23. Gear & crap in Playbooks

We’re looking at Gear & Crap today as they are presented in the playbooks.

Oddments worth x-barter; fashion suitable to your looks, including at your option fashion worth x-armor; and the possibility to start play with prosthetics and/or a vehicle are present on almost every playbook and are pretty straightforward.

My favorite thing about the weapons is how their description is a comment on the character. The Angel has a “small practical weapon.” The Brainer has a “small fancy weapon.” The Chopper wields “no-nonsense weapons.” The Driver’s weapon is “handy.” The Gunlugger totes a “fuck-off big gun,” two “serious guns,” and a “backup weapon.” The Maestro D’ carries a “wicked blade.” And the Skinner gets it done with a “gracious weapon.” The Driver’s handy .38 revolver has all the same tags as the Skinner’s gracious sleeve pistol, but the spirit of the weapon has been altered to fit the character. In doing so, it reveals how the character thinks about their weaponry.

What I really want to focus on are the big items, the hardhold, gangs, followers, establishment, and workspace. These items are exciting for a number of reasons. First, their very introduction creates large chunks of the world that will make up the foundation of the story you are about to tell. Second, each item comes with dramatic ingredients whose possibility you can see before you ever breathe life into the character. A Maestro D’s establishment, whatever its main and side attractions and whatever its atmosphere, promises all kinds of drama. Five NPCs (all of them threats, of course) come with the package, one your best regular and one your worst. The remaining 3 NPCs have active interests in the establishment, one wanting in on it, one owed for it, and one who wants it gone. Damn. No matter what particulars attach themselves to the establishment, there will be a ton of drama and excitement; moreover, you are willingly signing up for it—nay, asking for it—as soon as you opt for the Maestro D’.

I recently read Orkworld, and in it, the players are given a single pool of points from which they must create their household and their individual orks. Put too many points into the household, and your characters will be weak; put too many points into your characters, and the household won’t survive the winter. When building your household, you have to decide if you want to have a strong leader, reindeer to ride, a smithy to forge weapons, a household bard to promote your history and legacy, a large number of warriors, or a well-equipped winter home. Everything costs a certain number of points, so you select the strengths and weaknesses you want to characterize your household. If you like figuring out how to best optimize your numbers to create the perfect balance of strengths and weaknesses, it’s a bang up system. A lot of people dig playing with currency like that, and that’s cool.

I do not dig playing with currency like that. What Apocalypse World does with its lists of choices is to create the same balance of strengths and weaknesses without the currency (and without the time investment into figuring it out—or the sense of failure when it doesn’t work out (not that I’m bitter)). The holding, for example, can be given 4 upgrades and 2 downgrades. This not only allows for flavorful varieties in hardholds from game to game, but it means that you need to give and take somewhere. And even as you select the downgrades, you know the MC is going to use those elements to create as much drama and tension as possible. Your population is filthy and unwell? Your gang is a pack of fucking hyenas? Your armory is for shit? Your holding owes protection tribute? Expect any and all of those to be an issue in the story that unfolds.

Even something as harmless as the Angel Kit has built-in drama. If you don’t have a supplier, you need to figure out how to refill your stock. If you do have a supplier, you’ve got another threat who might kick up more trouble than can be solved with the single stock she brings.

Just as the moves you choose declare what kinds of scenes or dramatic events you want, the Crap you mark ushers forth NPCs, buildings, towns, assistants all with their own neon-lit dramatic elements. This is more than just excellent game design; it is specific to the demands of Apocalypse World. Because the setting is wide open and the genre is undefined, and because the MC is under strict orders not to create a plot, the playbooks are made to do the work of laying out a large number of threats and potential conflicts so that before you frame the first scene you know what pressures are lying in wait for these particular characters in this particular Apocalypse World. And whenever a jolt is needed the lifestyle and gig moves (under “Barter” on the playbooks) are there to offer more sources of dramatic narrative.