Chivalry and the Knights of Improv
by Tom Tollenaere


"Chivalry is the belief and practice of knights in the middle ages and even today. Chivalry was a code of ethics upheld by noble landholders and/or knights who were influenced by Christianity. The chivalric knight was loyal, courteous, protective, and gentle and honorable to all, including enemies. Knights sought love and glory, but not selfish love and glory; love and glory for his lady and king first. "
-- Ring of Chivalry ( www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/8449/chivalry.htm )


Our Vocabulary
I guess that any improv player or improv trainer would agree that a good improv player is -among 'other things' - a player that is fun to play with. We all know tons of exercises to train players on these 'other things': accepting offers, advancing stories, building characters and tilting status, but how do we teach players to be fun-to-play-with? We use a vocabulary that includes terms like yes-anding, reincorporating, raising the stakes, tilting, pimping, waffling, you name it, but do we have a word for being-fun-to-play-with? I think that word should be 'Chivalry'.


What is Fun-to-Play-With?
We want our players to be fun to play with. Think about players you like to play with, and what makes these players fun-to-play with. You'd probably come up with things like:

  • She makes good offers
  • He accepts and builds upon my offers
  • She makes me look good
  • He makes me have fun

Now think about those players you don't like to play with. Why would that be? Reasons might be:

  • She likes to shine too much
  • He screws up the story
  • He's not listening
  • She always does the same thing
  • He never lets go of his own ideas
  • She always overloads the scene
  • His offers are always absurd

 

If you look at the bad-things list, you'll see one major theme theme emerging: selfishness. This is the opposite of Chivalry, according to the definition quote above. Hence, to get rid of selfishness, we need to teach Chivalry!


How to Teach Chivalry?
We need to teach our fellow players what we don't like. Now, since we've all been trained to always accept everything, this is a tricky one. Besides, saying that we don't like what a player does would not be much fun either, they might not like our opinion, might be hurt and that might even cause friction in the group.

Then again, do we think that Lance Armstrong does not hurt when he's training for the Tour de France? Do we think that Venus William's joints don't hurt after a long day on the court preparing for the Finals at Wimbledon? We're in rehearsal to learn something, to become better, not to have everyone else telling us how good we are. Nobody has learned to ride a bike without falling off a couple of times (a).

Let's see how we can teach this without hurting too many prides and egos.


Shootout
I like to play Shootout at rehearsal. All players in a circle, and I tell them they have 2 revolvers. When I yell someone's name, that person needs to duck as fast as she can, while her 2 neighbors try to shoot her. If she's fast enough, whoever shoots first kills the other neighbor. If she's not fast enough, she gets killed.

If you try it out just with those instructions, you'll have a shot, and then see 3 players debate for themselves who shot first. Perhaps after a second or so, one of them will give in and start dying. No-one likes to die, after all.

Then I change the rules. For every shot, at least one of the players needs to die. I tell them that they should consider the dying part the most fun. And why would they not die - it's a game? I tell them that if they have any doubt, they should die. That's Chivalry - offer your life for your fellow players, just like a Knight would gladly die for his King. Try the game again and you'll probably see that things move a lot faster. Perhaps all three involved in a shot will die instantly, and that'll evoke laughter. Sure, one of them shot first, but who cares, really? It's a game! For medieval Knights Chivalry was a not a game of life and death, for us it's a game, so surely we should be able to master Chivalry, no?

It's fun to die for your partners. It really can be fun to give up your life, like a Chivalric knight would do for his King, but giving your life in a game should be a lot easier. In the same way it can be just as much fun to step out of a scene (or not to step in), or to give up your own ideas. A player that realizes that is more fun-to-play-with.


Failure Exists Only In Our Minds
When I got introduced to Improv we used to play association games. The coach would say that anything you thought of upon hearing a word from your neighbor was OK. Except that he didn't want to hear a word that had been uttered before. Now how then can any word be OK? Attitudes like these instill failure on our players, add stress and only lead to internal frustration ('Damn I'm thinking of a banana again. Bananas are bad. Shoot, I need to think of something else. I am so uninspired. Think, think! Brain freeze).

