Warning, I am about to wax philosophical and ramble a bit. Feel free to skip any paragraph you like, but the last couple paragraphs is where I really get to the point.

So, I was in the shower the other day, singing the Goo Goo Dolls’ “Name,” and I got to the “don’t it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are” line and got to thinking (I always look for meaning in everything from songs to books to video games), what did he mean by that? I’ve always felt that what you do is a big part of who you are, and why you do it is basically the other half. In fact, it makes me kind of happy to know that who I am is only half of it, with what I can become and what I can do playing important roles.

But then my thoughts rolled around to my topic for today. With the what you do and why you do it pair rolling around in my head, I started thinking about games. My brother and I recently each bought Skyrim (because it was cheap on Steam). I had played it before, and hadn’t seen the appeal in it that would make it worth $60 to me, but with the promise of a multi-player mod (LIES!) $36 was in my price range. In Skyrim, like many games, your character is completely defined by just who he is (race, stats, skills, perks) and what he does, and not at all by why he does it. But the truth is that the ‘why’ is the most fun part of being a different person. Knowing this subconsciously, my brother and I went into the game with motivations planned for our characters.

My brother played an orc prince, sent on a journey to prove himself before returning to be King. As part of the rite of passage, he could wear only armor he had made himself, not wearing a helmet until he could make an orc one. He went out of his way to reach legendary speechcraft, and modeled all of his political decisions around what was best for his (imagined) people: freedom or a stable empire.

I, on the other hand, played an Argonian orphan and thief who dreamed of being a great hero like those in the stories. He was strict about his dream too. He wanted it to be just like the stories in every way. He wanted to end up as emperor of the world and leave behind legendary weapons he had found in his journeys, along with the stories of how he acquired them.

But things didn’t work out like he planned. He couldn’t find legendary weapons that fit his fighting style; he wasn’t respected by the Nords; the Thalmor proved to be a more important enemy that the rebels or the empire.

But he would not easily be turned from his dream, he decided to cheat. He became a closet enchanter, learning enchanting in secret and quietly creating his arms and armor, then spreading stories of how he had obtained them. He took the name of an ancient clan, then stealthily killed the Battle-Born clan, taking their place as one of the top clans of Whiterun. He’s still working to become emperor, but we’ll see how that works out.

The point I am making with these examples, is that giving our characters motivation in this game, even though it doesn’t affect the game itself, makes the game much more fun for us. For me, that is the real appeal of table-top role-playing games. The player is encouraged to develop his character’s motivation and make that affect his actions. His motivation may even be taken into consideration by deities to determine favor. The character is not limited to a handful of quest arc options or dialogue choices, he can do and say an infinite number of things in order to better meet his goals and motivations, he can establish goals without them being set down in the code of the game.

So, I encourage you to try table top role-playing games. If you can’t play table-top role-playing games with your friends, well, Mind Weave might be a good way for you to meet people with whom you can play. But until Mind Weave is finished, why not try doing this with some of your video games. Make up a backstory and motivation for your character, say out loud the sorts of things your character might say, do things that don’t make good game sense that your character might do. I bet you’ll have more fun. I did.