Game Design: The Chaoseed Principle

I recently had a bit of an insight into game design.  Perhaps it’s something that other people know about, but I’ve never heard it articulated before.  In any case, it’s important enough to me that I’ve started thinking of it as “the Chaoseed Principle”.

First, let’s think about tabletop RPGs.  Specifically, let’s think about the Lumpley Principle.  To paraphrase Vincent Baker: “A system of rules is the means by which players agree to imagined events during play”.  This leads to a sort of flowchart of actions.

  1. A player proposes that something happens in the game world.
  2. Negotiation occurs with the other players, drawing upon the rules.
  3. The negotiated action is considered to “have actually happened” in the game world.

There are a few interesting things about this flowchart.  For one thing, when I say “player” I could be referring to the “game master” or other similar position that often is found in game rules.  When I say “the negotiated action”, it may turn out to be something entirely different than the proposed action.  It could be that nothing at all happens.

That’s all well and good, and I could talk about the Lumpley Principle for hours.  However, I want to look at a slightly different facet of this subject.  The Lumpley Principle talks about the negotiation, the second and third steps…

…But what about the first step?  How do players decide what actions to take?  Here’s where we get to my little insight.

One responsibility of the system is to suggest actions to the players.

Here, by “system” I’m referring to the “setting”, “flavor text”, “background story” and even “artwork” involved in an RPG release.  Some people might consider that a little too inclusive.  (Perhaps “product” would be better, but for now I’ll stick with “system”.)

I think it’s appropriate to think of the Lumpley Principle as concerning itself with resolving (or heading off) arguments as to “what actually happens” in the game.  But an RPG has to do more than that, it has to suggest actions to the players.  It has to provide seeds of interesting stories.  Sure, you know how to simulate all sorts of actions—but what actions do you take, and why?

D&D suggests you portray a warrior who decks himself out in powerful magic items and engages in elaborate tactical planning.

Ars Magica suggests you follow the story of a wizard in medieval Europe who spends decades training his magical skills and researching specific spells…not to mention scribing and copying arcane tomes.

Call of Cthulhu suggests you experience the adventures of a Lovecraftian protagonist coming up against supernatural forces that drive him insane.

My Life With Master suggests you portray a monster created by a mad scientist, who rebels against his creator but is so wracked with self-loathing that he is driven to suicide.

These are not stories that players might have considered roleplaying a priori.  A group of roleplayers can sit down at a table and play out any story imaginable without any rules.  But it’s like staring at a blank page; The totality of possibility is a difficult thing to grasp.  It helps to have suggestions from the rules, seeds that will sprout into enjoyable stories.

Now let’s pull our gaze back a bit.  The Chaoseed Principle doesn’t only apply to tabletop roleplaying games.  In fact, it can apply to any game.  Final Fantasy VII, for example, suggests you play through a very specific story.  What I find most intriguing are games that provide interesting “seeds” without constraining the action very much.  Spore, or SimCity, or Dwarf Fortress.  Sure, you could sit down and try to draw an alien monster, but Spore gives you body parts and coloring tools to suggest a host of interesting species.

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