The McFarland Principle of Powerful Cardboard

The McFarland Principle of Powerful Cardboard

Jonathan McFarland

Welcome to this discussion of McFarland’s Principle of Powerful Cardboard. I am glad you could attend, and hope you are ready to gain a deeper appreciation for this monumental principle in the physics of gaming. Simply put, McFarland’s principle states that the more cool super powers a character has, the more that character begins to resemble a cardboard cutout. Eventually the character becomes so powerful that all hope of substance are forever lost. The inverse proportionality of power and personality has been studied for quite some time by many experts in the field…well, the experts without much of a life…well, mainly me…okay, just me, but I studied really hard. Thus, in order for all of you to maintain lives and still understand this important truth I will explain in further detail.

I have seen the most mature players become obsessed with their character’s supernatural abilities to the point that character development suffers. One of the major enticements an RPG has to offer is the ability to do things no normal person can. Super strength, mind-control, flying, turning into a 7-foot tall killing machine; a power for all types of players. The lure of focusing in on the powers, concentrating on how to get in a situation to use those powers, and defining your character by their inhuman abilities severely detracts from meaningful storytelling.

The problem exists for the same reason many people play the games. Players and Storytellers love to exhibit the powers they wish they had, but forget that the character lives every day with those powers. I admit that if one day I could fly it would become a focus of my life, but I would not say “I have Flying at level three” after I had practiced for a while. Additionally, that ability would not define me; I have lived 21 years, and that has influenced and shaped me more than one superhuman ability would.

In my opinion, there are two kinds of super powers: Innate and Studied. These categories have less to do with what the power is, super strength or telekinesis, but rather how the character develops them. Innate powers are inside the character. Using the ability would be like flexing a muscle: the more you use the muscle the stronger it gets. My first real role-playing character was a very shy man who could instinctually create a force field around himself. The game was Chill (from Mayfair Games), an RPG about humans battling immensely powerful evil creatures, and while I could not appreciate it at the time, the character never thought too hard about that ability. As he used the field more, I increased his level of proficiency.

The character’s perspective is an important aspect of an innate ability. I study a martial art, and I find it very difficult to discuss the actual movements in the martial art with people who do not study it. Likewise, try picturing your character attempting to explain how he/she flies, or how the character creates the force field, or how the character can instantly morph into Scott Baio. How does the character feel about these innate or latent powers, and what feeling comes from using them? Does body temperature increase? Does the character feel ill afterwards? Is using the power a rush, and if so can it become addictive? There are too many questions to write here, but think long and hard about the physical, mental, and emotional effects of an ability intrinsically connected to a person’s being.

The second category, Studied powers, are gained from hard work and experience. The character may not have always had these abilities, and he/she has read books, consulted teachers, and perhaps even made deals with more powerful beings to obtain them. Much like becoming an expert in an academic field, researching and practicing a power would lead to a different understanding than an innate counterpart. Apply the same questions to this type of power, but thinking and focusing is now acceptable.

Whenever I study a new subject, or focus on a subject I enjoy, I tend to talk about what I am learning with others. Sometimes those people are genuinely interested, but other times they do not have enough foundational knowledge to understand what I attempt to express. My brother’s eyes tend to glaze over when I prattle on about computer programming or strategy games like chess, but we can have a conversation about movies or role-playing for hours. Now imagine spending much of your time and your life learning about the secrets of your inner abilities, or mastering symbols and rituals of the occult, and then trying to find someone with whom to discuss these mysteries. Many people focus their life on a particular area of understanding, sometimes unknowingly. Whether you are a doctor or a gang member, the skills and expertise gained through study and experience shape how you see the world, and how you interact with everyone around you.

Exploring the impact of super powers on world-view and personal microcosms could be an entire game itself. I am aware of one chronicle my brother (BlackHat Matt himself, for the particularly unobservant) ran involving college students who become supernatural creatures during the first few sessions. That style of chronology lends itself to examining relationships with hyperbole. For example: What do you do as a parent when little Jimmy comes home with drugs in his book bag? How about when he starts drinking human blood and can control your actions by speaking to you? Obviously, the literal problems are different, but the metaphorical meaning could be the same.

