Time elasticity in conflicts: part I

A recent trip has spurred a few thoughts on the topic of extended conflicts, yet again. That's probably because I find them to be a powerful idea for a game system, even if often weirdly developed or awkward in its functioning. I particularly don't like the mostly seam-ful transition between extended conflict and free-play or normal conflict (i.e., resolving a conflict in only one roll), as it is framed in most story games (broad generalization, although I'm thinking now mostly about Burning Wheel and The Shadow of Yesterday).

My thesis, briefly, is that a crisis collapses time from an evenly divided continuum, where you count in seconds or any other equally long/short unit: a crisis collapses time into a dramatically organized continuum, where units are no longer equal in length, but instead organized by urgency.

What do I mean by this? When we were waiting by a side of the lane, doing autostop, we were progressively getting more impacient, complaining more and more, inventing some rituals to make a car stop for us. That gradual stress accretion wasn't an evenly spaced thing, in my perception at least, in the sense that the first 10 minutes, for example, weren't as eventful as the 5th 10 minutes of wait. As impatience was piling up, every car passing by became a unique event.

I hope an example will make it more clear, because, as usual, there's an antecedent of this idea in Apocalypse World. The harm clock (or, in general, the danger clock that the game utilizes for handling a threat or crisis escalation) is taken from the famous doomsday clock, a clock that estimated how close humanity was to nuclear apocalypsis, and it very much gauged (gauges!) political crises and human conflict, where things start getting intense as the tipping point nears.

Apocalypse World honors this not only graphically, but in design, because the first 2 segments are inconsequential, the 3rd one marks a point of no return or hard to return from, and the last 3 are when the crisis starts affecting the situation seriously.

This is already brilliant design, but I want to use it as a baseline for general time handling during conflicts. How to? First, the initiation of a conflict, in the sense of a situation that can't be easily solved in a trivial dice roll.

A conflict arises when a skill check, move, or dice roll (or whatchamacallit) fails, and the player expresses his desire to keep aiming for the goal, instead of accepting defeat. In such a moment, that simple situation turns into a conflict: for example, an excursion to gather some wood for the campfire turns into a real issue, as the characters get lost when tempted to go further and further to find what they need. They could've accepted that wood was not to be found nearby, and try some other approach. The escalation to a fully fledged conflict is decided by the players, as in the Shadow of Yesterday.

The conflict itself has no round to round dynamic. You never know whether the conflict will end this turn, or not. You certainly hope that every roll will be the last one, and the game might lure you in by providing an escalating bonus for every subsequent time you try. Blackjack is a nice mechanical simile for this, as you aim for a bigger return knowing that drawing a new card increases your risk of losing it all.

Every time you fail, there's a consequence too: you are deeper into it and can't retreat without a bigger loss. Again, gathering wood for the campfire: the further you're from the camp and the closer the night is, the harder it will be to just come back without nothing (or without enough).

The midnight point in the crisis clock should be made explicit quite soon: if doing autostop or gathering wood, it might mean literally the arrival of the night. Other tipping points might be the first time there's blood involved in a fist fight with a friend, or getting lost, or a storm arriving.

The closer you are to a tipping point, the slower time goes by. When the sunset is near, every 10 minutes might matter. When the police is a few blocks away and you can hear it, every instant of the ongoing fight matters.

A crisis leads to another, which might mean chaining conflicts or develop as a single one. After the night has arrived, getting lost is the next tipping point, or you run out of water, or out of food, etc.

A final note for realism worriers. Crisis is very much, for me, a subjective situation, and time matters more as a perceived thing, influenced by crisis/escalation, than as a "clock" unit. We focus on a situation as things get dangerous and demand increasingly more attention. We zoom in and out as needed, but there's a cost involved for zooming in too often, as there's so much stress we can handle before getting exhausted. It would've been easier to just give up gathering wood, than it was to keep looking for it. 

Here, Blades in the Dark shines: Stress accrues the more you roll dice and burn resources to accomplish something. It works even if the game doesn't care that much about time itself during a roll (interestingly, the game uses an evenly spaced clock to handle crisis situations).

This is also an admonition for classic design and it's desire for rules simplicity. The payback is often framing situations, time-wise, in a weird way regarding the urgency of the in-game situation. Combats that are mechanically very easy, yet take lots of time. Dungeon exploration systems where every hour matter equally, which forces designers to circumvent this issue by overly populating dungeons in an unplausible way. The combat/exploration turn is a remora some OSR games struggle with, one which could be solved without losing that classic touch so many old school games aim for.

Addendum: A friend made me realize the article looks like a proposition for a system, but that proposition just isn't there, and he's right. That'll have to wait for a 2nd part of this article.

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