The concept of the death of the character is an interesting aspect in role playing games.  We instinctively know that it must be there; without it, we have no fears, no boundaries to hold us back from the crazy things we might do.  In one of the Muppet movies, Gonzo talks about how much fun it would be to plummet from a balloon without a parachute; Kermit says that he could try it--once.  Part of what keeps our role playing games sane is that our characters could die.  Of course, the death of the character is not the same as our own death; we continue.  We roll up a new character and start again.  But it's not the same thing as hitting the reset button on a video game.  For many of us, it's more like having our dog die.  We can buy a new dog, or roll up a new character, but we'll always miss the old one.

  That aspect of the game, our fear of losing our beloved character, becomes a difficulty for the referee and the player alike.  For the referee, he must maintain the impression that the character could be killed.  It gives the game excitement, the feeling of imminent danger.  It forces the players to think, and to act wisely and cautiously, more like real people in the story, and less like wild men or asylum residents.  But he doesn't want to kill the characters.  Their lives are important to the players.  The game is only really fun as long as the players believe their characters might have been killed, but somehow managed to survive.  If the character is killed, it's a great shock and a great sadness; but if the player realizes that the character can't be killed, he first loses all self-control within the game world, and then all interest in the game.  It is no longer exciting or interesting if, no matter what he does, he will never die.

  Meanwhile, for the player, that concept of his character's possible death gives him pause at every turn.  He wants to remain in character, but he wants to remain in his character.  Adventurers are brave, sometimes foolhardy; and sometimes they get severely injured or killed.  The player wants his character to be brave, sometimes careless, but he doesn't wish to lose him.

  So you may rightly wonder how it is that Multiverser® can maintain the excitement of an adventure role playing game with immortal characters.

  It's not that difficult, really.  The trick is to make death real--to have it actually cost something--without losing the character or starting over from scratch.  Multiverser® did it.  Other attempts known to us either destroy death completely or risk the permanent loss of the character.  In Multiverser®, death is losing the round.  You really do die to the present world, and lose whatever chance you might have had of achieving the next heroic victory.  Players don't want to lose that, they don't want their character to die.  But the character lives on, in a new world with new challenges.  He died, and yet he lives.  It was terrible, but there is still hope in a new beginning.

  Death is still the enemy, but his sting has been blunted.

Take me to VALDRON.

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