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50 Paladin Hooks


This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series Character Hooks

By D.L. Campbell

paladin-candleOne of the first posts I ever read at Campaign Mastery was the amazing 50 Barbarian Hooks. I instantly thought, ‘I hope there will be more of those!’ followed by ‘I wanna try that!’

Another list has joined the party (though I’m still greedy for more – hint, hint everybody) and I finally produced one, too. I settled on paladins because while the requirements of the class can be demanding, there are still a variety of ways they can play a role in a game.

50 Paladin Hooks

  1. Reestablishing law and order in the wake of a societal upheaval
  2. Asked by his king to begin diplomatic relations with a newly encountered people
  3. Stay with a trapped unit of soldiers to heal and assist them until reinforcements can arrive
  4. Performing tasks to earn a dragon’s respect so it will agree to be her mount
  5. Wants to clear out the ruins of an ancient library and restore access to its knowledge
  6. Start a crusade against elementals terrorizing peaceful settlers
  7. Having returned from years of battle, tries to convince church hierarchy the crusade is costing too many lives; they should find another way
  8. Establish a hospital in a remote area and train other healers
  9. Must clear the name of her church after it has been accused of a heinous crime
  10. Hunt down avengers of enemy deities
  11. A dangerously powerful artifact was stolen from his church; he must track it down and return it
  12. After a spiritual crisis, traveling the world looking for signs to restore their faith in their deity
  13. Seek the perfect site for a new cathedral
  14. Her kingdom needs her to help stimulate commerce by establishing a trade caravan between two neighboring cities
  15. Find out why his holy symbol is losing its powers
  16. Determined to crush the cult he fell prey to before finding the true path of his current faith
  17. Escort and protect dignitaries who visit the capital city
  18. In Sehanine’s name, helping two lovers find a way to lift the curse keeping them apart
  19. Seek justice for the death of a hero
  20. Go into a lich’s lair after a party that invaded it weeks ago; neither the party nor the lich have been seen since
  21. Inspire a band of allies to join in her sacred mission
  22. Dreams of performing enough great deeds to earn a place as an exarch upon her death
  23. Bodyguard an eladrin prince or princess as they explore the world outside the Feywild
  24. Serve Ioun by guiding a group of students as they study magic
  25. Quest for the pieces of a magical suit of armor; it was taken and scattered by enemies when the last wearer of it was defeated
  26. Became an adventurer to develop the skills to become a slayer of a particular monster
  27. Must elude pursuers from his faith because he has cast aside his honor in pursuit of vengeance against an enemy
  28. Select, train and lead a town militia
  29. Work as an investigator of strange religious happenings
  30. Patrol and maintain the graveyard for a huge city – its graveyard is the size of a small town
  31. Assist her church in setting up its rulership of a nation
  32. Guide a growing city in learning to execute the law with authority and compassion
  33. Provide aid and security to a region devastated by natural disaster
  34. Entrusted with the guardianship of her people’s ancestral burial grounds
  35. Called by Melora to protect the last few of a species decimated by disease until they can recover their numbers
  36. Act as advisor/enforcer for prisoners due to be released; rehabilitates those that wish to reform, polices those that can’t or won’t
  37. Work with a wizard to gather the skills and knowledge to create an artifact
  38. Recruited to clear a Feywild mountain pass of evil creatures
  39. Find and join a legendary secret society dedicated to fighting demons
  40. Try to convert a captured, conflicted minion to her side
  41. Itching to raid the treasure hoard of an enemy dragon
  42. Follow the clues in a prophecy, search for a magic blade and the one who can wield it – he is destined to lead the kingdom into a new era
  43. Desperately trying to figure out if the voice he hears is his deity calling him, or a sign he’s going crazy
  44. Atone for having previously served an evil deity
  45. Has adopted a belief that makes her a heretic of her faith – driven to convince others of the true way
  46. Had a lifelong quest he was unable to complete because he grew too old for combat; acting as guru to a new party trying to complete the task
  47. The Raven Queen requires her to defeat a villain who is blackmailing nations for protection money with an artifact that allows him to create winter weather
  48. Armed with a charter from their queen, he intends to carve a settlement out of the wilderness and rule it
  49. Start a mercenary company that will only accept honorable jobs
  50. The church of Avandra has given its paladins one year to perform great deeds of exploration; at the end of the year, they will gather to tell their tales and one journey will be judged the best, with the prize being a holy avenger


D.L. Campbell has been playing roleplaying games for 15+ years – and has the extensive dice and book collections to show for it.

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The Frozen Lands: A Science-Fiction Campaign Premise


670212_83418287Vallée Blanche1I often come up with ideas for new campaigns. Some of these are rubbish and discarded almost immediatly; some get saved, stored up for when I might need them; but most often they just get thrown away because I have no hope of ever using the idea. One such concept came to me recently, and rather than throw it away, I decided that I would give it away to you, our readers here at Campaign Mastery…

NB: Most of what is written below (except for the initial chain of logic in sections 1, 2, 3, and 4) came to me in one singular moment of inspiration. A little has been added in retrospect. And I apologise if the premise seems politically incorrect. It’s just a game, guys!

1. Global Warming

No-one can deny a global trend towards higher average annual temperatures, a phenomenon known as Global Warming. What is not so certain in my mind at this point in time is the extent to which the phenomenon is attributable to human activity and the extent to which it is caused by Geologic evolution.

The range of annual average temperatures that appear to be “normal” according to the geologic record are more than wide enough to accommodate the variations that have been documented thus far.

It was while pondering the potential alternative causes that the concept for this new scifi campaign arose, due in part to a confluance of this notion and other sources of inspiration.

2. Magnetic Polarity

It is well known that from time to time, the polarity of the earth’s magnetic field flips. As I understand it, this is because the the molten core of the planet is not some amorphous evenly-combined mixture, but is differentiated in various ways into “rivers” of different temperature and density – and magnetic characteristics. These are spun by the rotation of the earth, generating the magnetic field in a similar manner to the coils rotating in a motor. Solar radiation, which includes tremendous electromagnetic energies, interacts with the magnetic field of the earth to produce the Auroras Borealis and Australis.

But I havn’t read much of energy flows in the other direction and their possible effects. It seems awfully convenient to assume that ALL the energy of the solar radiation is consumed in putting on a pretty light show, and that no energy from the planet’s electromagnetic field is consumed, AND that no energy makes it’s way back into the rotational characteristics of the planetary core.

In fact, it’s my understanding that some energy DOES flow back into the rotation, either speeding it up or slowing it down, and changing its rotational vectors with respect to the axis of planetary rotation, and that this is the cause of magnetic polar inversions.

3. Terrestrial Climatic Impacts

But the earth rotates in more than one way. In addition to the rotation about it’s axis that gives us day followed by night, there is the 23.5° axial tilt that defines the severity of the seasons, and the energy of earth’s orbit around the sun. Is it so unlikely that neither of these can be affected – even just a little – by this solar energy transduction?

Statistics says that over time, such effects – if purely bi-directional and random in nature – will average out; but also that there will be occasional long runs of results trending in one direction or another.

What we have here is a mechanism that says that sometimes the earth orbits just a little closer to the sun, and sometimes just a little further away. And sometimes the seasons are just a little more extreme because of a slight variation in the axial tilt, and sometimes, are just a little milder.

In the real world, I havn’t applied the mathematical treatments necessary to analyse these factors and effects and determine just how big a role they might play. This is science-fiction, and it’s a plausible-sounding theory – that’s good enough for a game.

4. Systems In Equilibrium

So many of the physical systems which come together to form the world we see around us exist an equilibrium state between two competing influances of some form or another, it can easily be seen that even a small-but-temporarily-consistant sustained variation could add up to pronounced climatic changes, changes in ecosystems, and so on.

This campaign premise will accept that this is in fact the cause of Global Warming, and that the current trend lasted for about 30 years before abruptly reversing and going to the other extreme, producing a new Ice Age – simply because it’s more effective for creating a dramatic setting for the campaign.

5. The Habitable Belt

That was about 40 years ago – a time chosen so that the very elderly will remember the world before the Global Warming scare, the middle aged (ie the authorities) will have grown up in the Hot Years and been in junior management positions at the time of the Collapse, and only the young, including the PCs, have truly acclimatised to the new conditions of Ice and Snow. This puts an inherant generational conflict in place to divide and distinguish all three age groups from each other. To any given situation, there will be three different interpretations and three different social perspectives.

They will need somewhere to live. While a few tens of thousands might survive in underground cities beneath the snow and ice, the majority of survivors will be found in a ‘habitable belt’ around the equator, where conditions will remain temperate. There hasn’t been enough time for the ecosystems to adapt, they will still be in a state of profound shock. Animals that are not native to these ecosystems will have invaded them, driven by the freezing temperatures; entire species face competition on an unprecedented scale. If it lives, its place in the ecosystem is under threat from a new rival.

It is a truism that behaviour changes far more quickly than biology. Some formerly tame creatures have become wild and savage, while others have found that food and mates are more accessable if they become more passive, mild, and cooperative. Those who cannot change will either die out or become dominant in their ecological niches – or change evolutionary directions in a hurry.

The exception, it would appear, is the human race – an exception we’ll come back to, later.

6. The needs of survival

Human society has also evolved, and will metamorphose amongst the survivors in response to the obvious needs of it’s members. Of course, everyone agrees on what the best answer is… no? Not likely!

Everything from medieval peasantry to extreme capitalism would arise. Dictatorships are always popular (amongst the dictators) in such times. Society would have fragmented, but the most extreme results have since been overthrown – or are unstable, political dynamite waiting to explode. Internal political instability would be rife, even if the overall political structure has been settled and become established; it would not be a question of whether or not any given group is at war at any given moment – it would be “who are we fighting this week?”

Against this backdrop of anarchy, the same old needs have to be met: Food, water, energy, shelter, and protection.

