Image by MasterTux from Pixabay

I realized, the other day, that it has been a while since I posted a fantasy-dominated article, so I set about thinking of one. In no time at all, in a singular flash, today’s article came to me, inspired by the singular concepts of D&D / Pathfinder character classes. But it didn’t take me long to realize that the utility of the concepts and techniques for handling those concepts extended way beyond the fantasy genre, and that this was another Universal post – albeit one with a distinctly ‘fantasy’ them, at least early on.

It is also Campaign Mastery’s entry into this month’s Blog Carnival, hosted by Of Dice and Dragons. The subject this month is encounters, and while they are only a component of the subject of this article, they are an important one, and the approach that is described herein also feeds back into the question of encounters, so it’s quite a relevant connection. You’ll see what I mean as we go along.

I also have to add that (unlike most of my articles), I had a lot of trouble mapping out a coherent through-line to guide this article. I had the pieces that were to be included, but trying to decide what sequence they should be placed into in order to tell a comprehensive and comprehensible discussion of the subject was trickier than usual. So if the internal structure of the article confuses you, that’s the reason – stick with it and it will all fall into place by the end!

Plot Engagement

There are three important levels of engagement with the plot in any RPG. There’s getting the players to engage – that means getting them interested, intriguing them, challenging them, and rewarding them. There’s the entirely separate issue of ensuring that their PCs are fully engaged in the plot, and not just going through the motions. And there’s the GM’s engagement with the plot, which is both utterly necessary and potentially disastrous at the same time.

Player Engagement

Think for a moment of what it means when a PC is engaged in a plotline but the player that controls the character is not. The plot clearly has some connection to the PC in question, some reason for him or her to connect with it and think it important – but the player is not interested, perhaps because pushing the PCs buttons takes away some player agency (perhaps quite a lot of it), perhaps because despite the subject being of interest to the character, the character’s owner is both less interested and less knowledgeable than the character they operate.

The plot might matter to the character, but the player is bored and ‘phoning in’ their performance.

It’s easy for the shoe to be on the other foot, too, which can be slightly better – the character might have no reason to care about the plotline, but the player finds the events of the plot compelling and fascinating; the character’s owner is engaged, even though the character under his command does not.

While the player can’t be accused of not paying attention to the plot, they are spending more time out of character than roleplaying in character.

Sometimes, when you let the player handle multiple characters – both wizard and familiar, for example – it can camouflage the effects of either of these scenarios, making them almost impossible to detect. For this reason, even if the Familiar is supposed to have an almost telepathic bond with a PC, I will insist on a third party (usually me, as DM) playing the part of the familiar (I will generally stop short of giving the Familiar his or her own dedicated player, but there have been exceptions in the past and may well be more in the future – it;s a great way to engage younger players, for example, or relative novices).

Another way to look upon the question of player engagement is this: both player and character have certain prejudices, both for and against specific types of plotline. You can’t always accommodate both of these but should at least pay passing recognition of the prejudices of the character when a plotline breaches them. However, at least half the time, you should cater to both sets of prejudices even though it constrains the stories that you are able to tell, and even if one player’s prejudices conflicts with those of another.

Two of my players love cosmologically-significant “epic” adventures, while the player of another PC tolerates them (and his PC is strongly engaged with them, when they happen). This is a problem because the fourth player dislikes them intently (but loves Space Opera – go figure). So this sort of adventure does take place, with the PC of the fourth player reluctantly participating, but usually this is just an element of the adventure, or a side-plot that the PC can largely ignore.

GM Engagement

GM Engagement with the plot can be a problem because its’ easy to fall in love with your own cleverness and start orchestrating plotlines and outcomes – not necessarily to the benefit or detriment of the PCs, but at the expense of player agency. There is already some trend in this direction if the GM wrote the adventure, or customized it to service this particular group of PCs; adding fuel to the fire doesn’t help.

Once the PCs start reacting to whatever situation your plotline is presenting to them, they get to steer the ship. In the guise of NPCs, you get to control the trade winds and place the reefs and desert islands in the path of that ship, but nothing more. (Admittedly, though, if one of the PCs allies / party members is an NPC, it gives the GM a broader palette of choices).

That doesn’t mean that the GM shouldn’t care about the plots that he is putting in the PCs way – he should. He should care that they maintain an internal logic, that they provide continuity and consistency of characterization, that they are entertaining to the players and GM alike, and that they engage both the players and the PCs. Putting all of those aspects of the plotline under the spotlight is usually more than enough to keep the GM more than busy enough; don’t make the burden of GMing worse by taking command of the ‘scriptwriting’ as well.

