Resources for Game Purchase Research

When I hear about a new roleplaying game, board game, or miniatures wargame rules set I turn to several online resources to gather intelligence to better inform my decision whether to purchase a game. In days of yore, before the Internet Age, gamers depended on print magazines, friends, and their Friendly Local Game Store to learn about new games and whether they wanted to purchase them; sometimes the less timid of us discovered new games at conventions. With the vast resources of the internet available everyone -- from publishers and scholars to gaming aficionados and average gamers -- can share their opinions of their favorite, or most hated, games.

Everyone has different criteria when researching and deciding to purchase new games. Some folks bound from one brand-new release to the next (what I call the “new and shiny” syndrome) while others invest themselves in a few games for the long haul; most gamers balance the two extremes. Given the increased production values and the corresponding rising cost of games, making certain gamers know what they’re getting at all levels -- components, content, theme, game play, replay value -- remains paramount.

Research helps gather information gamers can use to evaluate whether a game purchase is right for them. Everyone has their preferred research venues; here are a few of my own:

Publisher Websites: My initial quest for game information often takes me right to the source. Game publishers’ websites often have the expected sales pitch and back-of-the-box sales copy, but also lists of components and high-quality photos of them, artwork previews, and promotional and instructional videos. Many board game publishers include free PDF downloads of the rules to peruse or print out extras for a game. Other free support materials might include additional scenarios and game variants. Beyond the basic information on the game, I can find out if the title is part of an existing or planned game line, what the publisher plans on doing with that line, and whether I’d have interest buying into the extended game or might simply satisfy myself with the initial offering.

Online Gaming Communities: BoardGameGeek.com remains the epitome of a good game community site. It has parallels in the roleplaying and wargaming fields, notably RPG.net and a host of wargaming sites reflecting that aspect of the hobby’s vast diversity. Don’t forget other elated forums, including fan websites, general gaming forums, and even publisher message boards. Readers beware; while it’s important to survey what the gaming community says about a game, sometimes immature opinions often clutter up the threads of intelligent discussion. Discerning buyers can filter through the hasty critics and hateful naysayers, but the noise-to-data ration can be high, overwhelming, and discouraging. Find a well-moderated online community and bookmark it; many also offer resources, rules translations, and other useful materials.

Online Video Features: The access to digital video cameras and sites like YouTube to disseminate videos has enabled everyone -- including game reviewers -- to voice their opinion online. Perhaps the most famous board game review videos remain those by Professor Scott Nicholson at Board Games with Scott. Although Nicholson has since moved on to more interesting game-related academic endeavors, but keeps his archive of video reviews online for interested parties. The award for most entertaining game presentation video goes to Wil Wheaton’s TableTop show on YouTube’s Geek & Sundry channel. Wheaton and his geek-celebrity guests play a new game every episode, primarily board games but also an occasional roleplaying game. The gameplay includes Wheaton’s quick rules summary, slick graphics to help illustrate game concepts, and competitive-geek inspired banter to make for an entertaining yet informative game feature. (I’ve featured TableTop before….) A good internet search can reveal a host of video reviews from from game publishers to average gamers who broadcast their subjective opinions, play experiences, and even “unboxing” reports (where the videographer goes piece-by-piece through a new game).

The phenomenon of games funded by Kickstarter remains quite appealing, with patron backers providing money in advance for production of a yet-to-release game (one that quite often finds its way into the mainstream gaming market). These might seem difficult to gauge beforehand at the backing stage, but internet communities -- from social networking sites, gaming interest sites like GeekDad, and other news and discussion venues -- as well as production promotions and updates from the Kickstarter project creator can help one evaluate whether an interesting game seems worth the purchase price. (I’ve also pondered the Kickstarter phenomenon here….)

The old analog methods of evaluating games before the Internet Age still prove worthwhile if one can find good venues for such face-to-face activities. Gatherings with gaming friends, at home, at clubs, and library events offers the chance to talk about new and interesting finds, check out components first-hand, and try new games with experienced players and newcomers. Friendly Local Game Stores remain good community hubs where one can check out games, ask for recommendations, examine store demo copies, join others in tournaments or open game days, and even find some good deals. (My friendly local game store offers some products at a discount, whether for loyal customers or on certain items, including the “20% off all board games” sale has lasted about two years or so….)