What this means is that something new, politically, is always coming out of the woodwork, that everything old is new again somewhere, and that whatever role the PCs are going to occupy in the campaign should be chosen to take advantage of this political instability.

In turn, that means that at the start of play, we will only need to fully define the society and political structure to which the PCs belong, but that others will be needed in the course of the game – and that the consequences and infrastructure of each political system will need to be analysed in terms of how they meet those needs. This in turn will define the current internal status of the society in question – what its needs are, its strengths and weaknesses, and its vulnerabilities.

Since we will want the opportunity for the PCs to lead active lives, and still get involved in the delicate political relations in question, the best genre for a campaign would be some sort of super-spy agency, tasked with the protection the PC’s society and the advancement of its political agenda.

Whether or not this “agency” reflects the dystopian surroundings, or contasts with it, remains to be determined. I like the notion of contrast, because it provides more scope for conflcts with the world beyond, as well as with the very government which the agency protects, but actually making this decision final is premature at this point in time. On the other hand, a ruthless, dystopian agency, willing to do whatever is necessary, would make for a very different flavour of campaign.

Of course, such a ruthless agency (or even a hidden branch of the agency which employs the PCs) would make a great source of rivals/enemies for the good guys…

7. A technological paradigm shift

Modern industrial society is increasingly built apon the principle of dispose-and-replace. During the Hot Years, this would have been somewhat replaced with recycle-and-replace, but the general principle of “disposable techology” would have remained. This pattern is currently replicated from top-to-bottom throughout the manufacturing process; the tools, and even the workers, are treated as a replaceable commodity.

The Collapse which accompanied the onset of the Ice Age would have changed all that. The new design imperatives would have been endurance and reliability, not disposability, because there was no longer sufficient infrastructure to treat componants and tools with such a cavalier attitude. The modern trend toward smaller and flimsier devices would have quickly vanished, replaced by more modular designs; if something breaks, you replace the damaged componant and return it for repairs, or even repair it in situ – in many respects, a step back to the 1970s and even the 1950s.

Hmmm… this is beginning to sound more and more like a psuedo-pulp setting – big tech, not small, and reliable/repairable, not disposable. Call it 1950s sci-fi. That’s a definite clue to the game system that will best translate the campaign concept – the more space-opera-ish, the better.

8. Biotech: the new cutting edge

That’s not to suggest that knowledge would have been abandoned – the technology may retreat in portability and gain in reliability, but functionality would have been the last thing to be sacrificed.

The approach of the glacial cold – and the glaciers themselves would not have advanced very far as yet, not in only 40 years – would have seen urgent efforts to prepare for the inevitable onslaught of arctic conditions over the most arable land of most major countries. New standards of crop density would have required, and the technology of genetic manipulation would have led the charge toward solutions. Cold-resistant crops; bovines designed to consume vegetable matter other than grasses; greater crop yields with less-intensive technologies (many of which are already being researched in places like India); agriculture would have been radically transformed.

If it comes right down to it, biotechnology in general would offer tremendous advantages in terms of reliability simply because it is self-maintaining. Instead of a Massey-Ferguson tractor, a Massey-Ferguson Tractor-Beast might be used to plow fields, plant crops, and gather the harvest.

Not everything would have gone according to plan. And some of these failed experiments would inevitably escape into the wild, under such extreme conditions and urgency. There will be strange beasties lurking in the wilderness! – which is in keeping with the “pulpish” flavour identified earlier. There would definitly be some crazed creatures and unnatural mutations inhabiting the forests, jungles, and swamps.

Would the human being himself be ignored? Maybe in some places, but certainly not everywhere – humans with specialised limbs, even (perhaps) cybernetic enhancements – these devlopments would not be all that unexpected within 70 years, even given the dramatic change in conditions.

9. The Deep Spacers

I can’t see the human race retreating from space, especially under these circumstances, which would make certain developments like microwave power transmission from space both more practical and more useful. The military and intelligence applications alone would mandate a continued presence ‘out there’, and it would not long escape people that space can provide resources that are increasingly hard to extract from a frigid earth.

There would undoubtedly be an increasing subpopulation that intended or expected to remained in space for their entire lives. Space Miners, Strategists, Weathermen, and Intelligence analysts would be the front wave – but entire ruling elites would recognise that life aboard a (reliable, self-contained and safe) space habitat would be far superior to an cramped, insecure, vulnerable existance under the ice and snow.

Nor would it take all that long for those living and working in space to realise that many of the authorities on Earth were becoming completely dependant on their labours. The inevitable result has been portrayed in SF many times – from Larry Niven’s Belters in the Known Space series to Robert Heinlein’s convict labourers in “The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress”.

Many of those dictators and would-be dictators that I discussed in section 6 would no doubt construct “palaces in the sky”. In a way that it has never been, previously (despite the rhetoric of many world leaders of the past), space would be “The High Ground” – and this would not be lost on any military leader, strategist, politician – or Intelligence Agency.

The likelyhood of trouble coming from space would be greater than anywhere else in the entire solar system. Whole new branches of existing agencies would be set up to monitor and control the situation – another referance to check out, in this context, is “Circuit” by Melinda M Snodgrass.

10. Visitors From Space

The timing of a first-contact situation couldn’t be better. Or couldn’t be worse, depending on your point of view. Which makes it the most interesting possible timing for one, in a game context! Who are they? What do they say they want? What do they really want? Are they responsible for the climatic shift? Can we afford to turn down any assistance they offer, regardless of the terms? Can we afford not to?

If these “Strange Visitors From Another Planet” simply show up one day and start extracting rusty girders and refined metals from abandoned cities now buried under fifty feet of snow and ice, how would we react?

It retrospect, it might be better to establish the campaign first – and have this be a significant plot development a year or two in (with hints and warnings ahead of time).

Where to from here?

This is just a campaign premise. It’s nowhere near ready to run yet. Factions and Politics and Societies need to be spelt out. The nature of the organisation that the PCs represent needs to be settled, as does it’s name. A more detailed history is required. A game system must be chosen, and key NPCs created. Maps would not go astray.

With those things in hand, a briefing package for the players can be compiled, and the opening scenarios written. That’s when you have a campaign.

So there it is – a scifi campaign concept rife with possibilties that’s a little bit spies/action-adventure, and a little bit pulp, and a little bit Aftermath – with a touch of paranoia and cyberpunk thrown in for good measure. Feel free to use it for whatever purpose you see fit…

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Scenario Sequencing: Structuring Campaign Flow


958643_33159210aIn a previous blog, I’ve written about my Superhero campaign currently facing a big finish (A Grand Conclusion: thinking about a big finish). This post will be a sequel of sorts, because any big finish naturally invites the question, “what’s next?”

In this case, “next” is a sequel campaign. Many of the preceeding characters will make the transition, but two of my players are taking advantage of the natural discontinuity to introduce new characters.

So the campaign parameters are pretty well established, and I’ve been feeding my players the campaign background in dribs and drabs for the last 8 years or so. I’ve also been starting a number of subplots in the current campaign that will only bloom in the next one, and otherwise making various moves aimed at positioning established NPCs where I want them to be in the new campaign. All that means that campaign planning is pretty advanced.

There’s an art to the next stage of Campaign Development that I’m still trying to master, even after all these years. That next stage is:

  • planning the campaign,
  • breaking that plan into discrete scenarios, and
  • sequencing those in a way that is both flexible and entertaining and logical.

There are so many competing factors to take into account, and so many ways of accomplishing any given goal. And, while there is lots of help out there in various sources and places, both wood-pulp and electronic, for getting this far, information on the best way to approach this next stage is in relatively short supply.

Player Characters & Key NPCs

It’s simply not possible to write this article without introducing the characters who will occupy the centre stage of the next campaign. I know – I’ve tried three times to do it, and every time, it ran aground like a rudderless yacht. So here goes:

  • St Barbara: Team leader and most experienced member. Flight + Energy Projection + Force Fields. Danish porn star in her teens who lost her dreams of representing her country at the Olympics as a result; later became a UN field worker in Africa where she became caught up in a number of bloody insurrections and revolutions. Naturally charismatic, level-headed, and uninhibited, she never wanted to be in charge but was thrust into command by her teammates and has proven good at the job. Being a hero is her personal validation. Character created & Played by Blair Ramage.
  • Blackwing: Team strongman. A dimensional boundary controlled by the mind of the person who he thought he really was, giving him immense resiliance, strength, and shape-changing powers. Suffered a massive fall from grace in the current campaign, from which he is slowly rehabilitating himself and coming to terms with the fact that he became everything he hated, and his own worst enemy. Character created by Nick Deane, reconcieved by Jonathon Windybank, and revised by his current player, Saxon Brenton. Being a hero is his path to redemption and the source of his temptations.
  • Runeweaver: Mage and new Field Commander. A member of an elite paramilitary force assembled to fight Ragnerok, questing for Asgard, which was cut adrift and lost at the height of that cataclysm. Currently suffering from a growing addiction to mana-boosting events. Character created & Played by Nick Deane. Being a hero is a reflection of his quest for a purpose.
  • Vala: New character created by Ian Gray for the campaign. Non-human Psionic. (Many, many details withheld to ensure the other PCs are surprised).
  • Unknown: New character to be created by Steve Beekon. No details known at this time.
  • Defender: A Kzin Martial Artist who hates the team (and all humans) but who’s planet was saved by them, and who feels the need to repay the debt. Defender is a new NPC who will be joining the team, having been trained by one of the team’s ex-members, Dragon’s Claw. Being a hero is a debt of honour.
  • The Bright Cutter: Starship and AI, existing NPC. The Bright Cutter’s personality is somewhat happy-go-lucky and has been slowly developing from an initially very naive, child-genius state. Notable as the only character that every team member, past and present, have gotten along with. Being a hero adds excitement to logic.
  • The Knightly Building: The team’s new base also has an AI, one whose external interface can be customised to suit the individual residents, but whose personality core remains the same. Being a hero creates an intolerable degree of chaos but he will simply have to live with it, because that’s what he was created to do.
  • Karlos Green: A mid-level administrator in an organisation called IMAGE, who will be posted to the position of liason to the team, seconded from the Office Of Eccentric Affairs (a department within IMAGE). Practical, efficient, dispassionate. Being a hero means projecting hope and idealism into an atmosphere of cynicism and despair – it complicates his life immensely, but someone’s got to do the paperwork.

