The Meade of Song - A Story

The Meade of Song
by Riverwolf

Hearbear lived long ago in an old town, where the water was foul and rank. But the folk who lived there did not lack gladness, for they had Meade. It was said of this town by travellers that there was no finer Meade in all the lands but here. Hearbear, however, did not like this Meade. He would stand in the road and shout his dislike, “There is no sweetness in the drought! The tongue is not stung, and the throat not burned! What a disgrace this Meade of ours be!” What few would heed this cry would forget in a few steps.

Hearbear woke one day, and spit in the Meade he had. It happened that on that day, it was his turn in the town to gather wood for the Fires. He went into the Greenwood to build fagots for the town, when an Elf espied him. She heard his grumblings over the town's Meade, and she thought of knowledge he ought to have. “Oh, handsome twig-gatherer!” cried the Elf to the man.

“I hear thy voice, fair one,” said Hearbear. “But alas I cannot see thy face! Might thou reveal thyself to me?” And the Elf did so, and no fairer form had the man ever seen. “Oh, beauteous spirit! There is not a woman in my village with radiance to match with thee!”

“Oh, such kind words,” said the blushing Elf. “But rest thy seeding sword, good sir, for this blossom's nectar runs red this day. It is honey of a different sort that I come to tell thee of!” And the Elf danced behind Hearbear, swinging her hips and bouncing her bosom. “Look to the Earth, and from there see its North! Beyond a great cold gap crossed only by a bridge of many hues, lie many lands of Wolks. One of these is Woodeland, where rests with the Folk of Throneless King, the Meade of Song. Great bees of red and large as crows, in combs of a thousand holes, and who deeply sing instead of buzz, weaved the honey of this drink from the nectar of a pink and blue-necked blossom, a thousand petals long. In the Well of Wyrd itself was woode breathed into the honey, where naught but Crowulf may enter. I have heard it said from the mother of my father, that this is the finest Meade that was ever had by Wight and Man!”

“Oh, sensuous Elf!” cried Hearbear. “Please, tell me how I might obtain this drought! That I may take but a small piece of it to share with my Townsfolk, that they may know true wonders!”

And the Elf tiptoed up to him, and placed her hand upon his chest. “I shall take thee there, myself.” And grasping at his tunic, she pulled him to the ground, on top of her. But instead of laying on her, Hearbear found himself flying through the sky, the Elf-maid nowhere to be seen. He tumbled though the air, the twinkling stars upon the blue. Until upon a cliff he stood, across from him a Wolken Fort. The Many Hued Bridge spanned the twinkling gap, just as the Elf had said.

He took a step upon the bridge, and his foot did not pass through. He hastened his pace, and soon the cliff was beyond his sight. The Wolken Fort drew ever nearer, slower than the cliff had passed. But soon Hearbear was at the gate, and the golden door opened wide at his feet.

A golden land of swords and shields lay before him, warriors here and there feasting, drinking, and fighting. Hearbear walked among them, and many turned their heads. Until at last he came upon a great golden hall, its shield-clad doors open wide to any who would enter. Inside the grandest feast there ever was could be seen. A table long as a thousand leagues stretched to a great black throne, and a thousand boars and harts lay upon it. The fire here was green and blue and red, stretching to the heaven-high roof. But the cups of golden wood caught Hearbear's eyes the most, for the splendid gold he had thus far seen in this land was yellow filth next to the glowing drink that spilled from them. He shyly asked a slain swordsman, twice his height and length, if he might have a sip.

When his lips touched that drink, a great fire burst from within, as if waiting until this moment to be released. As it passed over his tongue, the stinging sweetness spilled Hearbear's seed. Burning down his throat and sending a sweet, sweet warmth into his gut all but put him to the floor, and he did not care that everyone around him was laughing at his meekness to its strength. Oh, this was indeed the Meade of Song, for soon Hearbear found himself singing nonsense verse. There was truly no drink like it known among Wights and Men!

Hearbear rushed across the table, forgetting to give back the cup. He knocked over many a Heavenly Bard into Viking Soup, and dodged the blows of many slain mens' fists, before he stood before the Black Throne. Two winged Wolves with Raven heads stood next to the arms, where sat the Ragged King, who seemed barely awake to the merriment around him.

“Oh, great Lord of this Golden Land!” bowed Hearbear to the King. “I have come to beg thee relinquish just a small portion of this wondrous Meade, that I may share its beauty with my Townsfolk!”

“Take it,” was all the King said, not moving any more of his body.

