Cooperative Storytelling

Storytelling in RPGs used to be somewhat antagonistic; it was the players versus the storyteller.  You enter a dungeon, the storyteller/GM/DM tries to kill your character with monsters and traps, and your job was to survive.  If you got the treasure or killed the baddie, you win (though it was never called “winning”).

Tabletop RPGs today still remain very much dependent on a storyteller’s assistance, but it’s rather necessary given the lack of props, visuals, and actual environment in which to operate.  LARPs, however, don’t need to be that way.  We have what we need and if we concentrate on providing a story for each other, we become our own storytellers.

Here are some sample of how cooperative storytelling works in Mütvia and how to get the most out of your experience.

The rules are guidelines.  Play to lose.
(Except for safety rules.  Follow those to the letter.)

Ex.1 : You fell in combat.  You’re alone, you screamed for five minutes, but that time is up so you’re supposed to fall unconscious.  Then you hear your friends looking for you.
Would it tell a better story if your friends heard one more cry from you and just as they came around the corner, you held up that one hand toward them in hope and then fell unconscious?  Yes, it would.  Do it.  Give them that sense of urgency and an “Oh, sh*t!” moment.

Ex. 2:  Your co-cast member just landed a sweet melee strike on you.  Your armor still holds, but you know if your character were real, they’d go down.
Yep.  It was awesome.  Reward them with an awesome conclusion for that swing.  Be a champ because you’re going down like one.  Make it huge.  Gasp for air, clutch that side, grimace in sweat and tears.  Have a blood capsule?  Now’s the time to pop it and spit up that gore.

Ex. 3:  I’m not even sure what the keyword was supposed to be, but I could swear they pointed at me and said my “soul was on fire”.  Is that even a thing?
Dunno.  Is it?  You determine that.  Was it a convincing performance they gave?  Was it some Grade A Quality acting you could swear would have summoned the biggest, baddest swarm of poop demons that want you for breakfast?  Then yeah, give them the satisfaction of a performance well done.  Start screamin’ like a beansidhe, writhe around in pain, and spin around like your world is going to end.  It just did and now you’re the baddest mother f’er around for that wicked counter-performance.

Ex. 4:  That dude walked up to me with two blades and quickly hit me thippity-thap in the torso three times.  I had no armor.  I fall, right?
No.  That player must think this is a boffer LARP or something.  We don’t reward crap performances.  Summon up that fury, feel the weight of your weapon or the Land’s energy rising up through you, and give the command performance you’re here to give.  Gut ’em like a fish.  Then go OOC in a Clarify and politely tell them it’s okay to really roleplay it out next time.

Ex. 5:  I want to replace my Endeavor’s keyword with this awesome incantation and it lasts five seconds but still tells my opponent what’s up.  Cool?
You’re doing it right, grasshopper.  Go lead by example.

It’s okay to be new and lost.  Enjoy it.

If you’re a newcomer and you feel utterly lost in the gigantic world of lore this setting represents, you can immediately get involved in the game within five minutes by doing these things.

• Adopt ignorance as your character’s friend.  So much of what’s going on in Moldev is alien to even the most hardcore of Mütvians.  It’s 100% okay to not know what the hell that thing is or what that thing does, you’ve never had to use it.  Have your character react with fear and stick with others.  Then…
• Ask questions.  Lots of questions.  You’re new, you’re not supposed to know anything.  This game expects and wants you to ask questions.  Your fellow participants also want you to ask questions.  Someone doesn’t answer, move to someone else.  “What the hell is going on here?” is a great question to ask.  “How do we stop X?” is another good one.
• Embrace the danger.  There are no elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, or whatever.  You don’t know what that thing can do, but you hear it’s deadly.  Then again, everything seems deadly.  Embrace the danger and find out.  Conduct experiments, take chances, and risks.

Have an achilles heel.

Choose the more interesting:

A)  I portray a big, powerful character with no weaknesses.
B)  I portray a big personality character with some typical human flaws.

Hint:  Not A.

React to everything.

Someone throws a foam dagger at you, it hits you in the chest.  Choose the more engaging response:

A)  You take the hit and you’re down some armor.  Carry on.
B)  You take the hit, you’re down some armor, and you’ve GOT A FRIGGIN’ SHIV OF SOLID PAIN FROM HELL STICKING OUT OF YOU.

Hint:  Still not A.

Roleplay magical effects.

Someone points a finger at you and says something.  Choose the more meaningful way to use an Endeavor:

A)  “Agony!”
B)  “By the burning blasts of Aryos’ searing light, I reach your inner spirit and call upon it to be consumed in fiery agony!”

Hint:  You guessed it.  And you’re going to act like your face was just seared off with a god’s boomstick of doom.

No between game actions.

Updates are wonderful to read and help develop a character’s interaction in the world for the person writing them.  Yet they also conduct actions that could affect other characters and deny them the chance to interact and be a part of a story.  Even stories of personal growth have society as a partner and Moldev’s society is rather tightly-knit.  You never know what may happen.

In conclusion…

Our presence during game hours means we’re there to tell a story.  Bend the rules if they get in the way of a good story.  Do what needs to be done to entertain others.  We’re all here doing the best we can.

We’re not nerds or geeks.  Those days are over.  We’re artists and actors, roleplayers and real-life crafts people, hobbyists with a passion for what we do.

Screw the rules.  Tell a story instead.