I have a long list of scenario ideas, comprising:

  • fifty standalone scenario outlines (usually just 1-2 lines) that are just plain interesting ideas;
  • 30 new villains to feature in various (unwritten) new scenarios;
  • a number of established villains who will be making return appearances because they are so much fun;
  • a plot arc* to resolve Runeweaver’s Mana-boost addiction;
  • a plot arc* to complete Blackwing’s Rehabilitation;
  • a series of small plot arcs* focussing on St Barbara;
  • a plot arc* to focus on Vala’s problems with the theological authorities;
  • a plot arc* to deal with Vala’s origins;
  • a plot arc* to resolve Hevth’s animosity;
  • a plot arc* to develop Bright Cutter’s Personality;
  • a plot arc* to stabalise relations between the team and Karlos Green;
  • a major plot arc* to deal with an anti-royal conspiracy within the Civil Service;
  • a plot arc* to resolve the search for Asgard;
  • another major plot arc* entitled “The Apocalypse”; and,
  • aproximatly 30 plotlines that have been left unfinished until I get a good idea for the resolution.

All told, that should add up to around 150-200 scenarios, each lasting an average of 2.5 playing sessions, which (at a rate of one per month) should be enough for around 36 years of play – by which point I will be in my early 80s (and one of my players would be approaching a century of age).

Clearly, no-one in their right minds would plan on such a scale, and neither have I.

* A “plot arc” comprises a number of episodes of subplot which may eventually lead to one or more full scenarios. Small plot arcs might be nothing more than a subplot played out within 2-4 other scenarios, standard plot arcs provide subplots for 6-10 scenarios and then culminate in 0-2 scenarios in which they are the featured plot, and a major plot arc comprises episodes of subplot lasting 10-20 game sessions and may provide the central focus for at least three full scenarios.

Each represents one journey of transition or development for a character; some are designed to bring the character full circle, having no direct lasting impact, while others are designed with the cooperation of the player to make some lasting change to the circumstances, psychology, or personality of the character at the heart of the plotline. Most of the plot arcs listed above are of the latter type, and I’m not going to specify which ones aren’t in case my players are reading.

Overlaps and Cuttings

There are several reasons why such a mammoth scenario list is practical. First, I expect that not every idea will work out; in fact, probably 1 in 5 will not make the finish. In the current campaign, I had a major villain organisation set up called “The Deathmurken” (Deathmark, in German) – the name sounds cool, and I had an interesting backstory for them – and never thought up a decent scenario in which to use them. Result: they are still sitting on the shelf.

Then there’s the question of overlaps. Counting each item sequentially the way I did for that estimate is not all that accurate; there will be a LOT of overlapping. That should drop the number of scenarios that I get from the list by another 20% or so.

A third factor is that characters change, players come and go, and what seems like a brilliant idea right now might seem passe or downright idiotic by the time we get to it. Add to that the fact that the players will determine the outcome of scenarios and can derail the best-laid plans through brilliance or abject stupidity or simply wanting to get involved in something else. That should kill off 10% of the remainder – and it would be higher if the players weren’t active participants in much of my planning (sometimes without knowing it).

Pacing is another consideration. You don’t want your big scenarios to be an anticlimax, and you don’t want them to be predictable. Some ideas will get cut because they will impart just such a negative effect on a scenario that is more important to the overall campaign. Since I can’t always shuffle the order of events to salvage the idea, or incorporate it in another scenario, the result will inevitably be another 10% culling.

Finally, there’s the fact that in a lot of cases, what’s been counted as “a scenario” in the first tally will in fact be nothing more than a subplot within another scenario. As much as 70% of the total will not have enough depth or substance to comprise a full scenario on it’s own.

36 years times 80% times 80% times 90% times 90% times 30% gives about 6.2 years worth.

There are also a few considerations to go in the other direction. I almost always underestimate the number of game sessions a scenario will involve – by about 50%. There will be sequels to a number of scenarios – one of the new villains turning up more than once, for example – which should be another 20% increase. And finally, it’s a sure bet that I’ll think up more scenario ideas in the meantime, even though I’m not trying to – so add another 10% for that.

6.2 years times 150% times 120% times 110% gives a bit over 12 years worth of play, once a month, in the new campaign. That’s about what I was expecting, and what I was aiming for.

So I have about the right number of ideas on file for the new campaign.

Which brings me to the question that is at the heart of this post. What I don’t have yet is any sort of plan or structure for how these are all going to fit together, what order they will happen in, and where I can build in the flexibility for the campaign to grow and evolve in it’s own direction. That’s what this post is all about: how I go about resolving that lack.

Enumerating The Ideas

I start by enumerating the ideas – scenario 1, 2, 3, and so on. When it comes to plot arcs, I count tbe number of major scenarios that are involved and assign each of the preceeding subplots a lowercase alphabetic subdivision – so a given plot arc might have scenarios 4 and 5, and preceeding subplots 4a, 4b, 4c, 4d, 5a, and 5b. I’ll also enumerate anything that is clearly missing from the campaign plans – for example, I have no idea as to Steve Beekon’s new character, but I’ll want at least one plot arc involving that character.

Next, I’ll rate each idea for a number of factors – emotional intensity, action, ‘cosmic’ content, scifi content, fantasy content, and mood or tone. Some of these factors are standards, employed every time, some are unique to this campaign. I usually use a 1-5 scale, but in some cases a 1-3 scale might be more useful. This permits me to ensure that the campaign never becomes too monotone. The final factors are rated on a scale of 0-9 – and they are Priority (how important it is that the scenario happen early in the campaign) and Importance (how important it is that the scenario happens at all). I will sometimes assign a negative value to Priority if it’s important that the scenario come at the end of the campaign.

I’ll then add to the list of numbered scenarios by looking for establishing requirements. If a scenario involves the Lunar Colonies (one does) then I may want a preceeding scenario or subplot to establish them – depending on whether or not the existing idea already leaves time enough for the characters to get used to them. Adventure settings, key NPCs, important themes – these may all need to be established in advance. The ratings previously assigned will be a major factor in these decisions; if a scenario is slow-moving, the last thing it needs is establishing requirements to further slow it down, but if it has a lot of action, then some slower material to give the characters a chance to catch their breaths can be useful – if it fits the internal logic of the scenario that the characters can TAKE that time.

Skeletal Outline

The next step is to construct a sleletal outline of the campaign, by listing the scenarios in a particular order. The order in which they are scheduled to occur is dictated by the priority, and the order in which they are placed on the list is dictated by the importance rating – first, all the scenarios rated 9, then the ones rated 8, and then the ones rated 7. That’s where I will stop. I’ll also juggle these as necessary to ensure a logical flow – if there’s a risk of the Lunar Colonies being destroyed in a scenario, I’ll want to schedule that scenario after any other scenarios that I know will be set there!

I’ll then look at the other ratings for these scenarios and determine how many intervening scenarios I think are necessary to seperate those which are too similar in the other ratings. This step is so important that I’m going to go into more detail on the subject for each of the ratings.

Emotional Intensity (1-5 rating)

I use a rule of thumb in scheduling these: The number of scenarios on either side of a high-rated scenario on this scale should be (at least) equal to the rating minus 0 at the start of the campaign, minus 1 in the middle, and minus 3 at the end.

That means that for scenarios rated a ‘3’ on this scale, there should be at least three scenarios rated 1 or 2 before and after each, at the start of the campaign, at least two in the middle of the campaign, and I don’t need any gap at the end.

For scenarios rated a ‘4’ on this scale, there should be at least four scenarios rated 1 or 2 on this scale on either side at the start of the campaign, at least three with a low rating in the middle of the campaign, and at least 1 low-rated scenario at the end of the campaign.

For scenarios rated a ‘5’ on this scale, there should be at least five low-emotion scenarios on either side at the start of the campaign, at least four in the middle, and at least two at the end.

Level Of Action (1-5 rating)

The only rule that I follow here is that there must be at least a gap of 2 or more in rating sequential scenarios. At most, then, to seperate high-action scenarios, I’ll need one low-action scenario. I’m also more willing to ignore this rule at the end of a campaign if necessary.

“Cosmic” Content (1-3 rating)

While most of my players don’t have a real problem with large-scale epic scenarios, at least one has a noted dislike for them. To accommodate him, I space these out in a similar manner to that employed for emotional intensity. In fact, I usually double the rating and then apply exactly the same rule of thumb.

“Fantasy” Content (1-3 rating)

Okay, so what exactly do I mean by “Fantasy” in this context? I mean, “High Fantasy” would normally be covered by “Cosmic” content!

“Fantasy” in this context means a lot of things. If prophecies, or dream sequences, or the supernatural, or anything similar play a key role in the scenario, it will get a high rating. If the scenario is about sorcery, or horrors from the unimaginable depths of time and/or space, it will get a high rating. If the featured character is a mage, it will at least get a moderate rating and more often than not, it will get a high rating. And if there are major elements from mythology, I will give it a high rating.

In general, I prefer to space these out. To achieve this, I’ll determine the gap using the same rule as for “Level Of Action” and then double the interval.

