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Why? Because the Baron’s RPG is not an RPG by any traditional sense of the word. Nor is it one by most non-traditional senses either. But it is definitely intended to be sold to the RPG market, that strange and unkempt niche of a niche of a niche, a group of gamers with bizarre tastes, playing a game nobody can satisfactorily define and few can adequately describe.
But the Baron’s game is certainly the kind of thing that will appeal to many roleplayers, being as it an imaginative story-telling exercise where creativity and dramatic flourish are valued far above strategy or chance. Some might call it a parlour game, or liken it to several of the games involved in “Theatresports”, that subset of improvised drama which overlays several game structures onto the process to keep it interesting. In theatresports, the goal is likewise to entertain primarily, with the rules existing simply to force new ideas into the framework or prevent the scenes being portrayed from lacking any framework. Americans have mostly seen Theatresport activities in the show Who’s Line Is It Anyway.
The Baron’s game works on primarily solo storytelling as opposed to acting, as is of course only right and proper for a game about (and purportedly written by) the most esteemed gentleman adventurer himself. For those who are not aware (and shame on you for being so benightedly ignorant to not be so, unless of course you are, of none of your own devising, misfortunate enough to have been born poor, indigent or French, in which case you deserve more pity than scorn for this devastating state of affairs) – the Baron is perhaps the most famous storyteller in history. The main occasion for his adventures, and his telling of them, is Europe in the late 18th century, a time of grand adventure, discovery and warfare. The Baron was a nobleman who epitomised all the glory and grandeur of the time, and his stories live on today in his books and the excellent film by Terry Gilliam. He is also known for his narrative style, which includes much of comedy and more of sin, wonderful Dickensian tendencies for authorial interjection and voluminous vocabulary and an irrepressible devotion to insulting the French. Some might also say that the Baron is famous for lying or at least fabrication and hyperbole – with the Baron now famously adding his name to a mental disease which is characterised by the creation of fiction – but such slurs upon the Baron’s good name are best left for more scurrilous public forums, if, indeed, anywhere.
Each player takes the “role” and title of a personage much like the Baron, providing the only nod to roleplaying in the game, and then proceeds to tell a story in the style of those of the Baron. The topic of this story is given by another player, by asking a question, such as “Pray tell us, Lord Montague, of the time you drowned Surrey in a flood of steaming porridge.” The player must then proceed to tell that tale using his own inventiveness. Others around the table may “question” the veracity of this tale and wager a chip or coin from their pool (of about five or six to begin with) to do so. In effect they are throwing a slight hiccup into the track of events. For example, they may say “But surely, Lord Montague, you could not have invented porridge yourself, for everyone here knows it was invented by Leonardo da Vinci in order to have something to go inside his hand-grenade.”
If the player can work around this new element – essentially accepting the new truth into their story - they gain the coin offered. If they wish to ignore the interjection they can simply call the interjector a liar or a fool and add their own coin to the pot. The original interjector may then take the two coins, or up the stakes by adding another coin, and the storyteller may again accept or raise. Eventually, one side will back down and claim the pot. Effectively, the storyteller is rewarded with a coin or two for having to add another random detail to their story (“Ah yes, but it was I who discovered da Vinci’s lost ingredient list, inscribed in code upon the back of his Mona Lisa – the girl, I mean, not the art work, when I was dallying with the lass in such a way as to make her wear a very odd smile indeed, and it was I who so cleverly translated it from the Latin and suggested the addition of sugar and milk, so claiming it as my invention is, I feel, no exaggeration or slander etc etc etc”).
Once the story is finished, having successfully answered all interjections, another is asked to tell the tale, and others interject with their chips. At the end of the day, however, the chips gained are only used to vote for the best story told, and each voter cannot vote for themselves, so the chips themselves are no measure of victory – as mentioned, they are simply a way of forcing new elements into the story and keeping things lively.
Unfortunately, being a parlour game, the game is no more complex than that. In fact, I’ve just described the entire rules-set to you, thus mostly invalidating your purchase of the book. The Baron and his descendants will be most cross. Or at least they would be, if there were not two mitigating factors which shall hopefully persuade the skinflints and nay-sayers amongst you to reach for their purses despite this faux pas.
The first is that the book is not without support and inspiration for the tale telling. It includes, for example, over two hundred story-starters for players to ask their fellows. It also includes the writings of the Baron himself (or perhaps a very good imitator claiming fame by borrowing the Baron’s name and style). As well as providing much content on the nature of being a nobleman in the late 18th century, these writings are extremely indicative of the style and what we shall kindly refer to as the linguistic eccentricities of the Baron. This is both helpful to the novice tale-teller in adding style to his own tales, as well as being a light and amusing read. It does occasionally make the rules occasionally difficult to discern, but this is solved by the kind provision of a short summary of them at the end.
This wonderful prose is let down, however, by occasionally trying to force itself into the mould of an RPG, with sections on character generation, character sheets and combat rules. These aren’t real inclusions and exist mostly so the Baron can mock them which, apart from the opportunity for brief parody, makes the reader wonder why they were ever included in the first place. I suspect it is so the game can make some claim of being a “reel RPG” but given that it isn’t, and should be proud of that fact, it seems a little odd. I recall at the time of the game’s original release, however, that certain individuals were most judgemental with their purchasing dollars when it came to things that were not RPGs. It may also be the case that there is no market then nor now for story-telling parlour games or theatresport rules (especially since a lot of such things are available for free, by their very nature, on television, and in parlours, not to mention in reviews like this – viz my disclosure above). But it seems disingenuous to get around this problem through pretence – doubly so in these days of indie games where RPGs can be anything you can name, including a recipe for spaghetti sauce or a lady’s hat. It ends up simply distracting the reader from the actual meat of the game, and prevents the game from celebrating what it definitely is, rather than what it is not.
There’s also the point that, sans such pretence, a game as jolly and accessible as this could likely be sold in the kind of up-scale boutiques that also sell other rules for parlour games, such as charades and Chinese whispers and wink murder. But ours is not to wonder why – or at least, not to do so here.
The second mitigating factor that may hopefully seduce buyers to void their purses in an orgy of consumption to rival the excesses of antiquity is that this is not Your Uncle’s Baron Munchausen. Rather this is the new, expanded, improved, revised, enhanced and thoroughly invigorated edition. In addition to all of the above material, as was present in the 1998 version, we have a whole new story of the Baron which serves as an introduction to a whole new version of the rules, wherein all the aspects of the story to be told are predetermined before the teller begins. On top of this are also two variants for children or lazier players that require less extensive extemporising but no less creative invention. These variants resemble a game oft times played on such improvising radio shows as I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue (which is of course another excellent source for improvised parlour games) where each player must exceed the claim of the previous one. These are also clever games, and the fact that they can be played much faster and with less fuss make them an excellent addition to the book.
Indeed, the book is a collection of four charming parlour games of great vivacity and creativity, with clever mechanics well suited for keeping the stories coming along quickly and preventing them from falling into dullness or predictability. All of these are presented in and surrounded by the abundant humour of the Baron’s voice and the endless tales of his adventures. So whether purchased in an upscale boutique or a smelly den of iniquity and miniatures, it is indeed a worthy purchase and a sound piece of entertainment for any exuberant people on a yet un-filled summer evening. Only a fool or a Scotsman would not consider that an attractive package for the price.
Style 4 Substance 4
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