the optimal one into the same realm once again. You no longer at many tables are sacrificing your XP progression when you spare a camp of goblins and teach them to take up farming and foraging rather than resort to banditry. Yet, this too is an unsatisfactory answer, "Doling out an XP bounty for doing the right thing makes the ethical choice moot." (Siew) It is no longer a question at most tables. If there is a peaceful option, they will go for it, as they will be rewarded just the same as if they killed and stole their way across the world. Optimal play and ethical choices have been merged such that ethical choices are a non-choice at such tables, and instead have become the default mode of play.³

One conclusion that one can come away from this with, is that incentive systems themselves poison the well of the free form RPG. By setting up a reliable way to achieve rewards in the name of theming, you limit the scope of what your game can be. Instead, "we can trust our playing companions to build towards those themes - or let them drift and change in the chaos of play. Anything is better than trying to subtly encourage people like children." (Gearing)

An absolute rejection of incentives though, may be a step too far. After all, players do enjoy them, and despite their potential for degenerate play, we do want to play a gameright? Or, in the words of Jay Dragon, "What does the game offer me that make-believe doesn’t?"

Expressionist Design, & Hypo-diegetic Incentives

How then do we reconcile a desire for systems, yet also acknowledge the structural consequences of incentive systems? In Girl Frame, and expressionist games⁴ like it, rules and structure come not from arbitrary math in a source book, nor DM fiat, but are narratively justified as social pressures upon the characters. The systems themselves chafe against the PCs, intentionally limiting their freedom. To play into the systems or to play against them says something about the PC on a deeper, personal level.

TTRPGs can choose where to place their incentive structures narratively: within the metanarrative, the diegetic narrative, or the hypo-diagetic narrative. DnD and most level systems like it apply it on a meta level. The PCs in the narrative don’t have a concept of the level, let alone how close they are to the next one, however they are nonetheless bound by it. Were the story restructured such that the PCs gained a level each time they were to find a powerful artefact, as interacting with it makes one more powerful, then that would be a diegetic explanation of the character’s growth. A more interesting way, albeit with similar results. As it is a rule in the world akin to physics, there is better in character justification for PCs acting in ways that align with gaining power, as now it is something they can comprehend. However, just as with physics, there is no arguing with it, any chafing against it is a complete rejection of the system wholesale. Hypo-diagetic reward systems are reward systems established by characters or groups within the narrative itself. Placing the level as a reward from an organization within the world allows for characters to chafe against it, but if the organization is not unfriendly or unethical, PCs are unlikely to rebel against this framework either.

In expressionist games, these reward structures are moved into the hypo-narrative layer, and designed to be unethical. By doing so, they frame the question such that "the ethical choice is the difficult choice, precisely because it involves— as it often does, in real life—sacrificing personal growth and gain." (Siew) In doing so, and framing the unethical choices not only as the default, but also obviously unethical, in a way we as an audience are not used to,⁵ expressionist games are able to reengage with the question itself. Will your character do ethical acts, despite the cost to them, on the vague hope that perhaps the person they helped may assist them later, or to stay true to themselves in the face of oppressive systems? Or will they do the easy thing? Fall into line. Do their job. Let the system itself consume them. The tabletop equivalent of the banality of evil. Either way a PC acts in situations like this says more about their internal world than entire characters I've played for months, entire campaigns.

That said, of course, to simply skip over the reward structure by saying "If you play against it, it's really interesting," is a cop out, and applicable to some extent in any system. If your characters in DnD eschew all XP gaining activities, and wander about the world doing random acts of kindness or just interacting with random characters, that would be an interesting story. If nothing else due to the fact that it is an unusual play style. Of course, this is where Girl Framestands out in my (limited) personal experience. To play into or against the reward structure of Girl Frameis to play into the subgenre, "mechsploitation," that it places itself in. In “mechsploitation” the core driving force in the narrative is a violent, authoritarian state that is willing to use human beings as weapons. Dehumanizing them to the point where they aren’t seen as anything more than a weapon in society, yet also needs them to fight their wars for them, so utilizes extreme physical and psychological torment to do so. How each character positions themselves relative to this state is key, as often there is a “handler” (a role in Girl Frameas well), that takes on the responsibility of utilizing the extreme violence onto the individuals under their command. Pair that with the poor pilots who are stuck as human weapons, and have to figure out how they’re going to survive both combat, and the torture of the homefront, and incentives that drive them to compete and fight against their fellow pilots and you have a machine that drama from every angle. That is to say, as a pilot in this subgenre, and in Girl Framethe ethical act is almost certainly to disobey all orders, work in unison with your fellow pilots, and escape from the state with your hyper-expensive death weapons. However, to do that would require trusting one another, (and not being brainwashed) which the state has every reason to keep you from, and utilizes their reward structures to incentivize. Do well on missions, keep each other at arms length, and the torture of everyday life can be lessened. You can get a better bed, some creature comforts, maybe even one day retire and return to “normal” life.

