As one of my first articles on role playing, I was never satisfied with this one. Thus, upon deciding to put it up here, there had to be a certain amount of revisions. Hopefully, they led to an improvement.
The question about ethics in role playing may, at first, appear a bit confusing. What do ethics and role playing really have in common? One might claim that role-playing games, just like movies or theatrical plays, represent a whole medium. As such, one can't treat all role playing games as an entirety. This argument seems to work, but still, the question remains: why this talk about ethics?
Because role playing has its roots in older narrative traditions. The oldest form of campfire tales are said to have come about from a desire to keep alive knowledge and promote values. Values like laws, customs... and ethics.
Are there role-playing games that are moral or immoral? This question, too, is badly defined. In a system with a huge collection of rules on remorse and good deeds, a group of players can still murder and burn for their own amusement, and the reverse is just as possible.
Do systems containing good mechanisms for dealing with the inner life of a character exist, then? I personally think so. But when it comes down to it, it's ultimately the gamemaster who determines how these rules apply to the world. After all, as with all else in role playing games, the gamemaster decides which rules are to be applied, and when.
The now-extinct gaming magazine Sinkadus published an article abouth ethics in Role-Playing. Among other things there was the following passage:
It is always easy to make a choice in the epics. The villains are steeped in utter evil, the heroes are pure-hearted and noble. Often the same thing is true in RPGs, and there is of course nothing wrong with that. The adventures should be like fairy tales, and not attempts at emulating reality. There should therefore be both black-as-night villains and shining heroes in a role-playing world! But remember that "hero" is not something you become by cutting the heads off of a thousand enemies. One becomes a Hero by doing something difficult and dangerous to help other people.
I can't help but to agree. People can look up to, even worship, a warrior of supernatural skill. But should that warrior pursue his goals for himself only, he would be no hero.
Every gaming system has its own opinions on how the inner life of a character should be handled. Many RPG creators believe only non-player characters should be controlled by values and dice rolls. The reason for this is simple: few gamers like to be forced in a random direction just because of a failed dice roll. Other gamers, however, welcome the consistent behaviour and role playing challenge that these rules bring.
Below I will pick a few different systems that describe the inner workings of a character.
The core of the Star Wars saga revolves around mythical archetypes. Primarily, these stem from the idealised conflict of the good against the evil. This was obviously a prime concern when the game was written. Since the system is quick and action-packed, the rules are very loosely fitting.
That which makes Star Wars special is that the morals of a person are intimately joined with the Force, a mystical energy field created by all living things. In the game, a character unable to manipulate the Force consciously (a non-Force User) receives so-called Dark Side Points when committing evil or selfish acts (what is considered evil and good is determined by the reason for the action in question). However this happens only when the actions are severe in nature, or if one unconsciously uses the Force to the wrong ends. Upon receiving this point, a die is rolled. If one rolls below the number of Dark Side Points... well, then the character has succumbed to the Dark Side, the evil part of the Force, and will henceforth be played by the gamemaster.
A Jedi Knight, in contrast, no matter her awareness of her heritage, is closer to the Force than a regular person. Thus, all the actions she performs will be judged by the same scale. If the character grows too used to cutting down unarmed opponents, telekinetically strangling people, or even if she ignores cries for help, then there is a great risk that she will fall to the Darkness.
The game thus handily avoids the question of what's moral by sidestepping it entirely. In other words, if you follow the dictates of the Light side, you're safe from the Dark Side. The humanist code has nothing to do with it.
In Eon, eight so-called Karaktärsdrag, or Character Traits, determine the basic workings of the character. These are Loyalty, Honour, Amour, Aggression, Faith, Generosity, Fame and Luck. Non-player characters receive another "trait": Resources. This last is a simplification to show how in a condensed fashion how much influence the person in question has.
For those of technical inclination, it all works in the following way: Traits are rolled with 3D6. Luck is rolled separately, while it is allowed to randomly allocate the rolls between the other traits. Observe that in Eon, one rolls values with 3D6, while in-game another system is used; one has to roll below the value with x amount of In-dice (In meaning Infinite). This is not to say that the values are set in stone; they are changed by the actions and experiences of the character.
A situation pinched from the rulebook could then illustrate how these traits influence the game:
Sir Dunbaton is challenged to a duel by another nobleman. The problem is that he is in a hurry right now, and actually doesn't have the time. He rolls for Honour which now is 17, gets 10 on the roll and thus accepts the duel despite his lack of time.