That doesn’t mean that you can’t advise, remind, educate, and cajole the players, especially when the PCs do things to gather information, or possess skills that their players do not; you absolutely should react and respond to such player-sourced acts of discovery appropriately. But they get to decide what to do with the information that you present.

Whether or not you should advise on how to advance the plot when the players find themselves stuck is always a vexed issue that’s beyond the scope of this article. Again, having an NPC team member gives you a back door when these things happen – just make sure that sometimes the NPCs get things wrong, so that they aren’t always simply acting as a mouthpiece for the GM.

Taking the opposite perspective, of being completely ad-hoc, is rarely a satisfactory solution either; it limits your ability to make the game entertaining to whatever your wits can conjure up on the spur of the moment, and sooner or later, that will bite you. A middle ground, in which you anticipate most of the major PC choices and have some idea of what will happen as a consequence, and how you will steer the plot back toward satisfying content, is usually the best compromise – and my favorite tactic is to know what the villains of the plot are trying to do, and what they will have anticipated, and have prepared for, and how they will react to PC attempts to thwart their ambitions. This gives direction to the random imaginings of the GM when the pre-planning goes off the rails, as it so often does.

Vectors Of PC Plot Engagement

It’s the third level of engagement that this article is concerned with; often overlooked, or rendered secondary to the player’s desires and dislikes, beyond the sage advice offered above, it is often the area that GMs most struggle to satisfy. That’s the goal of this article, the problem that it aims to solve.

Class Seeds

Each attribute or aspect of a given PC is a potential vector for PC plot engagement (using the term “Vector” in its meaning of a ‘delivery system’). To demonstrate this at its most superficial level, consider the following: Each D&D / Pathfinder character class has its own niche perspective, it’s own area of interest. I’ve cherry-picked 6 or 7 of the easy ones for illustrative purposes:

Thief

Thieves generally like to sneak, scout, and gather intelligence. Every adventure should give this character class the chance to scratch that particular itch.

Fighter

Fighters like to confront things and pound on them until they cry uncle, so that should also be a ubiquitous element in an adventure.

Wizard

Wizards engage in mystery and magic, arts and artifice. In a very real way, they represent a sense of wonder within an adventure. Every adventure should give them the chance to play detective / schemer / analyst / showboat, while creating a sense of awe, of forces beyond the ken of mortal men being at play. The thief feeds the wizard, and the fighter protects him from harm.

Paladin

Although the concept has changed a little in more recent incarnations of the games, Paladins used to be all about Honor and Morality, and those are still strong threads within their makeup in most campaigns. One can go further and describe Paladins as the connection to upper-level social classes within a society. If there is one of these in the party, one of these aspects of the class should be involved in every adventure; and if not, the PCs should feel the absence by being a little in over their heads when these aspects of society manifest within an adventure.

Cleric

The cleric deals with religion, and with healing, and with anything needed to sustain mind, body, and spirit. They also provide a social connection to the lower classes of society (if there is a mercantile middle class, that’s a natural province for a Wizard, but this is often at odds with that archetype’s primary role within the campaign, and so it gets deferred to the Fighter or Thief as often as not). Clerics get to address some of the most fundamental questions of any society- what is life, what is death, what is undeath, what is right, what is wrong, who are the Gods and how do they interact with mortals, and so on. There are those who this makes wise, but there can also be those who this makes overzealous, paranoid, and dogmatic; every cleric has the potential to be either or both.

Druid

Druids tend to focus on the natural world, should one be present in the campaign. Plants, animals, weather, wave, and water are their province. In their absence, the latter may defer onto the wizard or fighter, the former onto the cleric, but these are not fixed in stone. A Ranger stalks much the same ground but from the perspective of one who is part of a society, not one who stands apart from it and defends it against that society should that become necessary.

Barbarian

The barbarian is all about simplicity, about stripping away the airs, graces, and complications that make problems difficult to solve, and (therefore) about making the muddiest of grays into harsh black and white. “I prefer ‘us’ and ‘them’, that lets us ignore the baggage and get right down to cases” is very much a Barbarian perspective. A barbarian in the party practically demands that the other party members become at least a little more culturally sophisticated, just to let the Barb stalk his shtick. But Barbarians are often also the conduit for questions of Nobility vs Honor – with Paladins taking the other side of the argument to whichever one the Barbarian depicts, or vice-versa. As such, he is the moral and spiritual and social counterpoint to the Paladin. Again, if one is not present, these roles must defer onto other members of the party.

