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Cue in Verdi’s Requiem, it’s time to play Battle Royale Classroom Deathmatch! Using the same system as Panty Explosion, this game pits the players against the GM (called the Superintendent here) and against each other in a televised contest where fifty Japanese students fight to the death until only one remains.

Before I go into the review proper, let me just point out that I have never read Panty Explosion. This is not a problem per se, as Classroom Deathmatch advertises itself as both a stand-alone game and a supplement for its parent game. This review will examine the game as the former.

Style – An overall impression

Visually, the book presents several illustrations throughout its pages, most of them of Japanese students in various combat and non-combat situations. The drawing style is remindful of manga, with a textured look that gives it some depth. The front and back cover showcase the same kind of illustrations, but in color. Also provided are maps for three battlefields (see below), and character cards for the fifty students involved in the rumble. Sadly, those character cards look very pixelized, which robs them of whatever charm they might have had otherwise. On the layout side of things, the fonts chosen fit the tone, but are not evocative enough to strengthen it. What does help the game’s overall motif, however, is the lined background of each page, which makes the game look like a classroom notebook. I found this to be a nice touch, especially with the margins and all.

The prose of Classroom Deathmatch does a good job of explaining the rules. No flavor text is provided, and the game prose is not especially flavorful. Still, the rules that are there are explained clearly, and supported by just enough examples of play.

Overall, the game does okay style-wise, but does not break any boundaries. It’s nice enough that it doesn’t distract from the actual content, but it’s not evocative enough to add to it. It’s an Even Steven.

Substance – Chapter by chapter

The book opens with “Part 1: What is Classroom Deathmatch?”, a very short introduction that explains its ties to Panty Explosition, its basic concept (50 Japanese students pitted against each other in a five days match to the death), and the fact that it’s a roleplaying game.

“Part 2: The Student Reform Initiative (a.k.a. Classroom Deathmatch)” introduces the setting background in which the bloody contests take place. Basically, the game takes place in an alternate version of Japan where a more authoritarian government than the actual one has voted a law aiming at strengthening the moral fiber of the country’s youth. Basically, one class is selected periodically to fight in a Classroom Deathmatch contest, which is televised and receives huge ratings. Each student is injected with a nano-virus, transported to a carefully selected battleground, and is given a choice between either fighting or being exploded by way of nanites. Each students receives a random “weapon”, which might or might not be actually useful as a weapon. Then, the fight begins.

This first real chapter actually showcases one of Classroom Deathmatch’s biggest problem, which is that this is a game that rides the fence. If you’re familiar with Battle Royale, then none of the information provided is actually new to you, because the settings are almost exactly alike. If you’re not familiar with it, then chances are the appeal of such a story might not be obvious to you. It’s the subtle character interactions within the Battle Royale story that sets it apart from a “kill them and take their stuff” violence fest, and those are not immediately showcased in Classroom Deathmatch’s initial set-up. I think a choice should’ve been made here: either appeal to Battle Royale fans and not spend pages handing out information we already know from the source material, or appeal to people who are unfamiliar with it, and provide a lot more information and context in order to make that appeal clear.

Of course, those details get mentioned in passing later on, but I believe the initial set-up is important, because it tells you what to pay attention to in the rest of the book. By not putting any emphasis on the subtleties of the story upfront, chances are the details are going to be seen as window-dressing rather than central to the game by those unfamiliar with the source material.

“Part 3: Playing Classroom Deathmatch” presents the game’s system. Basically, each character has five attributes based on the Godai elements of japanese tradition, each representing aptitude with certain actions. A number of dice is assigned to each attribute, representing the pool available to the character. Every time a character attempts something, he takes whatever number of dice from the appropriate pool he wishes to spend, and rolls them. If at least one die comes up a five or six, it’s a success. The type of dice rolled is determined by the character’s popularity rating, which can change throughout the game. Least popular characters roll d6s, average characters roll d8s, and most popular characters roll d10s. Each character also has traits, which upgrade the die-type by one increment if one of them apply. For instance, a “least popular” character would roll d8s, and a “most popular” character would roll d12s. Besides that, a sort of loose round structure is provided to ensure that everybody involved in the scene gets to act. Nothing too groundbreaking here, at least if you’ve played RPGs before.

Before I explain how failures and successes are resolved, I want to point out an interesting aspect of this mechanic. Whenever dice are used from an elemental trait, those dice are considered “spent”. What that means is they can’t be used again until the dice are refreshed (I’ll get to this later.) What’s interesting here is that while each character will have a forte or two, chances are they’ll also have to act in areas outside their forte at some point if enough pressure is applied. In other words, the system itself forces the characters to develop in multiple directions, avoiding their being typecast. Pretty nifty.