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The Gonzo Questing Journey

In debating which of many projects to develop in the near future I find myself drawn back to The Infinite Cathedral, a system-neutral, medieval fantasy setting consisting of a separate plane of existence with a vast landscape of endless cathedral naves and transepts, with cloisters nestled between them. Some unknown force dumps heroes from their own worlds onto this one with no apparent means of return. Much of it is ruined, though some portions still remain intact, with many far-off locations renovated and re-purposed by the region’s unwilling inhabitants.

 
When I first look at it I envisioned it as a traditional medieval fantasy roleplaying setting with a basic thematic foundation and plenty of room for characters to explore, set out on epic quests, or find grand causes to support with sword and spell. But my recent nighttime fiction reading has helped me look at it from another angle and provided enthusiasm for embarking on a more dynamic course with it. (I read as often as my harried lifestyle allows; I’m lucky if I get half an hour of non-fiction reading at lunchtime and half an hour of fiction right before bed.)

 

I’m almost finished reading Michael Moorcock’s The History of the Runestaff omnibus edition published by White Wolf as Hawkmoon in the 1990s. It includes the four early novels of Dorian Hawkmoon (an aspect of Moorcock’s Eternal Champion): The Jewel In The Skull, The Mad God's Amulet, The Sword Of The Dawn, and The Runestaff. I’ve enjoyed reading Moorcock’s fiction over the years, starting with the Elric stories way back in high school followed by others as acquired over the years (including two great omnibus editions published by White Wolf). Now and then I pick up some Elric tales to re-read. On the surface I’m intrigued by the non-traditional elements of fantasy he creates, the underlying conflict between order and chaos, and the overall concept of an Eternal Champion. Such fare seems wonderfully episodic. In one chapter the hero encounters one adversary/location/ally and resolves that interaction; the next chapter brings new and quite different challenges related to the hero’s overall quest, though sometimes seemingly diverting him from it. One never knows what they’ll encounter next…something within the realm of their experience or something entirely outside of it and quite possibly not even grounded in the setting, including occasional appearances by inter-planar demonic beings and lost futuristic-science artifacts.

Like Moorcock’s other work, the tales of Hawkmoon include what many might call “gonzo” elements: watch towers filled with powerful weapons powered by lost technology; knights with “flame lances” riding flying giant flamingos; magic-tech enabling mind analysis and control; entire kingdoms removed to different dimensions. The folks over at the online Free Merriam-Webster Dictionary define gonzo as “freewheeling or unconventional especially to the point of outrageousness” as well as “bizarre.” Both describe a particular style of fantasy roleplaying campaign where disparate yet fantastic elements dominate the setting from one session to the next. I’m not terribly well-versed in the “gonzo” game genre, though I’ve heard of games and campaigns that might fall into that category (Lamentations of the Flame Princess comes to mind, as well as material on the fascinating Dungeon of Signs blog, but I’m sure there are others). On closer examination, however, this style of seemingly “gonzo” storytelling has its roots in classical and contemporary fiction in an approach that might serve to fuel my enthusiasm and inspiration for The Infinite Cathedral.

This style of storytelling hearkens back to that earliest piece of adventure fiction, Homer’s Odyssey, in which the hero and his faithful companions undertake an arduous ocean voyage filled with bizarre encounters, all while addressing an overarching story (Ulysses’ quest to return home). Each episode presents a new encounter intended as a challenge from some fantastic adversary or bizarre situation. A more modern example comes from the classic Star Trek television series. On its five-year exploration mission the U.S.S. Enterprise wanders across the galaxy encountering one challenge after the next. Each episode brings new worlds to explore, mysteries to solve, hazards to negotiate, and enemies to confront. Moorcock’s work embraces this potentially “gonzo” tradition: a setting where the heroes encounter disparate and often quite bizarre elements within their genre setting each episode.

