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queenluaI enjoy telling stories at cocktail parties about my youthful internet exploits, because I am both a goddamn nerd and a goddamn delight. Explaining the basic shit like Neopets or IRC channel shenanigans is easy enough; most people have some experience with message boards or chatrooms. Explaining play-by-post RPGs is a bit trickier, but still doable—you frame it as a collaborative storytelling thing, compare it to Watership Down, describe your favorite wolf-soap-opera plotline, and at that point, you’ve either confused the shit out of someone or made a friend for life.
But the one thing I’ve never quite been able to describe, to my own satisfaction, is play-by-post horse battle RPGs.
Ostensibly, it’s really similar to the standard play-by-post RPG format. Your horse attacks the other horse; you describe it in a few sentences of prose. Theoretically, this could be as simple as “Smokey pivots on his right forehoof and kicks at Huey,” then “Huey rears up and falls on Smokey’s back,” or whatever, and you go from there.
But that would be too easy.
See, the winner of a horse battle was chosen by a handful of randomly-selected disinterested mods, who graded each post on the basis of (1) quality of prose, (2) effectiveness of attacks, and (3) creativity of attacks. You got points subtracted for godmoding or simply shrugging off damage, but you got points added for clever counterattacks or use of space. Each player had a fixed number of turns, with a fixed number of attacks each turn; each post had to be done within two days; there was a massive hierarchy of special powers/perks your character could get if you advanced high enough through Pony Fight Club; and the ponies who achieved Gold Rank were like. Envied and feared, all over the site.
Which meant, of course, that I needed to be on this list.
It took me a goddamn week to join my first horse game, because I had to read through a whole encyclopedia of horse breeds to determine, empirically, which breed would be the best at beating up other horses. For my first ever horse battle post I wrote 3,000 words to describe “Ska kicks Duplicity in the side” and revised it like 800 times and was physically shaking when I finally hit send. I had a fucking printout of the equine muscular system and the equine skeletal system taped on the wall next to the family computer for convenient reference. I reenacted horse poses in the basement to try and figure out which angle I could attack from. I scared the shit out of my horseback riding instructor by asking all kinds of weird questions about “so like what’s the WORST thing you’ve ever seen a stallion attack do, though.”
And the posts themselves, oh, the posts. See, “quality of prose” in this scene meant “as purple and neurotic as humanly possible (with a very strange set of jargon you will literally never use anywhere else),” and I rose to the challenge ably. We all did, and the result was some of the most tryhard, pretentious writing this side of David Foster Wallace:
But, uh, this is all a bit much to explain at a cocktail party.
So I am delighted to announce that I now have a better shorthand for explaining The Horse Battle Play-By-Post RPG Scene.
This is the horse battle book.
Sure, it’s ostensibly about some dude’s obsession with the classic arcade game Breakout. But the majority of it is a pseudo-philosophical, over-described, tangent-riddled description of the experience of playing Breakout. Which ends up sounding a lot like the horse battle stuff. Here is an excerpt chosen at semi-random:
All that being said, I would not recommend this book unless you, too, have some horse battle nostalgia you need to get out of your system.
But the one thing I’ve never quite been able to describe, to my own satisfaction, is play-by-post horse battle RPGs.
Ostensibly, it’s really similar to the standard play-by-post RPG format. Your horse attacks the other horse; you describe it in a few sentences of prose. Theoretically, this could be as simple as “Smokey pivots on his right forehoof and kicks at Huey,” then “Huey rears up and falls on Smokey’s back,” or whatever, and you go from there.
But that would be too easy.
See, the winner of a horse battle was chosen by a handful of randomly-selected disinterested mods, who graded each post on the basis of (1) quality of prose, (2) effectiveness of attacks, and (3) creativity of attacks. You got points subtracted for godmoding or simply shrugging off damage, but you got points added for clever counterattacks or use of space. Each player had a fixed number of turns, with a fixed number of attacks each turn; each post had to be done within two days; there was a massive hierarchy of special powers/perks your character could get if you advanced high enough through Pony Fight Club; and the ponies who achieved Gold Rank were like. Envied and feared, all over the site.
Which meant, of course, that I needed to be on this list.
