Wrestling with Retcons

How did we get by so long without the term “retcon?” As a phrase, “retroactive continuity” goes back to at least 1973, with our current definition appearing a decade later to describe some of the way DC comics was engaging contemporary storylines with characters and plots from decades prior. Even without a name, the concept is about as old as storytelling itself, with some retcons becoming such a significant part of their respective narratives that they’d be unthinkable without them - no one involved in the creation of the 1977 film considered Vader to be Luke’s father, but inserting that retcon into The Empire Strikes Back has defined every iteration of Star Wars ever since. But “retcon” is a term that carries as many connotations as it has applications, with plenty of room for interpretation as to what exactly counts as a retcon, what it effect retconning has on a work, and how that in turn affects an audience’s relationship with that work and its creators. So this week, let’s take a dive off  the Reichenbach Falls into the perilous, but potentially rewarding, concept of retcons. - B

B: While the term describes a concept that’s existed for (almost) as long as storytelling itself, the early '80s seems an appropriate place for the retcon to finally receive its name. It was a period when popular culture was shifting from something ephemeral, tied to its moment and lost through time passing and memory fading, into something more solid, permanent, and universally recognized. More and more homes were getting VCRs, separating viewing from broadcast for the first time since television’s invention - especially once the 1984 Betamax case enshrined home recording into law. Comics were being collected and reprinted to a degree never before seen, preserving in (close to) original form characters and concepts that previously had been relegated to common knowledge and the background radiation of ongoing story. People could actually read those ancient Superman and Batman stories, for themselves, with a far greater reach than the comics had originally received… and creators were taking advantage of that, engaging directly with otherwise long-forgotten characters and lore. So it makes sense that comics is where we first see the retcon addressed as a tangible concept - old stories could be explored and grown through new concepts and narrative techniques rather than being simply replaced and retold.

Not that comics were the only media undergoing this kind of upheaval, of course, but they were an early beneficiary of this new way of engaging with existing material. Things were rapidly becoming more and more “meta,” with an increased willingness to look at a narrative work as a created thing operating under external factors and wills, rather than focusing solely on the “in-universe” narrative. We were able to balance all that in our heads after all: the creator and the created, the world of the story and the world in which it’s being told. It’s no coincidence, then, that tabletop RPGs were experiencing their first big boom at the time - being able to not only process all that, but actively participate in it, is the foundation upon which every aspect of roleplaying is built.

A: Retconning is indeed an interesting concept when it comes to TTRPGs. In many cases, you’re playing within an established universe that already has its own canon. In a game, though, it doesn’t matter if this is a "canon universe," or one entirely of your own creation - either way you’ll be creating your own thing along with everyone around the table. The struggle is keeping everyone on the same page while they're all interpreting things their own way. It's something different from media such as comic books, TV shows, and movies where the story is coming from one individual or group and we're just the audience ingesting it all. Looking at retconning in games, you'll have two types: small changes and big changes. A retcon might be something simple - everyone at the table  forgot last round that they had the Bless spell on them. An easy fix: we can have them roll now if it might change anything (something made especially when there's a digital log of all the original rolls) and retroactively apply any additional damage or changes that might have occurred. The same can apply to adversaries in battles. Generally, players are likely to be pretty forgiving of small changes as long as you’re applying them fairly. They’ll certainly at least be able to wave them away as long as there's a benefit to their own characters. If you’re even-handed with PCs and adversaries alike, though, they should also accept it without too much explanation.

It's those "big changes" that are more difficult to swallow... the "Vader is Luke’s father" types of changes. Before attempting one of these, it might be wise to talk to another DM or trusted player about what you’re looking to do. At the very least, ask yourself why you’re looking at making this change? Is it going to help the story or just a "fun" twist you're looking to add? You really need to consider the impact this is going to have on your players and your game, so getting that objective third party to weigh in can be a big help. If you do decide to go through with it, picking the right technique is also very important. Ideally, you’ll provide a purely logical in-universe explanation  for the change - even if it's only a change from a certain point of view. You might consider incorporating time travel as an approach to retconning. This could lead to a possibility where the player’s characters will be the ones to make the change themselves through a side adventure. We see this very often in other media, and there's no reason you can’t include it in TTRPGs, too. You might also explore alternate timelines, offering yet another chance at some different adventures for the characters. When it comes down to it, though, when there's an inconsistency in your universe that you just can’t find the proper justification for, but still needs to happen... a wizard did it.

B: In a TTRPG setting, there's very little distance between the audience/periphery creators (players) and the central creator (the GM) - quite literally, when game sessions are in-person. Despite Gary Gygax's original conception of a physical barrier keeping players and DMs from seeing each other, the originator of changes is apparent and visible. Generally, this hasn't been the case for most forms of modern media, where the creators are shrouded, mere names in a list of credits. It's interesting that the people behind some franchises feel a need to elevate a single initial creator to make group efforts feel more cohesive - so Gene Roddenberry, Chris Carter, and yes, George Lucas essentially become mascots for largely communal efforts. (This isn't to discount more hands-on figures like Rod Serling, J. Michael Straczynski, or Joss Whedon) but even they owe a lot to the less-recognized people working for them). Most modern media, though, doesn't bother putting creators forward at all, and treat the content as if it had simply appeared, fully-formed, in the universe. (Actors, to be fair, are by definition more visible than other creators, but it's not uncommon for audiences to know only the names of actors in their favorite media, and no one else involved.) Comics, though, are again the notable outlier, closer to books and plays, with a much smaller list of credits and a pretty clear of idea of who's responsible for any major changes. But this clarity does make it easier to examine of the retcon's potential function: marking a change in creative leadership and/or direction.

Before starting the research that went into this post, I had been under the impression that the term "retcon" was coined to describe the major changes Alan Moore made when starting his tenure as writer of Swamp Thing - something I had read online many years ago. While not exactly correct, it's remarkably close to the actual origins... just a different DC comic series and a couple years later. If anything, the change in Swamp Thing is closer to what Andy referred to as "big change" retcon as we'd call it today: the title character learns that his origins are very different than what was portrayed in his original appearance and referenced ever since. But this change didn't undo all that story, it still all  happened the way readers experienced - it's the addition of new information that re-contextualizes those scenes upon re-examination. (Funny how close that term is to "retcon...") When done well, it's remarkably like real life, and the way that new information changes the way we understand the things we thought, believed, or remembered up to that point. In this context, though, there's the additional awareness of a new creative team and the indication that they'll be taking the story in their own unique direction. Appreciating and acknowledging this aspect requires a certain amount of meta-reading, admitting that the scaffolding is there, a new shift has started for the man behind the curtain, that this is a created thing built by real people. At the same time, we can also understand that this is simply how the story goes. There's a narrative shift that goes along with other shifts in look and feel, but it's still a continuation of what went before. Experiencing media is complicated when you think about it.

There's still more to discuss with how these concepts interact with scripted interactive medias (in both electronic games and pre-published material for tabletop play), but that's a discussion for a later post. And who knows, that post may retcon this one! But even with the inclusion of new context, it will remain the same words, by the same people, and for the same audience - us and you, the reader. Thanks for taking that meta-journey along with us.

Send questions and comments to neversaydice20@gmail.com or tweet X tweet us @neversaydice2.That's a double-retcon we were all subjected to!