Suddenly, Hearbear found himself back in the Greenwood where he had been, the cup still in hand. He opened his own Meade flask, and poured its drink into the ground. He then carefully poured this Heavenly Drink into his flask, lest it spill before he reach the town. He ran back, and excitedly shouted in the road, “I have with me the Meade of Song, that has no like in all the Worlds!”

One or two came up to him, and drank from his offered flask. And with wonder in their eyes did they sing its praise, for it was, indeed, the finest Meade there ever was. Soon Hearbear had a small following of five or six companions.

But the next person to take this Starry Drink, upon it touching his lips, spat it to the ground. “What swill is this!” he yelled at Hearbear in anger. “Does thou offer me Meade or thine own piss!” Hearbear and his companions were stunned by this blasphemous display. And another and another had the same reaction. Soon there was more Meade spat on the ground than was left in the flask.

Hearbear's burning anger took him atop the Town Hall, and cried as loud as his breath would bid. “You have all forsaken this Heavenly Meade, and with your spitting, spat upon the King of Woode! His generosity gave me this drink, and my generosity shared it with you! Yet you all spit it back on me! I curse you all! Me and my companions will now take leave of this Villanous Village, and live in the Greenwood with the Elvenfolk!”

And so it was, that Hearbear and his companions were driven from their homes, and forced to live among the bugs and birds. It was only in a day that the Heavenly Meade was gone, and there was none left to be had.

Then, gathering fagots for the lonely, Meadeless night, Hearbear met again the Elf. “Hail, fair Elf!” was all he could weakly greet her with, for the heart had all but left him.

“Oh, whence comes this frown?” she teased. “It's been many winters since a man has not smiled at me. Shall I dance for thee? This blossom's nectar runs clear, again.”

But Hearbear's heart was not filled with woode. “The Heavenly Meade thou directed me to is dry, and most of the Townsfolk spat it back at me.”

“Oh, but of course they did!” said the Elf. “There was too much dream in that Meade. It was never meant for wakened folk.”

“What does thou mean?” Hearbear asked.

“Thy tongue, and those of thy friends, are always in a dream. The pure woode of the Meade of Song is sweet to thee. But most people only dream when they sleep. For them, sweetness lies in smallness.”

“But, fair Elf,” wept Hearbear, “The Meade they drink is swill! It has no woode to call its own!”

And the Elf laughed long and clear. “Oh, you silly twig-gatherer. There is no Meade lacking in woode! In truth, by the will of the One-Eyed King, the Meade of Song is there in all Meades everywhere, its sweetness known by all. It is in small bits, that their tongues are not overwhelmed. But the Heavenly Song sings through, the Poet Kings' voices heard therein. They don't always know it, but it moves them all.”

The Wrong Masks - A Story

The Wrong Masks

By Riverwolf

One day, the Masked Fool came upon a strange town. Nobody regarded him as they normally did, because everyone he saw was wearing a Mask just as he did. Listening around town, he learned of its customs: they wore Masks for everything, with specific Masks for specific occasions. What Mask was suitable for what situation was determined by the rules the People there agreed upon, and the Fool noted that this seemed to have worked some magic on the Masks; they had the power to influence the Wearer's behavior in subtle but noticeable ways. To wear the wrong Mask to the wrong situation seemed a grave, grave offense. Yet each Mask was unique; even in the case of a shared theme or pattern, there were no two perfectly identical Masks to be found in all the town.

The Fool grinned to himself, and wondered what mischief he could bring here. He soon regarded a particular Man, whom he decided to follow home. He found that this Man had many, many Masks, because he did many, many things. He had a Wife, which itself called for the Lover's Mask, the Partner's Mask, a Friend's Mask unique for her, and the Moneyman's Mask. He had fifty Friends, each of which had their own variations on the Friend's Mask, which he would swap quickly every time he interacted with any of them. He had to swap quickly, because, as the Fool had learned, it was taboo in this town to ever reveal your True Face to anyone. He had two jobs: he worked part-time as a Teacher, for which he had the Teacher's Mask and Student Practice Masks for every one of his Students; and he worked as an Accountant, which called for the Coworker's Mask for interacting with those he worked with, his Worker's Mask which he wore to get through the tedious day, and the Employee's Mask which he wore when talking to his Boss. Yet still he also loved to play games. He played at the Casino, which called for the Gambler's Mask that kept him from losing too much money. He also loved to play ball games, which donned him the Sportsman's Mask that kept him active and fair.

