Rules in Practice, part 1
Introduction
play System, Style, and Culture in Tabletop Role-Playing
TTRPGs don’t just differ in rules—they differ in how they expect those rules to be used. Without understanding how system and playstyle interact, players can end up frustrated, even while they think they’re playing by the book.
This article explores how system and style interlock, diverge, and co-create what we think of as “the game,” and why understanding that distinction matters.
Thinking seriously about games often feels like a perverse pastime—the intellectual equivalent of vivisecting your fun. Yet the habit can be useful when a campaign stalls, a design draft jams, or you’re simply wired (as I am) to enjoy the dissection for its own sake.
Every tabletop RPG begins with a rulebook whose procedures, probabilities, and narrative scaffolds promise a unified structure and gaming experience—but real play lives inside human limits of time, memory, and attention. At the table, rules become a negotiation shaped by interpretation, group dynamics, and silent cultural shorthand. Because this filter is unavoidable, even the most elegant mechanics bend to individual judgment and collective style; when that process stays invisible, mismatched assumptions slip in, potentially even derailing sessions for players who thought they were playing by the “rules.”
Designers build systems with certain experiences in mind, but those systems only come to life through player interpretation and adaptation. Every gaming group inevitably cultivates its own style within the influences of a playing culture, highlighting certain rules aligned closely with their preferences, downplaying others perceived as less relevant or enjoyable, and omitting entirely those considered unnecessary or disruptive.
In my experience, no two RPG groups have ever played the same system in precisely the same manner. I’m sure that experience isn’t all-inclusive, though it does span about three decades. Listening to and watching Actual-Plays has only strengthened my sense that this is the case. (Sometimes one even wonders if we’re all playing the same game).
This often manifests more in the ways those rules interact with the narrative or vice-versa, rather than the literal mechanics of those systems.
System never stands alone. It comes to life through style of play—the particular way each group chooses, bends, or outright ignores the written rules. What gets foregrounded, what fades into the background, what stays on the page, and what leaps into actual practice all depend on that style. It governs who holds narrative authority, how risk and reward are negotiated, and whether mechanics frame or merely nudge the fiction.
These often unspoken decisions dictate whether the rules function as scaffolding, hard limits, or mere suggestions. That interpretive layer—far more than the swing of the dice—explains why two tables can play the same game yet produce wildly different outcomes.
Style also shows in how much a group leans on improvisation versus preparation and how faithfully it sticks to—or strays from—the written rules, all against the backdrop of its broader play culture. In short, style underwrites the experience of play. It grows out of player preferences, GM habits, social dynamics, genre expectations, spur-of-the-moment rulings, even referential media or rulebook art that frame the table’s imagination.
That outside media matters. Many gamers enter a shared fiction not through the system itself but by pointing to a streaming show, comic, or novel. Shared reference points become a crucial part of establishing what can and can’t happen in the world, and the system is only partially responsible for establishing and maintaining that.
The takeaway here is clear: style remains distinct from system even while leaning on it. Every rule, no matter how precise, is filtered through a table’s collective assumptions about tone, priority, and procedure. Claiming to play “by the book” simply stakes one interpretive position among many, and others may contest it.
Because RPGs fuse formal procedure with collaborative daydreaming, they resist universal formalization. Picture a spectrum with the interpretation of tarot reading at one end and chess at the other; most tabletop games sit far closer to the tarot side.
It bears mentioning that the tarot is itself based upon a system, or rather systems, often written post hoc to explain the relationship of various symbols. This is distinct from methods derived from the purely random such as reading tea leaves. (Which is not to say it is more scientific). In other words, both RPGs and tarot use systematized randomness to generate narrative prompts.
Expecting TTRPGs to operate more like chess invites frustration—and arguably overlooks the internal tension that can make the hobby compelling in the first place. This tension is not an inevitable problem that must be solved—when recognized and embraced, it can make for more enjoyable games. It significantly contributes to what makes tabletop RPGs uniquely compelling as a hybrid medium blending structured mechanics interpreted within the spontaneous and creative context of collaborative storytelling.
By this I mean that even the systems are adaptive to some extent, but it creates an inherent tension between the theoretical purity of a system as presented in rulebooks and the sometimes messy, interpretive reality of actual gameplay. However, such tension may become a hurdle within communities or movements that treat either system or style as rigid absolutes. Hobbyists are often nothing if not opinionated. (Maybe this is also case in point).
