The Centrality Of The World
The Hobby Is Not About You
The hobby of the Fantastic Adventure Game is a hobby of wargame campaigning. It is a hobby whose key appeal is that of the Fantasy of Agency, which is what wargaming has as its focus; even in its origin of replaying historical battles, the question is “Can you do better than the men who did it?” which requires exercising agency.
As the reconstruction of this hobby from the misshapen cargo cult it degenerated into continues, the image of what this hobby is takes shape. We are seeing that this hobby is not built around small groups playing by themselves in isolated games, but instead it is built around local institutions—Clubhouses—where multiple groups (which are supplemented by solo players) playing together on the same map in an interactive way.
We see that this hobby is built around the interaction of Big and Small scale actions, where multiple independent actors operate under a Fog of War in pursuit of specific objectives until one party wins or every party loses, and that actions on one scale can and do affect what can be done on the other. One day it’s a battle between armies, and on the next it’s a delve into an underground ruin seeking some treasure rumored to be there.
We see that this hobby is built around the oscillation Diffusion (where parties split apart pursuing their objectives) and Convergence (where two or more cross paths and come into a Win-Lose scenario over a Point of Interest). One week players send in the Referee Orders, and the next two of them are set up for a sit-down because their mans are going after the same thing at the same time and now everyone wants a piece of the action.
That’s a lot of action. That’s a lot of parties. That’s a lot of things going on, all the time, all over the place. In the mind of a Conventional Play cargo cultist all of this looks a bit much, but to the hobbyist well:
The source of the cargo cult’s confusion is simple: “Where’s the story?”
The supposition, epitomized by folks like the Critical Role crew, is that this is a narrative medium of group improvised storytelling and so narrative tropes, norms, and practices apply. They don’t.
Wargaming, as befits its roots in reality—in History—is not about that at all.
This hobby is not about your mans, and it’s not about you either. This hobby is about the milieu itself, and what happens within it; nothing more, and nothing less. The dice could not care less about you, or your mans, or anything else; they are as Conan’s own Crom, and therefore you have to learn to suck it up when they go against you and that goes for those running the game as much as for those playing it.
This is why you cannot be attached to any man; they can die, and die in the most pathetic manner, at any time without warning. This is why you cannot tolerate a Forever Referee either; a campaign needs multiple Referees, especially once the Clubhouse gets to a place between 10 and 20% of the way to Dunbar’s Number. This is why all of these old practices actually work to strengthen the experience of the game, much to the consternation of naysayers.
This is why the Clubhouse was the missing piece that brings it all together: it was the frame that completed the painting, as only by looking at things from the perspective of a (possibly) immortal institution can most people perceive the centrality of the milieu as the Axis Mundi around which all revolves. A social club, a place specifically designed to counteract the atomization of the people, is what was missing all along. That’s a breakthrough that makes you want to dance, doesn’t it?
This is a great time to be a hobbyist. First there’s been the rescuing of it from the depths of the Memory Hole. Then came its reconstruction by a dedicated, handsome, and charismatic brotherhood of witty and wily men. Now we see the start of a long, but satisfying, regeneration in the wake of the corporate product slop’s faltering.
The Platonic Form is here. Now we need to focus upon getting more of them stood up and made real.