But every time he was alone, he would regard himself in the Mirror, without any Mask on. He would smile, for he could see his True Face, which no one else could see.

The Fool thought it would be most amusing to play a trick on this Man. That night, while the town slept, the Fool crept into this Man's house, and tip-toed to his bedroom, careful not to open the door too fast lest he should disturb the Man and his Wife. He saw the two sleeping in bed, naked except for their Lovers' Masks, and saw on the wall the row of so many other Masks. The Fool looked at them, and under his breath chanted a spell. Then he left.

The next day, the Man donned his Sportsman's Mask, for today was a ball game's. Arriving at the field, however, he noticed that his Teammates were looking at him strangely. He paid that little heed, however, and the game began. But he played differently this time. In between the rounds, his Teammates would chastise his overly cautious play, which was losing them the game. He was angered, and felt a surge of non-equivalent stress each time. He also began to taunt the other Team, and used under-handed techniques, bordering on cheating, to score. In the middle of the game, both Teams unanimously agreed to kick him out of this game.

When he got home and removed the Mask, he realized the source of his error: he had accidentally put on the Gambler's Mask; not appropriate for a game with no tangible rewards for winning or penalties for losing. He laughed at his mistake, and thought that since he was already holding it, he'd put it back on and just go to the Casino instead.

When he arrived at the Casino, he made his way to the Poker Table he most frequented. But as the game began, he started to talk aloud what the rules to the game are. The other Gamblers ignored him, but the Dealer calmly but firmly told him that it wasn't his job to explain how the game was played. He apologized, but as the game went on, he began pointing out what he perceived of as faults in the way the other Gamblers played, and tried to offer suggestions on how to do better. He kept doing this despite them giving him dirty looks. The Dealer told him that if he didn't stop, he'd be asked to leave. But he finally did the worst thing you could do in a game: he lost, and exclaimed his defeat in a softly exaggerated manner, as would be done to a child deliberately lost to. Indeed, he had deliberately lost, folding a hand that was a straight flush. The Dealer and the other Gamblers looked at his folded cards, and furious, asked him to leave the building.

When he got home, he ran straight to the bathroom to look in the Mirror. Even though he had not taken another Mask of the wall earlier, and replaced the Mask that he knew was the Gambler's from looking at it, he now saw resting on his nose the Teacher's Mask. He tore it off in a fright, revealing his True Face to himself in the Mirror. He stared at it for a moment, before leaving the bathroom and donning the Family Mask. When his Wife came home, still wearing her own Worker's Mask, he asked her in fright if it was, in fact, the Family Mask he was wearing. Confused, she told him that it was. Relieved, and waiting for her to don her own Family Mask, he told her of the day's strange events. She told him that his memory might be faulty, since she remembered that both of them slept very poorly the previous night from terrible dreams. He was comforted by this possibility, and they spent the rest of the night relaxing. Donning their Lovers' Masks that night, they retired to bed.

The next morning, feeling more confident for they had gotten better sleep this time, the Man went through his morning routine, and then grabbed the Masks he used for his Accounting job, for today he had to go in. He had disregarded the events from the previous day, but still, before going out the door, he quickly, and quite automatically, double-checked that he had the right Masks. But when he got to work, he found himself unable to focus on the job he'd been assigned the past week. He felt in himself too much energy to be sitting in a chair for eight hours, and soon began pacing up and down the halls, hoping to relieve some of the energy. The whole morning passed, and he barely got any work done. His Coworkers, noticing his strange behavior, asked him what was going on, and why he wasn't wearing the right Mask. He began to feel a small wave of panic, as he tried to quickly don the Coworker's Mask so he could interact with them appropriately. But he suddenly felt himself unable to let them talk, and began spouting off personal details of what happened the previous day, while standing uncomfortably close and trying to hug them. They finally left him and reported this strange behavior to the Boss. The Man went to one of the bathrooms to see what Mask he had on, and saw that it was the Family's. He looked at the Mask he had been sure was the Worker's, but saw with horror the Sportsman's. He made sure that the third Mask was, indeed, the Employee's Mask, and knowing that he'd soon be called into the Boss's office, he donned it there in the bathroom. He saw in the Mirror that it was still the Employee's Mask, just as he heard over the loudspeaker his name being called.

