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Knowing Your Rules
Okay, so you've got a weak, malleable games master, and a complex,
rules-bound games system. What the next thing to worry about?
In short, knowing the system. I cannot state this too strongly. Behind every
successful rules lawyer lies hours of studying arcane, optional, advanced rule
books in small, gloomy bedrooms.
Know the rules.
The AboveRealms, home of the Gods, mid-afternoon of an eternal day. The
Gods gather, to play with their mortal champions. The participants this day: the
Jester, lord of man's happiness; the Warrior, lord of man's anger; and the Bitch,
mistress of man's despair.
The Warrior reaches across the board and a moves a set of golden pieces
forward. "I believe that leaves your champions trapped, Mistress Bitch..."
* * * * *
The plateau was thin and knife-edged, sheer drops to a distant plain on three
sides, a group of angry barbarians to the other. Merron glared at Yarnn.
"...And is this all part of your plan, or can we now officially declare this a
fuck-up?"
Yarnn muttered something inaudible, then looked up: "I've got an idea!"
* * * * *
The Bitch outlined her plan. "My champions will jump from the cliff to the plain
below."
"My lady," ventured the Jester, "the fall is more than two hundred forearms.
They will surely hurtle to their deaths!"
"Not at all, dear Jester," smirked the Bitch, "for I need toss merely one set of
knucklebones for each twenty forearms they fall. Ten sets in all, which my
Champions will easily survive."
* * * * * *
"Are you insane? It's more than two hundred forearms straight down! We'll
fucking die!"
"Na, na Merron, we won't, honest," burbled Yarnn, "you just got to roll when
you land. It'll be like that holo-vid show we saw. You know: Macho Kassidy
and the Moondance Kid!"
The barbarians were charging now, shouting long obscene descriptions of
what they did to prisoners.
Merron grabbed hold of Yarnn's arm and they ran towards the edge. "Oh
shit.............."
* * * * * *
The Bitch grabbed her knuckle bones and went to toss, but was stopped by
the Warrior's hand on her arm. "It's not 20 sets of bones, Mistress Bitch."
"What are you talking about?"
"It one set per cumulative fall of twenty forearms. Acceleration due to gravity,
you see."
The Jester interjected gleefully. "So that's one set for the first twenty, plus two
sets for the second twenty, plus three sets for the third twenty..."
* * * * * *
".............shit."
Splat.
Bullshitting
The final thing to take into consideration is the fine art of bluffing (sometimes
referred to as "bullshitting"). This technique can come into its own on
occasions where your knowledge of the game system significantly exceeds
that of the games master.
It's a simple technique. Lie. Quote obscure optional rules from the supplement
that you know the games master only bought last week and hasn't had time to
read yet. Make stuff up. Cite rules that happen to come from other games.
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