PREFACE: A special post from our local TO and judge, Brawler 7 “Rebel Diplomat”, providing an insight into the mind of the rules enforcer. He runs the tournaments at our home store (Games and Stuff) and has recently been one of the judges for the X Wing National Championships. Without further ado…

Working Approaches of Rules Interpretation

Games are produced and played by humans. All humans do not share common experiences. Therefore, all games produced and played by humans do not share common experiences.

Based on this syllogism alone, it should be possible to understand why games may cause such disagreement among their most devoted fans. Board and strategy games often contain extensive rule sets that privilege complexity and unique experiences above simplicity. Likewise, games with large fan bases often have rulesets that cross continents and languages, magnifying the number of possible experiences within a single game.

This is my attempt to apply some rigor to the exercise of rules interpretation. Why am I qualified to do so? I spent much of my education trying to resolve differences between translations of ancient philosophical texts and spend my day job trying to make international partners play nicely in the same sandbox. As I am human, I do not pretend that my experience is applicable to the experiences of others. I feel, however, that I have some experience that may prove helpful for people when addressing complicated games with complicated rulesets. And most of all, I want to make it easier for folks to have fun while playing their games.

Rejecting RAW vs RAI (DO IT!)

Generally speaking, gamers often fall back on two ways to interpret rulesets. Both are fundamentally flawed, as I hope to point out shortly. “Rules as intended” suggests that there is a way to understand the rules based on the designers’ intent. And “rules as written” applies to the strict interpretation of rules on the page.

The fundamental problem with both approaches is that words are not inherently axiomatic. The same word will have multiple meanings. How a person understands a word is couched heavily in a person’s experience with that word. Likewise, readers do not have the clairvoyance to understand the mental state of the writer or their full intent when drafting a rule. Understanding of a rule is necessarily based on inference.

It is possible in most languages for the same set of words in the same order with the same punctuation to mean different things in different contexts. It is also permissible for two different sets of words, grammar, and punctuation to have effectively the same meaning. Practically speaking, gamers will not have direct access to developers, so they are most often left to sort out any arguments between themselves.

The gamers may choose to reach out to a developer. When they do, those developers may hesitate to rule for fear of generating a string of unintended consequences. The more competitive the game, the more likely that differences in interpretation will be exploited in order to achieve the maximum competitive advantage. A good developer is cognizant of this, and will minimize the opportunity for new interventions to create broader distractions to the game. In order to avoid a string of too many unintended consequences, fewer rulings from the developers are better than more rulings.

Nevertheless, differences in interpretation must be resolved at the game table. Human beings are social animals. We ostensibly live under a social contract where bloodying the other person’s nose when playing with plastic space ships is not a socially acceptable outcome. Likewise, games may only exist when players are committed to a shared understanding of the game. In order for such an understanding to exist, players must surrender some of their decision-making to an all-powerful authority, particularly when prize support or the prestige of being an X-Wing celebrity are on the line.

The Leviathan… err… Judge

Most game developers adopt a distinctly Hobbesian approach to resolving conflict in games. There is a judge or game master who exists to enforce the rules. We have already established, however, that the rules cannot be trusted, and that players are unable to interpret them. But the developers have a solution: An all-knowing, all powerful figure whose word is to be trusted in all situations. Sometimes, that all-knowing and all-powerful figure is her or himself subordinate to an even higher authority—a marshal. After all, if there is no ultimate authority on the rules, then where else should the players place their trust?

The truth is that these people are just as fallible than the rest of us. In highly-competitive play, there will be instances where judges are less knowledgeable about the game than the players. Judges who primarily judge are more likely to have experience with their own rulings than those of others. They are consequently less likely to be challenged by different ways of thinking about the rules, unless the judge actively seeks out alternative views. Tournament regulations often deal with this by simply deferring all decisions to the judge, and damn the consequences. Knowledge is a secondary consideration.

As a judge, you will make things worse. You will mess up. You will make people all the mad. But you may also try to help people quickly resolve problems and even create a fun environment.

How do you know you’ve been a bad judge? You know you are bad at judging when players stop inviting you to judge events. This increases the responsibility of the judge to adopt a consistent approach to her or his rulings to create predictability and lead to fewer circumstances where the players rise up and… don’t invite the person to judge future tournaments.

