WinterTimeCrime
Blizzard Don, Alpha Snow Warlord of the Ice Mafia
- Joined
- May 2, 2021
- Messages
- 306
- Points
- 103
So, check it out.
I'm a skeptic when it comes to LitRPG. My friend lent me his paperback of Dungeon Crawler Carl, saying it's revolutionary and it'll jump me right into the genre with high expectations. I read the synopsis and read the first few lines and thought, this is pretty intriguing; I guess I'll make time for this.
Next morning comes. I made a delicious caramel macchiato, warmed a chocolate brioche, and sat on my campus pavilion, book in hand. As a first-sentence aficionado, he certainly caught my attention. The following pages of getting to know the character through his love life were good character-building practices, then the collapse of civilization rolled us into the conflict—diligent pacing, bravo.
This was a good read, and no game elements thus far. Wow, I thought, I guess I misconstrued what I knew about the genre. I kind of get it now!
When for a sip of coffee, I sputtered.
What the peppermint-flapjack is this? I just got shot with info-dump galore, and it wasn't like let me skim here and there info dump, it went on for pages.
Now, I'm a pretty open-minded individual. So I took another bite of my brioche, did some moderate skimming, and continued with the story. But no, as he walks down into the great unknown (which technically is known since they explained who dug the trenches, why, how, and a bunch of other information basically solving the mystery), he gets awards for coming into the dungeon unprepared.
I didn't gripe on this because, as an author, we sometimes give our protagonists leeway or 'freebies' to move the story along/ However, I still thought it would've been interesting for him to figure out some things as he explored, but I guess not anymore. Bro's being handed 'Legendary' boxes as pity loot, like what?
Next was the goblin scene, and it was pretty well written. The health bar above the mobs seemed redundant. As if I stabbed something several times or stomped it enough and it stopped moving, I'd presume it was dead. But I suppose these 'aliens' wanted to game-ify humans killing sentient beings so they wouldn't see it as murder and more like earning EXP or whatever.
That's the only LitRPG element I'll excuse in this book because it actually made sense. Perhaps even the 'lettering HUD' for spotting false buildings, but as an alien race trying to make a game out of killing a sub-level species, I'd only give them a skimp out if too many of them were falling for the same trap. And this makes sense, as if too many humans die from a stupid trap (which I'm assuming they had time to test as this isn't the first human world?), they'd have no show.
However, the next scene made me promptly knock on my friend's door and hand back the book.
Carl and Master Splinter's (rat guy) conversation basically spoiled the entire book and, preemptively, the full series.
We know who the aliens are, why they picked Earth, how they learned about our planet, how other 'aliens' understood our world views and literature (which was honestly terrible writing for, it would be too hard to explain an alien knowing human cultures without getting some things wrong) when he'd get new classes or stronger weapons, the prizes the farther you go down, what the protagonist needs to do to survive, the number of humans left in the dungeons (which would've been a good question towards did anyone else venture inside or just him), and quite literally, how the entire dungeon/system works.
I was shocked, bamboozled, flabbergasted. With all of this newfound knowledge (and another info dump, no less), what's the point in continuing reading? We already solved the mystery!
The main reason to follow a weak-to-strong protagonist isn't because you know they'll get stronger, but how.
Well... you kind of just told me the entire plot and acted like throwing in some snippets like 'acid-spitting pots' or 'guild-houses,' or whatever was enticing. Not really... I already know the premise of such things. I've watched both SAO and Log Horizon (and was forced to watch Solo-Leveling by my sister), and the monsters sound like something from a generic DnD lineup—so I'm assuming he's tempting his audience with 'the chance to get to meet other people and fight unusual monsters,' but it just sounded like a con-man ploy.
And this wasn't the only occurrence. As I continued researching LitRPG in the hopes of writing my own (and making tons of moolah ??), I noticed most books use 'system voices' or those HUD boxes just to list a bunch of information (glorified info dumping) with things such as titles and skills. It would be interesting if these titles came up naturally, such as if she was The Great Warlord of Sakaar; then, she probably has decent war tactics and brought up her past when someone actually asked about it.
Because let's face it, most of these protagonists have seventeen grandiose titles, act like imbeciles, and still get by scot-free.
And then it occurred to me, after reading several LitRPG/GameLit books—there's really no difference between amateur writers and professional/best-selling novelists in the genre. They use the same tactics, and the only decent books I found were those that either didn't rely on the system or the system actually made sense to implement.
I suppose I have a polished palette after once being a video game story writer for two years. I see the beginning, middle, and end of most movies, games, and books as soon I figure out a protagonist's goals and the world setting (which kind of takes the joy out of most literature I consume, like when I took my cousin to the movies to see Garfield but figured out it was just a rekindling father-son story within the first five minutes; and I freakin' love Garfield).
I don't know, man.
Maybe authors and writers like the genre because it quantifies the progression aspect, and they like seeing numbers rise? Perhaps the progression and the ever-expanding list of skills and titles reflect our hustle culture, where people seek to validate their success through constant achievement—though contrasting with the real world, where they may not see a rapid increase in their monetary value, health, wellness, or career advancement(or having the initiative to achieve it in the first place)?
Sorry for the psyche evaluation. But as a horror writer, I aim to allow the reader to see the trauma or psychological illness from the protagonist's perspective. So, when I got into these other fantasy genres, I was interested in figuring out why readers enjoy them so much.
I got isekais, which basically allows the reader to forget about their real-world problems and escape to another world. OP's main characters allow you to insert yourself and have a feeling of superiority. But LitRPG's always stumped me. Well, until I read several of them over the past few weeks, I suppose.