That’s far from the sum total of classes available – Monk isn’t covered, for example. But it’s enough to give a general idea. It’s also entirely possible that in any given campaign setting, part or all of the class descriptions offered will be invalidated; so these should be viewed as a generic starting point, not as gospel.

On top of these generic domains,, every character also has a race, which offers still more attributes, vectors for PC Plot Engagement.

And, of course, these almost completely ignore perceiving the character as an individual over a cookie-cutter representation, almost a generic abstraction, of the persona of a PC. But I’ll get back to that in a moment; having established what is meant by a “Vector to PC Engagement”, I should first focus on what the term means and how to use the concept.

Plot Connections

In any given adventure, that adventure should connect to or resonate with each character in one of the aspects unique to that character class as modified for the composition of this specific party of individuals.

What’s more, each PC should have a different point of engagement, both in terms of the nature of the connection to the plot, and in terms of when the plot focuses on that particular element of the adventure or the environment.

If you are running a canned adventure, accommodating these connections defines how the basic plot should be modified, customized to suit this particular party.

There are six primary vector connection points between a PC and an adventure (there are also some secondary ones of potentially even greater significance, but less importance, that I’ll get to a little later). Furthermore, any PC’s primary connection to a plot can be another PC’s tertiary connection to that plot if the two will have different perspectives on the content of the connection, a complication that I’ll also address a little later. The Primary Vector Connection Points are Objects, Encounters, People, Objectives, Perspectives, and Sub-plots.

Objects

A book of collected prayers and theological insights engages a Cleric. A book on Arcane Theory is in the wheelhouse of the Mage.

A crown that the NPCs who possess it think was blessed by their God is a different sort of connection for a Cleric, but may also connect with a Paladin’s position on Authority and an Orderly society, or with the oppression of the common subjects of the realm (a different connection for the Cleric).

If it’s valuable, the Thief might covet the chance to acquire it. Objects can be strong connection points even if they are almost incidental to the actual plotline – or they can be the central focus of part or all of the adventure.

Encounters

An encounter, in this sense, is with an NPC or Natural Event that could lead to a conflict resolution or other forms of violence – in fact, to any sort of resolution other than pure roleplaying / dialogue.

Encountering someone who is cursed (or who claims to be cursed) obviously connects the encounter with a Cleric, as does encountering someone who represents (or claims to represent) a theological perspective or authority. Encountering someone who is wasting the charges of a powerful magic item on pretty light shows would engage the mage. Bandits might engage the Cleric, the Paladin, the Thief, or the Fighter, depending on the circumstance. An encounter with an Astrologer, or an Astral Traveler, connects to a Mage, and so on.

People

Encounters intended explicitly for resolution through roleplaying and not combat are “People” connection points. Their area of expertise, position of power or authority, or nature, will determine who they are a connection to.

Objectives

Adventures always have objectives, and no matter how superficially similar these may be, there are always nuances. Loot The Arch-wizard’s Tower. Pillage The Lost Temple Of Kas-wan. Explore The Subterranean Maze of Lukskaw, also known as The Thieves’ Highway. Those are all straightforward dungeon-bash adventures, but the intersection between them and the different archetypes is obvious.

With greater variety of objective, the number of connection points also increases in variety. Deliver a letter to The Bishop Of Kilbright. Destroy the Arcane Nullifier of Magudishi. Stop the Invasion of the Orc Horde. And so on.

Perspectives

Some adventures require characters to represent certain perspectives in order to win the assistance of otherwise recalcitrant individuals. Often, this type of connection is two-fold – identifying that a particular perspective is needed (intelligence and analysis), and actually applying that perspective (roleplaying).

“Now, if I were a trap emplaced by the Wizard Khufulicious, where would I be?” is an example of representing a particular perspective, one that engages two different archetypes.

Being commissioned to wipe out a group of bandits operating in the Wastelands of Esteros can have several distinctly different paths with very different outcomes.

• Simply engage them on a tactical level and attempt to wipe them out, scattering them and disrupting their unity is the most straightforward but may meet only short-term success.
• Infiltrating them and discovering their motive for banditry takes a more intelligence-gathering approach.
• Discovering that the local tax-collectors have more than doubled the official tax rate and are pocketing the excess proceeds, causing ordinary citizens to rise in protest, makes this representative of a larger social issue.
• Discovering that the bandits are actually revolutionaries seeking to make ends meet until they can overthrow the King in favor of his distant second-cousin provides a political motivation.
• Or perhaps they are ‘demon-worshipers’ who want to free Elzrig The Mad from his Celestial prison.
• And, of course, there is always simple human greed. But having some hidden agenda that is being furthered always makes such a simple plot more interesting.

