The Ometon's Secret (Pt.3)
(This is a continuation of a rant and the conclusion of a series.)
I hate RPs.
And I mean it, too. I completely and utterly detest with every fiber of my being what modern humanity considers role playing in every conceivable respect. This is not just an opinion of mine, but rather an abhorring conviction such that I'll extend this guttural, dank emotion to any defender.
And I fully understand that I shall anger many with this declaration, but I only make it with good reason.
I play Dungeons and Dragons. I played a lot of non-console RPGs. I know what role playing actually is. Lo twenty years ago when I first gained access to the internet (editing this from the future when it originally said ten), I was invited into a chatroom where some people I had met were role playing. They began to say things. Some of those things were in character. However, they not only acted for their own characters, but also for what would traditionally be non-player characters. I asked which one was supposed to be the dungeon master or the game master, a question to which they took severe aversion since I did not first announce that I was going out of character, although I was never even in character.
I wasn't even in whatever it was they were doing; it wasn't a game, like any role playing of which I normally took part, and it wasn't a story, either. It was simply a bunch of people -- not really writing as much as they are making words, describing things for really no particular reason. Events are not occurring in any enjoyable sequence, and I do not see why they would feel likewise writing them.
It was much less of a shared story or continuity than it was a bunch of people, all telling their own stories at the same time. There was little interaction between them -- if at all -- and even then, it was the most superficial and inconsequential acknowledgement that seemed to be done for no other reason than to confirm that these stories did, in fact, take place within the same fictional universe.
Already, me and RPs got off on the wrong foot. I saw no reason for this; there was no posterity for these actions for which there was no log, and I cannot imagine that anyone would want to reread them, anyway. There was no ruling force or any rules at all, as far as I could see, and anyone could do anything at anytime. There was no surprise, as everyone had complete control of every situation. Heck, they themselves instigated every situation. Obviously, they would always triumph, good would prevail over evil, and the ever-so-static status quo would keep its flat, boring keel. It was worse than boring: it was pointless, and if it were not talentless, it would simply be a waste of it.
Little did I know that these things could actually get worse.
I had been an active collaborative writer for quite some time. It was one of my favorite pastimes online. It was an activity which asked for participation, not demanded it, thus the interactive experience could be partaken without taking every moment. I was free to do anything else I wanted with my time, devoting as much time as I felt toward whatever current story was going strong.
'Twas the final collaborative story on my first message board where I noticed something was amiss. A new brood of members were writing in a very peculiar fashion. While everyone else was weaving an interesting story, as we had done so many times before for an interactive story, these others were describing little asides: The setting seemed to be the same, but no elements of the actual story were present in any of their writing. New characters were doing new things completely unrelated to the previous posts. There were complete breaks in the storyline, constituting a non sequitur in every sense of the term.
Since it was a comedy, and those characters were contributing nothing, they were thrown into the story -- the actual story -- and usually suffered a horrible fate just so they would be over with. It may sound cruel, but it had happened numerous times before whenever an author would try to add a near-identical doofus archetype -- a type which was already well established in the forefront of the tale. As one can imagine, the authors of these pointless segments were none too happy with their treatment. They cried foul and said they had a right to write for a story in such a counterintuitive fashion; after all, they were role playing.
Pick up a book. Any book will do. You can even grab a short story from anyplace. Now read. You'll see a flow of events that happen in a particular order. Sure, there may be flashback or, in off instances, time travel, but the sequence makes logical sense. You can read and understand what is going on because it was written that way. That is because it is a story.
Now look at an RP. Have you ever seen a book written like any of those? The one you just picked up sure didn't look that way. The same situations are described multiple times from multiple perspectives -- and in short bursts, at that, to ad the nauseum of that effect in a hurry. Events occur in a seemingly random order -- mostly because the participating authors drop by in that very way. Perspective changes constantly, and more importantly, no character can interact with another. The most they can do is set up for something -- typically being as sure a thing as possible -- and then patiently sit on their thumb to see what over-the-top way the other character is going to respond. And forget about dialog: that driving force can only exist between characters that fall under the same author umbrella. RPs are a wash-rinse-repeat cycle of describing -- often re-describing -- the environment, heaps of fluff and introspection, followed by a little bit of action and some sad excuse as to why the assumably immediate response doesn't actually occur in a logical story flow.
What does this have to do with anything? Why did I tell you that I enjoy writing, that most writing sucked, and then that role plays suck? Not every writer who RPs is horrible, right?
It is possible. But moreover, it concerns the mentality of RPs: control. These authors want complete control over their elements -- their characters and their destinies. They do not want to write for a story, but propagate some loose, over-inflated representation of themself through a heap of different settings but truly all the same story. It does not matter who or what they ever encounter or go against; their destiny is already in the author's mind, and although the surroundings may inspire new direction, they will never be the change. Why? Because the author creates the surroundings, and what they surround themself with is a fantastical barrier which prevents any other author from touching their work.
RPs are typically done with other people. So strange, then, that they are really all writing their own story; they just happen to be doing it in the same place. They cannot even wander so far out of their bubble to attempt to develop an idea not of their own creation. Maybe it is all so that they can guarantee that someone else will actually read their crude, vainglorious scrawlings. It obviously will not be for merit alone. Moreover, a compiled role play cannot be reread, or at least reread as a story, for it is not a story. Perhaps if written just thusly, every one of a single author's takes can be chained together, one post after the other, experiencing the story from a single perspective. So much is lost, then, as so much of what should be a story by every other player is simply abandoned. Just try to go through The Coliseum RP in the Rainbow Resort forums -- link not provided for my continued sanity. Better yet, jump to the end pages. So many different perspectives, so many shifts and jumps, so little logic, and most importantly, so little reason.
The delicate little flowers need protecting, however. No one wants their creations to be put at the mercy of other authors. Of course, no author can write for the sake of writing; they can only create the most perfect beings who are already the ultimate before letter one on the page. No one wants to let a living, breathing, and truly interactive creation grow right before their eyes. They only want a charted course, they only want to be protected, they only want to shy away from any possible criticism and all the evils of the real world. They want to play with others inside of a big plastic bubble; they can see everyone around them, but can't do a blutty thing about it. Safe and neat and boring.
And this is just writing we are talking about. Writing. Hitting a keyboard with your fingertips.
Styles can evolve, wits can sharpen, and creative juices can flow from unexpected twists and turns. Every author can drag a story to unexpected places because the future is made only as the present is read: Writing for the sake of writing, not simply describing the grandiose and inevitable fate of a lone untouchable -- a fate shaped when that character was.
If you want to write a novel, go ahead. Me, I don't have the time for that. I like writing, and can do so easily in bits and pieces. I like writing stories and weaving tales. I like trying different styles, doing different things, and looking at the creative process from every conceivable angle.
Maybe you do not. Maybe you like RPs. They are your comfort zone full of comfort zones. Heck, maybe you like being what I would describe as boring. Maybe you like never taking a chance on something that doesn't even have consequences.
If maybe, then this feature definitely isn't for you. I made it for writers: good writers, new writers, improving writers, writers who just want a fun way to pass some time. The faster the flow, the better. These are not masterpieces to be written in an hour or so. No plot holes is about the biggest request we can make.
I've given my reasons. From what I know about writers online, these sorts of things bomb. Badly. This is the first time I've had access to such a large audience, however. Maybe this feature will take, and maybe it will fail miserably. I gotta try, tho'. Everyone can write, but so few will, and so many fewer will do it in such an uncontrollable environment. This thing could be gone tomorrow -- burned to the ground without a trace, but wouldn't it be great if it could go on?