Theatrix

Introduction

Theatrix was a role-playing game system published in the early 90s. Now out of print, this game emphasized story-telling and role-playing above the dice rolling mechanics which are such a large part of other systems (like the 800-pound gorilla, Dungeons & Dragons). p Due to its out-of-print status, finding any information on this system (specifically, on how to play it) is tricky. There’s not much out there. The resources I could find are listed in the references spection of this article. In this article, I will attempt to synthesize what little I could find into a coherent set of rules that are actually playable.

I will endeavor to be as accurate as possible, but I know of two major differences between the original published rules and this summary that I am unable to reconcile.

Most sources make note of the flow-chart (or possibly multiple flow-charts; it’s unclear) bundled with the original game for the purposes of conflict-resolution. As far as I can tell, there are no copies of this flow-chart anywhere on the Internet. Based on the strong plot-driven mechanics of the game, however, it should be easy enough to work around its absence. It should not have a big (or even noticeable) effect on the actual game as played.

Also, several sources make note of an “optional dice-based conflict resolution mechanism”. I have been unable to find any description of the rules behind this, but I have mentioned my own thoughts on including random chance as appropriate. Like the missing flow-chart, I do not expect this to have any appreciable effect during play.

Why Theatrix?

Theatrix, as its name implies, is largely inspired by the cinema. Players take on the role of actors as they bring their characters to life, and the GM—styled The Director in Theatrix—is charged with guiding the actors through the story in a way that follows dramatically from one scene to another.

In lieu of dice, the Director makes all decisions about what happens during play to make sure that the plot progresses nicely. There’s no need to interrupt the story to roll dice or consult tables (and, perhaps most importantly, there’s no reason to be ashamed at my your inability to do simple arithmetic in my your head). Theatrix is a system for collaborative story telling which seems like a lot more fun to me than dungeon crawling (obviously, we all have our own tastes; ymmv).

Though god-like and slightly frightening, the Director should not spend thirty minutes narrating at you during a proper game of Theatrix. Within the confines of the plot, the actors have limitless choices of how to move the story forward.

The player can choose to perform any action that her character should be capable of doing in that situation and is encouraged to do so to improve the characterization (for example, “I disagree” and “I jump up and down in a tantrum screaming ‘no, no, no!’” could both be acceptable ways to achieve the same goal, depending entirely upon the character you are playing).

For other actions, the player can use plot points to guarantee that any given statement will be true. For more outlandish actions, the Director might insist that the player spend more plot points. “I open the drawer and pull out a gun that was left inside.” might cost one plot point while “I open the drawer and pull out a rare metallic orb which will grant me the power of the universe.” might cost two or three.

And, of course, just because the player can force statements to be true through the currency of plot points doesn’t mean that she can control the consequences she desires. Just because their was a gun in the drawer doesn’t prevent the Director from decreeing that it has no ammo or jams upon firing. And, of course, rare universal-power-granting deus ex machinas have a nasty habit of causing immediately terminal cancer.

In all cases, the Director and the player should work together to produce a compelling story (and avoid the adversarial relationship where each tries to one-up the other; and remember, in this battle, the player will lose because the Director effectively has unlimited plot points to spend on bending the world to her will).

With this emphasis on story telling, cooperation, drama, and play-acting, I think I will find this style of game-play far more engrossing and enjoyable than something based on D20, GURPS, or one of other many, many, many systems out there.

Also, I can’t do basic arithmetic in my head.

The Director

Within the confines of the game, the Director is all powerful. She creates the overarching story and then shapes the scenes, pacing, tensions, and drama to her pleasure using whatever means is necessary. She is the wizard who did it. Or, perhaps, the wizard who will do it.

When the players are creating their characters, the Director can give guidance about whether or not the characters will fulfill the right roles in the story and can in extreme circumstances forbid a character altogether (it would probably not be conducive to a good game to let someone play the part of Almighty God, for example, without putting some extreme limits on his power). The Director will also determine how many plot points will be award to each character at the end of a subplot.