Anyway, enough about me. Why do you guys like LitRPGs, both authors and readers?
I'm a skeptic when it comes to LitRPG. My friend lent me his paperback of Dungeon Crawler Carl, saying it's revolutionary and it'll jump me right into the genre with high expectations. I read the synopsis and read the first few lines and thought, this is pretty intriguing; I guess I'll make time for this.
Next morning comes. I made a delicious caramel macchiato, warmed a chocolate brioche, and sat on my campus pavilion, book in hand. As a first-sentence aficionado, he certainly caught my attention. The following pages of getting to know the character through his love life were good character-building practices, then the collapse of civilization rolled us into the conflict—diligent pacing, bravo.
This was a good read, and no game elements thus far. Wow, I thought, I guess I misconstrued what I knew about the genre. I kind of get it now!
When for a sip of coffee, I sputtered.
What the peppermint-flapjack is this? I just got shot with info-dump galore, and it wasn't like let me skim here and there info dump, it went on for pages.
Now, I'm a pretty open-minded individual. So I took another bite of my brioche, did some moderate skimming, and continued with the story. But no, as he walks down into the great unknown (which technically is known since they explained who dug the trenches, why, how, and a bunch of other information basically solving the mystery), he gets awards for coming into the dungeon unprepared.
I didn't gripe on this because, as an author, we sometimes give our protagonists leeway or 'freebies' to move the story along/ However, I still thought it would've been interesting for him to figure out some things as he explored, but I guess not anymore. Bro's being handed 'Legendary' boxes as pity loot, like what?
Next was the goblin scene, and it was pretty well written. The health bar above the mobs seemed redundant. As if I stabbed something several times or stomped it enough and it stopped moving, I'd presume it was dead. But I suppose these 'aliens' wanted to game-ify humans killing sentient beings so they wouldn't see it as murder and more like earning EXP or whatever.
That's the only LitRPG element I'll excuse in this book because it actually made sense. Perhaps even the 'lettering HUD' for spotting false buildings, but as an alien race trying to make a game out of killing a sub-level species, I'd only give them a skimp out if too many of them were falling for the same trap. And this makes sense, as if too many humans die from a stupid trap (which I'm assuming they had time to test as this isn't the first human world?), they'd have no show.
However, the next scene made me promptly knock on my friend's door and hand back the book.
Carl and Master Splinter's (rat guy) conversation basically spoiled the entire book and, preemptively, the full series.
We know who the aliens are, why they picked Earth, how they learned about our planet, how other 'aliens' understood our world views and literature (which was honestly terrible writing for, it would be too hard to explain an alien knowing human cultures without getting some things wrong) when he'd get new classes or stronger weapons, the prizes the farther you go down, what the protagonist needs to do to survive, the number of humans left in the dungeons (which would've been a good question towards did anyone else venture inside or just him), and quite literally, how the entire dungeon/system works.
I was shocked, bamboozled, flabbergasted. With all of this newfound knowledge (and another info dump, no less), what's the point in continuing reading? We already solved the mystery!
The main reason to follow a weak-to-strong protagonist isn't because you know they'll get stronger, but how.
Well... you kind of just told me the entire plot and acted like throwing in some snippets like 'acid-spitting pots' or 'guild-houses,' or whatever was enticing. Not really... I already know the premise of such things. I've watched both SAO and Log Horizon (and was forced to watch Solo-Leveling by my sister), and the monsters sound like something from a generic DnD lineup—so I'm assuming he's tempting his audience with 'the chance to get to meet other people and fight unusual monsters,' but it just sounded like a con-man ploy.
And this wasn't the only occurrence. As I continued researching LitRPG in the hopes of writing my own (and making tons of moolah ??), I noticed most books use 'system voices' or those HUD boxes just to list a bunch of information (glorified info dumping) with things such as titles and skills. It would be interesting if these titles came up naturally, such as if she was The Great Warlord of Sakaar; then, she probably has decent war tactics and brought up her past when someone actually asked about it.
Because let's face it, most of these protagonists have seventeen grandiose titles, act like imbeciles, and still get by scot-free.
And then it occurred to me, after reading several LitRPG/GameLit books—there's really no difference between amateur writers and professional/best-selling novelists in the genre. They use the same tactics, and the only decent books I found were those that either didn't rely on the system or the system actually made sense to implement.
I suppose I have a polished palette after once being a video game story writer for two years. I see the beginning, middle, and end of most movies, games, and books as soon I figure out a protagonist's goals and the world setting (which kind of takes the joy out of most literature I consume, like when I took my cousin to the movies to see Garfield but figured out it was just a rekindling father-son story within the first five minutes; and I freakin' love Garfield).
I don't know, man.
Maybe authors and writers like the genre because it quantifies the progression aspect, and they like seeing numbers rise? Perhaps the progression and the ever-expanding list of skills and titles reflect our hustle culture, where people seek to validate their success through constant achievement—though contrasting with the real world, where they may not see a rapid increase in their monetary value, health, wellness, or career advancement(or having the initiative to achieve it in the first place)?
Sorry for the psyche evaluation. But as a horror writer, I aim to allow the reader to see the trauma or psychological illness from the protagonist's perspective. So, when I got into these other fantasy genres, I was interested in figuring out why readers enjoy them so much.
I got isekais, which basically allows the reader to forget about their real-world problems and escape to another world. OP's main characters allow you to insert yourself and have a feeling of superiority. But LitRPG's always stumped me. Well, until I read several of them over the past few weeks, I suppose.
Anyway, enough about me. Why do you guys like LitRPGs, both authors and readers?