Thanks to the In - dice, the system has unique advantages and disadvantages; the most obvious advantage is that a regular resistance roll (In3D6) can yield a result exceeding 18, which prevents characters with a value of 18 from being completely predictable.
It must, however, be said that such extreme values can give rise to problems. Not everyone enjoys having their character's actions dictated by die rolls. Most of those problems are easily alleviated by a competent Gamemaster. A greater difficulty with extreme traits is that the character would be very predictable and difficult to play. How, for example, would one go about playing a character with Aggression 18 and Loyalty 3?
Luckily for the players, the whole rule is optional.
Kult is a horror game. The world is based on the same Gnostic themes that recur in movies like Dark City and the Matrix. Here, the world is an illusion created by God to keep humanity prisoner. This illusion that contains us can, however, be influenced, warped, even made to shatter, uncovering a nightmarish reality and the hidden keys to fantastic powers.
Unsurprisingly, Kult has an extensive system to handle the effect of horror on the human mind. The value Mental Balans (Mental Balance) is here both an indicatior of sanity, and a measure of the character's ability to alter reality by will alone. The humans in Kult are gods trapped in their own ignorance, and as their sanity slips away, their power grows.
However, in Kult there is as far as I know no value that prevents the gamer from performing specific tasks.
In Vampire, one plays, well, a vampire. In other words, the most common character type is a person who's pale, nocturnal, and, let's face things here, pretty much dead.
Dubbed a game of "personal horror" by its creators, Vampire is partly about the characters fighting, and being warped by, their own Beast, which is their name for the primordial vampiric urge to live a predator's life (or unlife, as the case may be).
To measure this there's a value called Path, which is set on a ten-point scale. Most newly created vampire sits around 6 to 8 on the Path of Humanity. The lower your Humanity drops, the less human you become, growing more animalistic, maniacal and instinctive.
Instead of following this Path, the vampire can elect to step off the Path of Humanity entirely, casting away the last pretentions of being human. This is not necessarily a bad thing - a character may lose his personal connection to human life, but still retain high ideals, albeit in a more dispassionate, thoroughly weird fashion.
Another two statistics that affect character morality in Vampire are known as Nature and Demeanor. They both use the same archetypal character types, such as Masochist, Trickster and Caregiver. Demeanor shows your outward appearance, whereas Nature defines how you really are. Thus, a person could of the nature Martyr and the demeanor Monster might merely act cruelly, while in at heart being quite kind; a flexible system if handled properly.
I have saved this to my mind conceptually flawed system for the last, as it is both unique to the genre and distinctive in other ways.
In Dungeons & Dragons, every character possesses a value known as an Alignment. This statistic has nine possible steps, which as are the following: Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, Lawful Neutral, True Neutral, Chaotic Neutral, Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil and Chaotic Evil.
This Alignment can be changed through the actions of the role player. Some professions, for example that of the Paladin, can only be pursued by characters of a certain Alignment. The Alignment of a being can also be read by a magician. Specific races tend to lean toward specific groups of Alignments. Drow, for example, tend to be evil, as do Orcs.
I personally dislike this system for a variety of different reasons, some of which I'll present now. I'll open with a new quote from the article I mentioned above:
It denotes that every creature is either good, neutral or evil. [..] That invites serious problems!
To begin with, one gets the impression that it is OK to be evil, which of course is wrong. Also, the system means that one so to say plasters moral stickers on any creature, person and people. Orcs are evil, gold dragons are good, druids are neutral. The consequence is easily that the players feel they have a right to cut down anyone with an opposing alignment. Orcs are per definition "evil" and can be killed at any time, aren't they? But that is of course not right.
My opinion is that the author of the article, in the purely intellectual sense, has a point here. What is it that suddenly allows you to decide a person to be "evil"; is the dividing line relative (which means death could be determined arbitrarily) or absolute (a thorny thing to determine indeed!)? How many people must that person save in order to be seen as "neutral"? And most important of all - if a character both pursues unselfish acts of heroism and then burns down villages in his spare time, is he then "neutral" and thus neither good nor evil?
Yes, the concept of "evil" is difficult to define. A westerner would, perhaps, decide that prostitution is morally indefensible, while a native of Thailand very well could hold the reverse position. Another example is the fictitious dark elven culture I took part of in a LARP, in which the value of a creature was determined by its race. An honourable dark elf might cheerfully burn a family of human farmers alive. If he later slew a high elf in battle, this same dark elf would fight to the death to defend his enemy's body from "lesser" races.
