On Rituals

[Dracos]

A tradition of magery in many stories is an emphasis on ritual.  It's not simply the spell, it's the manner in which it is performed, the act of seeking things and the effort expelled in this.  Spells aren't just words, they're incantations with motions and ingredients and specific timings to make things work.  This is a trait frequently found in common with both eastern and western magic tales.  In a way, it's part of what makes it interesting.  Magic is not something simply there, but something earned, with lessons mystical and vague and not simply swallowed down like a fast food dish.  This is not unique to magic, in fact it is common of stories of great heroism as well (See: The Twelve Labors of Hercules) and serves an important part in bringing a story into the sensation of myth.  Things aren't simply given or demanded, but earned through effort that often seems to have nothing to do with what is involved, which in turn represents lessons or stories about what is desired.

   Why do I meander on such?  Well, recently I was given a reason to ponder ritual and its place in games, how it can be used and how it can be disruptive, even when supposedly done well.  I was playing Planescape: Torment, one of those games legendary for the manner in which things are done, the amount of text in it, and the fact that Nameless is pretty darn nifty.  In order to become a mage in this game, you must convince a certain midwife/witch to teach you, even as she protests the whole way, claiming that she is but a dabbler with nothing to teach.  A classic from the story telling perspective, which was my memory better, I'd justify with a few antiqued old English tales that used the same kind of setup.  The midwife gives you three tasks, one at a time.  Another classic, things that come in three are, from a ritual perspective, more important.  Each task involves a not-so-onerous trip around the city, seeking those who can help you fulfill her requests and a lesson involved in each on the nature of magic.  You learn of belief from one who mourns for trees, of the dangers of ritual without purpose from a gith laundryman, of the dangers magic can have for mind and soul.  You return and are enlightened, the doorway to magic swung open.  From a story telling perspective it is an excellent scene and from a role playing perspective it definitively sets the tone and atmosphere for magic in a powerful way.

   So why bring it up at all?  Well, the thing is that Planescape isn't a book or, in truth, a true roleplaying experience.  It is, first and foremost, a game.  Stripping out the overlay, what we see as the gameplay of this ritual is a set of fetch quests strung one after the other without interruption and going back and forth between effectively the same two places.  This, without any of that wrapping, is generally considered to be a bad thing.  A gamer, blind to the whole purpose above perhaps, would have cause to ask "Why do I have to go there three times?  Can't I just do all these things in one swoop and stop going back and forth?"  A game designer would point out that the only challenge posed in that scenario is one of patience with the game's foibles, which isn't really an acceptable way of having a challenge designed.  The game, by and large, doesn't ask for any decisions during this segment, instead encouraging mere passive absorption.  It provides no threats and you're practically walked through the barest hint of puzzle it gives.

   So clearly, in the grand scheme of things, this is not a great example of ritual done well in a game.  Despite the fact that the narrative is of excellent quality over it, the game mechanics of the ritual aren't really fun.  They're serviceable only as framework for the narrative and offer no fun value beyond that.

The first question thusly asked is: Can rituals be done well at all in a game mechanic?  Yes, that's actually an important one since they tend to involve doing a trivial/boring task for some length of time as a rule.  Boring tasks are an anathema to good game design.  If the task isn't fun, what's it doing in something that's supposed to be fun?  My gut answer is it's not meant to be, but that makes for a boring article and more specifically, one that leaves us with a dilemma: How would we get the effect of rituals on the overarching narrative without the boring gameplay?  That's a hard question, so let's dodge that by pretending I'm wrong.

So, we can have them as game mechanics.  How do we make something that, as a rule isn't supposed to be fun, fun?  How do we make game mechanics beyond a narrative ritual worth using?  Well, let's take the focus on the ritual and the premise that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right.  What if we overlay the narrative on something that has decisions?  Implementing a way to fail, or perhaps learning the lessons by failing.  Alternately, let's add some gameplay challenges to it.  It may prolong the ritual to the point where it can be tiresome, but since it was born tiresome from a gameplay perspective, there's little harm in trying.  Cleaning the Aegean stables is a chore, no if ands or buts about it.  What about fighting monsters born of sludge, malice-filled spirits providing the wrath at the negligence of man, swarming from all directions?  Sure, it's no longer a lesson on patience, but it has become something people would play and could still be imbued with a sense of meaning.

