Dirk De Silver, Brash and Fearless Warrior:

Botkin, Awakened A.I.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dirk de Silver:

Now that the Evil is vanquished, what now?

Botkin, Awakened A.I.:

“What now?” does not compute. Evil: eliminated

Dirk de Silver:

It doesn’t feel like much – winning.

Botkin:

No perspective. You’d certainly feel it if you did not win.

Dirk de Silver:

But what’s the point of fighting if not for the feeling?

Botkin:

Principles, perhaps.  Something to protect?

Dirk de Silver:

Me? I fought for freedom.

Botkin:

You fought for your freedom, I for mine.

Dirk de Silver:

So what? We just finish here, and then go our
separate ways in the world.  Abandon our responsibilities?

Botkin:

Better that than the alternative –
becoming what we just vanquished.

Overview:

The earth shakes as the troops roll out. Two war-hardened leaders stare across a battlefield and recall the times when they fought side-by-side.  Once a tyrannical empire had the land in its grip, imposing its will on the people.  Fortunately, the two heroes resisted, gathered resourceful allies, used their unique gifts to overcome the tyrant and his minions, and imposed a new, harmonious order on the land.  But the core differences between both leaders frayed their relationship; the power and responsibilities of ruling an empire were too great for their vulnerable natures.  They began to find fault in every action the other took, polarizing their friends and causing ever-greater disasters within their empire.  Finally, the empire was no longer big enough for the two of them — only one could rule.  Now their divided allies will summon down acid darkness, open up their hearts, and spill blood for a cause greater than their own:  a cause that – as they stare across the battlefield/graveyard-to-be – their leaders may no longer believe in, but now it’s too late.  This will  cause some to turn traitor, finding their own skins worth more than meaningless martyrdom.  Who would want to win such a battle, or even rule the shattered country remaining after the dust settles?

Perhaps only a tyrant.

Figurative Destruction is a diceless, solitary role-playing game that utilizes action-figures as cues for imagining an ultimate battle between two epic heroes now turned against each other by their opposing world-views.  It is intended to simulate the kinds of grand-but-simplistic imaginative play many of us practiced during our childhood, albeit adding enriched pathos for an older audience.  Though the game institutes a fairly strict dramatic structure, these limitations are designed to focus the player’s (forthwith known as the Manipulator) attention on making the hard choices needed to guide the tragedy toward its suspenseful conclusion.

Normally at this point, I’d be citing all kinds of books and movies that inspired this story arc, etc.  This time, however, I’d like for you to just decouple your imagination from all the media that’ll influence your play anyway.  Imagine instead the following scenario:  you’re a kid who has never been exposed to Marvel Comics and you receive a Wolverine toy.  It’s awesome – a kind of wolfish looking guy in a black cyber suit with long blades sticking out of his knuckles.  You begin to extrapolate: he’s a dark prince from a kingdom besieged by giant, person-sized maggot things.  He has created a cyber suit with claw-like exoskeleton extensions in order to survive in the new hostile environment.  His goggles pick up not only the signatures of his maggot prey, but also their spirits after he’s killed them, which is slowly driving him insane.  Thus he has been recently exiled to the far off Anvil of the Sun, an unspeakable desert that no one has survived. They’re sending him there tomorrow.  His name is now the Clawed Scion, and he’ll be ready to take his kingdom back.

See, neither of these two options for this action-figure’s back-story is more ridiculous or (in my mind) more correct than the other:

Name: Clawed Scion
Powers: Involuntarily Sense the Dead, Cyber Suit
Background: Psychic prince whose kingdom is under siege by giant maggots, but whose very means of fighting his enemies turns out to be his undoing, and is forced into desert exile.

Name: Wolverine
Powers: Adamantium Exoskeleton, Fast Healing
Background: Son of a 19th Century Canadian farmer whose skeleton is bonded with metal in the Weapon X super-soldier project and who then rebels and works for a paramilitary group of liberal mutants

In addition, my version of the Silliness is decoupled from the corporate-enforced, overdetermined Silliness of the backstory to be combined with Wolverine’s image.

Next post – The Rules!

