Why Every Hero Must Die…or…Why Never Buying Underwear is a Good Thing.

 

In a world of healing surges, resurrections, spare bodies, and immortals, death for a Player Character is a pretty rare event. Things were not always this way. When I started playing, we tended to run several characters, as some would end up getting eaten, killed, or (in some systems) institutionalized. In fact, a decade before I found my first boxed set of limitless fantasy, players would attend competitions with dozens of character sheets and even more hirelings to go into meat grinder dungeons where no one would come out, but those who died last got the prize. Make no mistake, this was a shit way to game, but you have to start somewhere. These were the early days, and role-playing was just beginning to be about stories and less about wargaming. It was the days of Chainmail and the White Box sets that you needed someone to teach you how to use, rather than learn from the material itself. These were days when you did not really invest in your character, as they were not going to be around long anyway.

 

Fast-forward to the 1990s, and characters were more durable and thus had more agency. They were living, breathing, and dying people whose coming and going moved the story along. It was a time in gaming where you could reminisce about that time Gurt the legless lost his leg defending the town of Ham against the brigands. Where your Kensai saw off wave after wave of ronin in a last stand that was more about taking all of them with you rather than getting out, because there was no getting out. It was a time when the story was about imperfect heroes who lived and died for something, and thus all of us could share in that amazing story. It was a time of limitless adventure and heroic deaths.

 

But we never bought them new underwear. Yes, in fact, there may have been years where my characters ate nothing and traveled by appearing in the next town rather than by any other means. This was because we were about the story, the main story. The minutiae of day-to-day bookkeeping and maintenance were not a big deal, unless they moved the story forward. This is less pronounced in modern gaming as the rules for upkeep are built into the systems; in essence, we have an RPG IRS in the system; it’s nice we have evolved.

 

Which brings me full circle to healing surges, resurrections, spare bodies, and immortals being ubiquitous. Some groups report no deaths even in parties that have been gaming together for years on end (decades in-game time). Imagine a group of heroes, facing off with…only what they can safely handle, to achieve, getting stronger, to fight monsters that are a little stronger. It’s like saying “I eat more, to get bigger, to eat more” as a life philosophy (yes, Jason, I’m thinking of you if you aren’t dead yourself). It’s safe role-playing with safe challenges and no real development other than the next new skill or spell. But these systems do have maintenance down, so at least we have new underwear.

 

I reject this type of gaming. It is soulless and creates memories of gathering rather than memories of adventure. I cherish the memories of my early games, of those I have run where the entire party dies, and I get appreciation from the players because the story is that good. I thank an unknown GM in my far past who gave my character a chance to die on his feet rather than a way out and thus gave me a memory worthy of the word.

 

So let us go back to the 90’s where high adventure was a thing, characters lived, fought and died; and no one bought new underwear.

 

 

Concept art for our upcoming adventure, Tears in the Snow.