The Man looked up at his Boss, her intimidating Employer's Mask staring back at him, and struggled to explain his behavior. He explained the events of the previous day, and he had been sure to check that his Masks were correct. The Boss looked down to take some notes, as he reflected aloud being reminded of something he'd seen in a movie once. Almost without thinking, that train of thought led him to talking about movies in general, favorite moments in them, and snarky comments about some of the lesser-quality ones. His Boss looked up from her notes, and held a hand up for him to stop. He continued on, apparently unaware that she'd made any gesture at all. She finally stood up and demanded to know why he had changed Masks. The Man felt afraid, though oddly calm considering the circumstance. Still without thinking, he made an offhand and somewhat crude joke that he often shared with his Wife. Half an hour later, the Man walked briskly out of that building, with all his personal affects from his cubicle.

He all but ran into the bathroom when he got home, without taking his Mask off. He just stared into the Mirror, unable to fully process what he was looking at. He'd never taken that same Mask off, which he was sure had been the Employee's Mask back at the office, but now the Friend's Mask, the one he specifically had set aside for his Wife, looked back at him. He tore the mask off and threw it to the ground, barely avoiding crushing it as he ran to the bedroom. He cried on the bed, not waiting to put another Mask on, and was still crying when his Wife came home. It was all she could do to throw off her Worker's Mask and grab her Lover's Mask, so she could cuddle him in comfort. But when he rejected the cuddle, she noted that he kept his face turned away from her; it was naked. She asked which Mask he wanted, noting to him that she wore the Lover's. He told her to get his own Lover's Mask. She did so, and from behind, strapped on his face. He turned to face her quickly, and asked in a quivering voice filled with fright, if it was still the Lover's Mask. She confirmed that it was, and he embraced her tight, worrying aloud to her that he might be going insane. She realized that something similar had happened this day as happened the previous, but not wearing the proper Masks to provide verbal comfort, she settled on love-making. The whole time, he was afraid the Mask he wore would change in the middle, but it thankfully remained the same. When they finished, they went to sleep in each others' arms.

The Man woke the next morning afraid. He was reluctant to let go of his Wife, or that he might be wearing the wrong Mask, now. She woke soon after, and, kissing him, assured that the proper Lover's Mask was still resting on his nose. He rose from bed, and after the morning routine and kissing his Wife goodbye as she left for work, he sat down in his chair to think. For two days, now, his Masks had changed while he was wearing them. He was sure that he didn't simply put the wrong Mask on, because his Boss had accused him of quickly changing Masks while she wasn't looking even though he didn't. Faint echoes of stories told to scare children began to come back, of Masks coming to life and taking a form of their own. But he shook such thoughts away; he didn't have an explanation as to what was going on, but surely one must exist. In any case, his job as Teacher was that day, so he grabbed the Teacher's Mask and all his Students' Practice Masks, so he could do his job. But before he left the house, he put them all on three times, and each time checked in the Mirror that they were the proper Masks. On the way, he did likewise with his car's Mirrors. Each time the Masks were correct, though this constant checking made him almost late.

Arriving in the classroom with the Teacher's Mask on, he passed out the Student Practice Masks to all the Children, with which they replaced their own Masks, if in unpracticed form. For the first part of the day, the Masks remained as they were supposed to be, and the Man began to feel relieved: today would pass without incident. But when the Children were expected back from lunch, they didn't arrive. Not unusual, and the procedure in this case was for the Teacher to go and escort the Children to the classroom. But when he turned to the door to retrieve them, he found himself unable to move. A strong panic wave suddenly took him, and he wanted to bolt to a bathroom to look in a Mirror. But he remained stuck where he was. He tried to think, what Mask might do this to him. But panic kept him from mentally checking off what his various Masks could do. After several minutes, the Head Teacher came in, clearly upset. He asked the Man why the Children were wearing all the wrong masks, before asking then why he was, as well. The Man tried to explain, but he was in such a panic that the words didn't really come through. The Head Teacher, clearly concerned but more frustrated, asked him to leave, to which the Man responded by bolting through the door, back to his car, and speeding home. In his bathroom, he saw the Employee's Mask staring back.

The Man removed the Mask, and thought that it would be good to talk to his Friends about this. He sought out his Friends' Masks, but they were nowhere to be found; he instead found the Students' Practice Masks in their places, and knew then what Masks the Head Teacher had been talking about, when he'd mentioned the wrong Masks the Children were wearing. He put on the Coworker's Mask and called up the school, saying that those Masks were his, and that he didn't know how they'd been switched with the proper ones. The Teacher on the other side said that they'd be returned to him later that day, but that the Head Teacher has said that the Man is not to return to the school until he's been psychologically evaluated. Slowly hanging up and staring at the phone, the Man realized somberly that he was out of work. He was still staring at the phone when the Friends' Masks were finally returned to him a few hours later.

