Genre-flections

When I talk about taking a genre seriously in an RPG, I do not mean treating it as sacred or insisting everyone gets it “right”, or that everybody has to be earnest and serious. I mean trusting the genre to do its own work.

At the table, that mostly shows up in what I let matter. In a sword and sorcery game, I let violence be quick and dangerous. A fight is not a chance to show off a build, it is a risk. People get hurt, plans fall apart, and sometimes the best option is to walk away. If every fight is balanced and survivable, the genre starts to slip. In the stories a fight is something risky and potentially lethal… if it ends up feeling like a speedbump, a chore or an action scene to keep up the pace, then something is badly wrong.

Another part of it is not rushing to the highlights. It is tempting to skip straight to to the big scenes, the ones that would be in the movie trailer, but missing out all the bits that make those big scenes matter. The unmasking of the traitor. The uncomfortable silence as the enemy’s plan becomes clear, the realisation that victory may cost more than you expected. The sense that a choice has already been made, even if no one has said it out loud yet.

I have also noticed that when a table is unsure about a genre, it often reaches for irony or escalation. Adding a twist, making it bigger, or undercutting it with a joke. Taking the genre seriously means resisting that. Let the world be what it is without apologising for it.

This shows up in how I use rules as well. If a genre is about hard choices, I don’t want mechanics that smooth those choices away. In my Blaydon Grange boarding school RPG, relationships are vital but fragile. Lean on someone too hard and it can cost you. In a crime game, asking the wrong question might attract attention you do not want. In a game like my 1984 inspired Blades in the Dark homebrew there is a constant tension between the desire to push against the system and the desire to remain unnoticed. The rules do not need to be complex, but they need to point in the same direction as the fiction.

Most of this only really becomes clear after a few sessions. Once the novelty of a new setting wears off, what is left is the texture of play. Taking a genre seriously means staying with it long enough for that texture to emerge, and being willing to follow it where it leads. That’s when I know the game has found its footing.