Inflation in RPGs, Part II

Not all inflation refers to things economic. Many things can be dangerously over-inflated. (My ego, for instance.) In this instance, what I am addressing is just how ridiculously fast characters progress in most RPGs, as well as the equally ridiculous numbers that are involved in that progression.

Now, it _must_ be assumed that any player character is, by default, a particularly exceptional individual. In most every population, the vast overwhelming majority of people will be practically anonymous individuals working in the bottom rung of their society. Farmers, peasants, lower echelon tradesmen, etc. Most of their lives are spent getting up in the morning, working all day, going to bed early so they can repeat the cycle day after day. Along the way they find a spouse, mate, and create clones of themselves to continue the Endless Cycle. If extraordinary circumstances are thrust upon them, they may have to take up arms in defense of home and hearth. However, in such a case, the overwhelming majority of them will serve as spear-carriers. ("Cannonfodder", in colloquial parlance.)

From the get-go, a player character does not bear any resemblance to such mundanes (other than being of the same species). A player character is destined to DO SOMETHING -- even if that may only be to "go out in a blaze of glory" early in his or her career. However, taking the raw clay and molding it into something phenomenal takes **time**. An eighteen-year-old does NOT pick up a sword and instantly transform into El Cid. Billy The Kid was renown for having killed 21 men before the age of 21 -- but historians suggest the tally was less than half that number. Alexander the Great started young and carved out a HUGE empire for himself -- before dying just short of his 33rd birthday. One of the most well known composers, Mozart, started learning music at the age of four. When he died at the age of 35 he was one of the most famous composers of his era -- living in poverty. From all of these, we see particularly exceptional people, known for being famous at an early age. But from start to finish, there is a span of TIME, spanning multiple decades, starting from relative obscurity and ending with consummate fame.

Now compare most any RPG to that historical reality. You start as a first level whatever with zero experience points. Initial attributes usually border between mundane and above average, with perhaps an Outstanding attribute in one or two areas. Thereafter, the success of the character is determined by what you do with him or her. The things that you do accumulate experience points, and perhaps hone skills somewhat. Given that you don't get yourself killed, you will start to ascend through level after level of expertise and notoriety. Now, given that those mundanes that provide the foundation of your society are all Level Zeroes, what level would someone of spectacular accomplishment be? Tenth level? Fifteenth? Twentieth? How many levels would there be between your average John Doe Farmer and the Champion of the Empire? And how long did it take the Champion of the Empire to become Champion of the Empire?

I have played innumerable RPGs where the main player character ascended to THE highest level imaginable -- and then kept on going. And in terms of the passage of time during that ascent it did NOT take decades. It generally took (game) years at most, and many times took mere months. As an example, I am currently playing Oblivion. The vast majority of people that have played the game have been seriously impressed with it. (Which may explain why it was named Game of the Year by so many magazines and game websites.) In that game, starting from a cold start, my character ascended to a vaunted 34th-level. (To which many players will say, "Is that all???") He became the Champion of the Empire, head of the Mage's Guild, next-to-the top of both the Thieves and Fighters Guilds, slew 800+ people and several thousand creatures/monsters -- all in less than 200 game days.

When you stop to think about it, isn't that incredibly ludicrous? Actually, I can't think of a large enough adjective to describe just how ludicrous that is.

If you were paying attention to the enumeration of accomplishments, you will have noted the Number One explanation for such fantastic advancement: killing people and creatures/monsters. All it takes to advance in level is to be a Killing Machine. Kill them as fast as you encounter them. Kill them like you were single-handedly wading through a continuous banzai charge. Kill them all day and then at night engage in sleep killing.

Haven't game designers ever heard of self-preservation? Of running away and living to fight another day? Of having enough connectivity with one's loved ones such that instead of dying an honorable death, to instead retreat so that the family/pack doesn't lose a valuable resource gatherer?

Hardly any character would be able to rack up the incredible kill tallies necessary to make those absurd level advances if it wasn't for the fact that they have nothing but suicidal fanatics continually fighting to be impaled on his sword. I'm sure that there are a very few exceptional games that may be pointed out where the opposing NPCs have a modicum of self-preservation programmed in. However, I doubt that anyone can argue that such games are anywhere close to common. Or even that there are a substantial number of games where there's more than one or two opposing NPCs that understand the concept of self-preservation. And of those that are willing to run away in order to survive, nearly every one of them has a literal horde of henchmen and underlings that feel the ultimate accomplishment is to die in a futile matchup with the hero -- while his boss runs away.

Be thankful that in Real Life, henchmen can be counted on to look out for their own self-interests when the chips are down, otherwise we would most definitely need that Champion of the Empire hero to sally forth on our behalf -- and in Real Life, such heroes do NOT exist.

And that, I guess is my ultimate point: at least try to make even fantasy games to have a passing relationship to Reality. Yeah, we all groove on the sense of accomplishment as our characters rack up the experience points. But when we're dealing with these massively inflated numbers, the chasm between Me and Fantastic Me goes from the Grand Canyon to that void between galaxies. That is, I identify much, much more with a character that could be _me_ if I shed a few pounds, improved my reaction time somewhat, developed a comprehensive database of general knowledge, etc. Make THAT character succeed, and I go "YEAH!" But when my character is just short of godhood and he succeeds, I go, "Ho hum. Wonder what game I'll play next."