He finally managed to grab his various Friends' Masks and contact his Friends, asking each one to come over. When they arrived, he put on the Masks appropriate to each friend and asked, in turn, if he's wearing the wrong Mask. Indeed, they confirmed that he was wearing the Students' Practice Masks each time. He was somewhat relieved again that he wasn't going crazy, but still confused and even now a bit cross at these strange events, explained the previous days to his Friends, and went to his room to replace these wrong Masks with the right ones. Before leaving, he double-checked and then checked again that they were right, but when he got back to his Friends, they told him that he was once again was wearing the Students' Practice Masks. Starting to panic, he ran back to get the real Friends' Masks, but came back once again with the wrong ones. One by one, his Friends left, chastising the Man for this sick joke of his. He begged and pleaded them not to leave, that this was some strange magic working on the masks, but nobody believed him. Finally, he was left alone.

That evening, the Man was quite exhausted. He felt like nothing mattered anymore, having lost both his jobs and all his friends. When his Wife came home, she suggested they try working on the house expenses. He put on the Moneyman's Mask, but soon into the workings, she remarked to him, confusedly, that he was now wearing his Coworker's Mask. The Man thought that at least this time, the wrong Mask wasn't entirely inappropriate, and they could still work, though he found himself unable to remember all the financial terms and concepts. When they finished, his Wife told him to get the Partner's Mask so they could talk this out properly. Confident this magic wouldn't hinder his relationship with his Wife, but still feeling very tired, he grabbed the Mask and went to her. But not long into talking, he started to feel a strong desire for her body, and began cuddling closer and whispering flirtations. She told him that the Lover's Mask was not good for this sort of thing, and as she didn't feel in the mood to grab her own, in any case. The Man began to feel less and less. Frustrated, she suggested they just put a movie on for them to watch and get their minds off of this.

The Man went to grab the Friends' Mask for his Wife, and came out with the Partner's Mask, along with a broom to clean the house. His Wife uttered, becoming more and more tired and frustrated herself, that at least maybe that would help calm him down. But she began to feel a growing resentment. She told him to call his Family, that maybe they could help, but when he did, he wore the Moneyman's Mask instead of the Family Mask. Instead of help, he asked for money, and no one in his Family would do such a thing, each one hanging up on him in anger. His Wife, becoming quite afraid that she was losing this man she loved, in desperation grabbed her Lover's Mask and made to cuddle with her husband. She felt him slipping away, and tried in vain to grasp him, that he'd not leave her alone. But he began talking about certain tasks that needed doing, for though she had grabbed his Lover's Mask herself, and tried to put it on, she found him wearing the Worker's Mask. He was gone. He didn't even seem to care, anymore, that he was wearing the wrong Mask. She felt a sadness and anger never felt before, and in a rage, accused him of playing her this whole time, that there's no magic in the Masks, and that he's just been quickly swapping them out as a sick joke. She ran out of the house, then and there, into the night's darkness. The Man never saw her again.

Many weeks passed. The Man never left his house in that time, never talked to any of his Friends, Family, or Wife, and was ultimately fired from his Teaching position, having never made the appointment for a psychiatric evaluation. He didn't put on a single Mask in that time. Without any money, he never paid any of his bills, and one day, an eviction notice finally came into the mail. He had lost his fun, his jobs, his Friends, his Family, and his Wife. Now, he would lose his Home.

The night of the last day in his house, he threw every single one of his Masks into the fireplace. He then went into the bathroom, and stared long at his face in the Mirror. “At least I have my True Face, that now the whole world can see.” he said bitterly to himself. But as he stared, something about his True Face began to seem off, somehow. There were strange rivets and markings that were not of his skin. Dread slowly began to build inside of him; this thing he thought was his True Face was, in fact, yet another Mask. In a horrified rage he tore at the face, trying to rip this thing off for good, that maybe he had a True True Face underneath. But the pain was too great; not a single thread came loose. He tried feeling around his face, for some chink he could use. He noticed, then, many protrusions he'd never felt or seen before. Looking back in the Mirror, he realized that this Mask was actually not singular; it was a Mosaic Mask made up of many smaller Masks. Grinning like a madman, he began to tear at one of the smaller Masks. He felt pain, but it was bearable, and soon the Little Mask came off. He laughed hysterically, and began tearing at each of the others. The pain increased with each Mask torn off, but he didn't care. Finally, he came to the final mask; the pain so great now that he couldn't feel it. He clasped its nose in between his fingers, and screaming in mad triumph that he could finally see his True True Face, flung the last Little Mask into the fireplace. And then, he died.

