THE O.A.D. epiphany

Chekhov's gun, author intent, and turkey dinner

Hail, mighty Runehammer reader, and well met. In this issue of the Mainframe, I'd like to relay my first experience with the widely know Pathfinder group called Order of the Amber Die. I clocked about 27 table hours in 3 days, a neophite at best in their ranks, and it's time to document those never-the-first-time-again impressions and thoughts.

For starters, if you don't know the Order, they are a long-time group, starting their quests in '87, with multiple generations of members, playing every form of ttrpg imaginable from convention tournaments to basement campaigns and by-the-letter Pathfinder adventure paths. When I was invited by the founder to join the all-dwarf SKY SCIONS/HIGH HELM campaign, I jumped. These guys are legit, and 100% backed by Paizo. They play in a marathon format, going for maximum immersion and table time in 3-day bursts. Let's go.

I snapped this pic while we were playing. OAD brings the table dressings in full force.

Those are my notes in the foreground.

I'm not writing to retell the events that transpired as we explored the city of High Helm. Suffice it to say we laughed, we cried, we role played, we killed lizard men. It's the afterwards-realizations that I want to talk about, and how they can inform YOUR game.

1: CHEKHOV'S GUN

If you're not familiar with the principle of narrative efficiency, it simply posits that if a thing appears in a scene, it must serve some narrative function. This principle often guides the tabletop player to seek the McGuffin or story-purpose of a detail or turn of events in a session or encounter. "We must be hearing rumors about this for a reason," or "these witches don't feel random, there must be some bigger clue here."

This mindset has always guided me as a player: see intent or meta-game cues, role play into them, and seek the deeper goals and challenges thusly! Well, here's the kicker, my dear reader, in the AMBER DIE sessions a few weeks back, there was no such McGuffin!

I can't overstate how crazy this seemed to me at first. I kept grinding my brain against imagined mysteries and conspiracies that didn't exist. I assumed I was missing 'it' as we moved from encounter to encounter. My fellow players started to notice I was in cognitive overload trying to see 'what we're missing.' When the marathon was over, and I met with founder Adam for a beer, it truly dawned on me... there was no 'it' to find! We were simply playing encounters, existing in the adventure path, helping townsfolk and exploring depths in episodic pockets. "What?!"

This blew my mind. More importantly, it revealed to me how deeply entrenched in my own play style and assumptions I was. This was the kick to the head, "you can just play encounters to feed the slow burn of a campaign space... there is no campaign endgame in the first few sessions... when one is fishing, focus on fishing."

At first, I was aghast. The more I've thought about it, though, the long game of this approach is all-too-overdue at my table. There's always something new to learn.

THESIS: Let your game breathe. Every detail doesn't need to 'show up later' to make epic reveals, callbacks, and webs of clues to the panultimate moments.

The room was fully dressed in cavern attire for our all-dwarf party.

Does extreme immersion affect gameplay? I was about to find out.

2: THE RAZOR-SHARP BLADE OF AUTHOR INTENT

The Order of the Amber Die plays in a very specific milieu: to-the-letter playthroughs of Paizo adventure paths. I saw this as admirable and interesting, considering the endlessly-emergent, genre-bending, world-blending sagas of my own campaigns. The thing is, I still didn't understand the exact form this would take, and the bedrock of my own play style it would rattle.

OAD plays with a laser-tight focus to fully embody, experience, uplift, and PROVE the author intent in a Pathfinder adventure path. Yes, PROVE is in capital letters here for a reason. This operative word spun me out at first, but when you see it in its own context, with its own merits, it's quite interesting.

In most role playing, creativity, freedom, inventiveness, left field ideas and the like are the gold coin of the realm. The classic idea "can I topple a pillar to kill all of these lizard men in one shot?" is always rewarded, when the dice agree, and told of in legend. Not here! Proving the merit and intent of an adventure, as it is written, means honoring the guidelines, checking the math, playing things as they exist on the page... almost a quality-assurance mindset. I, like you, thought this to be madness at first. What about my creative role play? What about my own redemptions, left-field multiclass concepts, and suboptimal strategic choices? I was in uncharted territory.

After a few weeks to process it all, and a long night of talking over mugs with Adam, the Order's founder, I see beauty in this razor... a blade to cut your actions against: do my actions prove, uplift, or fully 'test' the author's intent, or am I heading off the page? Coloring in the lines has never been my core skill, but when the Order plays, it's like training nijitsu: you don't just make up your own ninja moves... you train as the sensei prescribes.

After only one marathon with these guys, I can see why they hold their heads so high... they are quite serious. They want to hold the highest standard of author intent possible. They keep a professional tone with a recreational hobby... it's wild, and very healthy for the habit-entrenched hobbyist to consider.

THESIS: Playing for author intent is a skill-expanding exercise for any hobbyist.

3: Zen Mind, Guest Mind

Have you ever gone to a holiday dinner with someone else's family? Maybe a new friend, budding romance, or cordial event? You'll be bombarded with discomforts, odd moments and (hopefully) best manners. This funny feeling is the 'guest mind.'

As game masters, especially the lifers out there, we are usually the host. This is OUR game, OUR Table, etcetera. I've been outspoken over the years that being a player is the key to being a good GM, but I'm going to extend that here and now: being a guest is key to being a host.

During my 3 days with OAD, I was thrilled, surprised, and excited to roll dice. The immersion was great, the players dedicated, the GM infinite. I was also weirded out a bit! What is this format? Why can't I X while that person does Y? How are they hearing through this cross-talk? I was too busy COMPARING what I was doing to what I had done. This is not zen mind, guest mind. To be the zen guest, we must set aside all we are used to and enter flow with new people in new ways. Yeah, it's gonna be weird, that's how you know the magic is happening, and you're growing as a player.

THESIS: Being a guest, a newcomer, and outsider, a dabbler, in a group who has played years together is a great way to see new perspectives and grow as a hobbyist.

I'm so grateful to OAD for letting me in their illustrious clubhouse. This is just the beginning. Now get out there and stretch your legs.

I'm not going to spoil too many photos of the event, as that's OAD's bread and butter. For now, here's their logo.. follow their exploits on socials and Paizo.com. Cheers.