G. asks:

I’ve run a couple Powered by the Apocalypse games and I don’t get the hype. What are the strengths of PBTA games supposed to be compared to games like Call of Cthulhu, Vampire the Masquerade, or Savage Worlds?

Let’s start with a quick orientation for people not familiar with Powered by the Apocalypse:

• Vincent and Meguey Baker released Apocalypse World in 2010.
• The Bakers put the game under a free license.
• As a result, the novel system has been adapted and used in hundreds of RPGs. These games are referred to as Powered by the Apocalypse (PBTA).
• The system also notably influenced John Harper’s Blades in the Dark, which has also inspired countless RPGs published as Forged in the Dark.

In actual practice, Powered by the Apocalypse is barely a dice mechanic loosely paired to the concept of Moves. And on of Baker’s own PBTA games doesn’t include the dice or the moves. So there’s a huge range in what “PBTA games” do and how they do it.

But let’s break down each feature that seems to be closely identified with Powered by the Apocalypse.

CORE MECHANIC

PBTA uses a generally three-tier outcome for all action resolution: Success, Partial Success/Success with Consequences, Failure.

It’s pretty typical for RPG mechanics, particularly pre-PBTA, to default to binary outcomes. Even conventional RPGs featuring something like margins of success or critical hits will still usually define success as “the PC achieves exactly what they want” and then maybe they get something extra if they roll or a critical or their margin of success is high enough. PBTA, on the other hand, tends to define typical success as “the PC gets SOME of what they or they pay a price for it” with “achieve exactly what you want without cost” being treated as the exceptional result.

Similarly, conventional RPGs tend to have the Failure state default to “you didn’t do it.” PBTA instead defaults to having consequences for your failure: You didn’t just “miss” the ogre; you rushed the ogre and the ogre punched you in the face. This approach also means that PBTA games tend to embrace failing forward, while leaning towards not just player-facing mechanics, but a specific flavor of player-facing mechanics featuring fortune-in-the-middle decisions.

PC MOVES

Beyond three-tier resolution, PBTA almost always package their resolution mechanics into Moves. The distinction here can get pretty fuzzy (due to the breadth of both conventional RPG and PBTA design), but the result in what I consider better PBTA games is a throwback mechanic that evokes true old school design: In the ‘80s, RPG design shifted almost entirely to the “generic universal mechanic” as their core design. (Usually, but not necessarily, some variation of ability score + skill + dice vs. difficulty.)

The distinction here can be confusing to some, because quite a few OSR retro-clones have retrofitted the games they’re emulating to be built around a generic universal mechanic. But the older of old school games were built around, “You want to do something? Let’s build a custom mechanic for it!”

PBTA isn’t strictly old school, though, because it’s less, “Here’s a collection of stuff we made ad hoc at the table to address situations that came up” and instead “here’s a carefully curated selection of tools which will deliberately shape the focus and direction of play.”

Let’s think of this as neo-old school design.

(And, again, this applies to the, in my opinion, better PBTA games. There are quite a few PBTA games that turn their Moves into generic, unfocused mush because their designers are defaulted back to “generic universal mechanic” as their design model.)

PLAYBOOKS

A character creation and advancement system featuring distinct Playbooks for different types of characters is also a common feature of PBTA games.

In practice, though, this is just class-based or archetype-based character creation, which is quite common in conventional RPGs. (I’ve seen any number of efforts to explain how, “No, no! It’s totally different!” But it really isn’t, although the class abilities can have a unique feel to them because of how they tie into the Moves methodology.)

GM MOVES

This is another neo-old school design element.

To explain what I mean by that, consider the original 1974 edition of D&D: It included a hyper-specific procedure for running a dungeon. If you strictly follow that procedure, you get a very specific style of play and type of adventure.

GM Moves in Apocalypse World are designed to do that the same thing, providing a very specific structure of prep coupled to a very specific procedure of play that creates a very specific outcome at the table.

