With graceful fins and cruel sharp teeth, I have waited for years for this moment. Finally my revenge is nigh–the woman who sold me to a circus, once my love, is once more within reach of my ill tended tank. I have just cut a deal, sacrificing myself, to ruin her as she ruined me. As she succumbs before me, she asks me why I am doing this. She was here to save me, to bring me back; she couldn’t protect me but the circus could, just for a while, until she could get me back. And at the game table, I, a normal human, stare at the GM of this game (the masterful Kate Bullock), with tears streaming down my face at the cruelty in this world of pretend. After the game, I am so impressed with her for the intensity of the experience. I need a hug, and I can’t stop talking about the game, it was just so darn good. I can’t wait to play like that again.
I remember a time not so very long ago when I would have been horrified by this experience at the table. Expressing that much vulnerability was a scary and uncomfortable experience, and the emotional work involved in quashing it was intense. For that version of my gaming self, this game would have been a disaster, and yet it’s now the experience I can’t forget in the best possible way. So what makes these experiences possible for me?
- Safety – tears do not necessarily mean stop for me, but some triggers still do.
- Consent/Buy In – everyone at the table needs to be playing for the same experience.
- Trust – I need to know everyone will abide by our agreements.
The Safety Dance
There are many tools for safety in gaming, and I know I still haven’t played with all of them. I play with an X card these days even in games where I am not expecting high levels of emotion, simply because it makes me, the GM, feel safer. I have messed up before, and I have messed up even with the card on the table, but it’s at least a basic net. Lines and veils are the next line of defense, and if you know your triggers and want to avoid them in play, then setting them up before the game is key. We all sometimes play in to unexpected situations, though, discovering things that we didn’t know were going to cause feelings in a bad way, and this is where we come to two other schools of thought that play in to emotional gaming: No One Gets Hurt and I Will Not Abandon You.
The theory behind No One Gets Hurt is that if you start dancing around someone’s triggery spaces, they tell you, and you back off and move on, draw the veil, fast forward, whatever is necessary to get out of that space. The theory behind I Will Not Abandon You is that you agree as a table to push at triggers, maybe intentionally, to experience those emotions, but that no matter what happens at the table, you stay for each other and remain emotionally available.
Yes Means Yes
Okay, consent is important for pretty much everything, and the gaming table is no different. Consent and buy-in in a game work hand in hand for me–do we all consent to have this experience together? Having consented, are we all buying-in to the same scenario, and type of safety? If you’re playing No One Gets Hurt and I’m playing I will Not Abandon You, someone is going to get hurt. Being on the same page and buying-in to the same experience is key to making these games work for everyone.
Trust me, I’m a Gamer
Now I’m sitting at the table. I know how we’re handling the safety in the game; I know we’re all on the same page. I still have to trust the folks at this table, whether these are my friends or people I’m just happening on at a convention, that they will abide by our group decisions about safety and play, and that they will respect me and my emotional output in the game.
I don’t want to have this experience every time I game, nor do I want it at every table I game with. In the same way that many people enjoy haunted houses, scary movies, or intense TV dramas, I like to take my pretend with a side of catharsis that I can revel in when I, personally, feel safe. It’s akin to the ancient Greeks, watching tragedies to indulge their emotions in the same way they indulged food and drink. I am playing to indulge my emotions, safely. Sometimes it’s all about the tragedy . . . and sometimes, I just go back to wanting a comedy.
Do you play high emotional intensity games? Why or why not? What’s your favorite?
A few years ago, I was lucky enough to answer a ‘Meet Up’ message that simply said, ‘let’s play something!’. I liked, and recognised, the slight desperation of a gamer who wanted to get a group together and just play something, no matter what.
What has unfolded is the most emotionally rich game I’ve ever been involved in, and I’ve always tried to immerse myself in my characters’ emotional lives. BUT the deeply emotional elements happen in ‘blue-booking’ sessions – we have a website with all characters on it (PCs and NPCs), and cutscenes between a PC and a small number of NPCs happen here.
One reason for this, is that not everyone at the table is comfortable with expressing these feelings on the fly – their characters have emotionally rich lives, but these are only discussed, not experienced, at the table.
I guess the other reason is to avoid ‘limelighting’ – I don’t have to worry about hogging a scene (and making everyone else spectators) that only involves me and the GM.
It works really well, and while I’d happily bring this stuff to the table, I enjoy the fact that those less willing to do so, still have an outlet for exploration.
As for why? Our memories of the ‘real’ world are all made up of bits and bats anyway, so our memories of things that never happened, in places that don’t exist, to people who aren’t real, are as real to us. I love that I can chat to gamer friends over a pint about these shared, imaginary memories with as much clarity as our ‘real’ lives. Why wouldn’t you want to make these false memories emotionally rich?