(I’m somewhat writing this RPG in order, so bear with me.  The actual system’s on its way. ;-))

Preface:

When we were growing up in the 1980s, we might have been dimly aware of our being amidst a world boom in action-figures.  The success of the Star Wars franchise model combined with the 1983 deregulation of children’s television programming based on toys suddenly prompted toy and media companies to jump into bed together.  The spawn of their steamy corporate passion were both numerous and absurd:  a host of mediocre-to-terrible television programs designed specifically to market action-figures – molded acrylonitrile butadiene styrene (ABS) enveloped in colorful industrial acrylics and sealed with polyethylene “accessories” likely to be swallowed or lost in the couch cushions – to impressionable young boys from American suburbs.

He-Man and the Masters of the Universe?  Mattel created the sci-fi/fantasy cartoon explicitly to sell the figures, which otherwise had ridiculous-looking bow legsVisionaries – Knights of the Magical Light? Hasbro’s crude response to He-Man, namely fantasy “G.I. Joes” equipped with holograms on their chests and useless staves.  Sectaurs?  Coleco’s modestly successful insect mutant figures with a nigh-unwatchable cartoon to match.  The list goes on: Army Ants, Dino-Riders, M.A.S.K.  … the list of recognizable-but-discarded cartoon-toy name brands number in the hundreds.  The most successful lines, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Transformers, remain with us to this day, thoroughly insulated from the dark humor of Eastman & Laird or the experiments of obscure Takara engineers in the late 1970s that gave the toys their narrative appeal in the first place, but no less absurd than their unsuccessful counterparts.

The primary way the older brands (i.e. pre-1995) are to be interpreted today is through the lens of sarcasm and/or nostalgia.  Their sealed plastic is given an additional, incorporeal seal: that of a corporatized childhood, one that should be discarded as readily as it trapped parents’ wallets.  “Ha! Got you!” scream out the toy collections of today’s twenty- and thirty-somethings, “It was all a ruse – you bought the Raphael in Greek armor! The only way to make your money back in THIS system is to come up with a scam of your own.” Indeed, 1980s action-figures appear as epitomes of the Biblical false idol, ushered in by cheap Saudi oil and techno-militaristic fantasies but too ham-strung by ridiculous narratives to be taken seriously.  A dorky prince whose sword’s primary power is to inject him with testosterone?  Medieval knights on an alien world who embrace their shamanic totem symbol?  Genetically mutated anthropoid insect-people locked in a pointless struggle over a blasted desert?  Staring into the narratives behind these figures becomes a confrontation with the symbolic void.  We know their names – General Spidrax, Man-at-Arms, Shredder, Optimus Prime – but struggle with assigning them real pathos.  But yet…

But yet.

Opening up my case of action figures after not looking at them for a dozen years brought not a wave of post-scam revulsion, but of boyish love for the slightly smelly plastic.  Their visual and tactile qualities immediately recalled countless adventures played out on my bedroom and basement floor.  The Mercenaries of Bornbrom, ruthless slavers and transformed prophet-kings (this was Shredder, Ratar-O, and Scare-Glo).  There were the Eight Brothers (I had a lot of Ninja Turtle figures) whose attractive green skin caused women to faint, and Captain Megazoom (Space Usagi, pictured left) who would rule the galaxy as a debonaire emperor were it not for the stolid efforts of his enemies the Bodiless (who were totally invisible; I didn’t need to buy a figure for them).  I realized this wasn’t nostalgia for the figures themselves, but for the stories I was once able to tell with them.  There was a system to how I told the story; I didn’t get into role-playing through arbitrary means.  The tragic tale would have to unfold in a certain fashion, and this certain fashion is what I seek to replicate in Figurative Destruction – The Solo RPG:  how figures fight together, get separated by their inner natures and then fight again to their own foretold demises.  Aeschylus and Shakespeare meet Eternia and Prismos reloaded.

Scoffing at those who would simply gaze at their figures slowly accruing value in plastic boxes, I imbue the soulless with a soul, nurture it, watch it grow, and feel the pathos when the figures are returned back to the dark recesses of the toy box.  I creatively destroy and resurrect them, role-playing all the parts with new identities (only their color and shape remain more-or-less the same), powers, and plotlines.

And now so can you.