Is writing about your TTRPG games uncomfortably close to telling people about your dreams? If so, please stop reading here and do not subscribe to this Leaflet. If it is within the bounds of acceptable behavior, however, let me tell you about something that happened when I played a game of Ars Magica with some friends and my son, Sam.
It was my first proper game, although the second session. GM Anna was running it as a one-shot with lots of flavour drawn from local history.
Ars is a tabletop role-playing game set in an alternate version of Medieval Europe in which magic and myth are real. It is about being a Magus or Maga - a powerful being who can manipulate reality itself with the application of the Hermetic Arts - although you can also play as a non or less-magical character, which can be useful as Magi find it hard to interact with normal people, who fear or are repulsed by them.
In the game, your character has Virtues - powers, abilities and advantages - one of which is usually The Gift or the ability to perform magic.
These Virtues are balanced by Flaws, which are exactly what they sound like. For every major virtue like magical ability, you need a major flaw and the same for minor virtues/flaws. My character, Sayer Peverell, was a Bjornaer - a wizard who has the ability to transform into an animal. In Sayer's case, that animal was a Goshawk.
I wanted a minor Virtue called Subtle Magic, which would let me cast spells without extravagant hand gestures, or even in my animal form. To balance that with a minor flaw, I picked Fear and had to decide what I was afraid of. I decided that I might have an irrational fear of squirrels. This was partly as a joke, but I rationalised it as Sayer having had a traumatic experience hunting in his Goshawk form, in which his prey fought back. Nice character detail, I thought. Might lead to some fun role playing.
Later in the game, our party had sought the help of a faerie known as the Wise Owl, who gave us some vital information. Faeries, both in the game and in folklore, are capricious and dangerous creatures who rarely give their help for free and often exact a terrible cost from mortals foolish enough to bargain with them. Sure enough, the Wise Owl demanded something meaningful from us in return for her help. Perhaps, she said, we could let her take the memory of our first kiss, or that of the face of our mother? Or perhaps we could think of something else she might find just as delicious?
Looking down at my character sheet, I had an idea. Would she like the memory of my first hunt? When I soared in exhilaration, reveling in the freedom of the skies before swooping down like an arrow and pouncing upon my prey?
Oh yes, replied the Wise Owl. That will do nicely. I paid the price and she was satisfied.
Ok, I think I just cured my minor flaw, I announced, out of character. That first hunt was the one where I gained my fear, and now that trauma is gone forever. The GM thought for a bit and couldn't see why that wouldn't work, so agreed.
One view of what playing tabletop role playing games is, is that it is a form of collaborative storytelling. This idea, known as the Narrativist viewpoint, can sometimesbe hard to see in the moment, when you are busy processing information, juggling stats and making lucky dice rolls - not to mention eating snacks and having fun with friends, which is the secret sauce that gives this hobby its best flavours.
It occurred to me later though, that this was a really clear example of the form. In that moment, Sayer had become a character in a folk tale and was doing folk-tale stuff. He had tricked a faerie, turning it's terrible cost into a gift. It doesn't get much more folk-tale than that.
That, said Sam, later, was some fairytale shit.