The Book is the Game is an Object

 

Christmas has come, and is well on its way to going, as I write this. It's nice spending time with family and eating yourself fat etc, but that's not the topic of this blog. As part of our Christmas celebrations, I received several nice RPG books as gifts, which got me thinking of The Book as An Object.

There has been a lot of discussion about what "the game is", is it what's written in the book, does it only exist at the table (whether wooden or virtual), or is it some abstract space defined by the written rules? An interesting, if academic, question, but not one I will attempt to answer here, except to say that the RPG book serves multiple purposes.

There is a discussion about information design that often rears its head: Is it better to design the book for someone sitting down and reading it, or for someone referencing it at the table during play? And is it possible to design for both simultaneously? Many games try to solve this with play aids at the table in the form of information on character sheets, cards containing play information, or sheets with rules summaries. Ironsworn: Starforged offers an entire wirebound reference guide in addition to the rulebook, rules light systems such as Mörk Borg and Mothership can present an entire rules summary on a single easy to find page (on the inside and outside of the back cover, respectively for these examples), and many PbtA and FitD descended games keep many rules relevant for the player on their playbook sheets. In GM'ed games, the GM screen of course also holds a wealth of information.

And of course, there is not only the information design aspect, there is also the matter of intentionality, what did the author intend for the book? Skerples sorts modules into novels, manuals, and art, and Joseph Manola of Against the Wicked City describes what he wants from supplements as conceptual density, and remarks that many seem to exist solely to be read, letting you imagine playing them (here it would behoove me to thank the Prismatic Discord, who have a much better memory of blogs than I, in part due to having been around longer). I can definitely recognise Manola's impression that supplements are being produced at a rate which play cannot possibly be kept up with, a sentiment I have previously echoed.

However, both of these generally focus on supplements, as is the norm in the OSR sphere, and I would argue that the phenomenon is at least equally prominent in the game/systems space. Here especially, books are read not necessarily for their "fiction", but rather as research and inspiration for your own design thinking. A recent example of a book seemingly aimed at this form of engagement is Dice Forager by Sam Dunnewold (of Dice Exploder fame), which Nova of Playful Void describes (positively!) as "experimental, incomplete, half-thoughts or older drafts" in her review. It could be seen as a part of the games conversation, similar to a blog post.

However, all of these generally engage with the content of the book, rather than the form. I guess we are all trained to see the writing as the meat of the book, and the art and other accoutrements as superficial concerns, except in how they support the text (perhaps rightly so?). I think Skerples almost touches upon it with his "art" category, but still this seems to disregard the physical properties of a book in favour of its wrtiting. An understandable choice, given that the main mode of engagement with many RPG materials these days is through pdfs, but I think the venerable paper slab is still to be considered, as it seemingly keeps selling.

I think we should therefore also consider the RPG book's role as an art object, separate from its gameable context or use as pseudo-fiction. Some books are simply beautiful objects, and people like having beautiful things in their home. If money was no object, I would absolutely have pledged for the ridiculously lavish deluxe edition of Paint the Town Red, rather than its probably still nice regular hardcover version. I would also love to own Rowan Rook and Decard's special edidions, but again, alas, money. Of course, books need not be the most expensive hardcover version known to man to be beautiful (though it sometimes helps). I love my special edition Moss Mother's Maze from Christ Bissette, but their adventure zines are beatifully done as well, in particular A Waning Light and In the Bluelight show that a stapled zine can also be a premium feeling product.

It is often said that art and big pretty hardcovers are what sells Kickstarters, sometimes disparagingly, but I think we need to think about our mindset here. If people like owning beautiful things, is that a problem? I doubt that the masses would be flocking to the basic layout artless adventures if the Big Beautiful Books did not exist, instead, they would probably just be buying artbooks. In these times where pdfs are easily available, a book being a beautiful object in its own right is certainly a strong argument for me to put it on my shelf rather than my hard drive.

PS: One factor that should not be ignored, is the fact that the Big Beautiful Books are much more expensive to produce than basic zines, and thus are likely inaccessible to many marginalised creators. However, if done well, a zine can be equally beautiful. And all this is of course a niche concern anyway, as it presupposes having the funds to buy all of these lavish books.