[Ebiris]

Ultima 8, for all its flaws, did magic in a nicely ritualistic fashion.

There are 5 schools of magic, corresponding to the basic elements of earth, air, fire, water, plus the magical element of ether. Ether is basically magic as it is in all the other Ultimas, so we can ignore that.

As for the others?

To learn the secrets of Earth, and become a Necromancer, you must first visit the last surviving Necromancer outside of the the city. He will take you on as his apprentice and teach you the basic of Necromantic spells (put the required reagents in a bag and then use a magic key he gives you upon the bag to create one-use spell tokens) and send you on a pilgrimage to Lithos, the Titan of Earth. Along the way you pass through the catacombs and must use the most basic Necromantic spell 'Death Speak' to converse with the spirits of the ancient Necromancers, who will teach you further spells needed to pass the obstacles of this pilgrimage.

Next comes the healing magic of Air, within the monastary of the Theurgists. After completing a quick general knowledge quiz with the head of the order, you're sent into a cavern to acquire silver ore - you need enough to create a seperate focus for each spell (Theurgy was my favourite magic since it required no messing about with reagents). Said ore is forged by the blacksmith in town, before you charge the foci on an altar of Stratos, the Titan of Air. However, there is one spell you cannot make a focus for - the Air Walk spell. Talking to the abbot, you're sent to the cliffs and told to find Stratos - a quick leap of faith brings you to the Titan, who rewards you with the final spell focus.

Water, and the all powerful magic of Tempestry, is a bit of a red herring. It's built up as the most powerful form of magic, but it cannot be learned - only inherited. The current Tempest is a prize bitch who'll effortlessly kill you at the least provocation. Further digging reveals that the first Tempest was a Necromancer who imprisoned the Titan of Water, Hydros, who gifted him with magic in exchange for not being destroyed. Finding a hidden lake within the Necromancer's catacombs does bring you to face the Titan, who offers you power in exchange for freeing her with your own Necromantic powers. Sadly she reneges on the deal, leaving this form of magic forever beyond your reach.

Sorcery, the power of Fire, is by far the most ritualised in scope. Like Necromancy, it requires reagents, but spellcasting requires far more than just having the correct ingredients in a bag. First, a pentagram is required - on this you must array candles of the correct colour at each point, and set certain reagents at certain points. With the pentagram thus set, you then must put a spell focus (symbol, wand, rod, staff, or daemon skull from weakest to strongest) in the middle before activating the pentagram. If you succeed, the focus can be used in much the same way as a Theurgist focus, albeit with a limited number of charges. Fail, and you blow some reagants. The culmination of your Sorcerous training is being invited to join the cabal of elite Sorcerors in a ritual to summon Pyros, the Titan of Fire. If you have all the spells correctly prepared, the ritual goes off without a hitch. If you screw up (like manually lighting your candle rather than using the Ignite spell), then one or more of the other Sorcerors will die horribly...

As I said earlier, Ultima 8 was a deeply flawed game in many ways, but there certainly was a sense of satisfaction at finding a tome of arcane knowledge, deciphering it yourself (just which point of the pentagram is 'Aphelion'? I now know it's the bottom right one!), gathering the requisite ingredients, and carrying out a carefully prepared ritual in the house of some sorceror you killed so that you could have your very own wand of fireballs.

Leaving aside the point about reagents having to be placed with a 2 pixel margin of error...

[Anastasia]

That does sound cool, but I have one question. Was the actual casting system so flawed that you had to be within two pixels of the correct placement? I remember what the Ultima graphics looked like. -_-

[Ebiris]

Well, at least they were big pixels? This was back in the days when 640x480 was considered 'hi-res'...