Sub-plots

Running a plot on the side can provide a vector to engage a character who otherwise couldn’t care less about the main plot. This essentially amounts to letting a character do something along the way, or while they are in the vicinity of the setting of the main plot’s resolution.

Some GMs and players see these ways of contriving interest where there would otherwise be none, but that depends on what the GM intends to do with the sub-plot.

Used, for example, as a vehicle for revealing some unexpected complication in the main plot, completely overcomes any such objection. Using the side-plot to highlight broader social movements that will alter the context of this and future adventures is a completely legitimate application. Using a side-plot as a precursor to a future main-plot is perfectly acceptable.

These all connect the sub-plot with the main plotline either now or in the future, and the virtue of that connection is that the sub-plot achieves relevance to the main plot.

Of course, having every sub-plot or side-plot become relevant in this way rapidly becomes a cliche. So you need ‘disconnected’ sub-plots along the way to hide the relevance of a few sub-plots that do matter, establishing the legitimacy of the side-plot in it’s own right.

It’s entirely possible to have a main plotline that consists of nothing but sub-plots that interconnect, creating a sense of the PCs living separate lives beyond the shared experience of the Party.

There are others, but these are the major ones. So, what do you do with them?

From One Connection To Another

It is the height of artistry in adventure design to have a plotline in which each plot connection leads to the next, one domino falling after the other. Viewed in one way, this can seem to elevate coincidence beyond rational levels; viewed in another, it describes each PC and their skill-set as resources that the other PCs can access when and if they become relevant.

For example:

• Thief is hired to steal an object d’art from the home of a wealthy and politically well-connected merchant. In the course of the theft, he discovers a secret compartment containing a scroll written in an unfamiliar language.
• Something about the whole deal starts to smell fishy to him, so he takes the scroll to the Wizard, who knows multiple languages.
• The Wizard determines that the scroll is a demonic contract with the names of the respective parties obscured behind some sort of demonic shield; he calls in the Cleric to penetrate the shield.
• This proves to be a more involved undertaking than expected; it can only be performed in a location sanctified to the demon, or broken by force by a high-level Paladin’s Enclave. The latter would immediately notify the demon of the act, while the former would be more difficult but less likely to be discovered. But it would be far more dangerous, so he calls in the Fighter and Paladin to provide escort services, thus engaging the entire party in the adventure.
• The Cleric is able to use his connections to locate a Demonic Sect whose headquarters would be a suitable location to perform the unmasking.
• After sneaking and fighting their way through the Sect’s hidden fortress, the Paladin is able to penetrate the veil of secrecy to discover that the agreement is between a minor Demon, Scraxx, and a high-born nobleman who has been making life difficult for his lower-class citizens, including the Fighter’s family. It promises to grant the nobleman great and terrible powers in return for souls delivered from his subjects.
• The nobleman is recognized as a rival of the person who employed the thief. Does that mean that the thief’s contact can be converted into an ally, or are there two contending forces with the commoners (and the PCs) caught in the middle? How did the scroll come to be hidden in the object d’art in the first place, did his employer know of or suspect the scroll’s existence already? And how did the scroll’s hiding place come to be in the merchant’s possession in the first place? What seemed to be the end of the adventure is now revealed as nothing more than the gateway into something larger and more sinister…

Types of Plot Vector relationships

This example demonstrates a simple series of vectors that draw the PCs into the plot, one character at a time, repeatedly deepening the significance of that plotline to the party. This arrangement of vectors is a serial Vector arrangement, but it’s not the only arrangement. It’s worth taking a moment to survey the field of possibilities.

Serial Vectors

These are dominoes, each one leading to the next, as in the example above.

Parallel Vectors

A parallel vector structure creates two or more narrative threads that advance simultaniously. These are generally intended to culminate in successive adventures within a campaign; one may provide context or additional difficulties to the other, but beyond that coincidence of timing, they are unrelated.

Converging Vectors

The story of the fighter’s family problems in the example is an illustration of ‘converging vectors’. If there had been a scene in which the fighter became aware of the problems his family were experiencing, perhaps even experienced some of them first-hand, it would more formally represent this type of vector; without that establishment of the situation, the revelation feels a bit forced in the example, though that might be overlooked in the excitement of the moment.