For an incredible example of how to portray a person with powers while still maintaining substance, watch Unbreakable. The writer/director, M. Night Shyamalan, created a film about a man who cannot be hurt, yet the movie examines many aspects of his life outside his newfound powers. There are numerous examples of film and literature that do not emphasize super powers over plot and development. Keep in mind that people usually write books and make movies in order to convey a message or argument. Role-playing games should be no different. Creating dynamic, three-dimensional characters does little good if the backdrop and NPCs are all two-dimensional. I refer you to the other essays at this website to solve that problem

Back to McFarland’s Principle of Powerful Cardboard. Now it is time to answer the all important question: How do I make a cool, well developed character, and still get to have sweet-ass super powers? My friend, you and I think very much alike. I have made a role-playing career of creating disturbingly interesting characters with more power than is usually appropriate. The ideas above are a good place to start, and becoming more informed about how movies are made and books are written is a great place to continue. However, for those who are less motivated, there is an alternative: The McFarland Method of Defying the McFarland Principle of Powerful Cardboard.

Develop your own type of character, or your own unique super powers, not to be found in the rulebooks. This forces you to do an in depth history on why the powers exist, how your character received or developed them, and how the powers changed the characters life. An important note: this method is known to put you in great disfavor with the Game Master. Weather the storm and make a cool character, though, and the GM will end up hating to love you. My brother grimaces every time I play in one of his games because invariably I decide that the rules and special abilities given are not good enough. I have re-written more RPG books than most folks will ever read. Many of those revisions were not necessarily for the better, but making the character, all of the character, your own is a sure fire way to bring realistic personality to the fantasy world of an RPG.

Abusing the McFarland Method of Defying…oh you know…is very dangerous and surprisingly easy. Just because the character is really cool, and your powers are absolutely awesome, doesn’t mean you get to start the game having mastered your newly written abilities. Balance of power needs to be a consideration, and making your own rules must be done with the permission and involvement of the GM.

To illustrate these Principles, I shall tell you about my character. If that sort of thing annoys you, skip the next few paragraphs (or just bite the bullet and read them. It won’t kill you). I once made a Japanese demon hunter for the White Wolf system, using the sourcebook Word of Darkness: Demon Hunter X. The other players had created their characters as supernatural critters. Being a lowly human, I decided to think up a cool magic sword for him to use in his battles. This is what I came up with: One of his ancestors had been a very powerful magician, with command over the flow of time. He knew that his son, and other male descendants, would continue fighting evil so he decided to make a weapon that would give them an edge. The mage imbued a katana with the ability to warp time. The enchantment was so powerful that the blade of the sword actually disappeared; it was always a second in front of the normal time continuum.

My character benefited from the sword a number of ways. First off, the weapon appeared as only a sword handle: easily concealed and underestimated. He could concentrate and will the blade close enough to real time that it would cut while still being impossible to see. The sword protected him from hostile time magic, slowed his aging down, and allowed him to freeze time just long enough for him to move a short distance (effectively allowing short-range teleportation).

Therefore, the character has a cool history behind his power, and is balanced with the rest of the game (it put him on a par with the other supernatural characters), but what does it all mean? Why did a slightly bitter, half Japanese, half American demon hunter have a sword like that? Well, here goes. The character had spent the majority of his life training to be a warrior. He lived in Japanese countryside, away from cities and technology for the first half of his life. The character had no meaningful relationships outside of his immediate family, and felt no need to collect money or other personal belongings. In essence, he was his sword — out of sync with the current time, but coming into the world long enough to strike down his foes. He traveled from place to place with few people noticing, and he is a fixture. A lonely man destined to fight a war no one else can even see, as was his father, and his grandfather, and so on. This character represented the part of me that wants to fight the bad guys and help people without ever having to be involved with them. He also represented the part of me that would love to have an invisible katana.

I implore you to take matter into your own hands. If you do not feel like giving your GM a headache, then work hard to inspect super powers within the context of the character. Treat role-playing with some respect, put real thoughtfulness into the game, and you can learn volumes about yourself and your friends. Moreover, after the games spend time with the people, the real people, you play with.

If you are lucky, I will release the other McFarland Principles into public domain, so keep coming back to my brother’s site, and wait patiently for my next diatribe.

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