My argument here is not that systems in TTRPGs are irrelevant or superficial, far from it. It is that systems can’t be engaged with as universally understood or fixed and immutable, like a Platonic form or mathematical axiom.
Across different cultures of play, the acceptability of modifying rules varies widely. Many groups modify those rules to better suit their desired style, and indeed there are cultures of play wherein this is more or less expected, while in others it is strictly verboten.
Throughout the hobby’s history, various cultures of play have emerged—distinct schools of thought and communities each with their unique values and norms. Culture of play is a broader category than style of play, the difference between a given group of players at a table and a “movement.” Movements such as the OSR, Traditional and Neo-Traditional (Trad/Neo-Trad) approaches, and the Story Games indie scene have all engaged deeply with the question of how rules influence gameplay and how gameplay, in turn, shapes rules. Iconic games like Dungeons & Dragons (in its multiple editions), frameworks like Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA), Fate, GURPS, &etc each embody diverse philosophies about the relationship between rules and play experience.
For example, the Old School Renaissance (OSR) movement often sparks considerable debate and confusion, with numerous contradictory explanations and definitions offered by different participants. OSR fundamentally operates more as a play style than as a strictly defined set of rules—even though this particular style typically favors concepts such as “rules light,” “rulings, not rules,” and a Game Master-centric, improvisational approach which ostensibly emphasize player agency at the same time. From this, some may take away the message that rules are essentially arbitrary and meaningless, neither of which is actually the case.
These elements, clearly matters of practice and philosophy rather than explicit, codified rules, exemplify the broader principle that this phenomenon is not exclusive to OSR. Indeed, the intricate and fluid relationship between style and system is universally present across the entire RPG landscape.
Meanwhile, every attempt to create a generic and universal resolution system that is good for all occasions only introduces yet another option into the mix. This is reminiscent of an old xKCD comic about “universal” standards. Other systems are ostensibly designed to support only one type of story, setting and/or style of play.
Every time.
My contention is that it is the interaction of the two (system / style) within the context of a culture of play that actually defines “the game.” This isn’t a unique position, although I can hopefully bring a new perspective to it.
Consequently, debates over the “correct” way to interpret or apply a system, or about the right approach to RPGs in general, ultimately hinge far less on the rules themselves and far more on deeply ingrained preferences concerning play style and the broader cultures in which these styles evolve.
Over the next few months I’ll be releasing articles in this series here on the Modern Mythology blog. Not quite a manifesto, more an attempt to organize my thoughts on one of the primary conversations that has run through many of our podcast episodes.
In open discussion I can’t help but talk around things, or get distracted by a particular facet and never return again to the original point. Hopefully these articles will be a corrective for that, for those who would like a somewhat more in-depth look under the hood.
In the rest of this series, we’ll look at how system (rules as written) and style (the lived practice of gameplay) mutually inform and shape each other. While there is no way to encapsulate a 50+ year history in a short series of blog posts, I’ll attempt to ground our discussion in game design theory and RPG history.
Much of this information exists in hundreds other places online and in books. I’ve attempted to synopsize much of this historical progress as succinctly as possible, while adding what I hope are some novel points along the way.
My goal is to clearly articulate how no rule system is ever implemented without a corresponding style, and how style is always in dialogue with the underlying system, continuously shaping our shared experiences at the table.
What counts as success? Who decides the fiction? How much risk is fun? I’d offer that the system isn’t for answering these questions but rather helping us get there once these types of objectives are already clear.
Further Reading, Part 1:
Ron Edwards – “System Does Matter” – foundational essay arguing that mechanics drive play outcomes. indie-rpgs.com
John H. Kim – “The Threefold Model FAQ” – early framework separating Drama, Simulation, and Game priorities. darkshire.net
Vincent Baker & Emily Care Boss – “The Lumpley Principle” – explains how groups, not texts, authorize outcomes, anchoring the Big Model. rpgmuseum.fandom.com
Goblin Punch blog – “OSR-Style Challenges: ‘Rulings Not Rules’ Is Insufficient” – critiques the OSR slogan and explores practical table impact. goblinpunch.blogspot.com
The Forge Archives – RPG Theory Forum – extensive discussions on GNS, Big Model, and indie design practice. indie-rpgs.com
Game Studies Study Buddies - game-studies academic podcast.