Onto resolution. Each character has a best friend and a rival, which are characters under the control of other players around the table. Whenever a roll fails, the player controlling the character’s rival gets to narrate the failure. If the roll succeeds, the player controlling the character’s best friend gets to narrate the success. That’s all there is to it. No guidelines, no nothing. What this means is that characters will most likely be dying left and right pretty quick, as nothing stops the player from narrating horrible failures and tremendous successes. Mind you, this is very much in line with how the action takes place in Battle Royale. I can’t help but wonder, however, if this isn’t likely to cause some frustrations or confusion over time in the course of play. Some sort of veto mechanic would’ve helped minimize this possibility, and it’s a shame there isn’t one.

Also included on the character sheet is a “special technique”, which is a super-competent action the character can undertake by burning all the remaining dice in the appropriate die-pool. This aspect of the game is wisely presented as optional, because its inclusion is likely to change the tone of the game dramatically. My own personal preference would be to disallow the special technique, but that’s me… and it’s nice to have options anyway.

A final but important part of the mechanics is imbedded in the game’s setting and timeline: the morning announcement. At 6:00 AM each morning, the Superintendent (the GM and the actual Superintendent, who is a character in the game) makes an announcement where he declares danger zones (more on this later), and the names of the students who have been killed. When that happens, three things also happen mechanics-wise. First, the dice pools of all characters currently controlled by players get replenished. Second, you get to select a new trait for each kill you’ve managed to score since the last announcement. Third, everyone takes a secret vote for their favourite character besides their own. The one who gets the most votes becomes most popular, and the one who receives the least becomes least popular. In the case of a tie, the GM decides.

Overall, the mechanics look like they’re geared to produce interesting gameplay all around, even though the level of latitude provided for the descriptions of failure and success sounds like it has the potential to have a negative impact, unless you have a group that’s especially in-synch.

Next up is “Part 4: Setting Scenes”, which deals with… well… setting scenes. In Classroom Deathmatch, the Superintendent (a.k.a. the GM) is primarily responsible for setting the scenes. Anyone can call up the next scene, everyone’s encouraged to contribute, but the Superintendent has the final call over what makes it into the scene and what doesn’t. Guidelines are provided on the way to frame scenes, via a list of five unavoidable questions to answer meant to mirror the Godai elements, once again: location, people involved, mood, what’s going on, and how much fear is involved. Personally, I like the fact that tangible guidelines are provided, because it’s the sort of tool that can end up being a really helpful springboard whenever you feel like framing a new scene.

Also included in the scene framing chapter is a mention of flashback scenes, which are a second way for a character to refresh some of his or her dice pool. Basically, a flashback scene is what you’d expect it to be: a short scene where a player presents a moment in the character’s past where he had a chance to shine, or learned an important lesson. Again, this is very much in tune with the source material, as Battle Royale featured several of these. However, in play, it feels like those flashback scenes could get a bit cumbersome. First, those can be called forth during a conflict, which means that you basically break off the conflict in order to do another scene, which might end up detrimental to the pacing of what’s happening in the present. Second, the flashback scene is also played out as a conflict, which complicates matters further, as you are basically setting aside one session of dice rolling in order to do another one altogether. From my point of view, while the basic idea feels like it could be great for the story, the execution of that idea feels a bit clunky.

“Part 5: Running a game of Classroom Deathmatch!” is pretty self-explanatory. Here is where all the rules and guidelines needed to take on the role of the Superintendent are covered. Most of this chapter is what’d you expect it to be: an overview of the role of the Superintendant as GM, and a pretty extensive overview of what sort of scenes to expect from the game, via a run-down of what usually happen, day-by-day, in a Classroom Deathmatch. Here, the book fares better than in the chapter covering the background setting: the subtleties of what can happen besides combat is much better showcased, thus allowing people who are not familiar with Battle Royale to “get it.” This said, the information provided isn’t that useful for those of us who are familiar with it, as most of it is basically lifted straight from the source material.

Also included in this chapter are rules to ensure a certain amount of game balance between the players and the Superintendent. Basically, whenever somebody gets killed, the Superintendent receives a certain amount of “Sorrow Dice”, which are a free-floating pool the GM can use to refresh the dice of the students under his control, or create other hazards like armed troops, automated defense systems, and wild animals. Those dice are not immediately accessible – the Superintendent is allowed to use them once he makes his next morning announcement. Another mechanic is also provided to evaluate how much dice the students under the control of the Superintendent have lost off-screen, thus ensuring that the players do not face hordes upon hordes of still fresh enemies. This second mechanic interacts with the Sorrow Dice in a very simple way: the GM-controlled students do not refresh their dice pools during the morning announcement – that’s what Sorrow Dice are for.

