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A review by helpfulsnowman
Rick and Morty vs. Dungeons & Dragons by Patrick Rothfuss, Jim Zub
2.0
This mostly felt like a series of "Dungeons and Dragons is a thing, and referencing things about it equals funny" kind of stuff. I don't have much D&D experience, but I know a Gelatinous Cube when I see one.
The real problem, though, is that fictional D&D campaigns are fiction on top of fiction, and that rarely works.
In a D&D game, there's narrative, there are parameters, and the dungeon master sets everything up, right? Then there are dice rolls that determine certain things, so there's an element of luck, an element of skill, and an element of narrative.
In a fictional D&D game, that is, a D&D game played by fictional characters, there are dice rolls of a sort, but they don't matter because the numbers that come up will be whatever the storyteller needs them to be for the sake of the narrative. In fact, in this comic, Rick "cheats" by re-rolling a lousy stat. This would be unethical D&D play, for sure, and it kills the fun, BUT in a fictional game where the outcome is determined by the storyteller, there is no ethical question because the storyteller decided what Rick's first roll would be. His first roll was set before he even picked up the dice. In real life, when you re-roll, you're taking the randomness out of the random element. In fictional narrative, there's no such thing as a random element, so a re-roll is no more or less random than a single roll, and is no more or less random than 10,000 re-rolls. The storyteller could just decide that no matter what was rolled, no matter how many times, it'd be a 2.
It's the same problem I have with the fictional poker games that James Bond movies love so much. There is absolutely no randomness or chance to a fictional poker game. When you remove that, what's the point? All I'm seeing is what the writer of the movie wanted to happen.
Now, you're probably saying, "Pete, every written narrative works like this." And you're right, they all work like this. But usually, part of the work of writing is to obscure yourself as the writer. If someone is reading your book and thinking, "A person wrote this, and here are the techniques they used, and here's how they're laying in this story element for later..." then you probably haven't created a very enjoyable book.
Creating fictions within fictions, especially fictions that rely on randomness and chance, brings the writer to the forefront. It's harder to think of what's happening as real and to be invested in it.
I say this "rarely" works because sometimes, it does. Usually, when it does, it's because the story does one of a couple things:
1. You are invested enough in the characters that you have a strongly desired outcome. You want to see them succeed or fail or what have you. This comic doesn't work that way because Rick and Morty doesn't really work that way, but also because the characters are fundamentally changed for this story. Jerry is competent! I'm not invested in alternate universe Jerry, though.
2. The game or story within the story is a big, clear metaphor for something else that you care about. So you don't really care about the game, you care about the larger issue, and the outcome of the game says something about the larger issue. Again, Rocky isn't really about him winning the fight or going the distance. It's about the idea that someone can live an unremarkable life but have their moment of success. You want him to succeed, but not because you care about Rocky being the champ, because you care about the idea that someone who considers himself a loser might not be a total loser. We've all experienced that in one way or another, so it's good to see someone else work through it.
R&M&D&D just didn't deliver on this.
Plus, Rick was basically sidelined for the entirety. The focus character is Jerry. A Jerry-centric story is like a Kenneth-centric episode of 30 Rock. Who wants that?
The real problem, though, is that fictional D&D campaigns are fiction on top of fiction, and that rarely works.
In a D&D game, there's narrative, there are parameters, and the dungeon master sets everything up, right? Then there are dice rolls that determine certain things, so there's an element of luck, an element of skill, and an element of narrative.
In a fictional D&D game, that is, a D&D game played by fictional characters, there are dice rolls of a sort, but they don't matter because the numbers that come up will be whatever the storyteller needs them to be for the sake of the narrative. In fact, in this comic, Rick "cheats" by re-rolling a lousy stat. This would be unethical D&D play, for sure, and it kills the fun, BUT in a fictional game where the outcome is determined by the storyteller, there is no ethical question because the storyteller decided what Rick's first roll would be. His first roll was set before he even picked up the dice. In real life, when you re-roll, you're taking the randomness out of the random element. In fictional narrative, there's no such thing as a random element, so a re-roll is no more or less random than a single roll, and is no more or less random than 10,000 re-rolls. The storyteller could just decide that no matter what was rolled, no matter how many times, it'd be a 2.
It's the same problem I have with the fictional poker games that James Bond movies love so much. There is absolutely no randomness or chance to a fictional poker game. When you remove that, what's the point? All I'm seeing is what the writer of the movie wanted to happen.
Now, you're probably saying, "Pete, every written narrative works like this." And you're right, they all work like this. But usually, part of the work of writing is to obscure yourself as the writer. If someone is reading your book and thinking, "A person wrote this, and here are the techniques they used, and here's how they're laying in this story element for later..." then you probably haven't created a very enjoyable book.
Creating fictions within fictions, especially fictions that rely on randomness and chance, brings the writer to the forefront. It's harder to think of what's happening as real and to be invested in it.
I say this "rarely" works because sometimes, it does. Usually, when it does, it's because the story does one of a couple things:
1. You are invested enough in the characters that you have a strongly desired outcome. You want to see them succeed or fail or what have you. This comic doesn't work that way because Rick and Morty doesn't really work that way, but also because the characters are fundamentally changed for this story. Jerry is competent! I'm not invested in alternate universe Jerry, though.
2. The game or story within the story is a big, clear metaphor for something else that you care about. So you don't really care about the game, you care about the larger issue, and the outcome of the game says something about the larger issue. Again, Rocky isn't really about him winning the fight or going the distance. It's about the idea that someone can live an unremarkable life but have their moment of success. You want him to succeed, but not because you care about Rocky being the champ, because you care about the idea that someone who considers himself a loser might not be a total loser. We've all experienced that in one way or another, so it's good to see someone else work through it.
R&M&D&D just didn't deliver on this.
Plus, Rick was basically sidelined for the entirety. The focus character is Jerry. A Jerry-centric story is like a Kenneth-centric episode of 30 Rock. Who wants that?