The next day, Bankermen came to his house to remove him. But when he didn't answer the door, they entered to see if he was home. They curiously noted the house's vacancy; it was known around the neighborhood that he hadn't left at all in weeks, even to restock his food. The only strange thing they found was, lying on the floor of the bathroom, a pile of Little Masks encircling a naked mannequin.

The Masked Fool - A Story

A man declared himself wise. He spoke wise words to people, who gathered around him in droves. He said, “All the Gods are but many faces that conceal a single, unifying force. That is the True God, the True Face! I have seen it, and I can tell you how to see it yourselves!” And the people drank these sweet nectarine words.

One day, while addressing the people, a robed man in a mask came before the wise man. “Please speak your name, good sir.” said the wise man.

“I am called Fool,” said the stranger. “Good Wise Man, will you kindly remove these masks, that the people may see my true face? For you see, I have no arms of my own.”

“Certainly,” said the wise man, noting that this stranger indeed possessed no arms. He removed one mask, and then another, and then another, and then the final one. “Good sir,” said the wise man. “You have another mask beneath these four.”

“Indeed, dear Sage, you are mistaken. I have three masks beneath those four.” The stranger turned around; indeed, he had three masks, now.

“Why do you wear masks beneath masks?” asked the wise man.

“I told you. My name is Fool,” said the stranger. “Now, could you remove these masks, as well, that the people may see my true face?”

“Why, certainly,” said the wise man, quite confused. He set about removing these next three masks,and found beneath them what appeared to be yet two more. “Good Fool!” declared the wise man. “Why do you have two more masks beneath these three?”

“I told you. My name is Fool.” said the stranger. “Now, could you remove these masks, as well, that the people may see my true face?”

“But of course!” said the wise man, becoming quite annoyed and beginning to forget his manners. He thought to himself, though, that if another mask is beneath these two, it's just the one, and beneath that one is the man's true face. He removed both masks, but cried out after doing so, discovering not one more mask, but nine. “By Heaven!” said the wise man. “Why in all the Worlds do you have nine masks, now?! How many do you have?!”

“I told you. My name is Fool,” said the stranger. “Now, could you remove these masks, as well, that the people may see my true face? You see, I have no arms of my own.”

The wise man was quite angry now, and ripped all nine masks off. More masks were underneath, with the stranger's same strange answer as to why.

And so the wise man continued ripping off mask after mask, revealing no true face but yet more masks, until the people had quite forgotten his honeyed words and gone back to their business. That wise man is still ripping masks off this strange man to this day, in some forgotten village long retaken by the Woods.

Game Categorizations: Randomness

by Riverwolf
As with all my articles involving games, knowledge of certain game rules is necessary. In this article, these are the games whose rules the reader is assumed to be knowledgeable of:
-Blackjack
-Chess
-Rock-Paper-Sissors
-Tic-Tac-Toe
-Texas Holdem Poker
-Cheat

Randomness is a major part of many games, whether board games, computer/video games, or physical games (such as sports). While many games do not have any randomization elements in their mechanics, such as Chess, I'd say that the majority of games do rely on randomness to some degree.

Let's take a moment to define randomness. For the purposes of games, it is an element built directly into the mechanics for the purposes of generating a set of unpredictable values, which will influence the outcomes of any in-game action. One effect of having randomness in a game is forcing players to weigh risk-reward in a given situation(such as in Blackjack and derivitives). Because it specifically involves a mechanic built directly in the rules, natural randomly occurring events, such as weather in a game meant to be played outdoors, is not counted in this definition despite the fact that it can alter the outcome of a game.

In my studies, I have distilled four general categories for randomness found in games, illustrated in basic examples.

-Ranged Randomness: Dice
-Fixed Randomness: Cards
-Player Randomness: Rock-Paper-Sissors
-No Randomness: Tic-Tac-Toe

When dealing with randomness in games, it's important to note that all randomly-generated values are within a fixed range between two values, and at least one party is aware of what, exactly, that range is, even if that party is only the designer/programmer.

Ranged Randomness involves all parties involved, player and non-player, knowing exactly what the range is. However, each time a value is generated, no party can know for certain which value in that range it will be. This is most exemplified in dice, which will always generate a number unpredictably (unless it's weighted).