Mood / Tone (1-5 rating)

I generally use this to rate the grimness or seriousness of a scenario – high means life-or-death, high drama, and deadly seriousness. Low means lighthearted, a scenario in which liberties can be taken if they are entertaining enough. (I once ran a scenario in which the PCs were trapped in a deadly snack dispenser! But a “Light” scenario could be an ordinary bank robbery or other routine superhero outing. Or it might have little or no combat. Another scenario from the current campaign was about the lengths that some students would go to in order to cheat on a critical exam; another was all about character’s secret identities.)

I follow a completely different set of rules in scheduling these. There can never be two scenarios in a row with exactly the same rating (exceptions grudgingly made for the end of the campaign), and there can never be a jump of more than two between the ratings of any scenarios in a sequence. That said, I tend to prefer keeping scenarios in tonal “groups”, with 3 being the dividing line. So a 1-3-2-3-2-4-3-5-4-5-4-3-1 pattern would be acceptable – the campaign would be relatively light-hearted for a while, then become more serious for a while, and then go back to being relatively light-hearted again.

The reason for this arrangement is that too big a jump creates a discontinuity in the campaign feeling like it’s all one big story, while having identically-rated scenarios side-by-side creates a monotony. At the moment, the PCs have just moved from a fairly grim and serious scenario involving alien nanotechnology gone feral and eating people into a medium-serious scenario involving a baby with the powers of Black Bolt).

Constructing The Skeleton

A word processor is perfect for this, because inserting a gap is simply a matter of positioning the cursor and hitting the “enter” key. However, later steps become a lot easier if I use tabs to create a new column in which I specify what has to be IN the gap.

I use codes of “L” for “Low” (1-3 out of 5, 1 out of 3), “M” for “Medium” (2-4 out of 5, 2 out of 3), and “H” for “High” (3-5 out of 5, 3 out of 3). A Dash indicates that no specific value is required.

Here’s what it might look like:
ScenarioSequencingTable01

NB: I would not normally spell it out and space it nicely and tidily like this, I would be far rough-and-ready, and it would look more like this:
ScenarioSequencingTable01a
This example shows three scenarios – numbers 21, 14, and 45 – with gaps inserted that would be appropriate for the middle of the campaign. As you can see, pacing these according to my rules of thumb defines another 16 scenarios around them to at least some extent.

Emotional Content

Scenario 21 has a high emotional content, ie it’s very important to at least one of the characters. That means that the four scenarios on either side of it should have low emotional significance.

Scenario 14 has a medium emotional importance, so it only needs a couple of intervening scenarios. In fact, it’s the other two scenarios that are dictate the gap, because they want to be farther away from any high-emoition scenarios.

Action Level

In terms of action, Scenario 14 is a high-octane action-adventure scenario of some sort, while the others fall into the low or medium range. This sets up an alternating high-low repeating pattern.

Notice that because Scenario 45 is intermediate in this respect, it breaks this pattern – the scenario that follows it could be either High-action or Low-action, and this would start a new sequence of high-lows. Similarly, if any of the blanks were assigned a scenario with an action level of 3 out of 5, it would disrupt the chain that follows, all the way down to scenario 45.

Level Of Cosmic

“Cosmic” is a big thing for scenario 45, but because scenario 14 is low it doesn’t force an increased gap between the two. It does dictate that scenario 14 be preceeded by a “low-cosmic” scenario, and extends the number of scenarios to follow scenario number 45 by two more than the emotional content required.

Level Of Fantasy

This only really mandates the values for a couple of entries on either side of scenario 45.

Tone

Finally, it can be seen that this phase of the campaign starts off very grim and serious, lightens up a bit after scenario 21, lightens up considerably more after scenario 14, and then starts to get serious again.

Plot Arc Scheduling

The next step is plot arc scheduling. This starts with any of the scenarios listed in the skeleton that are part of a plot arc – let’s say that scenario 21, with it’s strong emotional involvement, is just such a scenario. The first thing that has to be done is to add any preceeding whole scenarios from that plot arc, and the skeleton has to be extended accordingly.

There are two key questions to consider. The first is the length of interval that seems appropriate in between the two (or more) major scenarios within the plot arc. In some plot arcs, the two should be virtually immediate, one after the other – often signifying cause and effect. In others, some time may have to pass between the two in order for the consequences of the earlier scenario to plausibly result in the second scenario of the plot arc.

The other factor is the rating of the scenario to be implanted into the schedule. Unless it would violate the interval established by the preceeding question, the new scenario should fit the “requirements” – assuming that this is scenario 20, and it has a rating of 21315xx, then it might fit immediatly prior to scenario 21 or two scenarios before that, both of which have a requirements code of LH–H. Or it might have to be even earlier in the schedule, if the two-scenario gap doesn’t seem to be enough. I like to actually group all elements of a plot arc in their own columns, because it makes life easier later on.

When a scenario is placed, the requirements for the surrounding scenarios are reassessed, and the campaign becomes more precisely structured.

Once the major scenarios of the plot arc are in place, it’s time to schedule the subplots leading up to those events. Again, the question of how much interval to leave comes up; all that can be stated in general terms is that they will happen prior to the scenario that they lead into.

A “plus sign” in front indicates that the subplot is to be a factor added to some other scenario, the absence of that sign indicates that a standalone scene in the middle of an unrelated scenario is called for.

Assuming we place scenario 20 in this way, and have both scenarios 20, and 21, and subplots 20a, 20b, and 20c in place accordingly, the top of the skeleton section might now look like this:
ScenarioSequencingTable02

Note that this is a LOT faster buildup and resolution of a plot arc than I would usually use in real life!

It’s also worth observing that one scenario can have multiple subplots from different campaign plot arcs, but it’s important that the two not conflict. In general, it’s ideal to have a development in SOME character’s plot arc in every scenario, and to spread them out fairly evenly. But sometimes that’s not possible, and sometimes there aren’t enough subplots for them to come that thick and fast.

Filling Out The Skeleton

Once all the important scenarios and the plot arcs are in place, it’s time to fill as many of those empty spots as possible.

That’s done by looking at all the unscheduled scenarios, in order of importance. Starting at the top of the skeleton, I locate the first one into the first empty slot that matches its characteristics. There are a couple of caveats to bear in mind: the scenario has to fit any subplot that’s scheduled for that scenario; if it doesn’t, for whatever reason, then that slot is rejected for that scenario and I move on to the next slot that matches and try again to place it.

Eventually, all the scenarios will be placed, but there will still usually be gaps.

Completing the population

That’s where I will unlimber the technique I described a little while back (Vocabulary Hijinx: Using random word pairings for inspiration).

I can generate scenario ideas using it and match them to the criteria for a given vacant slot. If no ideas work out, I can always skip an empty slot and insert any subplots into the next scenario to take place, even if the fit isn’t quite right, but I will leave the space open until the last possible minute.

Sometimes, those vacant slots can also be filled with return visits from characters that were fun the last time around. On such recurring villain is named Jamison Riddle – sort of “The Joker” with Cosmic Powers – who is always fun, and whose name my players will recognise immediatly.

I will usually use an extra column to specify these just in case something better occurs to me at a later date.

A logical and comprehensive campaign structure

The result is a campaign plan that’s organised logically, that has sufficient contrasts in style and content to keep everyone happy without being jarring, that establishes important locations and characters before they become significant, but that is flexible enough for additional encounters to be inserted as good ideas present themselves.

This approach uses the tools of narrative and fiction writing to strengthen the campaign in ways that are otherwise a LOT more work. You can sneak clues to later scenarios into the early stages of a campaign, foreshadow important developments, and keep your supporting cast growing in realistic ways in response to events.

The system is far from perfect – in fact, it’s downright fuzzy in some respects – but it’s the best solution that I’ve been able to come up with, in terms of organisation. It’s also surprisingly fast and flexible.

But the biggest advantage that it provides is that by mapping out the key beats and turning points, I can give the players complete freedom and still hit those important events that keep the campaign going somewhere specific.

Comments (13)

Ask The GMs: Systematic Systems Choice


How do you choose the right game system?

Ask the gamemasters

The Ask the GMs questions here at CM never seem to stop, which is great, because they never fail to inspire new discussion topics. This one’s been sitting on the backburner for a while because we had so many already cued up, so we’re pleased to finally have the chance to answer it.

Here’s what our inquiring GM had to say:

My question is probably a simple one, but a very critical one. How do you choose a system to GM? There are so many systems out there, and many new additions of old rules, but how do you discern the best system to get into, particularly if you only want to pick one system and stick with it?

Ask the GMs - Mike

Mike’s Answer:

It’s a great question, with answers that seem superficially simple but become more profound as you probe deeper. My approach, as it is with most questions I ponder, is highly analytical.

The simple solution is, in the same way as with any other decision, you establish the field of possible answers, establish criteria on which to base choices from amongst those possible answers, and continue to refine your list until you end up with the one best answer.

But that’s an oversimplification. The sequence in which you apply these criteria can be just as important as the criteria themselves. It is my philosophy that the game system affects the style and tone of the campaign as much as the players, their characters, and the GM’s design; and that house rules should be employed to custom-fit the standard rules to the campaign style, genre, and concept you want to employ.

The logical implication is that house rules can modify the fit of a rules system to the criterion currently being considered, and therefore there are three possible assessments that can result from such criterion – yes (game system stays in consideration), no (game system eliminated from further consideration), and maybe (game system, with house rules, stays in consideration).

As a general rule of thumb, I like to answer such questions in two groups – those in which House Rules have no impact on the answer, in the order from most restrictive to least restrictive, in the first group, and those in which House Rules can apply, changing the suitability of a game system to the campaign. In other words, one group that give hard yes/no answers, and a second where value judgments of relative merits come into play.

That’s the process that lies at the heart of my system of choosing a game system. With that out of the way in the absolute minimum of space, I’m now free to move on to the real meat of my answer to our inquiring GM’s question: the criteria that I consider, and the general order in which I consider them.