This is, it should be noted, another place where a lot of PBTA games turn into generic mush by designing their GM Moves as “the generic stuff that GMs do.” (Often accompanied by weakening or removing the provision that GM Moves are the ONLY thing a GM is allowed to do.) In some cases, these chapters degrade entirely into generic GM advice.

An interesting lens that can help understand this distinction is Blades in the Dark, which, as noted above, is heavily influenced by PBTA, but distinct from it. John Harper, the designer, notably replaced GM Moves with a chapter called GM Actions, which is the “generic GM advice” approach to GM Moves. But, notably, this is because Harper has moved all the hyper-specific procedure stuff into The Score and Downtime chapters. (And, in fact, made it even more hyper-specific, in a style very similar to the 1974 D&D dungeon procedures.)

FRONTS/THREATS

The last thing that I, personally, consider a core identity for Apocalypse World was the concept of Fronts: A collection of threats and agendas, motivated by a Fundamental Scarcity, defined with specialty Moves, and tracked with Countdown Clocks. Fronts were a specific structure for prepping situations, and the GM was instructed to create their campaign by simply setting up Fronts and then playing to find out  what happened as those situations evolved dynamically in concert with the PCs’ actions and agendas.

But then Apocalypse World 2^nd Edition eliminated the entire concept of Fronts and replaced it with a heavily revised system for managing Threats. I haven’t run a game using the revised system, so I can’t comment too much on the details, but although the methodology was significantly altered, the core intention and approach remained the same: Stock the world with dynamic situations. Use them to pressure the PCs and, when the PCs respond, play to find out by following your procedures (Moves, Clocks, etc.).

The basic concepts of Fronts and Threats have been adapted in myriad ways by other PBTA games.

WHITHER THE APOCALYPSE?

Circling back to the original question, if PBTA games really are “special” or different from other RPGs, why might someone playing them not understand what the big deal is?

Well, depending on what non-PBTA games you’ve been playing and also how you’ve been playing them, PBTA games may not, in fact, be a radically different experience for you. Situation- and procedure-based play have, as I noted above, go all the way back to Arneson and Gygax. It’s really, fundamentally, what the RPG medium was designed to do. I’ve personally been preaching about how you can do situation-based play in any RPG for a couple of decades now, and a wide variety of old-school and OSR games are designed around these principles, too. (And even more now than when Apocalypse World first came out.)

On the other hand, as I mentioned, there are a number of PBTA games that turn these core features of Apocalypse World into mush: Moves just become generic “you do stuff.” Fronts become disconnected from procedure. Sometimes whole chapters of How to Prep Plots are attached. Even the core mechanic often gets defaulted back towards something much closer to traditional binary outcomes. So it’s quite possible to play a PBTA game that pretty thoroughly disguises or eliminates the most distinctive features of PBTA games.

Similarly, there are a lot of GMs running PBTA games — including Apocalypse World — that aren’t actually running those games. This is actually a surprisingly frequent phenomenon with RPGs: No matter what the rulebooks actually say, for these GMs every game just defaults to a core resolution mechanic that they arbitrarily invoke. (In many cases, you’ll see this degrade even further, with resolution mechanics that amount to little more than “high roll on the dice = good, low roll = bad” regardless of skill modifiers, difficulty classes, or anything else.)

Some GMs have also been so thoroughly conditioned in prepping and running adventures in one specific way (often, but not always, a linear railroad), that they similarly default to habit no matter what structures a game may be designed for. Sadly, some of these GMs, when running Apocalypse World, will even go so far as to prep a bunch of Fronts and/or Threats as the rulebook instructs… only to do nothing with them. At best, the Fronts serve as a kind of idea board for them. Often they’re just laid aside entirely, and the GM will be left scratching their head and wondering why they wasted all that “pointless” effort.