Therefore, making the ethical choice in Girl Frameis meaningful, even taking a choice that isn’t just the least ethical and most selfish one can become key character moments. As an example of expressionist design, it shines with how brutal its hypo-narrative reward structure is. It is purpose built to crush characters and see what is left in their core. What dark parts of a character come out when allowed? What survives the worst of the worst? What do they hold on to when they have nothing left? Who? Of course, not all expressionist games have to be this brutal, or all hypo-narratives this exploitative, but it does act as an extreme example of the power of this kind of design.

Were you to run a traditional DnD game with the setting of Girl Frame, but none of the rules, some of the theming might transfer, but the lack of reward structure would cripple its narrative strengths. After all, the setting of DnD is incredibly mutable, and people have made conversions to every concept under the sun at this point, especially for 5th edition. However, if the players gain “levels” for every few missions, and don’t have incentives to stab each other in the back, there is no world in which these are actually the same kind of thing. To run such a campaign feels inevitably like it would drive towards a more traditional “mecha” story, at best. The story structures that DnD inspires does not align with the one that Girl Frameis purpose built to recreate.

Expressionist games reexamine the purpose reward structures serve in TTRPG design, by forcing the reward system into the narrative itself through the social fabric of the world. Thereby, stripping it out of the realm of the purely abstract. Instead of functioning as a tool to motivate players to partake in the theme or to 'follow through on what we all agreed to do every week,' they act as obstacles on the terrain of the shared world that all players are obliged to navigate on their own terms. Additionally, even if the reward structure of the world isn’t so expressionist by being confining and unethical, by having it be an hypo-diagetic element allows the PCs to interface with it directly. Making them more akin to traditional quests, where accepting or rejecting parts of the system can be part of the texture of the game.

Final notes

I believe there is more to be said here, as in my opinion, having abilities on your character sheet is by itself an incentive to act in accordance to be able to activate them. Nothing here touches on those tinier reward structures, and how they operate in the shared world. However, that is massive scope creep and will probably end up being its own essay.

In regards to D&D and its reward mechanism, it has been argued to be a colonialist framework, incentivizing players to loot and rob from the original inhabitants of the land.

“I think it is more truthful andmore useful NOT to avert one’s eyes from D&D’s colonialism. The fact that going forth into the hinterland to seek treasure and slay monsters is a thing, and fucking fun, tells us valuable things about the shape and psychology of colonialism. Why conquistadors in the past did it; why liberal foreign policy, corporations, and post-colonial societies do it today.” (Siew)

By playing in these systems, with reward mechanisms that are ‘problematic’ or toxic, we can learn a lot about how these mechanisms work in the real world, with first hand experience, except within the safety of our gaming table. Of course, that requires us to grapple with the nuances of it, and probably requires a level of trust between players closer to that expected of Girl Framethan of a usual D&D table, but I digress.

To be clear, if these systems work for you and your table, then do as you will. For me though, these systems are still fun, but they have lost the initial wonder that I had when I entered the hobby. The appeal of a limitless world that I could explore, even codevelop with my friends ground down under the cogs of mechanical optimization. I say this, even as I am by far the most min-maxxer in my group, and probably the worst roleplayer. When I began with the hobby I hoped I would improve, and in some respects I have, but my ability to create compelling worlds or stories collaboratively is not one of them.

Footnotes

1 (Do note, if you look into Girl Frame, assume it has just about every content warning possible. I'm serious.)

2 Though this description best fits XP games, Milestone games are not immune to this either. If there is mutual assumption of after certain plot beats, our characters become more powerful, then players will naturally chase down those plot beats. This I think is part of the reason modern DnD feels the distinct way it does, with most games I've played in having one central story, and perhaps 1 arc for each PC, and we ride it from start to end, aka "railroaded" except from our own incentives rather than necessarily our DMs forcing it upon us.

3 This can lead to even more flattening, as to bring combat back into focus the can make the DM make the villains less and less redeemable. Returning the table to a mode of play where combat is the only viable option.

4 Per Jay Dragon's excellent piece [ The Expressionist Games Manifesto (That frankly, this whole essay is attempting to grapple with): "Expressionist games are negotiated experiences shaped by the unresolvable tension between mechanically-imposed external worlds and passionate inarticulate internal worlds."

5 Audiences at this point are used to mass levels of violence doled out against unnamed, faceless others as part of our media. We are less used to acts of abuse, neglect, or other small but severe and detailed acts of violence against individuals who are named and we have grown to know.

Bibliography

"Against Incentive" by Luke Gearing - https://lukegearing.blot.im/against-incentive

"Don't Incentivize Ethical Behaviour" by Zedeck Siew - https://slowlorispress.com/post/742713305722961920/dont-incentivise-ethical-behaviour

"Rules Are A Cage (and I'm a Puppygirl)" by Jay Dragon - https://possumcreek.medium.com/rules-are-a-cage-and-im-a-puppygirl-69e8d569b2b6

"The Expressionist Games Manifesto" by Jay Dragon - https://possumcreek.medium.com/the-expressionist-games-manifesto-122d8afd1fe2

"Decolonising-D&D" by Zedeck Siew - https://slowlorispress.com/post/742000720927227904/decolonising-dd