Why I Like In Nomine: Not Human.

I've ripped on In Nomine in this blog before, and not without good reason. However, I have to admit that for everything about it that bugs me, there's a counterexample of some bit of cleverness oddly ahead of its time. The D666 system, for example, is almost comically simple (the only system I can think of with a more bizarrely simplistic pass-fail mechanic is baseline Conspiracy X), but it's almost as simple to explain to people as Over the Edge and, I'll admit, enjoyably thematic. The power disparity between humans and angels has bothered me in the past, and the system is rather easily broken, even with the fan patches that fix the most egregious abuses, but if there's one lesson I would teach myself in junior high, it would be "For Christ's sake, make some actual female friends". But if I had two lessons to teach, the other would be "And stop wearing sweatpants". But if/when we get around to the gaming-related wisdom of experience, bullet point one on slide one is "Don't bother gaming with people who put their character's power level and breaking the system ahead of telling a good story". And for all its flaws, IN told some damn fine stories.

One element of In Nomine that really stands out in my mind is how the game harnesses the artificiality of the medium, in the form of both character classes and the distance between player and character, in the service of its theme.

Class/race combos are a part of our gaming heritage, of course, and more than that they're a shorthand for characters - a shorthand that says more about the character than you might expect. If your character is a dwarf fighter, I have a pretty good idea of how he's going to be played and what you wants out of the game - and if he's a dwarf wizard, then I know he'll be going against type for one or both, and furthermore, that you're willing to forego the advantages of traditional "optimized builds". In Nomine's equivalent to the class/race combo is choir/superior: A celestial character belongs to one of seven choirs of angels (or seven bands of demons), and serves a superior (An Archangel or Demon Prince bound to a Word). Each of these choirs and superiors has certain stereotypes, and certain choir/superior combos come up regularly: A Malakite (warrior-angel) of the Sword, for example, isn't going to need much explaining; ditto a Mercurian (friendly social angel) of Flowers. But switch those two around and we've got the dwarf wizard playing-against-type thing all over again.

The problem with such class/race systems, and the reason why most good games with human or humanesque protagonists dismiss it, is that they are artificially restrictive, and for characters who are meant to grow and develop organically, that's a big no-no. But IN's celestials aren't organic - much of the game's thematic tension comes from their being entities purpose-built by God, tools of the Divine Will, which are nevertheless possessed of a will of their own. The clunky artificiality of the choir/superior combos and their respective stereotypes actually reinforces this. A human wizard in D&D will never quite behave like a real human would and just pick up a damn sword once in a while. An IN angel likewise won't behave like a real human, won't lie to spare someone's  feelings, or express a very reasonable fear, or moon over some girl in a bar - but he's not supposed to.

An old gag about RPG characters (and media characters more generally) is that they never eat or crap unless its vital to the plot. IN celestials are the same - thus, the lacunas in normal behaviour are built into the gameworld. In a sense, the oddities of being a "typical" Player Character - fanatical devotion to completing a set mission by any means necessary, a total disregard for the niceties of conversation, an immunity to the aesthetic charms of the world, and a tendency to do horrible things to bystanders on a whim - are well-modeled by celestials. And for those gamers who are more involved in the fictional world, there are humans, or celestials playing against their roles - even to the point of falling from grace, or redeeming. But the default of celestial behaviour is perfectly in line with the default of RPG player behaviour.

It's interesting to note that most games presume that the PCs are natives of their fantasy world - Whether that world is Grayhawk or Tekumel or the Sixth World. Another tack is to have the players be familiar human beings discovering a new world, either in the John Carter of Mars/various Cheapo Fantasy Novels sense of literally going to another world or in discovering that the world as they know it is not what it seems - the latter being the core of conspiracy and horror games since Call of Cthulhu. In Nomine thrusts the players into their familiar human world as total outsiders (or Outsiders), and uses the dissonance between what humans would want in their situation and what the players actually do to illustrate how strange these strangers are.

Errata: Objective, part one

"I am going to beat you so bad, your entire existence will revolve around sucking my dick."
With Bryce's constant smack talk and screechy generic punk echoing in his ears, Tim tried to maintain his focus and remember what was going on. He had the Fire Hazard and the Secondary and they were making good money, enough to keep him afloat for five more turns, maybe even more. Bryce couldn't hack that, not with his current habit. It was just a matter of waiting him out.
"As the days bleed into months bleed into years, you will forget there was a time before my wang."
Christ. He tried not to crack a grin. Okay, so patience would win out. But Bryce definitely had a plan - Bryce always did - and if he lost his club this turn, he wouldn't survive long enough to put it into action. So if he, Tim, hired an Arsonist, it could end here and now.
Bryce's eyes glinted in the dim light, continuing in his best David Attenborough: "Sociologists and anthropologists will be baffled by your inability to engage with any environment that does not contain my balls."
Fuck's sake. Tim snorted, and went for it. He dropped the five bucks and took the Arsonist from uncontrolled. A goth girl at the next table looked over, squinted at their game and made an inaudible comment that set her whole table laughing and hooting.
"Wonder what they'll say about this?" Tim asked innocently as he dropped the character card and tapped Bryce's sole source of income with his finger.
"Wise up." said Bryce, flipping a Security from his hand. Well, shit. "Did you seriously forget I bought that?"
"Fuck you." said Tim, shuffling through his hand again and again as if a helpful card would materialize if he looked hard enough.
Bryce returned to his narrating tone. "Eventually, the decision will be made to return you to the only environment in which you can be truly happy. The Enya soundtrack will swell as you are once again re-introduced to my knob. It will be a tearful, slobbery reunion..."
"Jesus Christ, have you been rehearsing this or is it improv? Because it's simultaneously impressive and pathetic either way."
"Just play the game. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can meet your new boss."
Tim sighed and knocked. Looking up, he saw that Jess had walked in and was sauntering over to their table in a lace-bedecked dress she had described as "the colour of menstrual blood".
"... My penis." finished Bryce, drawing his cards, taking his income and immediately spending it and more on his habit. By the time he was done, only a single money-chit remained in his bank.
"Hey guys, how goes the struggle?" asked Jess,
"About to end." cut in Bryce before Tim could explain the triumphs and trials of the past twenty minutes. He played a Shooting on the Fire Hazard, no income next turn, barely glancing at Tim to confirm there was no counter. He then played a Blackmail to use Tim's own discarded Arsonist against him, destroying the Secondary. Grinning like the card art of the Arsonist, he took in Tim's sole neutered club with a sweep of his arm. "Four bucks bank, no income, a five-buck habit. I think that's game."
Tim crumpled into his chair. "I would have had him, you know. If I hadn't bought that Arsonist." Jess, who was looking over the wreckage of the game like the entrails of a sacrificed animal, made a cartoonishly sympathetic face. "Aww, muffin."
"Don't give him any sympathy, doll. You forgot I bought that Security, and you got hosed by it." As he spoke, Bryce scooped the cards off the table, already reshuffling them.
"Ugh, no thanks, I've been brutalized enough for one night. I think I'll go dance. You can teach Jess how to play."
Jess sprang back as if she'd touched a hot stove. "Ohohoh no,, no way. You guys can play games here if that's your thing, but I'm here to have normal-people fun. Speaking of which..." Her voice turned to honey as she took Tim's arm and marched him away. "Buy a girl a drink?"
Tim rolled his eyes. "I think at this point I've bought you more drinks than I've ever bought myself."
"Come onnnnnn..." Jess set her weight into his arm, steering him towards the bar.