The Infinite Cathedral offers a similar potential for a “gonzo” game campaign. It’s a place where anything can happen within the minimal medieval fantasy setting foundations. Several givens exist -- the medieval nature of society and technology, the mostly ruined cathedral/cloister architecture of the terrain, the absence of gods, and the struggle between seeking a means of escape or resigning oneself to their captive fate on this dimension. Everyone deposited on this godless plane of existence makes a choice: seek a means of returning home even though none seem to exist (despite many promising rumors; or relinquish the quest, settle down in an enclave, and make a name for oneself here. One adventure might focus on defending a small village against an overwhelming enemy while the next might send them on a quest for a pseudo-science magical device with hideously devastating powers.

I’ll freely admit elements of this style of campaigning make me uneasy. The “gonzo” aspects lend themselves to unpredictability and a seeming lack of setting continuity, although many might argue a world dominated by disparate gonzo elements constitutes setting continuity unto itself. I’m also a little intimidated by the exploration quest theme, what many call a “sandbox” campaign in which the overall direction depends on the players’ interest in wandering through the setting rather than the gamemaster’s emphasis on their involvement in a focused meta-plot. Like my historical game setting work in Pulp Egypt and Heroes of Rura-Tonga, much of The Infinite Cathedral setting initially looks fairly normal on the surface -- ruined cathedral, enclaves of survivors eking out a living, standard medieval fantasy monsters lurking in the subterranean crypts -- but as heroes explore they uncover subtle sinister elements: fellow travelers from other dimensions with disturbing objectives and unfathomable powers; enclaves with secret agendas; monsters that look familiar but function quite differently.

I don’t fancy myself a fan of either “sandbox” game campaigns or gonzo-style settings. I’m more a traditional medievalist when it comes to fantasy roleplaying games. But approaching The Infinite Cathedral with an eye toward a “gonzo sandbox” campaign -- within the defined parameters of the basic setting I’ve already devised -- might help fuel my enthusiasm and provide more diversified inspiration for the project. I think I need to step out of my stodgy old comfort zone and explore this….

The Exposure Explosion: 30 Years Later

The world was quite different 30 years ago when I first explored the enthralling new hobby of roleplaying games. It was what some folks might call the “Golden Age of Roleplaying” (the early 1980s), when a handful of publishers dominated the market, everyone had played some iteration of Dungeons & Dragons, and any “real” gamer got all his gaming news and inspiration from Dragon Magazine. In the intervening years, gamers and their hobby went from oddball to mainstream.

I don’t mean to delve into a comedy monologue of “When I was a kid, we had to hike 12 miles to school each way…uphill…in the snow,” but I hope I can illustrate some of the differences in how gamers discovered and learned about the hobby, how they acquired new materials, and how they interacted as a limited “community.” Looking back often gives us a sense of appreciation for where we stand and what we have today; perhaps it may challenge us, too, in looking toward the future in improving our hobby and community.

A Gathering of Geeks

Getting involved in the roleplaying game hobby back then required a predilection for geeky pursuits: fantasy and science fiction novels; video games in all their blocky, nascent glory; comic books; film and television, just beginning to delve into the realm of the fantastic and futuristic. These prerequisite interests sometimes brought one in contact with others who shared their geeky pursuits…and thus ideas were shared and communities -- however small -- flourished.

In those days people of a gaming disposition sometimes stumbled into the hobby through indirect paths. Some noticed full-page advertisements for the Dungeons & Dragons game (or TSR’s Dungeon board game) in the pages of magazines for young people. Occasionally such periodicals even profiled the game as a new form of teen entertainment. If one’s habits brought them to the local hobby store (in my case a place to find balsa gliders, interesting toys, and model railroad accessories), they might spot a small yet growing display dedicated to the books, boxes, and minis depicting fantastic worlds and tempting one to engage in fascinating adventures. Sometimes people encountered others already immersed in roleplaying games: neighborhood kids, classmates, or even those involved in a D&D club at their school (a rare and often controversial organization). One’s involvement in roleplaying games wasn’t a source of pride but was a mark of awkwardness, the sign of someone who didn’t fit in with the average school kid whose extra-curricular life centered on sports, school musicals, or other acceptable pursuits.