Questions Of Availability & Desire

1. Do my players and I have access to at least two copies of the core rules?
The dead minimum for play, so far as I’m concerned, is two copies of the rules – one to be shared amongst the players, and one for me to use for campaign and session prep. We don’t need to have both copies on hand immediately, but someone has to be able to afford a second set fairly quickly. My campaigns delayed switching from D&D 3.0 to 3.5 for more than a year because of this criterion.

2. If a specific expansion or supplement is needed, do we have access to it?
If we were talking about a Pulp Campaign, “Pulp Hero” is a lot more suitable than the standard Hero System, but it’s not a cheap supplement. In general, only one copy of any such supplement is needed, but more are always welcome, just as more copies of the Core Rules are always handy.

If we’re talking 7th Sea, or Eberron, there are a whole heap of supplements that are necessary unless the GM intends to severely restrict the scope of the campaign and the choices available to players.

GURPS had a phenomenal number of genre- and setting-specific supplements, exceeded only by the total number of 3.x supplements – I don’t think that there are enough official WOTC releases to beat the output of Steve Jackson Games, I think you have to drag in 3rd party publishers – but again, not all will be needed for any given GURPS campaign.

3. Am I interested in refereeing the game system?
This is an integral question that is often overlooked. To make a campaign last, the GM has to be interested in using the rules system! If there are parts of the system that he considers clunky, or fiddly, or too much work, or that he simply doesn’t like, or if he’s tired of the system, or for any one of a dozen different reasons, things can quite quickly get crossed off the list at this point.

It’s also possible that a system that failed to make the cut in the previous two criteria might make a re-entry at this point purely because the GM is interested in the system – though it’s been a long time since any new RPG excited me that much.

4. Can I be sufficiently knowledgeable about the rules to referee the game system in the time available?
This question is all about the time-pressures that mastering the game system to an adequate degree bring, and it’s double-barreled: the first question has to be what the GM (and his players) will consider adequate; when you’re all just starting out, it’s fine for everyone to learn together.

As soon as one experienced player enters the picture, however, the standards of expertise required of a GM shoot way up, and rocket even higher if that experienced player is already familiar with the Game System.

Novice players are more likely to look to the rulebooks and game system to tell them what they can and cannot do in play, growing beyond those limits at a pace the GM can keep up with (even if he is also a novice); an experienced player is more likely to push the GM into new territory, and can take advantage of a GM’s limited experience. I have seen prospective GMs completely shattered and disillusioned by such treatment (which I consider unacceptable player behaviour), some so humiliated they have dropped out of the hobby completely.

The second part of the question is whether or not the GM can commit enough time to the rules system to master it, if there is some difference between his current level of expertise and the minimum identified in the first part of the question. At a dead minimum, I want to read the rulebooks from cover to cover at least twice if I don’t already know the system; that will take a certain amount of time on top of campaign prep, possibly too much so, depending on other time commitments. (What am I saying – I’m always squeezed for time!)

5. Are my players interested in using the game system?
This is the other side of the coin, and is just as often overlooked. Sometimes you might have to ask your players about their interest levels, sometimes you know their level of interest from general discussion.

I could probably round up players for a Pathfinder campaign in the blink of an eye, but would have trouble getting players for a D&D 4th ed campaign. I could easily gather players for Ars Magica, but would be lucky to get three for TORG.

I’ve had players signed up for a Babylon-5 campaign for 5 years (they even have their character concepts worked out!), and even have the campaign mapped out – but have had no budget to buy the rules, and had no time to read them even if I could afford them.

6. Am I interested in the core genre that the rules are supposed to represent?
The very best game systems integrate their core genre at their heart, using rules that imbue every aspect of game activity with the flavour of the genre. The next best is for the game mechanics not to actively disrupt genre flavouring. Most don’t even rise to that standard, having some game mechanics that interfere for reasons of practicality or realism with the immersion in the genre, while having other rules that are specific to the genre being simulated under the rules.

As a rule of thumb, you have to assume that the intended genre has informed the design of every aspect of the rules, with some compromises for practicality. That, in turn, means the genre the rules represent will leak through into what the rules do well and what they do poorly.

If you aren’t interested in the core genre the rules are supposed to represent, you can’t take advantage of the strengths within the rules, even when the campaign you propose falls outside that genre. You give away too much of the potential of the premise-plus-rules combination and weaken the foundations of the campaign. Hence this question, which asks whether or not the rules genre is of interest, even if that is different to the proposed campaign genre.

And, since this question has us thinking about the subject already, and is the last of the “Questions of Availability & Desire”, it forms a natural transition to the next group of questions. We should now have a shortlist of candidates, and so it’s time for the more subjective questions.

Questions Of Genre

7. How well does the overall game system suit the genre of campaign contemplated?
Different game systems do specific genres better than others. I would choose Call Of Cthulhu for a horror campaign over GURPS Horror, simply because I feel it captures the flavour of the genre better. At the same time, careful choice of game system can imbue a uniqueness to a campaign, simply by virtue of all the additional rules and game infrastructure that they bring to the table.

If I’m thinking that a James-Bond styled superspy campaign would be fun, then I have identified the campaign genre. The resulting campaigns would be very different if run using the Hero System (traditional superspies) as compared to, say, D&D (superspies in a high fantasy setting), or Call Of Cthulhu (superspies vs cultist conspiracies), or Babylon-5 (superspies in deep space and alien societies).

On the other side of the coin, a poor choice of system can work at cross purposes to the style of game you want. The mixture of superspies and the Toon game system, for example, would be problematic. The genre would combine with Dawg the roleplaying game, or with a wild-west game like Aces & Eights, only with difficulty.

That’s not to say that these combinations can’t work, just that the two genres don’t dovetail in any obvious way, and hence would make a campaign built on the combination much more work; as proof, consider “Wild Wild West”, which was a TV series that was Spy Genre in a Western Setting. Would a Western rules system be better than an espionage rules system for a “Wild Wild West” campaign?

8. Does the flavour and pace of the combat system suit the genre of campaign contemplated?
There are very few campaigns that don’t incorporate some sort of combat. It is so ubiquitous that the tone and style of the combats must match the genre reasonably well or it will be a perpetual millstone around the campaign’s neck.

Where the previous question was general, this is more specific. How long does it take to resolve combat? How quickly can the variations in combat action be resolved? Is a simple combat resolution system preferable to a comprehensive and detailed approach?

9. Can I devise or design an interesting campaign within the genre?
Finally, the ultimate genre question: does the combination of game and campaign genres yield an interesting idea for the campaign? Does it inspire you?

And, just as the last question of the “availability” section led logically to considerations of genre, so the last question of genre leads to….

Questions Of Campaign

10. What is the underlying premise of the proposed campaign?
So what is the campaign going to be all about? What is the most interesting, entertaining idea you can come up with? Remember that you aren’t committed to anything yet, and by the time you’ve finished designing the campaign these ideas might be as dead as the dodo, so you don’t have to have a rigorously-designed, completely-fleshed out concept.

This is just a starting point, and its only purpose is to help you pick the most suitable game system to build a game around. Once you have a rules package selected and you start campaign development, these ideas can be tossed aside if better ones arrive, and once real PCs enter the picture, all your planning is revealed to be a straw house in a hurricane zone anyway!

But the players will (in theory) be inspired by what you are putting on the table right now, so these initial thoughts remain essential.

11. Do the underlying assumptions of the rules suit the proposed campaign?
Every game system contains rules built on assumptions that may or may not be relevant. I would never attempt to run a high-fantasy campaign using Aces and Eights – or Empire Of The Petal Throne!

The more experienced you are as a GM, in a variety of systems, the more skilled you become at identifying these underlying assumptions (often subconsciously). For example, key assumptions from D&D are that magic works, something godlike can empower its followers, supernatural beings and powers are real, and that society is medieval in technology and scientific understanding. Time travel and Deep Space Exploration form no part of the assumptions in the D&D system, and if those concepts are important to your campaign idea, D&D – and d20 Modern – should not be on your shortlist, or (at the very least) they should be near the bottom.

Of course, house rules can be written to cover these needs, but I would only consider using them if everything else about a rules system fitted. It’s one thing to modify or reinterpret an existing underlying assumption – “all supposed magic is actually psionics” – and quite another to add a new one. You can’t do it haphazardly without courting disaster, and house rules are always relatively fragile (inherent from the lack of playtesting) and add substantially to the DM’s workload.

That said, tailoring and tweaking the core rules to better suit the final campaign is an activity I always consider worth the effort required.

12. Does the implied background of the rules suit the proposed campaign?
Many game systems have implied background elements. The D&D rules give a very different perception of Elves to that of The Lord Of The Rings RPG, which may well be different again to the idea of Elves that you have for your campaign.

Politics, Sociology, Economics – just about every mechanism of interaction in the real world are touched in some aspect by these implied backgrounds. The goal is to have to make as little change to the core rules as possible.

But beyond that, you want elements in the implied, inherent, and implicit background that will inspire you. Anything that doesn’t should be ignored at best, and discarded at worst.

13. Do the rules permit the characters to interact in the ways most important to the proposed campaign?
If you’re playing a campaign with a lot of gambling – James Bond again – then the rules system should make it easy to do so. A simple die roll may be good enough to resolve the action of a card game, hand-on-hand, but the flavour is lost.

If you have the choice, you should choose a rules system that assists and supports the character-interaction modes that will be most important to the proposed campaign instead of one that detracts from them.

14. Do the combat rules suit the most prevalent style of combat expected in the proposed campaign?
This is a similar issue. A Western genre rules setting will have some rules for knife-fighting and maybe even for dueling with sabres or epee, but longswords against chainmail are outside the comfort zone.

Anything the rules don’t cover by default will mean a house rule, and if the combat mode required is going to be a recurring feature of your campaign, you might be better off looking elsewhere, or integrating a whole slab of rules from a different system.