Diverging Vectors

Vectors that are designed to force the PCs into making a choice, an important one, are ‘diverging vectors’ because the path of the campaign diverges one way or another depending on their choice. Implicit in the concept is that the PCs do not have the resources to pursue both paths at the same time; in general, this is a choice between dealing with a long-term but significant problem or a more immediate but smaller issue.

For example, if the PCs become aware of three different schemes, but only have the resources to nip one in the bud, the connections between individual PCs and each of the three schemes would be Diverging Vectors.

Presumably, the PCs can, after dealing with the problem adjudged the most immediate, tackle on of the remaining two, but that scheme will be more advanced and harder to stop as a result; and can only then deal with the last, which will be close to fruition, or even have come to pass, with the PCs having to deal with the fallout and then attempt to undo whatever it was.

Each of these types of vector relationship represents an additional level of complexity in game plotting on the part of the GM. There are two analogies that may be helpful to GMs in understanding how they come together to create a richer campaign.

The Jigsaw Analogy

The first is the analogy of the Jigsaw. Each plot vector consists of a number of adjacent pieces of the puzzle, forming a swathe through the picture, but only when you put all of them together do you see the completed picture. This view emphasizes the discrete identity of each piece of the puzzle, which is to say, each plot development in one of the chains of jigsaw pieces. Furthermore, it can be suggested that the pieces at the edge of the puzzle represent the most superficial awareness of the different plotlines that will ultimately come together, while the pieces at the central focus of the overall image are at ‘the heart’ of the campaign.

The Tapestry Analogy

A tapestry consists of continuous threads of different colors that are woven together to form an image as an emergent property of the arrangement of colored threads. This view emphasizes the way individual plot developments are connected to one another to form a larger series of related events. Viewing plots in this way makes it easier to assess and manipulate the momentum of events and campaign pacing, encouraging a more holistic perspective.

Most of the plotting techniques that I have recommend employ both analogies at different times, when they are most useful. As a general rule, the tapestry perspective is great for broad plans and the big picture; the adventure content that they demand is then broken into discrete ‘packets’ or jigsaw pieces, which can then be structured into individual adventures. Quite often, the result is a short-term plotline that acts as nothing more than a vehicle for developments of greater long-term significance, especially early in a campaign.

This article is written more from the jigsaw perspective than the tapestry perspective, for whatever that is worth in aiding the reader’s understanding of the subject.

Character Depth

The richer your characters are in their definitions, the more possible connections you can forge between character and an adventure.

The Hero system is great for this, because it requires the player to design dangling plot threads that the GM can employ – from arch-enemies to psychological predispositions.

Most of my campaigns take things a step further, with characters having some sort of backstory which in turn is replete with connections that the GM can draw upon. I use this technique to some extent even when the game system doesn’t provide the ready-made plot hooks of the Hero System.

Parts 2 and 3 of the Orcs and Elves series introduce the many PCs from my Fumanor (D&D 3.x) campaign and give some indication of the depth of such backgrounds that is generally desirable. In some cases (Gallas, for example) these were developed through the use of “Session zero” adventures; in others, the essential background was developed in the course of play (Arron) or written after the fact (Julia Sureblade). As a representative example, I’ve decided to quote the description of Tajik from Part 3 (verbatim):

Tajik – A unexpected Leader

The remaining PC in the campaign is Tajik the Orc. Tajik was the runt of the litter and he liked to ask questions – neither works in your favor as an Orc. He was always the last to be fed, getting the scraps and leftovers after the rest of the tribe had eaten their fill. His name actually means “Boy who asks impertinent questions” – Orcish boys don’t get named until its sure they will live long enough to make naming them worthwhile. Names aren’t cheap in Orcish society – they mean something to them. In time, he was apprenticed to the tribal Shaman, since he wasn’t fitted to a real job within the tribe, and the Shaman was the only one who could usually answer his questions. This upbringing made Tajik timid and diffident (at least by Orcish standards). In time, Tajik was ready for the ritual that elevates an Orc to adulthood – the Chief basically gives them a task and banishes the prospective adult from the tribe until they succeed in that task, unassisted by other Orcs. Since Tajik wasn’t liked by the Chief (not Orcish enough), he expected to be given a dirty and difficult task; he was right. That task led directly to him becoming the leader of an Adventuring Party, “Tajik’s Misfits” and facing an invading army of Undead from the Golden Empire (more details below).