My Experience

I won’t say my own experience was typical, but it demonstrates some of the realities of becoming a gaming geek in those days. I was almost out of junior high school when, while hanging out with some neighborhood kids, I watched them play Basic Dungeons & Dragons with module B2 The Keep on the Borderlands; it inspired me to create my own game along a similar vein (what eventually became Creatures & Caverns) before immersing myself into the officially published roleplaying game hobby.

My parents noticed my interest in these gaming pursuits and purchased the Basic D&D boxed set for me as an Easter gift. I purchased the Expert D&D set with my allowance money and spent a wondrous “summer of D&D” before entering high school. The local hobby store -- Branchville Hobby, about which I’ve reminisced before -- had an adequate display of products for the growing roleplaying game hobby, and it was there I discovered other diversions in the adventure gaming vein: Avalon Hill wargames, metal miniatures and paint sets, gaming magazines, and a growing selection of products from TSR, GDW, Steve Jackson Games, and other game companies.

When I started high school I discovered several D&D players rode my bus. They were an odd, likeable bunch, the kind you find on a school bus, with lots of witty and not-so-witty repartee, put-downs, and an occasional D&D-themed discussion. I didn’t fit in much with them, but being the naïve freshman I was, I lingered on their every word about their involvement with D&D and other similar pursuits. I regret never having played a game with them, but, aside from our enjoyment of gaming and other geeky interests, we had little in common. I remember them fondly nonetheless because they affirmed that I wasn’t alone or abnormal in my strange devotion to roleplaying games.

Gaming in high school ebbed and flowed in balance with my academic priorities, which seemed overwhelming at times. After-school time brought neighborhood kids to the house where we rolled up characters, ran encounters, played board games (particularly those published in the pages of the late, lamented Dragon Magazine), and even began creating our own board, card, and roleplaying games. I used rare free time during the school day playing roleplaying and board games of my own design with like-minded classmates. Summers brought occasional game gatherings with friends in town. I attended my first gaming convention, PointCon VIII at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, which I discovered listed in “Convention Calendar” listing of Dragon Magazine. Gamers met each other more by engaging each other’s geeky interests and channeling that toward games, though we certainly enjoyed shared tastes in movies, television shows, novels, and comics.

Acceptability & Interaction Today

Today society’s overall acceptance (and in some cases celebration) of all things geeky and the ease of interaction the internet provides make discovering roleplaying games far easier than 30 years ago.

Almost 40 years since its first publication Dungeons & Dragons -- and to a lesser extent the entire roleplaying game hobby -- has passed into the comfortable vernacular of American popular culture. Despite, or perhaps because of, years of scrutiny and persecution by fundamentalists and alarmists who typically target new trends and youthful diversions as the reason for society’s ills (video games, television, comic books), roleplaying games have evolved from embarrassingly dweeby butt of sitcom and comedy show jokes to the focus of mainstream media comprehended by most of today’s adult and youth audiences. The prevalence of fantasy and science fiction television shows and films has helped this, though the proliferation of computer-generated images for media aided that progression. Geeky pursuits in general have found general acceptance in today’s society thanks in great part to extended media exposure and internet communities. 

Certainly the internet has played an equally important part in helping roleplaying games -- and the broad spectrum of adventure games, from “Euro” board games to miniature wargames -- find a larger audience. The internet has enabled people across the vast spectrum of interests to more easily find like-minded individuals and interact with them on a regular basis, more so than face-to-face interaction would allow. Geek culture in particular has taken advantage of that since so many pursuing such interests have aptitude and affinity for computers and digital media.

