The Core

By Marc Schmalz

I tell friends that I went to The Core and I get one of two responses: Those who went seem amazed at how enjoyable it was, while those who have not seen it look at me as though I just told them I was giving up bathing.

The Core was certainly better than I expected, but I admit to having rock-bottom expectations going in. Most of the problems deal not with the characters or even the basic plot. The problems most people seem to have with the movie involve the science. Which leads me to my premise:

Too Much Knowledge Can Ruin Your Fun

I don't want to get in a debate about physics and why the science of The Core is or is not goofy. Instead, let's assume that most intelligent human beings have some perceptions about how the physical world works, and those perceptions, right or wrong, alter one's perception of the movie.

For example, I understand gravity as the essential attraction each and every particle in the universe has on every other particle. If you're standing on the surface of the planet, it's all pulling you "downward" because so much earth mass is "below you." However, if you were to shift location and move into the center of the earth, gravity would now be pulling in all directions. Essentially, everything would seem lighter. Wrong or right, when I see Earth-surface physics near the planet core, a red light goes off in the part of my brain that still vaguely remembers reading A Brief History of Time.

These red lights are going off constantly throughout The Core. And more started flashing after leaving the theater as I was discussing the movie. Even now, I'm fighting to ignore them, working to not think of more things wrong with the movie. Because essentially I liked it. And the more holes I punch in its science, the less I believe I will continue liking it. My knowledge of the mechanics of the universe keeps trying to barge in and tell me it was a bad movie, and I know too much to call it a good film even though it's an enjoyable one.

Everyone has his or her own "knowledge threshold" for films. My esteemed colleague Rich Redman once told me that his enjoyment of Reign of Fire was decreased because he knew that the Americans were using English military vehicles despite the script's attempt to tell us otherwise. Since I wasn't a tank commander in Desert Storm and Shield, I didn't have a clue, but the movie was less enjoyable for Rich because he knew more than me.

What's This Got to Do With Gaming?

The same thing happens in RPGs. Imagine this familiar scenario: You're sitting around the table with your gaming group, about to play a sci-fi game based on a popular property. As the plot begins to progress, one person at the table keeps interrupting the GM. "That's not possible. Decks 4 and 5 are engineering on a Farkus-class cruiser." "Phraeleon particles also cause hair loss, so you're doing this all wrong."

Or perhaps your group has an amateur forensic scientist in the room, and keeps poking holes in your GM's description of a crime scene. "Luminol should have shown us the blood spatters in a different pattern. I would have done this completely differently if you had told me the spatters were indicative of a knife slash instead of a stabbing."

Even worse are the serious rules lawyers, pulling quotes from obscure out-of-print supplements in order to out-GM the GM. The player is attempting to force the world to work the way he wants rather than the way the GM intends.

Regardless of the quality of the base story, one member of the party has too much knowledge and is slowly, surely killing everyone's fun and driving the well-intentioned GM batty. His setting knowledge has turned an otherwise-enjoyable plot into a hellish night of nitpicking and contradicting the GM.

The Audience

Players should never forget that they're playing in the GM's universe. Even if the game is the Star Wars Roleplaying Game, it's the GM's version of the Star Wars Universe. Heck, even Lucas needs continuity editors (very badly, in fact). In talking to JD, I'm amazed at how little some groups seem to trust their GM. JD is constantly fielding questions in "Jedi Counseling" about setting and rules minutiae because a group doesn't trust a GM's ruling. No game is an absolutely accurate, fully detailed model of the universe. You have to trust your GM.

Players need to cut the GM some slack. Most of the time, the person at the head of the table is there for the players, to help them have fun playing a game. A movie director might be getting a percentage of the ticket price, but the GM is probably getting nothing. If someone has a problem with the way a ruling goes, he can make a friendly suggestion and then drop it. It's the GM's game—players need to show respect for the GM's work, and should expect the same courtesy when it's comes their turn to run the game.

If a player has a big bone to pick, they can take it up after the game when the disagreement won't ruin anyone else's enjoyment of the game. Imagine a movie where the guy in the third row stands up to tell everyone how gravity would really work at the center of the planet. You'd throw Junior Mints and popcorn at him because he's ruining your fun. When he didn't shut up, you'd go get the manager of the theater and have him tossed. Shouldn't players be as courteous to their friends at the gaming table as they are to strangers in a theater? Picking a movie or game apart is an individual's prerogative, but doing it when it's ruining other peoples' fun is simply rude.

The Director/Screenwriter

What could the director of The Core have done to take my mind off the physics problems? Does he have to take the story to some distant planet in order to allow me to forget Earth physics? If so, he runs the risk of removing some of the human attachment. Which is more emotionally significant to most audiences: the destruction of the Coliseum in Rome or the destruction of the SkorfBall Arena on Kromdor VII?

Perhaps more subtle or less meaningful changes are a better option. Instead of leaving Earth, perhaps the director/GM can use minor details to emphasize that this Earth is theirs, not the one currently around the audience or players. This technique is used well in Mystery Men. Champion City is obviously not a real place, but most of the differences seem to be in insignificant details. All the minor differences—money, foreign language signs, zeppelins—are not important to the plot, but they allow you to slip into the Mystery Men version of Earth and cope with superheroes.

Because some details have changed, the audience has to assume any detail could have changed. The audience knowledge of the setting has been put into question, so they are more likely to accept quirkiness they see on screen rather than nitpick the ways the setting doesn't match the real world. With The Core, there was no attempt to separate the movie's reality from the viewer's reality, so inconsistencies were less easy to ignore or accept. If a GM makes no attempt to differentiate her game's Greyhawk from the official Greyhawk, she's asking for trouble with other setting fans at the table.

That's Entertainment

Above all, remember that most movies and roleplaying games are for entertainment. The point is to have fun, and that purpose is shared by everyone present.

If this is a problem for you, if your personal knowledge is getting in the way of your enjoyment, your options are few but widely varied. You can learn to turn off that critical part of your brain for short periods of time, talk to the GM about changes in the campaign outside of game time, run your own game (and try to cope with the nitpickers yourself), or find a new form of entertainment. The worst thing you can do for all involved is to let your personal knowledge interfere with everyone's fun.

Your Turn

What did you think of The Core and Marc's analysis? Let us know in the Opinions section of our discussion boards.