Try this: sit down in silence, let your mind wander, but, internally, for yourself, name everything you 'see' in your thoughts. You'll probably find that at times you think that you are not thinking about interesting stuff, or that you thoughts stick to e.g. sheep, nothing but sheep, and that this would not be good enough. Who are we kidding here? It's just your thoughts, and you're not even telling anybody what your mind is thinking. Most of us are censoring ourselves, as if our ideas, left to wander by themselves, are not interesting enough.


Saying No
We all know that offers should be accepted. But, in rehearsal, if anything is accepted, how are we supposed to learn? Here's 2 exercises in which we're going to say No to learn what's being-fun-to-play-with.


Yes Let's - or Not
Everyone on the stage. On player makes a suggestion, e.g. 'We are on a beach'. Everyone who feels this is going to be fun yells 'Yes' and plays being on a beach. Everyone who doesn't feel happy about the suggestion just leaves the stage. Then another player suggests something: 'Let's find a whale'. Again, everyone either joins happily, or leaves. When the next player suggests 'Let's get hit by a bus' everyone will probably leave.

If you try it out with experienced improvisers, it might take some time before players dare reject an offer (because we've all been trained to accept anything). But really, why would we want to get hit by a bus when we just discovered a whale, with which we might have a great adventure?

It should be OK to think about being hit by a bus, there's nothing really wrong with that, feel free to come up with the idea. But you should know, or sense somewhere that the idea might not drive the scene forward, and you should be able to let it go. If no-one ever tells you you'd never know. If they do tell you it's not a failure, just like it's not a failure to be shot at Shootout. Look at it this way, you've learned something, and that should be fun!


Let's Not
Play this one in pairs. One player makes all the suggestions, the other either one joins in happily, if she thinks the suggestion might lead anywhere fun, or answers 'Let's not' if she does not like the suggestion. When the suggester gets a no, have a good laugh (it's OK to 'fail' - we're trying to learn something, remember) and offers something else. This exercise teaches us which offers are fun to others, and which ones aren't. How are we supposed to know, if no-one ever points this out to us, and if we'd forbid ourselves to point this out to others in rehearsal?

The part of having a laugh about a 'Let's Not' should be stressed, to teach ourselves that this 'rejection' is not a failure that we should take personally. Just like having ourselves killed, even if we think we shot first, getting an idea rejected should be fun. See it as a tremendous opportunity to be allowed to suggest something else - an opportunity that we would be denied if our offer was accepted.

For those who still think this is being negative, consider the game Ding!, played by some short-formers. In this game, at any time during a scene, a bell can be rang. After the bell, the last player who did or said something, needs to do or say something else. Let's Not is basically the same, but in rehearsal (b).

It's also a great way to teach storytelling, as in this exercise we might come up with situations or offers we'd never think of otherwise.


Dealing with Rejection
Rejection is part of life. Who's never been rejected by a prospective boy or girlfriend? You're still alive, aren't you? In the same sense, in Improv, some of your offers will be ignored or rejected. I am not advocating this, but it will happen. If you're going to be pissed of at that you're not likely to have fun, or be fun to play with. You are going to refuse offers yourself, face it, you know you are not supposed to, but you will. If you are going to be pissed off at that you're not likely to have fun any more. If all players are chivalric you'll laugh it away and have more fun. Just be nice about it, get over it, don't let your Big Ego spoil the fun.

 

About Being Nice
All right, so now we are going to be nice to ourselves and our fellow players. However, being a nice player does not imply that you can't play a nasty character. Nothing stops you from playing a horrible character. Moliere's main character Harpagon in L'avare (The Miser) is a nasty piece of work, but he's quite amusing, so why not? If you're playing such a character, you might wonder whether you're being nice to your team mates. But think about it, if you play this character to it's full (nasty) extent, you would be giving your partners tons of wonderful opportunities to give you offers you can refuse (to the delight of the audience). Of course this only works if your fellow players are familiar with the concept of Chivalry, otherwise they're going to accuse you of being an antisocial player. Which would only point to their own selfishness, of course.