This said, some suggestions provided in the chapter sadly underline the fact that the rules fail to account for some possibilities. First is the idea that the Superintendent is a character in the game, and that he can go meet the students on the field if he damn well pleases. While this is a fun concept (found in Battle Royale, once again), it begs the question: what happens if he dies? Not only is this not answered, but it is nowhere close to addressed. Second, the run-down of how a Classroom Deathmatch usually unfolds covers the likely possibility that students will rebel early on. Here again, we come across a pitfall in the rules: the soldiers, the Superintendent, and the automated defenses do not have stats, and are all created using nothing but Sorrow Dice. The problem with this is that the Superintendent does not have access to Sorrow Dice until his first morning announcement. The end result is that the only thing left to avoid a result of “the students overcome the soldiers without any difficulties, and escape the battlefield by running past the inactive automated defenses, the end” is GM fiat. This is bad form in any RPG, but I found it especially appalling to encounter such a situation in game that harkens back to the Forge-influenced indie movement. After all, games belonging to that movement usually aim at making the distribution of power between the GM and the players more even, most often than not by using the system to do so. Having to rely on GM fiat because the rules fail to cover a possibility (and an obvious one at that, since it happens in the source material) is pretty much the direct opposite of what indie games usually aim to do.

Another issue I have with the chapter on taking on the role of the Superintendent is the game’s timeframe. Basically, the book’s approach is “the game might take a single session, or it might take a dozen… who cares?” Well, I care. I want to know if I’m going to assemble a group for a single session, or for five, or ten, or twelve. It’s going to have an impact on who can join the game, and who can’t. I have a real life to attend to. I would’ve been okay with a game that took twelve sessions, and I would’ve been okay with a game that took only one. Hell, I would’ve been good with guidelines on how to make it longer or shorter. The assumption that how long it takes doesn’t really matter, however, is something I am not okay with. Up until that point, I was contemplating running the game. Now I’m not, because I have no idea what I’m getting into length-wise, and I can’t tell my fellow players what to expect either.

“Part 6: Battlegrounds” provides guidelines on how to create battlegrounds, how to use them, and finally three sample battlegrounds. I found the guidelines provided to be both quick and useful, and the sample battlegrounds are both different from each other and equally interesting.

“Part 7: The Weapons of Classroom Deathmatch” is basically just a short description of the contents of the duffel bags handed to each student as they head for the game, along with a d100 random table of the weapon found inside each. The table features pretty deadly weapons along with some silly ones, which is again very much in line with the source material.

“Part 8: Meet the Students!” presents a mix of fifty students: twenty-five boys, twenty-five girls. The good, the bad, and the ugly. The loner, the socialite, and the ambiguous. The smarts, the brawn, and the face. You get the picture. All in all, the variety is nice, and allow for interesting classroom dynamics.

“Part 9: Panty Explosion?” covers how to use Classroom Deathmatch as a supplement to Panty Explosion, and vice-versa. Since I have not read the latter, I can’t really tell you whether or not the notes provided are actually useful.

“Part 10: Influences and recommendations” presents six sources of inspiration for Classroom Deathmatch. This is a section I don’t usually cover in my reviews, but here I need to. Basically, I have a hard time seeing anything else than Battle Royale as an inspiration to this game. A huge majority of the time, whenever I read a paragraph in Classroom Deathmatch, the corresponding scene in Fukasaku’s movie version of Battle Royale flashed in my head. With such strong parallels, I was very surprised to see other influences listed. Granted, I am familiar with only one of those (Volcano High), but I just don’t see it. The only thing that sets apart Classroom Deathmatch from Battle Royale is the students’ “Special Technique”, which takes up about a page, and is presented as optional. Besides that, this is pretty much Battle Royale: The Roleplaying Game. It’s not a bad thing in itself, mind you, but I still think more effort should’ve been put into making the impact of those other influences felt a bit more.

The Bottom Line

On the matter of substance, the game earns a 2. Finding the right rating here was not an easy process. Most of the system is pretty elegant (a rating of 4), but the rules oversights and the hand-waving of the game’s length weaken the game significantly (a 2.5, considering the fact that the rest of the game is a 4). The question remains: do I round up, or round down? My first instinct was to turn towards the setting. The setting is brilliant. It might even bring the game back up to a 4. There’s only one problem, here: the setting is Koushun Takami’s Battle Royale. The game does not twist the source material, nor does it expand it (apart from two new battlegrounds.) So the question I am left with is: do I reward the game’s setting with a higher rating? My own personal answer is no, because the setting owes almost nothing to the authors, and close to everything to its source material. Thus, I’m rounding down, for a rating of 2.

This said, if you don’t mind doing a few house rules, if you don’t mind not knowing how many hours the game is going to take, and if you’re interested in playing Battle Royale, then Classroom Deathmatch is most likely a game you want to spend your money on.

Happy gaming,
Jocelyn

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