Fixed Randomness involves organizing a set of values in a given range to an unpredictable order. Even though a third (non-player) party can look at the values and know exactly which ones will come up in what order, the players involved are completely unaware of the order. Cards are the quintessential example of this type of randomness, which are shuffled before play into a random order.

Player Randomness differs from both Fixed and Ranged Randomness, in that the value is generated by the player. Players will generate the value in question, and keep that value hidden from all the other players until the rules dictate when the reveal happens. Rock-Paper-Sissors is the most illustrative example of this type, as players will generate one of the eponymous values, which have cyclical win-loss relationships.

No Randomness is just what that is: a game without any built-in random element. All the values of the game are known to all parties at all times, and the only aspect of unpredictability is in the specific action of the player. While Chess is a great example of such a game, Tic-Tac-Toe is perhaps the simplest example where both players know exactly what values each other has.


No single one of these types is inherently superior or inferior to another; each one can be utilized in appropriate sitations, or combined to create complexity. However, as games are a form of immitative art (that is to say, games are immitative of real-world experiences), certain types of randomness are more appropriate than others for certain experiences.

As an illustration, let's separately add Fixed and Ranged Randomness to Chess, and see how the experience changes. First, a clarification: Chess is a game designed to immitate warfare as a test of a general's ability to strategize in a hypothetical situation where all other elements are equal and transparant.

Let's first add Ranged Randomness by applying die rolls to captures. For our purposes, each piece will be given a set number of dice. Pawns will get one die, Rooks and Bishops will get two dice, Knights will get three dice, the Queen will get four dice, and the King will get five dice. Each time a capture is made, both players roll the number of dice appropriate to the participating pieces. If the capturing piece rolls higher, or there is a tie, the capture succeeds as normal. If the defending piece manages to roll higher, however, the capture fails and the turn passes. A check can only happen if the checking piece rolls higher than, or ties, the five-dice roll of the King. Otherwise, the checking piece moves back to its previous position (any captures made still apply). Pawn-promotion also uses dice: the player rolls the single dice, and whatever number comes up determines the piece it becomes by corresponding to the number of dice a piece has; 1 fails the promotion, while 5 and 6 call for a reroll.

How this additional set of dice-rules effects the Chess experience might be seen in which element of warfare is being immitated. Here, the hypothetical situation is that each piece corresponds to a unit of soldiers rather than a single soldier, and the dice simulates the play of random elements (weather, troop morale, commander competance, etc.) in any given battle. This adds an element of realism to the game, as no non-participatory army commander can be considered in 100% control of all battles. Certain elements will always be unpredictable.

Now, let's add Fixed Randomness to Chess and see what happens. (I should first note that this variant on Chess can add several hours to the game, and so is not recommended for quick, casual play.) This time, captures involve a quick variation round of Texas Holdem Poker, using only A-7 cards of all four suits. Similar to before, each piece is dealt a certain number of cards: Pawns 2, Rooks and Bishops 3, Knights 4, and the Queen gets 5. Here, the King will also get 5, as well as an option to discard up to 3 cards per check attempt. Each time a capture is made, or a check on the King attempted, the deck is shuffled and the appropriate number of cards are dealt to the players, while 3 cards are placed face-up next to the board. (Field cards are always placed BEFORE being dealt to the players.) Similar to before, the player has to build the best Poker hand from the available cards. If the capturing piece wins, or there is a tie, the capture goes through as normal; if the defending piece wins, the capture fails and the turn passes. Check attempts are also as before, but pawn promotion behaves just like regular Chess, with the player simply choosing what piece to promote to.

In traditional Poker fashion, capture attempts also involve an element of bluffing and betting. However, instead of using Poker Chips to bluff, an element of the card game Cheat (also known colloquially as Bull****) is utilized. The player can fold as normal, state exactly what hand can be built with their cards, or just by stating that the hand present is higher than a certain one (for example, "My hand is higher than a Two-Pair"). The other player can then respond by believing the statement and folding, declare the other player a liar, or by declaring the possession of a larger hand, either specifically or not. The first player now only has two options: fold, or declare the other player a liar. Any time a player is accused of being a liar, the hands are revealed.