The internet offers gamers numerous means to engage their roleplaying game interests with participants in a vast internet community. Gamers can share information, from opinions and news to supplements and adventures. They can discuss issues in gaming on numerous game-related forums. Gamers can even gather to play online via Google+ Hangouts and other applications. An internet search can summon information on local and regional conventions, game stores, and community gaming events. Professional publishers, online communities, and independent creators enabled through technology (word processing, layout, graphic design, internet) bring their own vision to publication and disseminate it among those interested in the hobby; where gamers used to wait for the latest release of their favorite game to show up in the local hobby or game store, now the market is flooded with product across a broad spectrum of adventure gaming interests one can order, usually at a discount, immediately upon release from manufacturers or online distributors.

Despite the prevalence of online interaction, or perhaps because of it, brick-and-mortar game stores have evolved into more than simple retail outlets, but community hubs for the hobbies they serve. Good “friendly local game stores” -- the ones that survive more than a few year and have a vibrant, involved customer base -- offer a physical space and supportive atmosphere where gamers can gather to play, hang out, and immerse themselves in their hobby. I’m proud that I can think of three in Virginia that offer well-organized retail space, a gathering space for in-store games, and busy schedules for gamers including club game meetings, tournament events, swap meets, and other regular gatherings. The digital, internet revolution has not only enabled online interaction but enhanced face-to-face gaming.

My Experience Today

Though my adult life contains many responsibilities limiting the time I devote to gaming, I still remain active thanks to the magic of the internet. I share my creative, game-related ideas weekly across two blogs. I can self-publish game material via PDFs available on DriveThruRPG.com and promote my gaming activities on the Griffon Publishing Studio website. Social media offers a means to promote my professional materials to a broad audience. I’ve engaged in numerous discussions in forums and on Google+ about gaming topics related to my interests, and even tried my hand at running a game in Hangouts. Company websites often provide PDF rules to games I’m considering purchasing. Internet searches and specialized communities like BoardGameGeek.com provide reviews and additional information about games I own or would like to buy. I can seek out new area conventions and game stores online, check out their web presence, and plan expeditions to experience their offerings firsthand.

Electronic interaction on the internet has also led to opportunities for face-to-face gaming. After reading about a local library teen gaming program online, I e-mailed the librarian running the events and volunteered at monthly events for a year. I’ve coordinated with area gamers online to organize one-shot gaming sessions in person. I discovered area conventions online, e-mailed organizers, and volunteered to run games. The internet has even made the casual gaming afternoon much easier to organize; rather than getting on the telephone and making numerous calls to friends inviting them over for gaming, I simply write one e-mail, insert all the relevant addresses, and hit “send.”

All these activities would have been far more cumbersome 30 years ago when we lacked the technology and the general digital access to the internet that enables such extensive interaction. The internet connection has supplanted the telephone, letter, and magazine in disseminating information and facilitating the birth and success of communities. Despite my old-fogey tendencies to stick with tried-and-true technology, I look forward to the advancements the internet age offers gamers in the coming years.

Adapting Two Game Elements

I’m working on the third iteration of a Battle of Britian-themed board game and examining two mechanics from other games I’m looking to use in modified form. I’ve toyed with the game for a few years now, tentatively titled Hell’s Corner for the region of southeastern England that bore the brunt of the Luftwaffe assaults in the summer of 1940, when the Germans sought to wear down the RAF in preparation for its cross-channel invasion, Operation Sealion.

At first I envisioned a two-player card game where one side played the Royal Air Force and the other played the Luftwaffe forces; this version focused on deploying cards and rolling dice based on the strength of attackers and defenders. I quickly set the head-to-head play model aside in favor of a cooperative game in which one to four players each commanded an RAF sector, intercepting attacks from a Luftwaffe deck and protecting local targets, hoping to last long enough for the Germans to lose interest (i.e., run through the deck once or twice). While pursuing the cooperative game play I dropped the die-rolling in favor of a seemingly simpler system in which defending units cancelled attacks, with any Luftwaffe squadrons that weren’t intercepted (or stopped by anti-aircraft emplacements) dealing damage against targets. I encountered balance issues as well as a lack of tension, which was limited to the revelation of Luftwaffe squadrons randomly drawn from the deck (or the cancellation of attacks for a turn by a “Bad Weather” card, enabling the player a turn of reprieve to effect repairs and redeploy forces).

