The Evolution of Munchkin

This is a gaming site, so how about a gaming rant?

Ready? Good. 'Cause this one is going to make a lot of people uncomfortable -- I'm about to challenge what you think of as good gaming.

I was one of those lucky people that got involved in the Internet pretty early on. Back when it was, as far as I was concerned, all Usenet (and some MUDs). I imagine there was some other use for the Internet besides reading about what some guy thought about last night's Next Generation episode or fighting monsters in text-based dungeons, but I didn't know what they were.

Back then, about 10 or 11 years ago, I was introduced to the term "munchkin." For those of you who are apparently new to gaming, the Internet, or both, munchkins are... well, that's the problem, isn't it? Everyone uses the term munchkin, but no one seems to use it in exactly the same way.

Munchkins might be:

1. Powergamers who want to make their characters like unto gods

2. Young gamers who haven't "matured" past concepts like hack and slash

3. People who concern themselves with game mechanics more than roleplaying

4. Someone who plays a roleplaying game in a way you don't like

5. Someone who plays a roleplaying game that you don't like

6. Someone you don't like

"Munchkin" is an almost worthless term. I've seen people online complaining about munchkin players, and as an outside observer I could tell that they were actually referring to entirely different player types.

But everyone likes to use the term, because it means "a gamer not as good as me." It's centered around the idea that gamers mature and intrinsically improve as time goes on. See, there's a commonly held idea that when you start playing roleplaying games, you focus on the game stats and killing things. Later, you mature and you move on, no longer concerning yourself with such trivialities and low-brow entertainments, instead dwelling on deep character immersion and storytelling. Thus, the more mature style is clearly better because it's, well, more mature.

Bzzzt! Thanks for playing.

I don't buy it. Not just the judgmental part, but the whole evolutionary path idea. Here's my theory. You start out playing the game and you're caught up in all of it. It's all new, so "the orcs are threatening the town" is a story -- and it's one you haven't heard yet, because you're new. You focus on game mechanics because you have to, just to keep your head above water. And sure, it's fun to lop the head off the orc chief and take his 78 gp and +1 scimitar.
Because you've never done it before.

Later on, sometimes MUCH later on, you start to change. The hacking has worn a little thin, and the slashing doesn't seem quite right. You decide to explore whether there could be something more. Here, gamers usually take one of two paths.

Path 1: The gritty realism path. Also known as the Rolemaster™ path. You love roleplaying games, but the simplicity of attack and damage rolls and the abstraction of hit points just isn't enough. You want to know exactly where you hit the orc, which tendons you tore with the middle-to-upper cut of your blade, and what effect this wound will have on the orc next round, even if it's only a -2 penalty on perception rolls because he got a drop of blood spray in his eye. Critical hits, critical fumbles, and critical oxcart mishap table L-7 is what you want. You want to track each action by the fractional millisecond. You want a character built with 1 character point placed in your regional underwater Zen archery skill to really be different from the character that didn't think ahead enough to know that such a skill was needed (let alone available).

Path 2. The storyteller path. Also known as the Storyteller™ path. You love roleplaying games, but you hate rollplaying games. You want to write 24-page treatises on the water quality of your character's home village. You want to come out of every game session weeping in sorrow over the death of noble King Carlsbad or with joy over the death of the despot, Carlsbad (either way, as long as it's emotional). You don't want to roll dice, you want to enlighten and enliven everyone around the table with a song from your childhood and then spend the rest of the session talking with the NPC stablehand about the quality of oats in the region since the blight of seven years back -- and you don't even own a horse.

Most people believe that either of these paths are end points, and -- obviously -- are mutually exclusive.

Nope. Wrong on both counts. Now, I've worked on a few different games in my career, but one of the strangest experiences I ever had was working with the Champions games staff. These people played Champions (I'm sorry -- they played the Hero System) three, four times a week, and I joined in. But these people were all Path 2 roleplayers. They were acting out psychodramas like you wouldn't believe. With Champions.

Champions!

Now, come on. This game is the powergaming, min-maxer's dream. Making a good Champions character is like doing your taxes -- you're squeezing every last fractional deduction for just 1 more point and slapping on wacko disadvantages (like phobias, and grandmothers) so that you can get still more points. And combat plays like a miniatures wargame -- you might get through one fight in an evening's play, if you're willing to stay up late.

I used to believe that Champions players became Path 2 roleplayers because they had too -- it was the best alternative to having to play through another of those endless, incredibly complex combats. And maybe that's not so far off the mark.

Of course, I can give you examples of hard-core storytelling vampires that reveled in the amount of damage they could inflict (Vampire is a game where you're a vampire, and everyone else in the world is a normal human, but it's not for powergamers -- yeah, right), and Rolemaster players who would go throughwhole sessions without picking up a die. Still, even if you don't believe that these two paths actually have a great deal of crossover, let me make the more important point.

Path 1 and Path 2 are not the end of gamer evolution. Gamer evolution isn't a line. It's a circle -- sort of. You see, if you make your way down either path long enough, you eventually get to the point where you realize that some of that abstract, monster-hackin', stat-focused gaming that you enjoyed back in the old days is still sort of fun. Sure, it's not exactly as it was then, but somewhere between nostalgia and freeing oneself from utter pretentiousness, you learn that it's all fun. Hacking and slashing, true and powerful roleplaying, and even a deadly (and satisfying) critical hit now and again.

It's annoying and stupid for people engaged in such a tiny, niche hobby like roleplaying to criticize the way others play. In particular, it's maddening to see more experienced roleplayers put down newer "munchkins" as being stupid or less mature.

You were a young player once, too (you might be a young player now). You got to enjoy those early experiences, simple stories, and mindless hack-and-slash, so why not let them enjoy it as well? Don't deny or belittle someone else's experience just because you've already been there.

And if somebody plays the game for 20 years and still enjoys mindless hack-and-slash -- so what? While I enjoy computer games like Half Life or Fallout Tactics, I would also not mind one bit to be able to play a little Galaga or (God help me) Sinistar. My parents like the shows on Nick at Nite more than they like current programming. Are these things a sign of a lack of maturity? Somehow, I think they're just a sign of a preference that's different from yours.

It's vital that gaming professionals try to see their work from the point of view of any and every type of gamer. I think it would be nice if all gamers did this, too. And they shouldn't do it just because it's the right thing to do, because it builds community and makes the sun shine. They should do it because, by opening themselves to different points of view, they actually find new (and sometimes old) ways to have fun with the game.

It's hard to be tolerant. It's hard to allow people to be different than you. Once you've discovered whatever today's fundamental truth is, it seems like the only option is to proselytize (even if that comes in the form of finger pointing and snide remarks). Hard-core gamers are very much like religious fanatics, I suppose. More than most fundamentalist Christians would like to admit -- but that's another rant.