It took me a goddamn week to join my first horse game, because I had to read through a whole encyclopedia of horse breeds to determine, empirically, which breed would be the best at beating up other horses. For my first ever horse battle post I wrote 3,000 words to describe “Ska kicks Duplicity in the side” and revised it like 800 times and was physically shaking when I finally hit send. I had a fucking printout of the equine muscular system and the equine skeletal system taped on the wall next to the family computer for convenient reference. I reenacted horse poses in the basement to try and figure out which angle I could attack from. I scared the shit out of my horseback riding instructor by asking all kinds of weird questions about “so like what’s the WORST thing you’ve ever seen a stallion attack do, though.”
And the posts themselves, oh, the posts. See, “quality of prose” in this scene meant “as purple and neurotic as humanly possible (with a very strange set of jargon you will literally never use anywhere else),” and I rose to the challenge ably. We all did, and the result was some of the most tryhard, pretentious writing this side of David Foster Wallace:
the rotation locates the spring action retention of the hind regions, the gashed arenas stretched and pulled with each following spin and force…hind flints echo ‘pon the soil as fores spin effortlessly upon the soil, hinds lifted in mirrored image of first attack by opponent, a similar region seemingly forced to location, but the motion of the receding spook renders the toss to the hock/limb region towards the more deadly region of rib-cage and right lung, knowledge of retractable inhalation essential to the sustenance of battle..forelimbs echo at the joint, bent and snapped back and forth towards this area with explosive force, the verbatim maneuver thusly completed, the fores lift from mud-caked position, crimson liquid staining the glossy extremes of the bloodkissed’s pelt [. . .]Did the horse like, kick the other horse? why are its forelimbs echoing; did it hurt itself just kicking the other horse? how did the kick draw blood? Who fucking knows? The important thing is it sounds fly as hell, and the mods will be too embarrassed to admit they don’t fucking understand what is actually happening. That’s gonna be a 10/9/9 score, easy.
accepted plurality of motionless fate, flints return after seeken motions t’wards the murky loam, a snarl exhaled and soft smirk ‘crossed ashen mug... limp is obvious ‘thin hind regions o’ she as darkness reclaims torso, bulwarked vital throat region definitive as pools roam the other..seems more interesting than the others, but hell...when you’re certain that death is on the line anything becomes more interesting..
But, uh, this is all a bit much to explain at a cocktail party.
So I am delighted to announce that I now have a better shorthand for explaining The Horse Battle Play-By-Post RPG Scene.
This is the horse battle book.
Sure, it’s ostensibly about some dude’s obsession with the classic arcade game Breakout. But the majority of it is a pseudo-philosophical, over-described, tangent-riddled description of the experience of playing Breakout. Which ends up sounding a lot like the horse battle stuff. Here is an excerpt chosen at semi-random:
A long fast volley at the finish was simply too much for me to handle. The more it lasts the more afraid you get it won’t last longer, and layer upon layer of competing advice rapidly piles up to overheat thoughts to an agitated concentration that melts your cool. The whole field of vision frazzles you with temptation, you stiffen up to fight off distractions, and through that very effort their beckoning power becomes even more salient. Anxiety about the future of the gesture flows backwards without really knowing what a hazard is, all while telling yourself not to analyze anything. Work over a long run at the piano, a tricky passage beginning on a certain measure in the music. Now play the entire piece, and that fast messy section is coming up. Now you’re into it, and in its midst you’re feeling a ragged uncertainty in the movements...The whole book is like this. When I realized that this was what I was reading, I achieved enlightenment. I stopped and put down the book and grinned ear-to-ear at this man, this one goofy sociology-professor man, unwittingly partaking in the bizarrely niche hobby of some hundreds of teenage horse girls in the early 2000s. What a blessing.
All that being said, I would not recommend this book unless you, too, have some horse battle nostalgia you need to get out of your system.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-27 12:48 pm (UTC)(Then I bailed out and got really into Dragonriders of Pern RP instead, cause that didn't have post length requirements and was just about your human characters amassing colorful animal friends and making bad relationship decisions. Sometimes the dragons made bad relationship decisions too.)
tl;dr thank you for the nostalgia bomb. I may or may not read this book.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-27 05:06 pm (UTC)(also dragonriders of pern rp sounds like it'd be hella fun ngl)