For the first time, Tajik found other people relying on him, and despite his initial discomfort and nerves, has proven to be a natural leader for the strange party of adventurers that have come together around him. He’s still growing as both a person and as a Priest, and prides himself on knowing and understanding things that not even the Arch-prelate has discovered. He may have left his village a cub; he will be returning as a leader, an enlightened theologian, and a seasoned warrior, with the confidence and ability to stand before any other Orc as an equal.

Distinctive Combinations

Because Vectors can interconnect, the number of variations available to the GM is the number of distinct combinations available from the total pool of the PCs. Let’s say we have four PCs, who have 3, 4, 5, and 7 connections available, respectively. And note that these are (generally) far lower than would actually be found in a decent PC.

The number of combinations are the product of these numbers – 3 × 4 × 5 × 7 = 12 × 35 = 420.

What’s a more typical number?

The Eliza Example

Well, let’s consider Eliza Black, one of the PCs from the Adventurer’s Club Campaign. This character hasn’t been part of the party for all that long (compared to the other PCs).

Since the character began, she has connected to plots (1) by virtue of being Canadian; (2) through her experiences as a member of the RCMP; (3) through her current status as a member of Canadian Intelligence; (4) through her status as a stranger in New York City for the first time; (5) through her family connection to wealth; (6) through her progressive social mindset (for the era); (7) through her abilities as a detective; (8) through her activities as tourist; (9) through her status as a female (who is often underestimated in this more misogynous era); (10) as the head of her own nascent Intelligence apparatus, initially focused on the New York docks, but slowly spreading tentacles throughout the underworld of the city; (11) through her dislike of counterfeiters; (12) through her appreciation of art; (13), an old friend in trouble; (14) one of her Intelligence agents getting sucked into a scheme by one of his “old friends”; (15) charitable work; and more besides. Those are just the ones that I can list off the top of my head!

And this is a character that hasn’t been in the campaign for very long! If we take 15 as our typical number, four PCs gives 50,625 combinations!

So, what’s the virtue, the benefit?

Distinctive Plots

Aside from connecting the characters more intimately with the plots, and thereby making those plots more important to the characters, and hence more important to the players, the big benefit is of taking a more general plot and rendering it distinctly fitted to the characters participating in the campaign. We could run the same basic plot a number of times and make it distinctive each time by varying the nature of the connection that the PCs have to the plot each time. Throw in some substantial variety of basic plotline, and you reach the point where we are currently working on Adventure #33 (plus a handful of unplanned fill-in adventures) for the Pulp campaign, and they have all been different. They haven’t all worked, but more have been successful as player experiences than have bombed. For a campaign that was on its last legs three or four months after it began, the longevity – we have just ticked off the campaign’s 18th year – speaks for itself!

Putting the Cart before the Horse

But making each plot distinctive, connected to each PC in a different way, is not just the end benefit, it’s also the primary technique that we employ; because it produces character engagement, and that assists in player engagement. In this case, it is actually helpful to put the cart before the horse; deliberately courting the benefits of the approach to adventure and encounter creation puts the pieces of the puzzle in place that are necessary to achieving that benefit, and this enables the other consequences of the presence of those building blocks to be experienced.

Pulp Plot Objectives, translated

Again drawing on the Adventurer’s Club campaign for direction, because that is the campaign that most thoroughly exploits these principles without needing lots of contextual explanation, there are so many combinations of plot vectors that we employ them in seven different ways, at least in principle, further enhancing character and player engagement. Some of these require further definition of an individual character’s plot vectors, but that’s never a wasted exercise.

1. Entry Vectors

We actively think about what each PC is doing when the adventure begins. Usually, one of them will be doing something that will lead the party into the main plot, but not always. The greater the variety of activities that we present as ‘what the PC is doing at the start of play’, the richer the character’s personal life, and the more profound his existence – this makes them seem more rounded ‘as people’. and hence more interesting. This not only deepens the character’s engagement with the campaign, but with the campaign setting, and deepens the player’s engagement with their PC.

This doesn’t necessarily work very well in a Quest format where every character is always together at the start of play; you need to deliberately engineer your starting point so that variety of activity becomes possible. Even a campsite can be made to work, with a little effort. I once started a fantasy adventure with the PCs cresting a hill and seeing a township (not their destination, just a way-point) in the distance; by going into what each character was looking forward to (based on prior sessions of play and the characterizations made by the players), it was possible to make each PCs experience of the scene distinctive, and reflective of who they were.

2. Relationship to the Plot

This is what I’ve spent most of the article discussing, so there’s no need to embellish it further.