 

We see too many bland, characterless characters in improv. We should be able to play nasty characters, and our fellow players should be Chivalrous enough to deal with that. They should also be clever enough to come up with tilts to change the balance, in which we should be Chivalrous enough to accept the change of balance, and let go of the status of our character.

Recently, playing with these concepts we had a scene about an Eskimo man, who's wife dragged in a seal, which she was going to prepare for supper. Our Eskimo complained about just about anything, form being cold in the igloo to resenting having seal again for supper. The girl playing his wife was familiar with the concept of chivalry, and happily provided even more things for him to complain about. This was funny until the balance between the two had been more than established, after which she tilted the scene by announcing she had fallen in love by a Green-Peace activist, and would be taking off with him, after this Last Seal Supper The sheer devastation on the face of the Eskimo man was priceless, and the scene ended by our nasty Eskimo man begging and screaming her to come back and stay. Afterwards both said they had tremendous fun tormenting the other character (not the player!), and knowing this was quite OK (with the other player, not with the character) and even being encouraged to do so.

The point is that we should not only give up our own selfishness about our offers or our stage presence, but also our status. Chivalry is just as much about allowing ourselves, or the characters we play, or the status of the characters we play to be changed.


Saying No to the Audience
So we want to have fun with whoever we play with, and we can teach ourselves how to do that. Then why would we accept suggestions from the audience that don't sound fun to play? Anyone accepting the location 'the men's rooms' (for the third time this week) from the audience is not exactly being Chivalric to his players. And think about it - does the audience really want to see a scene in the men's? They'd rather see a scene in jungle, with snakes and wild animals and tribes unknown to man - whoever making the suggestion 'the men's' does not really want to see that - he's just trying to be funny (and failing miserably, when the scene eventually turns out to be a drag, or filled with excrement or boring sexual connotations). Hence accepting stupid suggestions from an audience isn't very Chivalric either, not for the players and not for the audience (c ).


So What is Chivalry?

Chivalry is e.g:

  • Happily loosing a mimed tug-o-war
  • Happily stepping out of a scene if you screw up (like in games where players are replaced when they make a mistake)
  • Happily making a 'mistake' on purpose if you've been in the game long enough
  • Happily letting your status be changed by another player's tilt
  • Happily letting you be robbed (though probably not after you've been begging for mercy, offering money or sex, or screaming for help).

So basically, Chivalry is Letting Go of Your Ego. Improv players should be Improv Nights, all in the service of the King of Fun (d), and our Knights should be prepared to die for our King. Or, too paraphrase the quote we started with:

"Chivalry is the belief and practice of the Knights of Improv. Chivalry is a code of ethics upheld by all Improv Knights. The chivalric Knight is loyal, courteous, protective, and gentle and honorable to all, including Team Mates, Competitors and Audience. Improv Knights seek glory, and fun, but not selfish glory and fun; glory and fun for his Fellow Knights and the Audience first."

Finally, I think that Chivalry should be taught and trained, just like accepting, tilting, raising the stakes and so forth, and should become integral part of our Improv vocabulary.

Footnotes

  • (a) See the article by Kevin Mullaney on his experiences at a refresher course with Del Close at www.improvisation.ws/del/after.html
  • (b) All that is not to say that I do not think we should be accepting each other's offers. I also second Jeff Wirth 's article on Accepting and the Right of Way ( www.yesand.com/features/accepting.html )
  • (c ) See Johnstone's Impro for Storytellers for more arguments against (always or blindly) using audience suggestions.
  • (d) Note that I have been using the term 'having fun', not 'being funny'.

 

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