The Blog

So, in the middle of July, I published Ribbon Drive. It’s a game wherein you create stories about road movies.  If you didn’t already know that, click on the “Ribbon Drive” page of this site.

This is the first of a few very specific “how to” posts I’m going to make to support the game. The game is complete as written – these aren’t errata or updates, they’re just further exploration that I invite you to share with me. They’re the fireside conversations with the designer.

Ribbon Drive opens with a difficult task: as a group, listen to a song in silence, while thinking about it. To the uninitiated, that might sound really easy. It’s actually not. I’ve talked about the first reason why in earlier posts: being silent together is a difficult and sometimes uncomfortable thing to do. Many of us aren’t as accustomed to it as we say we are. The second reason why this task is hard is because we’re asked to pull something concrete (an image, a story, a premise for a road trip) out of something abstract. This kind of open-ended interpretation is common in therapy, and poetry, and some literature… but in general we demand concrete and immediately knowable media (simple movies, linear narratives, three-act structure, background information, etc). To ask a group of players to start in the abstract and move to the concrete is actually a big step away from the norm. Finally, it’s difficult because we don’t know if we’re doing it right. The idea is to share and discuss after the song, but to do all of your interpretting and immersing during. There’s a legitimate fear that you’ll misunderstand the song, or that you’ll fail to share what others understood from it.

If I know this is a difficult task, why does the game open with it? First of all,  because it seems like an easy task, and it doesn’t require any immediate sharing or creative production. The buy-in is easy, though the task itself is as big as you can handle it being. Second of all, it sets up some pretty clear expectations of what the game looks for: listening to music, being thoughtful, adapting to the flow. Finally, because it’s interesting to see what we do with already beloved art, and I want to put that at the forefront of the game.

So, how do you make the most of this tricky task? First, keep in mind:

1.) We’re intentionally de-contextualizing something. We’re not going to have Chris Clavin on the road trip with us, so the context that he wrote the song in doesn’t need to matter to us. We can let it matter, but only if we want to. In other words, we have no obligation to interpret what the song was trying to tell us. We can go our own direction with it.

2.) Difference in interpretation is good. If three of us envision a trip through murky Ohio backroads, but one of us sees showgirls livin’ the high life… Suddenly we have a range to choose from. We can play either of those points, or an intermediary. We can combine those things, too: what about a bunch of showgirls, booked for “the tour of their lives”, only to find that it runs through murky backroad Ohio? Or, what about a bunch of rural Ohio girls, deciding to move to Vegas and become showgirls?

3.) Difference in depth is good. Some players are going to read deeper into a song than others – they’ll unpack the imagery, get what it’s really about, tap into the creative gusto behind it. Some won’t. This difference in depth of opinion is good! The deeper interpretations might provide a strong thematic or contextual element, while the simpler interpretations will give us tangible facts about the trip. If someone says, “It’s clearly a song about child abuse and working through your issues”, you shouldn’t be disheartened that all you got was “I think it’s set in Canada,” or “they mention green in the song, so maybe our van is green!” Different depths of interpretation give us different things that  compliment each other.

4.) Every answer is right. As a culmination of the other three: every answer is correct. Simple answers, deep answers… incomplete answers and comprehensive ones. If you hear a song and envision lemon orchards, voice that. If you hear a song and all you come up with is the word “musky”, voice that. In the absolute worst case (ie, your idea gets shot down), it’ll still provide definition through contrast.

So, what are some techniques for sharing this focused silence?

1.) Find a comfortable space. There’s nothing to stop you from laying on the floor, closing your eyes, nodding along, standing up and leaning against the wall… If you aren’t at your utmost comfort in your chair, step out of it. It’ll put you in a deeper state of relaxation and leave you better prepared to take in the song.

2.) Explore images. If a particular line grabs you, try to envision that line in your head. Invent both a narrative and a visual track for the song as it plays out. Don’t force imagery if it’s not coming (be quick to move on), but definitely invite the opportunity.

3.) Use the printed lyrics as a grounding point, but nothing more. If you’re following the rule that says “bring printed lyrics for the first two songs,” then you’ve got a page in front of you which can be helpful in decoding the meaning of the song. Don’t focus on it to the detriment of focusing on the actual song. When first playing this game, I kept my eyes glued to the lyrics, and as a result missed the main activity: open visioning and engaged listening. Use the lyrics to clarify a line, find out where you are in the general structure of the song, or follow along for a few seconds in order to feel “grounded”. Don’t rely on them beyond that. They’ll always be there when the song ends, if need be.

