Since this blog was started, I have had people ask me and the other authors exactly what verisimilitude means and why we use that word.  If you are a frequent reader of roleplaying articles, you will probably encounter this word and from its context, interpret it to mean “realism.”  You are guaranteed to encounter it here on this blog, but it is used extensively by people talking about any artistic endeavor involving storytelling.  Why use the word verisimilitude instead of a more commonly know word such as “realism,” “reality,” or “credibility?”  Most importantly, why do we like this word? 

Our approach to the hobby is definitely one that emphasizes the storytelling component over the mechanical. This emphasis allows us to discuss the portion of the hobby that often goes neglected by the majority of the systems out there.  There are plenty of books direct from the game manufacturers that will let me tool up my street samurai into an unstoppable killing machine, or give me options to enhance the combat aspects of my warlord.  There are few books (and mostly written independent of any system) that cover the aspect of breathing life into my story.

Most of the players I have met in my years of roleplaying can learn the game we are playing.  They can even go so far as to add some cool hooks/features into their character to make them interesting for a session or two.  But to have a character that is more than a one-trick pony and has the storytelling endurance to be fresh at the table for months or even (gasp) a year or more, requires some respect be paid to verisimilitude.

I found a definition of literary terms at this website, which gives us the following:

Verisimilitude: The semblance to truth or actuality in characters or events that a novel or other fictional work possesses. To say that a work has a high degree of verisimilitude means that the work is very realistic and believable.

 A Google search reveals that “Verisimilitude in literature and theatre denotes the extent to which a work of fiction exhibits realism or authenticity.”

Verisimilitude thus becomes a word not only describing realism, but also emphasizing believability and authenticity, especially as applied to the storytelling aspect of the game.  We therefore use this word to emphasize our main point here at RoleplayingPro:

It does not matter what system of rules you are using to simulate the physics of your reality.  If you fail to simulate the reality of who your characters are, why they would be compelled to do the things they do and how the world responds to their actions (and how they in turn respond to the world), you are missing out on the one key factor that separates our hobby from all others. 

If I want to just go up against a challenge and mechanically plod through it, there are all manner of diversions available to me, both for solitary and group play.  The reason I enjoy this hobby is because it allows me to get together with my friends and collaboratively construct new and personal works of art that will hopefully benefit from each of us as an influence.  It becomes a narrative that will hopefully take on a life of its own and be as compelling as the drama and struggles that I enjoy in all of my favorite films, plays and television shows.

In order to achieve this goal, the story we are telling has to have compelling characters (see John’s articles here, here, here, and here) that mesh well with the world the gamemaster is describing.  The more attention he pays to the history and culture of his world, as well as the current events and philosophies of the people living there, the more accessible his world becomes.  These elements can be as fantastic as the imagination allows, but if they are internally consistent and there is a logical cause and effect relationship between them, they now become plot elements that my character can access with a reasonable expectation of the results.

If I make an assassin because I just want to kill people, that might be interesting, but if my GM envisions a world where the PCs are heroes as oppossed to blood thirsty killers, there is no room in that world for my assassin.  But if my assassin kills for a higher reason outside of himself, some noble goal or because he is forced down this path, that moves him closer to compelling and more likely to be accepted.  If that reason also provides logical connections between my character and the game world, I now have a character that with a little more work can be one my GM approves of and can provide many adventure/story hooks for, for months to come.

The other reason this is important is because as a player my choices need to matter.  This means that actions have logical and reasonable consequences.  It means that the world is self-consistent enough that as a player, I can make reasonably informed decisions.  If I make poor decisions based on the information at hand, there is a penalty that is in keeping with the world I am in.  Consequently, if I make good decisions, there is also reasonable reward – my decision has helped turn our story down a path that is in keeping with our goals and motivations (otherwise, why strive to make good choices.)  If my choices stop having logical and reasonable consequences, good or bad, then they are probably not having an effect on the story.  If my choices are not affecting the story, I might lose interest, which could affect the enjoyment of the rest of the group.

If, for example, our campaign has established that we are in a world that has rulership of countries passed from father to son for generations, and in addition has seen high-level fantasy characters in all of their glory come and go, then the world needs to be able to handle the actions of unruly PCs.  If we have established that the characters are working at the behest of the City Council and they make decisions that are in accord with the Council’s wishes, the path to prestige and glory becomes more attainable.  If not, we lose the backing of a potential resource.  If the campaign establishes that no one ever returns alive from The Gnarled Oaks and the last group of famous and honored (i.e. higher level than the PCs) adventurers sent in never returned, maybe the DM is telling you  this adventure is there, but not for right now – its just scenery that we will get to later.  But, if the PCs decide to go in regardless, maybe they encounter the overpowered threat anyway (but hopefully there are enough clues given to the players that they can decide it is now time to retreat before they are all killed.)

What if my group decides not to tempt fate and wants to gather information about the Gnarled Oaks before rushing in?  Then we should be rewarded for that, too.  We have respected the reality of the DM’s world and made appropriate choices.  We have helped give that poorly-named forest more of a sense of awe and mystery than it deserves from its name alone.  We may also be called cowards and wimps for not even attempting to find the other lost souls and have to find other ways of proving our worth to the community.

Perhaps the party fighter whose older brother was in the first group sent in has conflicting feelings with those of the party as a whole and uses that as roleplaying fuel to justify brash and angry decisions from someone that is normally level-headed and serene.  Perhaps the group’s warlord chafes at being considered a sniveling coward and uses that to justify some rash decisions that hurt the party, but steers the group down an interesting story path that exposes them to new and exciting adventures.  Now your story has more choice involved than, “Do we take the left corridor or the right corridor?”  Now the characters, who may be compelling in their own right, are interacting with a compelling world and their resulting story can become legendary, not because they killed a dragon, or a god, or blew up the Death Star, they are legendary because they were able to achieve this greatness in spite of (or because of) their flaws and tragic choices, as well as the losses they suffered on the way.

This is what transforms a character from being a sheet with 6 attributes and some skills into Cormaron Blenileth, former member of the Ost Morynaris city guard.  He is now the tragic defender of the Nighthaunt Woods, a sylvan forest that is haunted by the ghost of his lover Guenellis who was taken and killed by a Formorian lord.   Cormaron had degenerated into a life of vengeance that took him down many dark paths, but enabled him to eventually have the power to slay the Formorian.  Cormaron and his companions are now faced with a choice that option A lets his love finally move on to her eternal rest and option B puts the entire populace of Ost Morynaris at risk of destruction. 

If the DM and his players have respected verisimilitude up until now, this could be a very difficult choice indeed.  If Cormaron’s player has really played up the suffering of his lost love and the total commitment to her vengeance, there may only be one choice for him.  If the DM has made Ost Morynaris a real fixture in the minds of his players, one that they are connected to not only by the “needs of the many outweighs the needs of the one” choice, but because they have been there, they have “seen” and know these people. That Grimwall Bloodletter has personally serviced their weapons ever since they rescued his brother from the Tomb of Despair.  They may be making the anguishing choice between the lives of people they know and care about and the serenity and peace of mind of their comrade in arms.   But if verisimilitude is missing, if no one cares about the consequences for their choices, then ultimately neither choice matters and neither outcome is likely to be compelling enough to have us watch any further.  Your movie has become all about the special effects with no attention paid to the story, and people are going to the manager right now, asking for a refund.