MeinMMO author Cedric Holmeier is a passionate role-player and often the one at the table who sets the tone. However, for 40 adventure points, he traded his greatest strength and thereby saved his role-playing group.
I have sinned. I was greedy. I wanted 40 adventure points to invest in cool talents for my character. For that, I gave up my greatest strength: My voice.
Anyone who knows The Dark Eye knows that you can give characters disadvantages in exchange for adventure points that you can then invest in other values. They are a mix of experience and skill points and are earned alongside the start and after successful adventures. I still needed 40 points for my Boron acolyte. Accordingly, I pored over the disadvantages before deciding on a vow of silence.
“Easily earned points,” I thought. “Then I’ll just nod.”
Normally, I am the “main character” in the group. I take conversations over, I negotiate, I discuss, I am loud. My vow of silence would therefore change everything at the table, but I was ready for the challenge. What started out as sheer greed for points would soon prove to be the best idea for my role-playing group.
Anyone who likes tabletop RPGs like The Dark Eye or Dungeons & Dragons might also enjoy Critical Role’s Daggerheart:
Just Do It
My fellow players knew nothing of my vow of silence when the session began. I let them meet my character just like normal. But even this encounter was unusual: Instead of introducing myself impressively, I simply let my character smile and nod.
While my fellow players gradually understood that I wouldn’t be talking for eight hours today, I had to learn to deal with myself and my character first. This began even before we had to meet our first client. Just before the door to the throne room, the group debated how to present themselves best – for minutes.
That’s when I recognized a superpower that I had never used before: Just do it.
Even before my four fellow players had finished discussing their consensus about the group appearance, I had my character open the door and enter. My fellow players were left stunned before they hurried to follow.
I used this superpower repeatedly later on. My character always listened to the group, also answered with a nod occasionally – but when he wanted to do something, he did it. Even without the blessing of all fellow players.
Boron Forgive!
This did not always go well. For instance, when I wanted to behead a disbelieving witch instead of questioning her. Who would have thought that my vow of silence would be broken by transforming into a frog and a loud croak? Boron forgive.
My character was a disruptive factor in the group. My fellow players were not exactly thrilled that I did not always align with their ideas but sometimes just acted. However, my character created facts – and especially in a positive sense. Instead of spending minutes contemplating the best strategy, he brought about spontaneous moments, improvisation, and chaos with his thoughtless actions. All things that often get lost in large groups in favor of a “perfect plan”.
It’s important to note: My character never actively harmed the group. The typical “My Guy Syndrome,” where a player acts destructively just “because the character is like that,” has no place at the gaming table.
On the contrary: Proactive actions that replace lengthy discussions and create facts did the group good. I learned that while I used to believe I had the greatest influence due to my dominant speaking share, in reality, it is the one who rolls the dice who determines the game – and that doesn’t even require a single word.
True role-playing games always depend on how well the people at the table can immerse themselves in a character and also deal with the disadvantages of that role. In another case, one can only shake their head: Her “friends” force her to be a healer in D&D while she just wants to roll a lot of dice and deal heavy damage
