Overhauling the system

One of the biggest issues with Infinite March has always been the time travel mechanics: I've said in the past that in attempting to abstract a complicated system involving paradoxes and metaphysics I created something which even I struggled to understand. But going back over the rest of the book I see a different problem: there's a disconnect between the lore and the game. We talk about an ongoing and infinite series of attempts at changing the timeline to achieve the ultimate optimal outcome, and yet place the Marchers in a quarantined time loop with limited attempts and an implication that anything but a successful outcome is not tolerated.

I've been trying to work out how to resolve these problems for some time and perhaps inevitably my final conclusion is a simple one: we've been overcomplicating things. Somehow I got into the mindset that deep simulation of cause and effect was the best way to tell the type of story we want to tell and couldn't look beyond that. But ultimately, that story is one of deep personal horror. 

It's a story about colonialism, and about complicity. 

It's a story about the slow and gradual realisation that you're the baddie. 

But it's also a story about helplessness. About being a cog in a machine. And the thing about cogs is that they don't act independently: they're moved by other cogs, and they cause other cogs to move.  And ultimately whilst there is a single origin of the force that begins the movement, from the perspective of the cog both that force and the ultimate outcome are hidden and meaningless mysteries. All the cog knows is movement, and that it has no other choice. 

It's a story about now having control - or at least not full control. Of discovering that your actions have unforeseen consequences. 

And it's also a story of hope. The breaking down of the core stats in the character sheet isn't simply a lazy way to keep the numbers down: it's the way a team of Marchers work. The Empire sees variety of skills and knowledge as less important than the ability to fulfill a set role in a team, with each role being needed for ultimate success. The strength of the Empire is in its organisation and internal co-ordination. A single individual cannot hope to oppose a monolith. And yet, if working together is the key to the Empire's success then it can also be the key to its downfall. A sole Anarchronist has a limited lifespan with no hope of even making a notable scratch in the paint of the machine, but can many Anarchronists make a difference? 

I've recently become enamoured with the concept of "player-facing" game design philosophy. At its core, at least as I understand it, it's about giving control over the mechanical side of things to the players, whilst empowering the GM in their role as narrator.  

Sounds like something we should be focussing on and learning from. 

Ultimately, what's interesting about shades and strain and  all those other things is their narrative impact. Detailed instructions for what they do and how they interact is cool, but really they're just furniture. Visible signs that things are going wrong, added pressure put on the Marchers to get it right. Meanwhile, our set of "time travel tricks" bears a striking familial resemblance to the "moves" that are almost a hallmark of the post-Apocalypse World player-facing game landscape.

I like our core mechanic, for the most part. Different sizes of dice are just cool (and frankly a game designer who ignores the basic truth that an important facet of gaming is that as humans we have a strange love for dice), rolling against a target number is simple. The Marcher Die is a bit weird in how it works but we can do something about that. Not much really needs to change in that area, but quarantine? The core, beating heart of the narrative?  I think we can do something to really turn that from a confused mess into an experience that highlights and enables exploration of the game's message.