Combine both of these — railroad adventure prep and “all systems are a die roll and a vibe” — in a single GM (which is far from uncommon), and you pretty much eradicate everything that makes Apocalypse World and PBTA games special and unique.

With all that being said, even if you’ve been running or playing the full-fledged PBTA experience, it’s quite possible that it’s just not your jam. Not every game is made for every person.

But if you’ve played a PBTA game and it didn’t feel different from, say, a D&D dungeoncrawler… well, that probably means something got mushy somewhere. Might’ve been the game design. Might’ve been the GM. Either way, it’s probably worth giving PBTA another chance and finding out what happens when you really embrace the structure of the game.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #1

Apocalypse World is both a roleplaying game and a really intense primer on D. Vincent Baker’s approach to GMing a campaign. In fact, the primer is so intense that it’s been baked right into the ruleset at a really primal level.

First, it says this about what a roleplaying game is all about:

Roleplaying is a conversation. You and the other players go back and forth, talking about these fictional characters in their fictional circumstances doing whatever it is that they do. Like any conversation, you take turns, but it’s not like taking turns, right? Sometimes you talk over each other, interrupt, build on each others’ ideas, monopolize. All fine.

This is one of the better and most evocative explanations of how you play an RPG.

And then Baker tells you that the rules of Apocalypse World are going to “mediate the conversation”:

The particular things that make these rules kick in are called moves. The rule for moves is to do it, do it. In order for it to be a move and for the player to roll dice, the character has to do something that counts as that move; and whenever the character does something that counts as a move, it’s the move and the player rolls the dice.

Usually its unambiguous, but there are two ways that sometimes they don’t line up, and it’s your job as MC to deal with them.

First is when a player says only that her character makes a move, without having her character actually take any such action. For instance: “I go aggro on him.” Your answer should be “cool, what do you do?” “I seize the radio by force.” “Cool, what do you do?” “I try to seduce him.” “Cool, what do you do?”

Second is when a player has her character take action that counts as a move, but doesn’t realize it, or doesn’t intend it to be a move. For instance: “I shove him out of my way.” Your answer then should be “cool, you’re going aggro?” “I pout. ‘Well if you really don’t like me…'” “Cool, you’re trying to manipulate him?” “I squeeze way back between the tractor and the wall so they don’t see me.” “Cool, you’re acting under fire?” The rule for moves is if you do it, you do it, so make with the dice.”

This really got under my skin (in a good way) because it forced me to look at RPG mechanics from a fresh perspective. What Baker is describing is not radically different from the way I’ve always played RPGs: We have a conversation about the characters and the world they’re living in, and when it’s appropriate we interpret the actions of the characters mechanically and use the mechanics of the game to resolve the outcome of those actions.

But what Baker puts front and center is this: You play a game by making moves. And here are the moves that you can make in this game. Bam.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES

It’s a subtle shift in perspective. But where Apocalypse World really gets up in your face about it is when Baker gets to the rules for the Game Master (which Apocalypse World refers to as the Master of Ceremonies): He gives the MC a specific list of moves. And then he tells the MC that this is all he’s allowed to do.

Wait… what?

Yup. He gives you this list of moves:

• Separate them
• Capture someone
• Put someone in a spot
• Trade harm for harm (as established)
• Announce off-screen badness
• Announce future badness
• Inflict harm (as established)
• Take away their stuff
• Make them buy
• Activate their stuff’s downside
• Tell them the possible consequences and ask
• Offer an opportunity, with or without cost
• Turn their move back on them
• Make a threat move (from one of your fronts)
• After every move: “What do you do?”

And then he says, “Whenever there’s a pause in the conversation and everyone looks to you to say something, choose one of these things and say it. They aren’t technical terms or jargon: “announce future badness”, for instance, means think of something bad that’s probably going to happen in the future and announce it. “Make them buy” means the thing they want? They’re looking to you to tell them they can have it? If they want it, they have to buy it. And so on.”