Most societies are inclusive, in that working for the good of the group generally is considered a good thing. This, however, inescapably implies that the average social creature should generally be inclined to be "good" or at the very least "neutral" toward members of its own society… as long as this society has evolved to survive. If this doesn't sound plausible, there is no reason for the creatures helping each other in the face of a common threat.
Consider the stereotypical goblins who, upon sighting intruders, attack them en masse. Why do they do this? It's clearly to protect their own pack, a pack that would not exist at all if what they had in common was jealousy and hatred. The simple fact is that all social creatures are inclined toward mutual advantage - we need each other in order to survive. What evolutionary reason would such creatures have to pathologically hate each other? None whatsoever, or they would have died out long ago.
Ah, I hear you say, but what about the classical Orcs made ubiquitous by JRR Tolkien? Plainly, they hate each other, plotting and murdering their fellows at the slightest opportunity. A simple answer to that, however, ist that Orcish society isn't natural in origin, but rather completely unnatural. Tolkien's Orcs, being forced into battle and brutally worked by their master, experience fear, rage and frustration as a result of living their lives in forced servitude and terror. So are they evil? Most of Sauron's Orcs undoubtedly are, yes. Are they naturally inclined to be evil? Probably not.
Going back to the mechanics of gaming, it's rather telling how such Alignment systems affects the game directly. An example to illustrate it is taken from the PC game Baldurs Gate II. As spoken by the character Imoen:
I recognise them from descriptions. Duergar. Kinda evil, so it's not strange that they work for our captor.
The statement is an interesting one. Duergar, then, are "evil" - we know this because Imoen has heard it from someone. Leaving aside the question on whether you could make such a call based on sketchy information, one would have to wonder why Imoen automatically has to agree on this man's assessment on what's evil? It could only be so if Evil and Good was independent of a person's beliefs and cultural background, if there is a perfect universal code of morality. The small problem is that no such code exists, as is evidenced by numerous thorny moral problems that philosophers like to pose.
Of course, one worthy contender for a universal system of morality is the humanist code. And going by that code, human beings are allowed to think what they will, as long as it harms no one else. In D&D, to be "evil", you don't have to actually do anything wrong. Your crime could just as easily be... wait for it... being the member of an "evil" race!
Painful. As is the following quote, taken from WebRPG:
Once, I created a sword called the "Bad-Guy Squasher." It killed any evil-aligned creatures in a 20 ft. radius. So, a paladin uses it against a lich. It killed the lich alright, but let's just say the thief in the party lied about his alignment...
Here, we see no less than three tendencies that stem directly from the Alignment system. Firstly, the character showing their fascist mandate to kill anything with an evil Alignment. Secondly, the power of magic to instantly make what is in practice a completely subjective judgement. Thirdly, the laissez-faire approach to a weapon that is, in essence, a weapon of mass destruction, and to killing in general. Because killing an evil man doesn't matter… right? You could kill dozens of 'em and it's not a problem. Not as if they were people, after all.
My considered opinion is that such systems stunt or remove opportunities for role-playing. Try the following situation, taken from the same article as before:
The player character is well-built, strong and a skilled warrior, dressed in armour and equipped with good weapons. He encounters a stranger who is small of size, not armoured, and from all accounts is an amateur at fighting. The stranger cries out something like "murdering scum!", draws his sword and cuts at the player character. What does the player do?
In Dungeons & Dragons the player could well have pulled out some magical gadget that checked the stranger's Alignment, or cast a spell of "Know Alignment", after which an intriguing moral problem… disappears entirely. Instead of forming an opinion of a character by studying his or her actions, it's possible to solve it by the casting of a simple spell.
And that, I belive, is the reason why the word "copout" was invented.
It should be mentioned that the playing style I prefer is fairy-tale fantasy of the more down-to-earth variety. In such a setting, characters can be heroes, yet are still ordinary humans. A kick hurts, a stab wound to the neck kills, and magic is a thing both rare and dangerous. With this style it is possible to give the players the illusion of reality, something difficult to achieve with characters able to routinely defeat a hundred enemies in melee. Another bonus is that enemies never get so powerful that they cannot be defeated by simple cunning.
But the best thing about this style is that the stakes are higher. The deaths matter, and as the characters are less of supermen than regular people, they aren't cut off from the rest of the world. It's pretty uninteresting to face an ethical challenge if it doesn't really have relevance to you.
Indeed, the question is how one would go about exploring the compexities of a real human being if all human imperfections, all frailties and hesitations and troubles, didn't exist. Perfection, after all, can be very boring.