15. Do the skill handling rules suit the most prevalent needs expected in the proposed campaign?
In the course of any campaign, the characters will want to do things, and there are lots of different ways of handling the resolution of attempts to do so. Sometimes, these will be just fine for the campaign you want to run, and at other times they won’t really suit.

Are there rules for Starship Navigation, or will the GM need to handwave that? How about Nuclear Engineering? Psionic Surgery? Whatever tasks you expect the PCs to want to attempt to perform, you will need skill handling rules that cover them. And if the rules don’t provide them, you’ll have to.

16. Do the specialist rules suit the proposed campaign?
D&D has rules for magic item construction. If the campaign premise is all about Mecha in conflict, magic item rules aren’t likely to be all that desirable, and Battletech would probably be a better choice. Every game system has specialist rules – the campaign should take advantage of them.

17. Does the character advancement subsystem suit the proposed campaign?
Another mark of distinction amongst fundamentally different systems; there are essentially four approaches so far as I am aware:

  • Incremental, points-based;
  • Incremental, usage-based;
  • Stepped, Level-based;
  • Fixed.

One of the big problems that occurred in a friend’s previous 7th Sea campaign is the campaign’s incremental system relies on the concept of “one session, one adventure” and not the continuity-heavy campaign that is actually being played, which played hob with the development of the PCs. Prior to encountering these problems, I would not have considered this to be as important as its place in this article suggests.

Questions Of Inspiration

18. Does the campaign premise plus rules combination excite and interest me?
Now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty. By this point, there should be no more than 2 or at most 3 game systems still on the table, and one or more campaign concepts around which they are to be fitted.

So here are 2 Questions of Inspiration, 5 Questions of Style, and 2 Questions of Capacity, that I consider before making the final selection from that shortlist.

The first of these is the question above, and there’s not a lot more to be said about it. You would have to pay me – and pay me well – to get me to GM a campaign where the answer to this question isn’t yes.

19. Does the campaign premise plus rules combination excite and interest my players?
This is equally straightforward. I’m in a slightly privileged position compared with most gamers, in that I play at a club where there are several different campaigns operating concurrently, and if a player isn’t interested in a proposed campaign, they might be happy to simply sign up to one of the others. So, I actually rephrase this question to “Does the campaign premise plus rules combination excite and interest enough of my players?”

Not everyone has that luxury. What’s more, the whole question requires yet another subjective judgment – how many players are “enough”? It depends on the campaign concept and the rules and the GM’s preferences. (As an aside, we have an Ask the GMs coming up on single-player gaming.)

Personally, I prefer 2-5 players, can cope with just one, or with six, and struggle with more. I have once refereed a game with 12 players, but I wouldn’t want to do it again. There have been circumstances where I have recruited an extra five players for a one-off event where they were to be in opposition to the usual players (and an extra pair of GMs to assist). That experiment went well enough that I might have been persuaded to make it a recurring – if not regular – event. So this is a circumstantial thing.

Questions Of Style

20. Does the campaign premise suit my GMing style?
The final major category is all about GMing style, and this is something that is never easy to assess. I like systems where I don’t have to think terribly hard about the game mechanics, permitting me to focus on roleplay and the game action and the players and the plot and the narrative.

But other GMs have been quite successful while discarding any pretense at plot, simply permitting the players to go wherever they find interesting, and leaving the game action to sort itself out as it unfolds, so they can do quite well with a more intrusive game system that happens to better fit their campaign premise.

Just as different actors have a different range of characters they can portray convincingly, so different GMing styles have strengths and weaknesses, and some ideas suit a GM better than others.

This specific question demands an assessment of the suitability of the GMing style with respect to the Campaign Premise. I once thought up a campaign for use with the Rolemaster system set in early 19th century Florence, which I called “The Age Of Romance.”

I got halfway into trying to convert the premise into an actual campaign and ground to a halt; the campaign premise simply didn’t suit my style at all. More recently, I took on the task of co-GMing a Pulp campaign. Pulp is not really my Genre, and I would never have tried setting up such a campaign, but by bringing my strengths – plot and character and knowledge of the game system – to the gaming table, I was able to shore up the weaknesses of the campaign’s creator in a way that has proven very satisfactory to us both.

21. Do the combat rules suit my GMing style?
This is more important than it first appears. Some people have trouble with the action sequence chart of the Hero System, for example, finding the system very slow to resolve battles.

Me, I had problems with the “phase 12, everybody acts” feature of the system, so I developed an alternative that spreads things around a bit more and suits my style better. Rolemaster is another system that I liked a lot on paper, but could never quite get my head around in actual play. So this is an important consideration.

22. Do the skill handling rules suit my GMing style?
And here’s another aspect of the same question. For many players, the rules can actually be broken into just two significant parts – the combat system and the skill resolution system. The requirements and foundations of those two systems, in turn, define the character construction system. That all means these are the two parts of the rules that most frequently are called upon in actual play.

Most skill handling systems, so far as GMs are concerned, are pretty much the same; the key is how easily the GM can determine what a reasonable target number is in relation to the perceived difficulty of the task a character is attempting.

With some systems, this is easy; with others, there can be trouble. It requires a nearly-instinctive feeling for the range of possible results, so it’s vital for these rules to suit the GMing style. That’s not to say a GM can’t use a system that doesn’t really suit him, but it’s an added handicap that a game has to overcome.

23. Do the specialist rules suit my GMing style?
I’ve talked previously in this article about the specialist rules and why they are important. But even when the specialist rules suit the genre and the planned campaign, they may not fit the GM’s style. Again, this is something that can be overcome, but you would generally favour not having to do so.

24. Does the character advancement subsystem suit my GMing style?
This is the final question of style that I ponder, and perhaps it’s the most important in some respects (and least important in others). Some level-based systems require characters to train before they can advance to the next level, for example, and that can impose additional requirements on the GM’s scenario designs.

You can always ignore any such requirement (and I usually do) but that has it’s own implications, removing a cap on the amount of XP that can be earned between training opportunities, and potentially permitting character levels to escalate out of control.

Questions of Capacity

25. How much work will the campaign be to set up?
With the last 7 questions being rated on a scale of 1-10 (10 being great, 1 being abysmal), I have a score out of 70 for each combination of rules and campaign concept. I may well be assessing three different campaign ideas, one for each of three different rules systems, all at the same time.

So, the final factors are issues of practicality. Since the campaign only has to be set up once, I’m generally more forgiving of necessary setup time than I perhaps should be, getting caught out at times with overcommitment.

26. How much work will the campaign be to maintain?
This is the final consideration in deciding what game to run, and it’s so important that I score it out of twenty instead of out of ten. It’s so easy to underestimate the commitment that an additional campaign requires (especially when you’re already running several), and the time when additional demands seem most likely to crop up are the occasions when you’re already time-crunched – just ask Johnn!

Again, this is an issue in which my circumstances are quite different to others, so this might need to be reassessed in light of your circumstances. As a matter of general principle learned through harsh experience, GMs ALWAYS underestimate the amount of maintenance time you’re going to need to run a campaign; the wiser ones make allowance for it.

Final Determination

So that’s the process – I winnow the number of game systems down to a manageable few, cut the number of campaign ideas down to a few that interest me, try to marry the two lists into a sufficiently small number of combinations for intelligent assessment, then rate them according to considerations of style and work required. If you add up all the ratings from the final nine questions, you get a score out of 100, which makes comparisons easy.

Much of this process I carry out subconsciously – one of the benefits of experience. The first 8, for example, I wouldn’t spend more than three seconds thinking about. Questions 9 and 10 I’ll spend a bit of time on, but questions 11 to 17 don’t take much longer to answer than 1 through 8 did. Questions 18 to 24 take a little more time, especially 18 and 19, but the questions I most focus on are 25 and 26 (your priorities may be different).

Hope that answers our inquiring GM’s Question!

Ask the Game Masters - Johnn

Johnn’s answer:

Mike, you’ve answered the question admirably. I have only a few additional comments.

My first consideration would be genre. Then I’d make a shortlist of potential game systems that do that genre well.

My second consideration would be complexity. What degree of realism, depth of rules, and rules-based options do you want. D&D vs. FUDGE, for example, gives you different game experiences though the roleplaying parts can play out the same.

Next, I’d decide if I needed a lot of supplements and community support, or if I would be ok with creating my own setting, campaign and adventures. If you are fine with do-it-yourself, then you can look at a wider array of game system options.

I’d then create a final list of desired systems and pitch the games to my players to get their opinions. A clear winner might emerge, or you might have a small list, or perhaps you end up with a larger list because of player suggestions.

Regardless of how I came up with my list of candidate game rules, I’d then go out and search the internet for “actual play” reports from GMs using the systems.

I’d also try to run one-shot game sessions to give candidates a try before investing time or money. Many games offer free lite versions, and many games are 100% free. If trying to learn several game systems is too much (it would be for me) then I’d just run a couple combats with one or two willing players to try what’s usually the most complex part of the game out.

If a player knows the rules for a candidate game then you might ask them to run a one-shot for you and maybe the other players. It’s always good to have someone who knows the rules of a game step you through – it’s often better than trying to figure things out yourself from just reading.

Finally, I’d take the winning game system and run a trial adventure of two to five sessions. I’ve found that some games get very good once a group passes further along the learning curve, so it’s worth persevering for a few sessions with a rules set before deciding against it. The trial period sets expectations properly, so everyone knows a game switch might be coming up if things don’t turn out well.

Good luck with your game selection. Please let us know what game you finally choose.

Ask The GMs to get help with your game master and campaign issues. More info >

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Relatively Uncertain: Taking Control of Game Physics


844639_68059171sEvery campaign needs a game physics, whether the GM knows it or not. And, in fact, they all have one, whether it’s specified or not, and whether the GM knows that or not, as well.

Boy, that was a short article! Now that we’ve established both need and solution, can we move on to another topic, because this one sounds both geeky and boring? Well no – not so fast, fly-boy.