3. Action Pieces

We work hard at making sure that each PC has something to contribute to the adventure. In fact, we prefer to make sure that each PC has something to contribute in each day’s play, but sometimes that isn’t possible. This is deliberate spotlight focusing. The more diverse these contributions are, the more rounded the characters seem to be, with the benefits as described in “entry vectors” above.

4. Personality Vectors

We also like to build in at least one distinct opportunity for the PC to present or manifest his personality within the adventure. That generally means an NPC encounter designed for one specific PC to take the lead in resolving. Something we can’t always pull off, but that works really well on the occasions when it has been possible, is an encounter in which the metaphoric ‘baton’ is passed from one PC to the next in the course of the encounter. Even the fighter whose player lives for combat engagements in each adventure should get an opportunity to make their personality felt in the course of a day’s play, because that is what will encourage them to do more than look ahead to the next battle. An NPC asking the PC why he lives for combat can open unexpected avenues of personalization for a PC.

Consider, for example, the differences implied by two possible responses to such a question: “That’s the only time when I really feel alive” vs “In combat, I understand what I’m doing, so I feel in control of the situation.” The first diagnoses the character as a thrill-seeker or adrenalin junkie, while the second raises questions of personal limitations both actual and perceived, and issues of self-confidence. Both provide scope for personal growth within the character, as they explore the ramifications of the why of their subjective reality.

5. Ongoing Relationships

No NPC with whom a PC has a personal connection beyond mere friendship should ever appear in an adventure without the relationship narrative taking a step – forwards, backwards, or sideways. The story of the relationship should always advance whenever the NPC appears at the GM’s prompting – that last is an important point; if the PC seeks out the NPC, that can be considered a progression in the relationship in and of itself. But we never build an NPC’s appearance into the plot without giving this due consideration.

But we also keep track of important relationships and how long it’s been since they progressed. In rare cases, it might suit our plot intentions to have the relationship stagnate – that in itself can be considered a ‘progression’ of sorts, potentially leading to it turning sour – but for the most part, the longer it has been since an NPC appeared, the more we will start fishing around for some plot thread that can be dangled to justify such an appearance.

If NPCs are built to the same conceptual standard as PCs, they will have a great many connection points that can be exploited for the purposes of relationship development, making this easy; it follows that if it ever becomes difficult to ‘engage’ an NPC within the plot for two adventures in a row, that NPC needs further development!

It should also be noted that ‘deepening friendship’ is something distinct from ‘mere friendship’; it’s a step toward collaboration between the NPC and PC, or partnerships. Even if these potentials never come to fruition, the potential itself qualifies this as a relationship to be developed. Whether or not a ‘simple friendship’ should grow in this way should largely grow out of two things: the professional capabilities and interests of the individual characters, and any expressions of interest on the part of the player.

The first simply means that if circumstances continue to make the NPC relevant to the PC and vice-versa, the relationship should grow as a consequence. The second is self-explanatory.

Three relationships with another PC from the Adventurer’s Club campaign are illustrative.

• First, we have the growing romantic relationship between the PC and Honeydew Halliday; this grows naturally with every appearance of the NPC because we make those appearances significant. A particular dynamic is developing between the two in which Honeydew is slowly assuming dominance except in areas in which she has relinquished it voluntarily – but it’s a dominance that takes into account the feelings and opinions of her partner, making the relationship deep, rich, and complex.
• Second, we have the continuing friendship between Dr Hawke and the house doctor of the club premises, Dr Levitz. This NPC is dismissive of anything beyond his deeply-conservative approach to medicine while respecting that those who step beyond the threshold of what is proven (like Dr Hawke) are the drivers of advancement within the profession, a resource to be consulted when all else fails. Throw in the social dynamic of a weekly poker game featuring the pair and an invited guest each, and a somewhat crusty exterior with a sly sense of humor beneath the surface, and you have a relationship of friendship and professional respect that’s akin to a Democrat having (grudging) respect for a Republican, or a Christian having grudging respect for a Buddhist!
• And finally, we have Dr Charles Norris, the Medical Examiner for New York City. This is/was a real individual – Charles Norris (Medical Examiner) – who we referenced as one of our regular nods toward the historical ‘accuracy’ of the game setting, having come across his name in a reference book on poisons. But the more we read about this remarkable individual, the more interesting he became, and what was originally intended to be a passing encounter became an ongoing professional relationship, in which Dr Norris keeps trying to persuade Dr Hawke to become his appointed successor (something Dr Hawke resists) but the two often consult each other professionally, each recognizing in the other a kindred spirit. Dr Norris is now a regular member of Dr Hawke’s supporting cast, because the player found the real person as fascinating and worthy of recognition as we did.

