Zeno’s Paradox logically concludes that no one can go anywhere. Imagine you are at point A and you wish to travel to point B. Before you can get to B, you must travel half of that distance. Before you can travel half of the distance, you must travel half of the half distance. Before you can travel the quarter distance, you must travel half of the half of the half. You get the idea. Zeno’s Paradox is similar to what happens when I write an adventure module for D&D.
I get a core idea, map out the environment, and start keying. In fairly short order I hash out the non-player characters, a few pretty maps, some original monster stats, and backstory. Then the paradox begins. Even though I’ve provided a brief description of a particular area on the map, I conclude that it needs a backstory. The backstory quickly leads to its own backstory, which also needs a bit of history to explain why a certain item is there in the first place which affects this item that way and...
What begins as a fairly simple story and environment can quickly spiral into mind-numbing gradients of detail. A similar dichotomy occurs for game mechanics. I propose that any roll made to determine the relative (or objective) outcome of a trial is subject to Zeno’s Paradox. There is always another level of detail, another factor, another consideration that is relevant and could have its own roll.
I have recently fallen into this in writing my current adventure module. Yesterday I felt confident I was nearly finished with the rough draft. This morning, I decided to write the final detail to an important location, when I realized that the magic item I was detailing (a magical grail containing a trapped god) would greatly affect surrounding areas. Continuing my logic, I realized I needed to rework my encounter tables to take this magic into account.
I suspect the core problem here is coherence. My logic won’t let me leave out causal factors, snip the thread, and leave it dangling. This is also an interesting topic of discussion for any world that is make-believe. When I think of television shows that I liked and later grew to dislike, it is often because I feel the writers betrayed the underlying logic they sought to create. The modern Battlestar Galactica and X-Files provide examples of this phenomenon, but it can be equally present in our table-top games.
Beyond the lure of a “gotcha” moment which is probably the reason for tv show gaffs, I suspect the primary reason for contradictions like these is that we have woven a tangled web of interconnected causalities and implicating factors that we can’t help but trip over our own shoelaces. Wait. What was my point?