Why? What’s a “Game Physics” for, anyway?

The Game Physics is what the GM uses to decide anything that’s not explicitly stated in the rule books. It’s also what the GM uses to comprehend and interpret those things that are explicitly stated in the rule books, and the standard of comparison for cases where one of the rules doesn’t work – either producing nonsensical results or being in aparrant contradiction with another rule. It’s the GM’s understanding of how the game world actually works.

The Usual Game Physics

Most GMs don’t explicitly spell out a Game Physics, don’t analyse things to that level of detail, either for themselves or for their players. They make rulings based on one all the time, mind you, but never put together a comprehensive picture of the inner workings of the universe, relying on “the usual game physics” – which is to say, they rely on their understanding of how the real world works, and rule that the book’s description of the various unusual phenomena possible within the game system constitutes the equivalent of the laws of physics for those particular subjects. And, most times, that’s all the players want or need.

From time to time, the GM will make a game ruling (which should get added to the House Rules of the campaign to maintain consistancy). Each such ruling should either be explained by the existing Game Physics or should expand apon it.

For example, it’s very easy to take player knowledge of physics and apply it to the game world. Lever action, harmonic oscillations, centrifigal force, gunpowder and plastic explosives, plastics, rifled gun barrels, electronics, microchips, pocket calculators, etc. The GM is perfectly entitled to rule that any or all of these don’t work in a fantasy campaign in order to preserve the level of technology within the game at an appropriate level. Every time he does so, he is changing the physics of the world in ways he probably doesn’t understand.

So why go beyond that?

An excellent question. There are multiple benefits to a more explicit approach to defining a game physics.

First, it puts players and GM on common ground. They will know right off the bat that certain things won’t work, so don’t bother trying them – which in turn helps them stay in character by only doing things the character expects to work.

Second, if the GM extends his understanding of the game physics beyond that of the characters, he can maintain consistancy of rulings and technology even if the game develops into untapped areas of high-technology. This is obviously valuable in certain genres – SciFi and Superhero being the obvious ones. It means that the players and NPCs are playing by the same ground rules, whether they know it or not – if a PC attempts an experiment which reveals a physical principle that they didn’t know, they will get an unexpected result and an explanation for certain things that may have happened in the campaign’s past. They can even extend the game physics beyond it’s starting point if they are so inclined. Instead of technobabble, we have technology – with limits and failure modes and creative applications.

I would contend that the same is true in any campaign – only the specific subjects change. In a horror campaign, the better the GM understands the “mechanics” of summonings and metaphysical manifestations, the better he can run such games. In a fantasy campaign, the more he knows about how magic actually “works” in the game world, the more he can push beyond the rules as and when necessary – something I touched on in a previous post (A Quality Of Spirit: Big Questions In RPGs).

Third, it makes the job of being a GM easier, and quicker. Instead of having to mull deeply over questions and their implications when they arise, an understanding of the game physics often lets the GM make an immediate ruling without batting an eyelid and get on with the game.

And finally, it adds extraordinary depth and verisimilitude to the campaign. Instead of a shared fictional world, it starts to feel like a real world that the characters happen to live in. This last has been known for as long as there has been science fiction – you have to establish the ground rules before readers can really get into the story. Read any SF novel, and you’ll find that a key element of the first quarter or so of the book is an establishment of the scientific principles that matter to the story. Read a short story, and you’ll generally find it in the first couple of paragraphs, certainly within the first two pages. A side benefit of doing so is that even when contradicted by later scientific discoveries, a story can remain timeless if the story is good enough – examples include the Lensman series (E. E. ‘Doc’ Smith), the Skylark Of Space series (‘Doc’ Smith again), the Incompleat Enchanter series (L. Sprague DeCamp and Fletcher Pratt), the Black Cloud (Fred Hoyle), The Known Space series (Larry Niven), and the list just goes on and on and on from there. Contrast this with any of the… poorer SF of the past century, and you’ll find that either this material is absent, or it’s so abstruse that most readers can’t follow it (or get bored trying).

In a nutshell, it takes the flash-bang-wizardry out of the picture and lets a story be judged on its merits as a story. Applying the principles to an RPG brings the same benefits to the game.

The Downsides

It can be a lot of work doing a comprehensive game physics (it can also be a lot of fun). But the real downside is that it can be harder to impart a sense of wonder.

I would contend that modern audiances/players already find that harder to tap into, another subject that I’ve written about in the past (Are Special Effects Killing Hollywood?).

So it can be argued that adding additional impediments is the last thing that you should be doing. It can also be argued that part of the GM’s job is fitting the game to the expectations of the players, and that modern players mandate a modern approach – and GMs should be grateful that there are ANY side benefits in doing so. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on this subject!

The Conservation Of Counterintuition

Another common approach is to rule that if a phsyical law seems counterintuitive, or just too difficult for the GM to understand, or requires higher mathematics, it just doesn’t work. That means that most GMs draw the line at Relativity – anything more complicated (including relativity itself) is out, anything less complicated is in. This is true even in modern and sci-fi campaigns. Any technology appropriate to the game era that relies on those physical priciples still works, but the physics are different because the complicated stuff just isn’t there.

Of course, different people will have different levels of understanding of physics; what seems obvious to me may not be obvious to them, and vice-versa. But as a rule of thumb, this one principle is enough definition of a simple game physics to make it useful.

The Metaphilosophical Properties of Genius

When I first started GMing, this was the game physics that I came up with, and it’s still perfectly servicable. It derives from the fact that physics and chemistry and science in general used to be known as “Natural Philosophy”. The concept is that the state of knowledge contemporary to any time period is a complete and accurate description of the way the physics of the time period actually works, but that occasionally individuals come along of sufficient intellect to (literally!) reshape the world with a deeper understanding. Thus, heavy objects fell faster than light ones until Gallileo performed his famous experiment to prove that they fell at the same speed.

I even evolved a house rule: 5 points of intelligence above whatever constituted “genius” permitted one breakthrough with sufficient effort. On that basis, Sir Isaac Newton gets an INT on the D&D scale of about 60, Nicola Tesla gets a score of about 45, and Gallileo rates a 40. If you had a little less than this, and spent twice as long on it, your theory might also be correct – but would take decades or even centuries to become accepted.

Evolving a unique game physics for your campaign

Okay, so (assuming that I’ve convinced you that having one is worthwhile), just how do you go about constructing a game physics for your campaign?

Well, you start with one of the three foundations described above.

You then go through the rulebooks of the game you are running and add explanations (in terms of physics) for anything they permit that the foundation physics doesn’t cover. It might be “magic works”. It might be “the gods are real.” It might be that “morality has measurable physical effects” (lawfully-aligned weapons doing extra damage to chaotically-aligned targets and so on). It might be “FTL is possible”, or “superpowers exist”, or “time travel is possible”.

Each time you add such an item to your game physics, re-examine the central concepts of rules and genre and cross off anything that is now explained. For example, one theory as to the nature of divinity might also cover the “morality” question above, while another did not.

These explanations can be as extensive or simple as you like – a single sentence, or multiple pages.

At every stage, you have the option of deciding that this part of the game rules simply doesn’t work in this particular game – decisions that can have significant repercussions; see, for example, Garry Stahl’s article on removing alignment from his campaign. D&D without magic, or without gods, would be no less significantly altered.

You can also explicitly remove selected parts of a subject, or give them additional explanation that radically reinterprets them. D&D without Necromancy is an example of the first; the treatment of Illusions in my Shards Of Divinity campaign is an example of the latter, one which I’ll blog about some other time.

Once the rules and genre conventions are fully dealt with by the game physics, the next step is to think about anything else that makes this particular game, and game world, unique, and make sure that they are also covered by the game physics. An example of this is the Cyphergate in Johnn’s Riddleport campaign-in-development.

The final step is to go over the compiled Game Physics and create any house rules that are needed to put a game mechanics interpretation on the principles you’ve devised.

How Much Should You Tell Your Players?

Your first house rule should usually be that there is a Game Physics and that it will be used as the basis of any rulings that you are called apon to make as GM. The Game physics determines what is possible and what is not.

My players have come to expect a fleshed-out game physics lurking in the background of my campaigns, so I don’t need to include this, but WOULD need to warn them if it was not the case.

After that come any house rules that result.

I DON’T necessarily tell the players what the game physics actually are – how many characters would actually know that? Instead, I let the players seek to deduce the physics from their interaction with the world. I might let the occasional principle dribble out in response to particular skill rolls if they are relevant, but that’s as far as it goes.

How Much Should your NPCs know?

Another trick that I’ve found useful is to rate each line in the game physics in terms of how abstruse the knowledge is on a scale of 1-4. This permits me to edit copies of the game physics into formats describing the knowledge level of commoners, educated laymen, well-educated nobility, experts/sages, and GM only. Anything beyond their level of understanding is replaced with a dumbed-down version or the simple statement “it works”.

Commoners in an uneducated society get nothing more than the foundation rule and “it works” for everything else. And – for authenticity – I’ll sometimes insert deliberate fallacies and misunderstandings and superstitions. Experts will get only one or at most two of the advanced principles, in all other respects they are at the level of educated laymen; Sages also only get one or two advanced principles, and are considered to be at the level of well-educated nobles otherwise.

I find it easiest to go from most educated to least educated – the GM knows it all, so he gets the actual game physics, everyone else will have less than that. When inserting falsehoods and fallacies, I will work back up the heirarchy, adding comments such as “The common supersitition is (blah blah blah)…”

The result is a “bible” for the roleplaying of different levels of education within society that ensures consistancy. After you’ve used them for a while, the consistancy of format that results from editing a copy of an existing document makes finding what you’re looking for second nature, and you will often not even need to refer to these “bibles”.