6. Character Evolution

We regularly and perpetually dangle opportunities for the players to broaden their characters. Whether or not they choose to avail themselves of these opportunities is always up to the player to a certain extent; they all come with a price tag in the form of further complicating the character’s “life”, so players learn quickly to be selective. The choices that they accept add still more Engagement Vectors for us to draw upon.

For example, Eliza Black was asked to act as a representative at a fine art auction, commissioned to purchase a couple of specific works on behalf of the Adventurer’s Club when an NPC was unable to do so. Neither the player nor the character had never seen or experienced a fine art auction, but the character found the experience fascinating (thanks to various television programs like Fake Or Fortune? and Bargain Hunt that gave me the expertise needed to bring the art world – with all its shadowy figures and dark corners – to ‘life’ within the game), and “discovered” within the character a hitherto unsuspected fascination for, and appreciation of, fine art. While we haven’t touched on that aspect of the character since, it’s waiting for the right situation to come along and ready for us to draw on when inspiration strikes.

7. Incidental Vectors

The final category is the ‘plot filler’. Everyone needs these from time to time, for two reasons – first, to give a character something to do when they aren’t the focus of attention, and when their Entry Vector comes to a natural conclusion before the character becomes invested in the adventure, and second, to permit the character to get their share of the spotlight even when they are not involved in anything of plot-related significance.

Think of your campaign as a television series with a number of starring roles for the series regulars (the PCs), and a larger swathe of recurring characters of less significance (the supporting cast and guest stars). Should a particular adventure not feature a supporting cast member, it’s no biggie; but every adventure, every day’s play, has to show the main cast doing something. The main plot may need to be accompanied by a “B” plot and even (on occasion) a “C” plot, and everyone needs a reasonable share of the “A” plots.

A B-plot is a subplot of less significance to the participants as the main plotline, and often featuring lesser supporting-cast characters. Sometimes, an A-plot can prove less compelling than the B-plot, leading to an inverted plot structure; if this is done deliberately, it is easily accommodated, but if it comes as a surprise it can throw some GMs for a loop. Quite often, we want the A-plot to emerge from obscurity into sharp significance as the players work through it, and so will deliberately select a B-plot that is capable of sustaining the focus of play and attention while the real “A” plot ferments in the background.

Note that if you name your adventures, you need to be very careful with the names of such adventures lest they give the game away, but you must still reference the real A-plot in the title, even if it initially seems to refer to the “B” plot. You thus need a name that is ambiguous or general, without being weak. Adventure #28 of the Adventurer’s Club campaign, “The Hidden Flaw” is a good example – depending on the subject that contains the “Hidden Flaw”, it could mean several different things. In fact, in succession, it appeared to refer to a giant gemstone, a flawed ‘master plan’, a character flaw, and only at the culmination of the adventure was the true significance – the “Hidden Floor” of a Manhattan Skyscraper (inspired in part by the Babylon-5 episode “Gray 17 Is Missing”) in which all sorts of underhanded things were taking place, engaging vectors from several of the PCs.

Incomplete Building Blocks

While the example offered earlier suggested a plotline in which each Vector led directly to the next, it’s far more common for the Vectors to be just “key points” in an adventure, building blocks that are in themselves insufficient to comprise an entire adventure. Quite often, the GMs will have to devise plot points that fill the gaps from one to the next; sometimes, these can be logical inevitabilities, obvious developments and consequences of things already revealed to the players, but quite often the plot will be ‘thinner” than that and the GMs will have to deliberately place more ‘meat’ on the bones.

Because the PCs who are already engaged in the main plot will be the drivers and connective tissue that binds these additional plot elements together into a cohesive whole, these additional building blocks will often also need to derive from the available vectors of those particular characters. They thus become extensions of what those PCs bring to the campaign; if those are insufficient, then you need to bring in another PC to run with the ball, and that means deliberately inserting a new connection Vector – even if that vector is nothing more substantial than the already-engaged players realizing that they need the input of one of their allies to advance their understanding of the situation!

That is very much the last-resort default answer; it’s always better to build your adventure such that the players engaged in it (and their characters) always have the resources they need to progress the plotline toward a resolution. This is a guiding principle in adventure design, and it affects all the components of the adventure, from plot to encounters.

Used properly, Vectors for character engagement become the glue that binds the characters to the plot, and can even be the mortar that binds that plot together. Which only makes it stranger that they are so often overlooked by GMs.