If you’ve got a lot of experience GMing, this may prove tough for you. (Since it’s likely to be a departure from your normal methods of GMing.) It was tough for me. But I really, strongly encourage you to give it a try. Not because you need to completely change the way you normally GM (although you might end up doing that), but because this is what will make Apocalypse World sing for you.

In general, Baker is pushing two things here: First, make whatever the PCs are doing interesting. Second, use aggressive pacing.

In other words, don’t rush the players or cut them off. But if they’re trying to do something and need feedback from the game world to make it happen, then it’s the MC’s responsibility to make that feedback interesting. (They’re trying to sneak into a building? Put them on the spot. They’re trying to find directions to the Blue Lagoon? Make ’em buy.) And, similarly, if the players have run out of things they want to do (i.e., things they find interesting), then the MC’s job is to aggressively introduce something interesting (either by bringing something interesting onscreen or by fast-forwarding to the next interesting bit).

By limiting the MC’s input to this specific list of moves, Baker is not only making them explicitly another player at the table (with a specific role to play just like all the other players have their specific roles to play); he’s also forcing the MC to make PC actions interesting and to aggressively pace the session.

Baker also introduces a list of Principles which the MC is to follow, and which end up coloring how the MC uses their moves. Most of these Principles are rock solid GMing advice, but there are a couple key ones that factor heavily in understanding how Apocalypse World is supposed to be played:

• Make your move, but never speak its name.
• Make your move, but misdirect.
• Look through crosshairs.

“Make your move, but never speak its name” is fundamentally similar to the guidelines Baker gives for player moves: You don’t take your moves in Apocalypse World by saying the name of the move; you describe what happens in the game world.

“Make your move, but misdirect” builds on this principle. The effect of the move doesn’t occur because you chose the move; the effect is caused by something in the game world. (For example, the MC may choose the move “separate them”. But as far as the players are concerned, their characters have been separated because the plane they were flying in has just been chopped in two and they’re stuck in opposite halves.)

“Look through the crosshairs” basically makes it clear that you need to keep the stakes high and the pace intense. As Baker describes it: “Whenever your attention lands on someone or something that you own — an NPC or a feature of the landscape, material or social — consider first killing it, overthrowing it, burning it down, blowing it up, or burying it in the poisoned ground. An individual NPC, a faction of NPCs, some arrangement between NPCs, even an entire rival holding and its NPC warlord: crosshairs. It’s one of the game’s slogans: There are no status quos in Apocalypse World.”

DIGGING DEEPER

What really makes Apocalypse World tick, though, is that everything I’ve written here is a vast simplification. Or, rather, it’s merely the core of the game.

For example, every player will be playing a specific character type. And each character type has their own list of custom moves (expanding what they can do while also focusing their gameplay).

Similarly, the MC creates fronts (representing various forms of active and passive opposition in the game world). And each of these fronts, just like the character types, have their own custom moves which also expand the MC’s list of available moves at any given time (while also focusing gameplay).

There are rules for your crap, rules for crafting, rules for psychic brain-fuckery, rules for ruling settlements, rules for running gangs… Rules for all kinds of stuff. And it’s all evocative and provoking and awesome.

Baker says this towards the beginning:

The game takes quite a few sessions to play, so choose friends with space in their schedules for a commitment. I don’t figure it’s much of a game until 6 sessions, and it can go much longer.

And that’s pretty much true. It’s a fun little game for a one-shot; but it seems to be shaping up for a very slick campaign. (Although I’m less sure about “friends with space in their schedules for a commitment”. I think it might be interesting to let the game loose at an open table: Most of the characters are drifters anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to aggressively frame a given session so that it focuses on just the characters present.)

In case I’m being unclear: I’m saying you should check this one out. It’s one of the best bundles of GMing advice I’ve read in a long time, and it packs that advice right into a really intense (and really fun) game system.

Style: 5
Substance: 5