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RPG books are ridiculously fucking cheap compared to books of similar production values in other areas. The price of the book has not risen in any significant proportion to the increase in costs. Instead, the increase in production price has eaten in to the margins, the amount of money that the publisher gets and uses to pay for writers and artists and game designers.
This has two drivers:
- A lot of people who start gaming are in university or younger, and don’t have a significant amount of disposable income.
- Old gamers have ossified to the point that they refuse to believe that production costs have increased by anywhere near as much as they have, and believe that a 300-page full-colour glossy hardback rulebook should cost as much as the 200-page black and white softcover that they remember from when they got started.
The target market of trad RPGs thus can’t (point 1) or can but won’t (point 2) pay a reasonable price for the books that they’re getting.
In order to pay people fairly for their labour, publishers need more available cash. One of the ways to do this is to increase prices of the premium end. Full-colour glossy hardbacks should be priced as what they are. Not even commesurate with said books of equivalent publication values in other areas, just enough to reflect the actual cost of making such a book and paying a publisher enough that they can continue putting the books out without ridiculous financial pressure.
Another way is to present rulebooks as they used to be — black and white softcovers, shorter and with less art. These days the market will happily bear them at 6×9 rather than “full” size. Those can be priced at the entry level, giving people enough to play the game without being overwhelming.
So let’s talk about an elephant in the room: if you want to get involved with new projects and new companies as a freelancer, you have to go to GenCon.
GenCon is the biggest tradgames convention. It is the only one, as far as most of the work goes. And if you don’t go, you don’t exist.
I am a professional writer and game designer. As I may have mentioned, I have eleven years' experience as a professional game designer. That doesn’t count the years I spent beforehand doing fan-work and building up my skills, just the amount of time I’ve been paid for doing the job. I have a million and a half words in print. I have done work for publishers set up by people I’ve worked with at White Wolf/Onyx Path because they know my output even if they’ve not met me in person.
Yet to the wider industry, I don’t exist.
Thing is, I pretty much can’t go to GenCon. Getting there costs more than I make in the industry. It is a financial drain, and no amount of extra work that I’d pick up from being there would push that into the positive. I have other things going on that mean even if I could fund it from gaming work, it probably still won’t happen.
I have tried to get freelance work with people & publishers I haven’t worked with at White Wolf/Onyx Path. I have pointed to my list of publications, I’ve provided references, and I’ve provided writing samples of both published and first-draft work. In return, I’ve been treated like I’m a total n00b, like I’m trying to break in to the industry and don’t know how things really work. Patronised, patted on the head, or just ignored. Because how could someone be in the industry if you haven’t met them at GenCon?
This isn’t just true of freelancers looking to work for other publishers. It’s sometimes true for people in the same company — no matter how many referrals you have from other folks, not having that in-person connection puts you at a significant disadvantage. It’s also true for indie designers and publishers. Not having a presence at GenCon means your game — hell, you as a writer/designer/publisher — don’t exist.
The unstated requirement of GenCon attendance is an issue because it acts as a barrier to the free movement of labour in the industry. Free movement is beneficial to creatives because they get more work, they get more experience with new systems, and they are better-known by people who buy games which in turn means that if they do want to go it alone they have a built-in fan base that people stuck working for one or two publishers don’t have. GenCon creates two classes of RPG pros. Those who have free movement, and those who don’t. In order to be a healthy place to work, the industry needs to do a hell of a lot better.
For people who can go, GenCon is great. For those of us who can’t, it poisons the industry and wider community against us.
A small but significant amount of commentary on the shitty situation for freelancers in the industry side of the TRPG industry is along the lines of “Well, just run a Kickstarter or Patreon for the games you want to design”.
This is bad advice. Kickstarter and Patreon are not the tools to free writers from the shackles of the game design industry.1
They are crowdfunding platforms, and crowdfunding works on a bunch of different assumptions. Primarily, if you want to run a successful Kickstarter or make an amount of money that isn’t a joke on Patreon, you need a pretty much constant stream of marketing and self-promotion.
The idea that “quality” will somehow attract money is bullshit; it was proven to be bullshit as soon as nerds started complaining that the only way Microsoft remained in a dominant position despite poor software was “marketing”, like that was some kind of black magic. Well no shit, Sherlock. Of course marketing is how Microsoft remained popular. Without marketing, nobody wants to use your shit.
That is a truism of doing business. “Quality” gets you dick. Marketing gets you popular. Anyone saying otherwise is a liar.