When a player attempts an action during the game, the Director decides if it succeeds or fails (and the specific way it fails) and what the consequences are. There’s usually no reason to roll dice or make difficulty checks: an action succeeds or fails based entirely on the needs of the story.

Even though the Director doesn’t have to consult dice and compute character modifiers to determine the results of an action, she does have leeway to use character attributes to determine how things actually play out. For example, let’s assume that there’s a large gap separating the characters from the MacGuffin. If the athletic jock character tries to jump over it and the Director wants the jump to succeed, then she may describe the character soaring gracefully and landing on both feet like an Olympic athlete. If the fat kid tries to do the same thing, he narrowly grab hold of the opposite edge and struggle for a few moments to pull himself up (or who knows? perhaps a great eagle will fly up from the cravasse and grab him at just the right moment; it’s pretty open-ended). In the opposite scenario where the Director needs the great leap to fail, the athletic character might just barely miss with his scraping the edge as he falls. The fat kid might not make it more than a few feet before plummeting to his squishy doom.

No dice were or tables are needed, but the Director is allowed to take all aspects of the game into consideration while creating the narrative.

The scenario where the Director doesn’t want to allow the players to reach the other side allows us to discuss another major part of Theatrix: plot points. If the athletic character’s player really wanted to reach the other side, she could spend a plot point to force it to happen. If the fat kid’s player wanted to reach the other side, the Director might decree that she will need to spend two or three plot points to do so since it would so seriously strain the audience’s suspension of disbelief in an actual film. The Director could also keep track of the number of plot points each player has and make events she doesn’t want to happen cost more than the player can afford. This, however, is a very adversarial relationship and should be discouraged.

In any event, even if the player uses plot points to force an outcome not specifically desired by the Director, the Director still has options. If the story really required the characters to not get the MacGuffin yet, the Director can have the bad guy swoop in on his jet pack, grab the MacGuffin, and fly away to exotic parts. Because this is dramatically unsatisfying (and in an actual cinema would probably result in a loud groan from the audience) and is adversarial to the players, this sort of authorial meddling should be used only when dramatically necessary. With great power comes great responsibility to not be a douche, after all.

In some cases, the Director may need to make a decision that truly doesn’t matter (six one way, half a dozen the other) or could lead the story in one of two ways and she’s honestly not sure which one she prefers. In this case, it’s perfectly acceptable for her to flip a coin or roll a dice or play a quick game of roshambo with the player. Randomness and chance aren’t forbidden in Theatrix; but like everything else, they’re at the Director’s discretion.

Like a traditional GM, the Director also controls any NPCs, though she may optionally allow a player to control the NPC if that player’s regular character is not in the current scene.

Characters

The character is the representation of the player in the game-world. Each character possesses attributes, skills, abilities, descriptors, personality traits, and flaws.

Attributes

The attributes are a set of numbers which broadly describe how a character can interact with the world. Theatrix contains six core attributes (though the Director can make up more if necessary for a given campaign):

  • Strength
  • Stamina
  • Coordination
  • Intellect
  • Intuition
  • Presence

Each attribute for a character is quantified on a 1.0 – 10.0 scale. Depending on the needs of the campaign, this can be normalized differently (for example, a campaign about regular people and a campaign with superheroes in it might have different requirements) but a good rule of thumb is that a 1.0 would represent a newborn infant’s ability in that area, a 3.0 would represent an average (i.e., he has received no special training in the area) adult human’s ability, and a 10.0 would represent the best-of-the-best a human could hope to achieve.

Despite the fact that the attributes are quantified, they aren’t used in the same way as attributes are in traditional dice-based games. Instead of using them to determine if a player’s action succeeds or fails, the Director uses a character’s to determine how a given action succeeds or fails. Read the above section describing the scenario contrasting the jock character and the fat character and replace the textual descriptors like “fat” or “athletic” with appropriate attribute scores like “Strength of 2.5 and Coordination of 2.9″ or “Strength of 5.2 and Coordination of 7.0″. Again, these numbers merely provide guidelines to help the Director craft the story.