4.) Use everything at your disposal. While this exercise is focused on the song playing, there’s no reason that you can’t look around you for additional inspiration. Watch people’s faces and note their reactions to the song. Look at how the sunlight streams through the blinds, and think about how this image interacts with the song. Note how the song fills the space you’re in – do they clash? do the compliment one another? does it feel like a natural pairing? Feel free to look around you and think about what’s going on in the space you’re in, especially if you’re thinking about how these things interact with the song.

5.) Ground the song in something you know. What does this song remind you of? If this song were to soundtrack a moment of your life, or a larger experience, what would it be? Ground the song in memory and situation, because this will give both the song and your game of Ribbon Drive more traction.

Ribbon Drive opens with a simple yet difficult task. It asks you to open up your mind, work with the abstract, work with already existing art that at least someone at the table loves, and create something meaningful as a result. And, it asks you to start this process in silence. Hopefully this post gives you a bit of an idea what to do with that silence, if you were stuck.

I’m currently working on a story game called Ribbon Drive. It’s taken my heart by storm, and I’m really excited about its upcoming release. Ribbon Drive is a game where you tell a story about a road trip, and all the meaning and contemplation that pours out of it. It’s a game about letting go on the open road. The game uses mix CDs as a driving force to shape play.

One of the most successful parts of play, I’ve found, is the opening. We shuffle the mix CDs. We draw one at random, put it in the machine, and press play. We listen to to the first song in silence. Afterwards, we pause the CD and interpret how that first song lends to a road trip premise. We use it as a foundation point for our story. Why has this stage been successful? Well, all we’re asking is that you listen to a song (which had an equal opportunity of being your song, and might well be) and think about it. Participation seems to require very little.

But here’s what I’ve noticed: being both present and silent is very hard for some people, myself included. There’ve been games of Ribbon Drive where I’ve put down the lyrics to the song while it played; people who felt most comfortable tracking the words would do so. In games where I didn’t offer this thing to do, where your options were to either close your eyes or look around the room, the vibe I got was significantly different. It was a bit anxious, in that people seemed a little less comfortable in their own skin. There was reservation about sharing their opinions afterwards.

Being both present and silent is hard. Experiment: try to meet and hold someone’s gaze for fifteen seconds, without either of you saying anything. You can repeat this experiment as many times a day as you like. See how many people break this gaze. See how often you break this gaze. Does it feel comfortable and natural? My answers are, pretty invariably: almost everyone; almost every time someone else doesn’t; no.

Silence, as a form of communication, is underexplored, because it is difficult and often misread. I’m not talking about shutting up, nor am I talking about the silent treatment(ie, using silence to communicate how you are unengaged), but rather silence as a tool for active, engaged participation. Before I get farther into why this might be difficult for us, let’s look at how silence could be used as a tool.

Silence Can Demonstrate Agreement. Silence can demonstrate the absence of objections, the support of the speaker. It can demonstrate your belief that their argument is without necessary additions or revisions. Danger: this silence can also be a sign that a communicator lacks confidence that they and their concerns will be met fairly.

Silence Can Demonstrate Engaged Listening. Silence can demonstrate that one is focused on listening and appreciating. If the speaker has paused or stopped, and the listener is still silent, this could be seen as a signal that the listener is interested in hearing more. Danger: this silence could also be seen as non-participatory listening, and might be used when the listener is incapable of meaningful engagement.

Silence Can Demonstrate Ongoing Consideration. Silence can demonstrate that one is taking time to mull over the idea and consider its applications before challenging it or moving on. Silence could signify that one is interested in this idea to the extent that they would prefer to stay with it, rather than keep advancing the conversation. Danger: this silence could also mean that the ideas aren’t worth engaging, or that the silent party is unsure how to engage a response.

Silence Can Demonstrate Your Priorities. Silence can carry the very powerful message that you care more about hearing another’s ideas than sharing your own. This is a form of permission-granting similar to Silence Can Demonstrate Agreement, but coupled with a statement of preference. Danger: this silence can also demonstrate that you feel your priorities are invalid, or that you won’t be given due spotlight (and so are resigned to another’s communicative priorities).

How do we utilize silence’s strengths while avoiding its pitfalls?