People point to small-press kickstarters and patreons that succeeded. Dungeon World, f'rex. They succeeded because marketing.2
The point of all of this is simple: marketing and self-promotion are not part of the writing and game design toolkit; they’re entirely orthogonal to it. Sometimes you can manage it in the short-term, say, during a KS. Even then, if you’re not good at it you end up promising things you can’t reasonably deliver. That’s not a factor of budgeting as much as it is self-promotion — you need people to get involved with what you’re doing. And so the KS crushes you.
I’ve been part of two Kickstarters so far: W20: Changing Breeds and W20 Book of the Wyrm. In neither case was I the main person on the project. Rich and Rose took point. And yet, it was a full-time job. While the Kickstarters were running, I straight-up could not do any design work. It was absolutely fucking exhausting. I know from that experience that I cannot do that with any regularity; I do not have the skills or the energy to run a successful KS.
Patreon is similar: you need to build the initial following to get enough money per-release (or per-month, but in the trad-games space that’s code for “fund my life”) that doing the work for that release is worth it. And to make enough to recoup the costs of the work involved, you’d need to be in the top 1% of trad-games Patreons. Otherwise, compared to freelancing — even as it is now, even with all the unpaid bullshit — you lose money.
If I had to self-promote to get paid, I’d be out of the industry in a New York second, and I know that I am not unusual in this.
The other factor of crowdfunding is cash. Because of a string of massive delays and total failures, one of the best ways to guarantee funding is to have at least the pre-release text ready to go when you launch. You also need a video and at least some art; text-only kickstarters don’t succeed.
Except that means writing the damn thing happens before you know if you can pay for it. Art-ing the damn thing likewise. As for the video? Sure, count it under “self-promotion” but even if you’re just doing voice-over, if you have the skill to do it as a pro that’s £100-£150 of work you’re doing for free.
Thing is, this whole thing came about because of the amount of work that we as writers & game designers already do for free. By the time you factor in art and video, a kickstarter for a 60-page game — say, if I’d kickstarted BLACK SEVEN — would have left me over £1000 out of pocket with no guarantee of recouping that cash.
Instead, I stuck it on DriveThru, where it has a chance of people noticing it without dedicating a month to doing nothing creative but using skills I don’t have. With the tiny bit of self-promotion I managed, it’s an electrum bestseller (top 3% of products on the site).
TL;DR: Crowdfunding works for people with the skills to crowdfund. Those are separate skills. Most creatives, especially those freelancing, do not have those skills. It is not a silver bullet, and attempts to claim that it is are disingenuous and insulting.
Because I don’t want it locked in a proprietary social network bubble, I’m going to revise and condense a lot of what I posted and what the discussion moved on to here.
As well as some really ardent defenders.2 Despite posts auto-truncating, a random algorithm deciding which posts to display in the first place because gød forbid you’d want to see what the people you followed posted, a UI that’s slow in everything but Chrome3, and a page design that actively hates wide monitors. ↩
Mention that all the evidence points to G+ dying sooner or later and you get walls-of-text “proving” that it won’t based on some loony’s anecdotal experience that totally ignores how Google treats its services. ↩
But that’s true of every Google tool. Docs in Firefox and Safari is a laggy sack of shit. ↩
Those of you who a) read me on Livejournal and b) I trust can see that I’ve had my own thoughts around this. I’m not making that post public as it’s tied in to my personal feelings of frustration in addition to the broader topic.
Fundamentally though, I agree with the others:
- Per-word rates do not reflect the work that game designers put in
- Pay-on-publication leaves writers hanging when publication is delayed
- Too much work is done in the background (reading, research, probability, systems design) that isn’t compensated at all
- People above “writer” in the game development chain should be treated (and paid) as consultants rather than just by the wordcount of a given book.
- If per-word won’t die, the rate needs a serious increase and a secondary revenue stream needs to come in to reflect the non-word related workload.
These issues have been in the back of my mind for quite a while — they’re hard to avoid when you’ve been doing the job for eleven years and have one and a half million words in print — but I’ve not generally talked about this before, even as compensation’s dropped (when I started with WW, we got 3 print comps, now it’s a voucher for a standard-color PoD at cost) and pay rates increased glacially if at all.
I’ve not talked about it because it feels like I’m calling out one publisher because 95% of my work is through them, but I’m really not. I repeat, this is not about any one publisher. It is about the industry as a whole. Freelancers talk. We know what goes on at other publishers, and we know that these problems are endemic across the traditional games space.
The tabletop gaming space operates on razor-thin margins. People say “the market pays what the market can bear”. But y’know what? If the market can’t afford good designers it doesn’t deserve good designers. If your market is shitty it deserves to die. That’s the point of markets, right? Unfortunately, it’s kept alive, artificially buoyed up by people willing to work for peanuts out of love.
If the non-indie side of the tradgames space doesn’t change, it won’t die but it might as well, as it suffers a sudden and significant dearth of talent.
