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Savoir-Faire: By gamers, for gaming
On page 218 of GURPS 4th Edition Basic Set: Characters (Jackson, Pulver, Punch, 2004), Savoir-Faire is defined:
That makes things awfully jarring when, as a player, I have no idea what my character ought to be doing -- and the most I can do is rely on a bare roll of the dice, and hope the GM can turn this into a decent part of the story. To make the roleplay work more smoothly, I've been researching the anecdotal notes of various subcultures: if we start a campaign in any setting next month, I want to be part of the story, not a mechanic with a character sheet and a few six-siders.
I can't say there's any such thing as "universal truths" when it comes to savoir-faire guidelines, but some things crop up most of the time.
The point of savoir-faire is, essentially, to make oneself preferable company. It's not exactly "popularity": we can all remember the popular kids in school, and some of us really were willing to go out of our way to stay nowhere near them. The people with savoir-faire were the people in whose company we felt comfortable, so much so that we tended to not notice if they ought've been more involved somewhere else. We always automatically include them as part of "us" whenever we're muttering about "them", and if we're particularly self-aware, we'll occasionally ask the savvy types for advice on how to deal with "them" in upcoming troubles. If I'm having a bunch of folks over for a party, I'm much more likely to invite someone who always behaves civilly and dresses casually than I am to invite someone who wears sequinned mankinis and makes a comment every time someone vanishes to a bathroom. Savvy acquaintances could, if asked, warn the mankini types about the virtues of sequin-free clothing options while eating, at the least. Otherwise, honestly, a two-day bout of finding sequins in the most aneurysm-inducing locations will lead to my forgetting the gauche guy's email address.
So one of the near-universal guidelines seems to be, "show about as much skin and shininess as the third-highest ranking person in the social group". It may be a particularly bad idea to match the glitz or libertinity of the highest-ranking two, if they happen to be spotlight hogs and of sufficient rank to remove offenders' body parts.
It's usually safer to ask leading questions, to get others talking about themselves and each other, than it is to talk about oneself (except in really old warrior societies, where the first thing one probably should do is to establish one's competence and machismo, and ideally one's lack of tendency to boink any monster chicks who happen to swim by in mid-contest). If someone else at the event does something improper but not dangerous (essentially botching a savoir-faire skill check), try to pretend that nothing happened rather than turn an oops into a full-blown scene.
All of them seem to have some sort of "quid pro quo principle": if someone goes to some trouble for you, in the future you take a turn at doing for them. Celtic and Nordic rulers loaned each other warriors, Victorian members of Society invited to parties those whose parties they'd attended previously, Old West pioneers traded favors for barn repair and harvesting and dances. People who accept invites and loans and favors, but don't volunteer to give them back out again, tend to be considered inadequate socially -- even medieval kings and queens have to host the occasional party on their own dime.
This is the skill of appropriate behavior in a subculture that has an established code of conduct -- for instance, high society or the military. When dealing with that social group, a successful skill roll lets you interact without embarrassing yourself, detect pretenders to high standing, and so on.
It's a skill that requires specialization for the particular subculture; it can include anything from basic etiquette to dressing guidelines and even special symbolic meanings for tiny gestures or ways of standing. There can be times when the proper behavior choice according to savoir-faire is to be rude, or dress like a colorblind nitwit, or support the campaign antagonist; for a fairly cheap skill (in terms of character points), savoir-faire can play a HUGE part in the overall story.That makes things awfully jarring when, as a player, I have no idea what my character ought to be doing -- and the most I can do is rely on a bare roll of the dice, and hope the GM can turn this into a decent part of the story. To make the roleplay work more smoothly, I've been researching the anecdotal notes of various subcultures: if we start a campaign in any setting next month, I want to be part of the story, not a mechanic with a character sheet and a few six-siders.
I can't say there's any such thing as "universal truths" when it comes to savoir-faire guidelines, but some things crop up most of the time.
The point of savoir-faire is, essentially, to make oneself preferable company. It's not exactly "popularity": we can all remember the popular kids in school, and some of us really were willing to go out of our way to stay nowhere near them. The people with savoir-faire were the people in whose company we felt comfortable, so much so that we tended to not notice if they ought've been more involved somewhere else. We always automatically include them as part of "us" whenever we're muttering about "them", and if we're particularly self-aware, we'll occasionally ask the savvy types for advice on how to deal with "them" in upcoming troubles. If I'm having a bunch of folks over for a party, I'm much more likely to invite someone who always behaves civilly and dresses casually than I am to invite someone who wears sequinned mankinis and makes a comment every time someone vanishes to a bathroom. Savvy acquaintances could, if asked, warn the mankini types about the virtues of sequin-free clothing options while eating, at the least. Otherwise, honestly, a two-day bout of finding sequins in the most aneurysm-inducing locations will lead to my forgetting the gauche guy's email address.
So one of the near-universal guidelines seems to be, "show about as much skin and shininess as the third-highest ranking person in the social group". It may be a particularly bad idea to match the glitz or libertinity of the highest-ranking two, if they happen to be spotlight hogs and of sufficient rank to remove offenders' body parts.
It's usually safer to ask leading questions, to get others talking about themselves and each other, than it is to talk about oneself (except in really old warrior societies, where the first thing one probably should do is to establish one's competence and machismo, and ideally one's lack of tendency to boink any monster chicks who happen to swim by in mid-contest). If someone else at the event does something improper but not dangerous (essentially botching a savoir-faire skill check), try to pretend that nothing happened rather than turn an oops into a full-blown scene.
All of them seem to have some sort of "quid pro quo principle": if someone goes to some trouble for you, in the future you take a turn at doing for them. Celtic and Nordic rulers loaned each other warriors, Victorian members of Society invited to parties those whose parties they'd attended previously, Old West pioneers traded favors for barn repair and harvesting and dances. People who accept invites and loans and favors, but don't volunteer to give them back out again, tend to be considered inadequate socially -- even medieval kings and queens have to host the occasional party on their own dime.