Imagine if you got a bunch of famous authors together, had them play D&D, and published the transcripts with illustrations and a sound track. That's kind of what Red Dragon is, except instead of D&D it uses a homebrew system and the authors are best known for light novels, anime, and visual novels.
"Replays" are cleaned-up tabletop RPG transcripts that share a number of publishing conventions with light novels. They've been around almost as long as RPGs in Japan, growing out of the "how to play an RPG" guide into a niche of their own. Red Dragon is a bit different than most in that the players are pretty high profile: Urobuchi Gen, Kinoko Nasu, and Narita Ryohgo are all in the game. Additionally, very few replay series have a full art team, promotional videos, original soundtracks, or fully-featured free online versions.
RPG war stories are popular anywhere; Blaize O'Glory's Post-Mortem Hall of Fame is a series of tales from the early days of the Internet, and these days there's a subreddit on the topic, besides any number of campaign blogs. The transcript style isn't popular (though there are examples) and the few dips into commercial publication are all fictionalized accounts like Dragonlance.
Replays aren't necessarily better than fictionalized versions; they depend a lot on the table dynamic between the players and can require knowledge of the rules that a novel would smooth over. That being the case, besides being easier to produce they can also function as advice on running a game in a more direct and convincing way than most Game Mastering tips. In R'Lyeh Antique, after the first session the GM goes to a cafe with one of his players and they have a frank discussion about the session not going very well. The scenario was a mystery and the holdup was a common one - the players need to find one particular clue to advance, but they don't, and the GM's hints and attempts to make it easy aren't enough to keep the game from slowing to a crawl. Though the discussion of how to deal with this doesn't have any epiphanies, it touches on problems of plot, games, and social situations in a way that doesn't come up in many kinds of writing.
I posted on Metafilter about this a while ago and it generated some interesting comments and good links which may be worth a look if you want to know more. The English Wikipedia article on Japanese RPGs is also remarkably thorough and worth a read. Ψ
What is ELDR∴FUT?
Flickr seems to have a pretty good idea what it is. But is there any point to it? What on earth does it mean?
According to someone on Yahoo! Chiebukuro (the Japanese equivalent to Answers, though nowhere near as awful), ELDR∴FUT stands for Eldritch Futile. The person explaining the words speculates that the name was chosen so that even if the graffiti artists do something pointless, they want to be as clever as they can about it. An amusing side note to the question is the asker's incredulity at the posting of the stickers - "Posting these on someone's property is a crime". Another person asked a separate question referencing the first, asking why anyone would go to the trouble of posting stickers around town. A kindly soul suggested, "It could be for the same reasons that people do graffiti in general."
Why indeed. Ψ
Good points from The Visual Display of Quantitative Information:
The history section is also good. The criticism section was much too long. Overall the book felt like it had very little content given the page count, and while it could be an eye-opener for someone who's never seen anything outside of the most basic Excel graphs I'd couldn't recommend it to anyone looking for a good guide to charts.
If you know a good source in the same vein, please be in touch. Ψ
Player Skill vs. Character Skill is an old problem from tabletop roleplaying games that comes from a tension inherent in the conceit of playing a character who is unlike yourself. On the one hand, a player should not need to be a great speaker to play a persuasive politician; on the other, it's engaging when the knowledge you accumulate and use in your mundane life suddenly becomes of value in extraordinary circumstances, as when a detective character encounters an industrial smell the player recognizes from their workplace and it's a key clue in a mystery. The question in a tabletop RPG is where to draw the line, and while it's fuzzy, you always need to avoid the smart guy who decides he'll invent gunpowder in a fantasy setting, but it's standard to require the players to work out logic puzzles themselves rather than relying on the godlike intelligence of the party wizard.
The distinction between player skill and character skill also holds in video games, but I think it plays out in a very different way.
Character skill covers those abilities you only have because the game remembers who you are; it is your identity and the game's recognition of it that give you power. If you dedicate a lot of time to an MMO your character will naturally increase in level and quality of equipment and you will gain contacts and various in-game powers. If you lose your save file or change your identity, you lose everything.
Player skill covers those abilities that always work for the same game regardless of where or how you play. This doesn't mean that these abilities are profound or have any meaning outside the game itself; just as Guitar Hero skill doesn't correspond with musical ability in any obvious way, neither does being good at Guilty Gear mean you're handy in a fight. Like character skill, player skill increases with time, but only because the way the player treats the game changes; the game itself treats old timers the same as new faces.
Few games rely on only either one or the other of the above; for MMOs and long-form RPGs there are more and less effective builds and battle strategies that can be key to your advancement. Similarly, even in traditional fighting games there are usually unlockable characters that can change the scales, even if they're not admissable in tournaments or serious fights. Still, the source of progression in a game can be intrinsic or extrinsic to the player, and that depends on how the game is made more than it depends on who is playing it. In some games a level 10 character will always beat a level 1 character; in some games it'll be hard but the weaker character can win; in some there are no levels in the first place.
Understanding these two kinds of progression helps me understand why some people enjoy different kinds of video games. I know there are people who sincerely enjoy Progress Quest (if not very seriously), which is a parody of character-skill only design, and it's because numbers going up provides a visceral satisfaction. I know that enjoy starting a game over and realizing that something that gave me a lot of trouble is now part muscle memory, part applied theory, and entirely smooth.
I've been suspicious of traditional level-based character progression for a long time; it often strikes me as a means to stretch out thin gameplay. Player skill being irrelevant is worse than character skill being too important, but I'm still trying to figure out better guidelines for what kind of character skill progression works and what doesn't. Understanding that the two kinds of progression scratch completely different sweet spots is the first step on the way there. Ψ
At the Akihabara Super Potato this weekend I took a peek in the rare games case and noticed something that surprised me: a Wonderswan Color game for over 50,000￥, or 500USD. The Wonderswan consoles definitely had their fans and success stories - Riviera was first released for the console - but even though it probably has rare games it was hard to believe there would be enough interest a price that high would make sense. When I got home I checked online and found another copy of the same game, except this time it was over 70,000￥.
The game in question is Dicing Knight, not to be confused with Dicing Knight Period. The Wikipedia article refers to a Dicing Knight Legion; there appear to be no other references to this online, but a Japanese blog post from 2010 does suggest that two versions of the game were released: Dicing Knight and Dicing Knight. In case you didn't catch it, the second one's period is part of the title, thus when speaking it's called "Dicing Knight Period". It's not entirely clear, but the non-Period version - the first one sold - may only run on WonderWitch systems (more about that briefly).
The game itself looks a great deal like a traditional Zelda title, except that maps are randomly generated and hard - it's an action roguelike. Based on the gameplay video the range of items is much broader than it would be in Zelda, with watches that allow you to stop time as well as cute bunny heads.
One interesting detail about the game is that it was developed for a contest using the WonderWitch (offical homepage), essentially a devkit with a C-based toolchain for the Wonderswan that was available to normal consumers (one was for sale at Super Potato for around 20,000￥). One of two winners of the 2003 development competition to be officially published, the other was called Judgment SilverSword, and while also rare it went through enough printings that it doesn't quiet enjoy the status of Dicing Knight.
The developers of Dicing Knight are also chugging along, releasing games regularly at Comiket. Their latest is Anisotropic Girl Magatsuhi, which looks like the classically bewildering Animal Attack Gakuen.
After all that I feel like I've learned a little something about the history of WonderSwan indie development but nothing at all about used game prices. The thing about mysteries is that some of them simply have no explanation. Ψ