X-Wing is a global community using rules that are printed in multiple languages. In Europe, players will often refer to multiple languages in a single list. It is fair to say that translators who are qualified to judge multilingual legal texts are not the individuals who write ship cards. In some ways, that puts the European X-Wing community at an advantage as they are able to refer to multiple sources to try to derive some sort of sensible meaning. But culture also make judges less likely to make rulings based on precedent—something that you might more commonly see in the United States, Canada, or Australia. If someone on a different continent is playing a slightly different game than you are, that’s OK! As long as there is some basis of fundamental principles in competitive play, then world championships are pretty easy to pull off.

The Template Tray

There are four key categories of judges. The following do not represent the full scope of possibilities available to judges, but some of you may recognize these individuals.

The Epicurean: You know the thing about chaos? IT’S FAIR. Everything is resolvable with the roll of a die. That player claims one thing, the other claims another? ROLL IT OFF.

The challenge with this approach is that it raises the risk of an inconsistent experience between players, and the times when it is invoked and how it is invoked are oftentimes just as arbitrary as those when it is not invoked. A decision to make a ruling based on a dice roll is inherently a choice, and you risk letting players use disagreements to swing the balance of a game in their favor. You cannot hide behind your decisions, as you make no decisions. But in the absence of first principles, then why are there even rules to begin with?

The Classicist: The words are perfect, and may be perfectly understood. The consequence of understanding words is perfection. There is no other way to interpret the words in play; any attempt to suggest otherwise implies a lack of virtue or education in the person with whom you are conversing.

The more you adhere to a strict interpretation of words, the more likely it is that you will break a player’s immersion. Weird stuff will happen. Players may not agree with the way you understand the words. You will be called unmentionable things, and people will not enjoy calling you over for your rulings. And when you disagree with that world champion who plays close by? Clearly that person was only victorious because they exploited the understanding of lesser individuals.

The Post-Modernist: The game exists because the community exists. That new player playing with the veteran gamer? The power imbalance between them is worthy of annihilation. Your job is to ensure that the new player has fun, even if it comes at the expense of the more experienced player. After all, tournaments support the community. The more quickly that a community embraces new players and casts aside the stale practices of vets, the fresher and more exciting the community will be.

But what happens when that new player leaves the nest and tries a regional event? What happens when that noob encounters the unforgiving judgements of the Classicist, or subjected to the whims of the Epicurean? They stop having fun. And do they even know the rules well enough to compete at a high-level event in the first place? You have failed this person, and you have failed to prepare them for more challenging things. Worse, you may have alienated the “base” that keeps the community alive. Without its base, the community may cease to exist.

The Pragmatist: Finally, the pragmatist. The above strategies for interpreting rules are themselves insufficient to gain a more complete understanding of the game and preserving a fun environment. You know your limitations. You might even embrace them. But you still try to cling to as much rigor as possible and create an environment where your rulings make sense in the broader context of the game. That requires some blend of the above, but rather than going hardcore in any one direction, you try to achieve a medium that is not necessarily equal, but “reasonable.”

But what is reasonable, really? Who made you the reasonable police? Your ability to make things fun and consistent is limited by your experience. Your abandonment of first principles means that you cannot fully embrace the words that are “clearly right in front of you.” Your rulings will be insufficient and mealy-mouthed, and you will be unable to definitively accept any particular ruling. At a tournament, you will be railroaded by others, because your lack of clarity and consistency admit that not matter how often you may be right, you are also wrong.

Application

I have a very distinct approach to rulings, though I will admit that this is not the only internally consistent way to approach the game. My personal preferences are guided by the fact that I draft, negotiate, and coordinate international legal texts on a daily basis. Consequently, my decisions oftentimes require me to seek reference material from multiple sources even when it might not be necessary. I’ve been known to revisit a ruling after the game has moved forward when I do not feel confident that I ruled the proper way. Likewise, I have a broader scope of what constitutes acceptable meaning than most, and am more easily persuaded by alternate formulations than others.

This puts me squarely in the pragmatist camp. From my perspective, judges are meant to serve the fun of the game. And it is preferable to know your limitations and accept that players may have a greater knowledge of the game than you. You are there to mediate disputes, not cast people aside against a text written by people who may not share your experiences or native language. Chance may not be satisfying in all cases, but may be an acceptable solution when almost no immediate resolution presents itself to keep a tournament on track. And what is wrong with going easy every now and then for a new player, or ensuring that players show good sportsmanship for the good of the community? Probably many things, as I’m sure I’m about to find out.

Again, I don’t claim to have a perfect formula for resolving disputes. This post is intended to be primarily a primer on potential ways to approach rulings of the game and hopefully foster some meaningful self-reflection). If you’re in the mood to go deeper and have headier arguments, drop me a line.