I was somewhat reluctant to write this because I don’t have any solutions, no suggestions for how to make things better.1 Part of the problem-solver’s brain in me feels like a failure for not coming up with something better. Any solution has to be twofold. It needs to ensure that all of the work a designer does is fairly compensated, and it needs to ensure that publishers have the funds available to afford that compensation.
- Really, it comes down to a bunch of whining grognards who will spend from now until forever crying about how books aren’t priced the same as they were in nineteen-fuckety-five, rather than being priced equivalent to books of similar size and production values. It’s this sense of entitled bullshit that aritificially deflates prices and keeps margins thinner than a blue Rizla. ↩
Tagged with: administrivia
I made a new game. It’s called Unfinished, it’s about ghosts, and it’s just 150 words long.
It’s small enough that it fits in a tweet:
— Turquoise Dreaming (@digitalraven) April 22, 2015
I put it up on DriveThruRPG as a Pay What You Want download, so if you like it (or just think I’m mad enough to reward) you can toss me a buck or two. It’s CC-BY licensed, so share it with whoever.
OPP don’t just let me play in their sandbox, they gave me a corner of it as my own — I’m the
madman line developer for both Werewolf: The Apocalypse and Werewolf: The Forsaken.
A little over two years ago, I sent in a pitch for what would become Werewolf: The Forsaken Second Edition. You might have heard me wittering about it. Two years of my life went in to that book.
Werewolf: The Forsaken Second Edition is out now for you to purchase with your earth-monies. Go check it out!
If you like werewolves, I think — hope — you’ll like Werewolf: The Forsaken. We did our damndest to capture a broad range of werewolf mythology and story beats, and used them to build on the excellent foundation of the game’s first edition. Much of what changed has been discussed on the Onyx Path forums, the RPGnet forums, and the open development blog posts on the Onyx Path site.
If not, I dread to think how you found this site. ↩
For those who haven’t been paying attention, when CCP/White Wolf got out of making roleplaying games, Onyx Path got the license. We’re a bunch of ex-White Wolf staff & freelancers putting out new material for pretty much all White Wolf games at a rate not seen in the past six years. ↩
This is pretty much a followup to yesterday’s post. People thinking I should talk about games more and the industry/community less can go fuck themselves. This shit is important. Continue reading »
Continue reading »
One of the less enjoyable parts of being on the internet is dealing with other people. Don’t get me wrong, some of them are lovely—Matt McFarland and the fine folks of Growling Door, Alyssa and the Fünhaver crew, Avery McDonaldo, and many others that I’m forgetting.
But of the seven billion people in the world, a lot of them are arseholes.
Part of me wants to talk about the closure of the World of Darkness MMO. It’s not an easy thing to think of – the people working on the MMO were the remaining parts of White Wolf. I have friends among the people who have lost their jobs. I don’t want to trivialise the fact that they must now find new places to work.
At the same time, I do want to note the passing. Papa Chuck must have taught me wrong, though, because I can’t find them. So instead, I’m going to point you to the words of two friends, and two better writers: Chuck Wendig and Aaron Debski-Bowden
I guess I don’t share quite their outlook. I’m heavily involved in writing and developing World of Darkness games for Onyx Path. I’ve got both Werewolf games to my name. I’m working on the system for the new edition of Trinity and Scion (which Onyx Path own outright). I’ve got my name on Vampire books – something I was sure would never happen when I started. We’ve been publishing what people think of as White Wolf tabletop RPGs for a couple of years now and that’s continuing apace.
I think part of why I can’t find the words is that so many of us at Onyx Path are ex-employees and ex-freelancers for White Wolf. From my perspective behind a keyboard in Scotland I’m talking to the same people and writing words for the same game lines – and some new ones – as I was when working for White Wolf. Sure, some of the friends I needed to get through those first books — people like Aaron and Chuck — have gone off to become bestselling writers, but that’s how the world works.
I played White Wolf games as a teenager. One of my first characters was a bitterly sarcastic Corax with long hair and a leather trenchcoat; not so much a character as a prediction of what I would become. I created him for the first edition of Werewolf: The Apocalypse when I got my hands on the Werewolf Players’ Guide. Just recently I dug out his sheet and converted him to the updated rules in Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition and W20: Changing Breeds – the latter being the first book I developed. He’s still the same, though I’d play him differently now.
The key thing, I think, is to note White Wolf’s passing but not to mourn the pale pooch – not as an entity. White Wolf, as a collection of games and worlds, hasn’t died – it’s changed. As the God-Machine Chronicle says:
What rises may fall. What has fallen may rise again.
Tagged with: white wolf
Stew Wilson is a writer, game designer, computational demonologist, and mathematician.
This blog covers his professional writing and game design work.
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