Finally, there's an Oracle element to this variation. During a capture or check attempt, once all cards have been dealt, a player can, only once in a round and only three times per game, sacrifice one of their pieces to see a certain number of cards in the opponent's hand: a Pawn shows 1, Rooks and Bishops show 2, Knights show 3, and the Queen shows 4. The player whose cards are being revealed does not know which cards were seen. This can also happen during normal play to see the same top corresponding number of cards in the deck (not revealed to the other player), but causes the turn to pass.

This time, while the element of unpredictability remains, the players are forced to watch each other as much as the board. The focus of this variation is placed on the immitation of wartime diplomacy. Parties that have gone to war will generally still communicate with each other in taunts and statements of superior might, which, when tactfully declared, can make all the difference. The Oracle element could be thought of as immitating one of two things: spy-networks gathering intel on the enemy, or in the ancient practice of sacrificing to the Gods to gain information on the enemy. This gives each player the potential for a small edge in determining whether the other is lying.

Both of these examples emphasize different aspects of warfare immitation, neither one inherently standing above the other in terms of validity. Using dice with Chess immitates random elements in the battle itself, while using cards with Texas Holdem Poker rules immitates wartime diplomacy. Using other variations and combinations of these types of randomness on games can create a potentially infinite variety of experiences. Game Design is an alchemy as much as anything, so to any who are budding Designers like myself, I urge you to come up with your own variations of games and see what happens.

After all, consider this: what do you get when you add 3 Parts No Randomness, 4 Parts Ranged Randomness, 2 Parts Fixed Randomness, and 7 Parts Player Randomness? Well, I'm sure people will disagree with me on the result I got, but by my reckoning, that formula will give you a Pokemon Battle.





I hope you enjoyed reading this, and that you found it useful. Let me know what you think, and if you like video and computer games, be sure to check out my Youtube Channel where I'm nowhere near as intelligent: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCY_uliAijxY_0sA1D94_eTg. Naho apre atra.

Stuck in the Mud

by Riverwolf

It can be hard being an aspiring artist, sometimes, relying heaviy on rewrites of old legends or fanfics of contemporary franchises. The problem comes primarily from the peer-pressure on us to be "wholly original," and not "derivitive." I used to be fairly self-immolating over my constant use of previously-existing works for my inspirations, as well, but not anymore.

When I was in College, one of the classes I took was on Child Development. One of the major projects was to visit the school's on-campus preschool, functioning as a place for children of students. We were not to interact with any of the children (except perhaps to reciprocate a "hi"), or interfere in any way with what the teachers were doing. I did this a couple of times, but one time in particular remains stuck in my mind as a beautiful microcosm of creative immitation.

The room I was assigned to that day was primarily for children between the ages of 4, and 6. Circle Time was called while I was there, and the topic that time was going to be "stories"; that is, the teacher would ask each child, in turn, to tell a story. The child who was asked to tell the first story hesitantly spoke of a car. When the teacher inquired about what the car was doing, it was revealed that the car was stuck in the mud.

I immediately observed that the lesson had nothing to do with stories or story-structure itself, but with subject-object relationship in sentences. This would prepare the children for learning basic sentence structure in a few years. This was quite a clever way to trick the children into learning a fundamental aspet of language, while allowing them to exercise creativity.

Or so I thought. Every child in turn ended up telling the same "story" about the car stuck in the mud. A few of them added in some new words, or briefly mentioned the family driving the car. Some were bland, word-for-word copies of the original story, while others were spoken with some mischievous giggling. Regardless of minor personal touches, I heard the exact same sequence of events over and over again. If anything was truly stuck, it was the childrens' minds on this really unfortunate car.

Then the teacher came to a somewhat shy-looking girl. This time, a family had gotten into their car to go on a trip. They ended up driving in rain, and soon got stuck in mud. They all got out of the car, and after a lot of pushing, freed their car from the mud so they could continue on their trip. The teacher remarked how she really "liked that story," and moved on to the next child in line.

I, however, didn't hear any of the remaining children. My mind was far too focused on what just happened before me. Child after child simply copied what the first one had done, and then this little artist-to-be took that quite-tired scene and did something magical. She crafted a real story, albeit a very short one, complete with setup, conflict, and resolution. Within minutes, the full implications of what I'd just witnessed hit me: this pattern of uncreative immitation leading to creative magic is present in all art. All the most famous works, from Hamlet and Star Wars to Beowulf and Super Mario Bros., are immitations of works that came before but presented in fresh new ways.

I guess, then, I can go ahead and use retellings of old legends and fanfics. That is, as long as I remember that these are merely foundations, upon which I can work my own personal magic.


Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think. Naho apre atra.