As a story progresses, the Director can allow a player to upgrade her characters attributes by spending plot points. This can represent physical and mental conditioning which would be a natural consequence of the character’s adventures or can represent training and work the character has put in between subplots.

Skills

Each character possesses a list of skills. These are, essentially, things a character has learned how to do. Like attributes, each skill has an associated numerical ranking from 1.0-10.0. Also like attributes, the ranking can be normalized by the Director for a given story. A decent rule of thumb would be that 1.0 represents a completely untrained skill, 3.0 represents competent professional training, and 10.0 would represent the most elite knowledge. The Director can decide how general or specific a skill needs to be based on the story. For example, a character may possess a specific skill “Short swords”, a broader skill “Swords”, or a very general skill like “melee weapons”. In a sword and sorcery story, the Director might require the more specific “Short swords” whereas in a true-crime police procedural, the Director might let “melee weapons” suffice.

Like attributes, the numeric rating on a skill is not used to decide if actions succeed or fail and skills can be upgraded via plot points.

Abilities

Each character possesses a list of abilities. These are very similar to skills, but represent innate abilities that do not have to be learned. Paranormal and supernatural abilities are usually listed as abilities. Otherwise, they function exactly the same as skills.

Descriptors

Each character possesses a list of descriptors and together, they describe the character. A descriptor can be as broad or as specific as the player would like and there is no limit to the number of descriptors a character can possess. A descriptor is not associated with a number. Some example descriptors are: “Ginger”, “Talkative”, “High school student”, “Orphan”, “Was told the location of a great treasure”, “Owns a software business”, “Flies airplanes”, etc.

A descriptor is “always on” (a character who is an orphan is always going to be an orphan) and the Director will take these descriptors into account when determining how the world will react to the character, but that will not always give a favorable result. For example, if the orphan is trying to engender sympathy from an NPC, the Director may allow the NPC’s heart-strings to be pulled a little but not enough. In that case, the player can spend plot points to activate the descriptor and force it to affect the plot. In most cases, this will cause the desired result for the player; but not always. The actual result will be up to Director.

Along with the list of descriptors, each character has exactly one primary descriptor. The primary descriptor is how a character would be described in one or two words. Some examples (from the Amadan Theatrix summary are “Immortal”, “Vampire slayer”, “Samurai”, “Mr. Fixit”, and “Art dealer”.

The primary descriptor tends to affect the plot more broadly when activated. The Director can also award more plot points to a player when she uses her character’s primary descriptor heavily during a plot.

Descriptors and skills often go hand in hand. A character with with the descriptor of “Soldier” might be able to hold his own against an amateur in a fight but would need to have a skill of “unarmed combat” to be victorious against a more powerful opponent.

Personality Traits

Each character can possess any number of personality traits. These are rated on a scale of “Moderate”, “Strong”, and “Extreme”. At the Director’s discretion, personality traits and reduce the cost in plot points for certain actions. For example, the Director may allow a character with “Extreme Bravery” to run into a burning building while requiring another player to spend a plot point or two. The Director can also use a character’s personality traits to compel a course of action the player might not prefer.

Flaws

Flaws are like negative descriptors and a character can have any number of them. Some examples are “Coward”, “Asthma”, or “Hunted by an evil sorcerer”. A flaw will never have a positive benefit (unless, I suppose, your character finds himself on the rare planet where Asthmatics are considered kings). When a character’s flaw features prominently in a story, the Director should award the player a free plot point.

Game-Time

Preamble

Before a campaign starts, the Director will need to figure out the story she’s going to tell. This is when the Director will decide if the players will be trying to stop the evil Count Rassilon from taking over the world or if they’ll be hunting for buried treasure. A basic plot summary (a couple of sentences should suffice) can allow her to flesh out the setting, give the players some motivation for the story, determine some of the first events and NPCs the players will come across, etc. With the exception of the first couple of subplots, there shouldn’t be too many details worked out here; otherwise, the Director will find that she’s wasted a lot of work as the players take the story in entirely new directions.