Now I’m re-examining the game with several changes in mind: implementing a new attack resolution system, converting the card format to tiles, including a player mat to organize locations and squadrons deployed and track incoming Luftwaffe squadrons to intercept. I’m still wedded to the number and composition of the pieces, as I originally based them on historical elements (numbers of squadrons, targets, radar installations, etc.), and hope to retain that feature; but overall I’m seeking to redefine how locations, targets, attackers, and defenders interact.

Graphic Damage Tally

The first element I’m adapting is more of a graphic design notation than an actual game mechanic. Since each tile in Hell’s Corner can withstand three hits before it’s destroyed -- radar installations, port and factory targets, RAF and Luftwaffe squadrons, airfields and anti-aircraft emplacements -- I wanted an intuitive and easy way to note how much damage each took. In earlier playtests I’d set cards on their sides and then upside down to show they’d taken one or two hits respectively. Aside from the oblong cards making this somewhat awkward, it lacked a certain graphic reminder on the piece itself.

Enter Columbia Games’ “wooden block” wargames. I’ve always known about them but didn’t quite understand the specifics until I watched the video for the Napoleon wargame Kickstarter campaign (a game that piqued my marginal interest in the period and board-wargaming format, but with too high a price tag for the basic purchase of the game). I’ve always liked the games’ “fog of war” concept of concealing troop composition and strength on upright block pieces, but never realized the pieces could rotate (and still stand upright) when damaged, displaying the current hits or damage-modified stats on the upright orientation. I’m looking to include a graphic element on Hell’s Corner pieces -- one and two damage “pips” along two edges -- to better track damage by turning the chit each time it sustains a hit. I’m not sure I’ll lower the attack strength of damaged units, but we’ll see how this implements in practical terms.

Dice Pool Results

I’m returning to a die-roll resolution for combat in Hell’s Corner, but don’t want to rehash the separate rolls for each side in confrontations. Instead I’m having players roll die pools representing the strength of Luftwaffe squadrons, yet reading results differently: 1-2 the squad takes a hit (from flak emplacements or anti-aircraft measures guarding the target); 3-4 the squad spends time evading British countermeasures with no effect (or possibly scores a hit on any intercepting RAF squadrons); and 5-6 scoring a hit on the target. Each die counts as one result, so a squad with a strength of 2 could easily roll two hits, sustain two points of damage, or have any combination of the three results. Intercepting squadrons and flak emplacements automatically inflict one hit, though I’ve not yet decided if the hit simply damages the Luftwaffe squadron or converts one of its dice to a hit, therefore eliminating the possibility of rolling a successful attack.

This development emerged from dabbling with Steve Jackson Games’ “press-your-luck” games Zombie Dice and Dino Hunt Dice, where results indicate a success (eating brains or capturing dinos), a neutral (victims running, dinos hiding in the jungle), or harmful failure (shotgun blast, dino stomp). The concept takes a twist on interpreting dice results not as numerical values totaled, but as symbolic successes and failures; and not summed as an aggregate of positive, negative, and neutral, either, like Fudgeor FATE dice, but as individual results, such as one positive, neutral, or negative per die, each of which having an effect on game play (well, not the neutral, of course).

Other Revisions

The latest iteration of Hell’s Corner requires some extra revision and reformatting. Cards require conversion to a smaller tile format, including implementation of the “hit pips” as mentioned above and a re-design of the placeholder graphics (much as I’d love to have the resources and contacts to use actual Royal Air Force archival photos…). I’m developing a one-sheet player mat with spaces for locations and RAF squadron tiles in play, an area to organize and intercept incoming Luftwaffe units, and arrows to show which targets bomber squadrons attack. The game seems ideal for cooperative or solitaire play, though I’m fiddling with mechanics determining how long the game lasts (measured in how many times the German tiles are recycled after attacks) and when the infamous mass assault of “Eagle Day” (“Adlertag”) occurs. We’ll see how this falls together and then send it off for playtesters to put it through its paces.