Once the Director knows the general ideas for what the story is going to be, she can bring in the players. She can describe the basic ideas of the story to the players so they can create their characters. The Director can guide (or even outright veto) certain character decisions (it might not be the best idea to have a superhero alien show up in the middle of a 1930s noir caper story, after all) and give input on how certain player decisions may affect the future rewarding of plot points and such.

The Director can also use this time to ask the players to write up basic background stories about their characters. Knowing that a character was raised in a French orphanage might give the Director some ideas in the future about where to take the story. Depending on the complexity of the character, the Director may require more in-depth accounts of how the character’s development (and, a suitably detailed back story might get the Director to reconsider allowing the superhero alien after all).

After the preliminaries are done, all that’s left is to buy some Funyuns and Mountain Dew and schedule a time to play through the first subplot.

Playing

A Theatrix campaign is made up of subplots. The length of a subplot is up to the Director, but one or two sessions is probably plenty. Anything longer should probably be broken up more. A subplot can contribute directly to advancing the main story (there could be a subplot where the characters will find the Unobtanium that will eventually be used to destroy the evil overlord) or indirectly enhancing it (the characters could learn about the evil overlord’s unfortunate past which made him into the overlord he is today; it provides back story but not necessarily anything useful to stopping him) or contribute to the development of the characters themselves (the characters could learn about one of their owns unfortunate past which made him into hero he his today).

A player can also request a subplot. If a player wants her character to gain a certain ability or personality quirk or bit of history, she can ask the Director to create a subplot specifically to aid that. The Director will usually oblige (and will also, of course, endeavor to make the subplot entertaining for the other players as well). The Director should make these custom subplots provide a suitable level of hell for the character to match the difficulty of obtaining that ability. (Of course, not all character upgrades require a subplot. At her discretion, the Director can decree that the character learned the new ability while she was off-screen or during the course of her regular activities. This is probably not the way the Director would choose to go for the more interesting abilities, however.)

An actual subplot itself will be made up of conversations with NPCs, narratives from the Director about things that are happening in the world, combat, and whatever else the Director can come up with. The actual mechanics of play are simple: each player tells the Director what she’s doing (”I fight the monster with my sword.”, “I leap across the gap, landing on the lower ledge.”, “I leap across the gap, landing on the monster’s back and stabbing it’s head with my sword.”, etc.) and the Director determines the consequences of the action.

After a subplot’s conclusion, the Director awards plot points. Plot points are awarded for good acting on the part of the players, prominent uses of a character’s primary descriptor, prominent use of a character’s flaw, creative problem solving, or just because the Director feels like it. Plot point awards shouldn’t be too capricious or it will make the game less fun for the players, but it’s also impossible to keep some subjectivity out of it.

With their newly awarded plot points, the players can upgrade their characters (or save up their plot points for major upgrades in the future). Character enhancements are, of course, at the discretion of the Director.

If a particular character is not involved in a subplot for some reason (perhaps he’s in a coma), that player is not relegated to watching. The Director can offer her control of NPCs, she can create a new character just for the duration of the subplot, or the player and Director can swap roles. If a player has a story she wants to tell within the universe of the larger plot, the Director can allow her to take the reins of the game for a time. In this case, the Director can either play that player’s character (assuming he’s not in a coma) or play NPCs or create a special character. As long as everyone is having fun, it doesn’t really matter.

The group can continue playing subplots until the main story is told. And, if they’re not quite ready to abandon the universe, they can create a new plot and continue playing their characters (think of a television show like Buffy the Vampire Slayer: the episodes represent a subplot, and each season-long story-arcs represents a campaign with a definite beginning, middle and end. But there’s always room for another season.) Or they can move on to new universes.

The sky’s the limit.

References and Sources

(Most of the information on the Internet about Theatrix comes from Amadan.org. I am grateful for this repository of information about this no-longer-published game.)

Amadan.org

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