Going Further

Another key point that’s worth remembering is that the game physics can always be revised or extended. It represents the combined level of understanding of a collection of contemporary experts, and is not necessarily gospel – and is certainly not the last word. Thus, if any problems arise within the game physics, those physics should evolve to encompass a solution and an explanation. This may move the game physics a little closer to the real world, or it may make it stranger.

It can be very useful to have some knowledge of how certain physical laws were proven, as these will inform you of how things will be different in your world. For example, you might decide that sound and light travel at the same speed – in that case, you would hear the thunder at the exact same time as you saw a flash of lightning, and would hear the axe chopping the tree in perfect time with the motion of the axe-head striking the wood. (I don’t know why you’ld bother with that one, personally, but it’s just an example).

Ramifications

The obvious ramifications have already been mentioned, in the earlier section detailing why a Game Physics is worth having. But there are also some more subtle consequences that are worth mentioning.

The first of these is that each game physics lends a subtly-different flavour to each different campaign. Even though they use the same core rules, my Shards Of Divinity campaign is distinct from my Fumanor Campaigns, which was different from my Rings Of Time campaign. While some of that derives from the characters and some from the differences in adventures, some of it is a spice from the game physics.

Secondly, there is a continuity of such flavours from one campaign in the same game world to another; it’s not just as shared history that connects the two Fumanor Campaigns that I currently run with the predecessor campaign, they feel like they’re taking place in the same world.

Thirdly, the game physics can form a common foundation amongst several GMs, permitting a shared world experience that I can’t believe would be possible any other way.

And finally, it makes it easier to keep one campaign distinct from another – an absolute necessity when you run as many of them as I do!

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Maps Have Three Parts – Part 3: Negative Spaces


This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Maps Have Three Parts
Caves of Uthriam by Djekspek courtesy of the Cartographers Guild

Caves of Uthriam by Djekspek courtesy of the Cartographers Guild

When mapping, I tend to focus on the corridors, rooms, streets, caverns, and buildings. However, every map has more than just these areas; each has three zones in your design control. Next map you build, think of these zones and how you can change things up to be fun and interesting for your gaming.

This post focuses on zone 3, negative spaces.

“Negative space is the space around and between the subject of an image. Negative space may be most evident when the space around a subject, and not the subject itself, forms an interesting or artistically relevant shape.” – Wikipedia

Walls

On homebrew maps, walls are typically thin pencil marks used to divide the map space up into rooms and other encounter areas. But those little lines are significant. They not only block line of sight, but they form important barriers PCs might interact with.

As you design your maps, think about the type and quality of the walls. PCs might try to listen through walls, break through them, or use spells to pass between them.

Fire and other hazards might be blocked or helped to spread because of the walls, as well. Stone creates great barriers, while rice paper allows eavesdropping and would not stop a lightning bolt.

Redrawing cues

A peeve is complicated maps that are difficult to redraw during games on battlemaps and player maps. You can make your maps easy to redraw with just a couple of quick GMing tricks:

  • Use black and white. Colour and textures make it harder to see what spaces you’re drawing. Photo-realistic maps look great, but they are lost on players unless you reveal them, and they make it harder for you to redraw. I’ll take a black and white map any day.
  • Use simple lines for the original map, make them complex as you draw. The players won’t see your copy of the map, just what you redraw for them during battles and while adventuring. So, make your maps dirt simple for easy understanding and redrawing, and make your embellishments and squiggly lines and whatnot as you redraw maps during games.
  • Negative space is sometimes easier to draw. Rather than drawing the shapes of rooms and corridors, it might be easier with some maps to draw the empty or null spaces. For example, counting squares takes awhile. Inner shapes are smaller, and counting those squares takes less time at the game table than counting the outside lines.
  • Pre-count lengths and note them. Some GMs and game books treat maps like art. That serves game masters poorly. Make maps useful game aids, not pieces of art. For example, count the squares or dimensions of various walls and areas before the games and put the numbers on the map. I should never have to count lengths when redrawing.

Negative spaces make great clues

Turn negative space into clues. For example, a map from one famous module forms a skull. If the PCs realize this early enough they can predict the rest of the dungeon layout and use this for better tactical planning.

Another favourite is to hide secret areas in such a way that they can be logically deduced by looking at the negative space on the map.

Negative spaces can also form letters, symbols and other shapes as fun clues for observant players.

What is the dungeon made of?

A quick look at the negative space on the map can help you catch logic errors and inconsistencies before they get you mid-game.

  • Note the base material of the area. Is it stone, wood, dirt?
  • Next, look at how thick the walls are, specifically the thickest and thinnest barriers. Are these thicknesses possible? Could crafty players circumvent a carefully planned setup because of a thickness error? For example, 3″ stone walls are no match for a maul.
  • Are the spaces between rooms and areas realistic? 5′ thick wood walls stretch the imagination. When a player asks you during the game you might get caught and say that the walls are wood but made of boards. Curious players will leap on this and break through the boards to see what’s in the enclosed space. Suddenly you have a bunch of passagesbetween rooms. Oi!
  • Give a bit of thought to the original construction, why the place was built, and for whom. Do the null spaces make sense?

* * *

This winds up our series on the three parts of maps we don’t often think about: the places you travel into and walkabout, the lines that separate these spaces, and the negative spaces. Hopefully, a quick look at each helps catch errors and inspires creative tweaks to make adventuring even more fun and mapping easier.

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Vocabulary Hijinx: Using random word pairings for inspiration


Image by Brenton Nicholls

Image by BJN

We all have problems with our imaginations freezing up on us every now and again. While there are a number of things that you can do to kick-start your creativity when this happens, I have always found that it’s a good idea to have a stockpile of ideas that can be developed as needed for those times when inspiration is lacking.

There are lots of techniques out there for generating such ideas. Today, I thought I’d tell you about one that I call apon from time to time and that I havn’t seen written up very often.

The Random Word-pair Technique

The technique itself is simple enough: take two random words and pair them. One must be an adjective, the other can be anything at all. A thesaurus is the perfect tool for this because it is nothing but words; a dictionary is a poor second. Further value can be found in the fact that the thesaurus is not in alphabetical order, avoiding biases toward one letter or another.

Since this revelation alone is hardly enough to fill a blog post, no matter how useful it might be, I thought I’d pad this one out with an example, filtered through a number of different campaign genres, to illustrate the technique (and give out a few free scenario ideas along the way).

Thunderous Marraccas: an example

Okay, so this is the random word-pair that I came up with to demonstrate what I’m talking about. Now that I have it, what can I do with it?

I should emphasise that none of these ideas were thought up in advance, and they are presented in the exact order that they occurred to me. None have been left out, there has been no editing or going back later to replace an idea that wasn’t good enough or that was too silly for words. I’m also not saying that I would actually run all of these – but most are of an acceptable standard, if a little thin in some cases. And some are quite good, I think, and proof that even a silly-sounding fundamental concept can become the heart of a useful scenario – when your back’s against the wall.

Fantasy / D&D

This is clearly a magic item. Perhaps it is a bardic instrument that puts out a sonic attack, or perhaps bolts of lightning. Or maybe it can summon storms, and Storm Giants. Having the PCs merely find such an instrument would be dull, and hardly worth a scenario. So instead, let’s have someone else find it. How about we have an alpine village which the PCs visit only to be trapped by avalanches caused by the wielder of the Thunderous Marraccas?

It used to be said that thunder was the sound of the Gods brawling. Terry Pratchett has thunder be the sound of the gods rolling dice, in his Diskworld novels. I have always liked storms – nature’s free pyrotechnic displays – so I always preferred the analagy of the Gods partying hard. At a party, you get drunk, and when you pick up things while drunk, you occasionally drop them. This gives us a nice little origin for the Thunderous Marraccas, and a convenient way to take them back out of the campaign when the story ends.

Start with a truly awful Bard, who couldn’t hold a song on key if he were nailed to it (there was an Asterix movie on TV recently). He gets run out of an alpine village, just as the PCs arrive, only to discover the Thunderous Marraccas, which he uses to trap the village and create a captive audiance. Part 1 of the scenario is all setup. In Part 2, the PCs have to battle their way through the avalanche and the storm giants to get the Marraccas off the bard. In Part 3, the PCs discern the divine nature of the Marraccas and have to decide whether or not to return them to an appropriate temple. Part 4 is either the Party Gods (still drunk) harassing the PCs (if they decided to keep the Divine Instruments) or a bunch of party poopers (who don’t want the item returned) doing so. The scenario wraps up when the PCs finally deliver the Thunderous Marraccas to the appropriate temple and get some sort of divine reward.

Pulp

While clearly still a weapon, the concept should be a bit less whimsical – even to the point of rephrasing the idea completely. A sonic weapon, capable of splitting open bank vaults, knocking aircraft from the sky, and making the glaziers of the city very rich. Instead of “Thunderous Marraccas”, perhaps “Thunder Lance” would be a better description. We put it in the hands of a two-bit thug who has forced a scientist to create superweapons for him by kidnapping his beautiful-but-fiesty daughter, and who subsequently goes on a crime spree with his new toy.

We can start the scenario with an encounter between the PCs and the thug (plus henchmen), in which they get solidly trounced. In Part 2, since it’s obvious that he’s not up to the job of creating such a super-weapon himself, the PCs track down the scientist (a noted expert on sounds), but he refuses to help until his daughter is rescued from the clutches of the evil fiend. In Part 3, the PCs find and rescue the daughter despite the opposition of more thugs (the master criminal is still off running wild). In Part 4, they return the daughter to the Mad Scientist who whips up a handy-dandy (and highly experimental) neutraliser to partially negate the weapon. In Part 5, they confront the villain with the neutraliser and defeat him.

There are lots of places the plot could go from this point. We can close it out by having the villain push the weapon too hard in an attempt to overcome the nullifier the PCs have brought along. We could have the daughter become enamoured of one or more of her rescuers and become a recurring NPC. We could have some more powerful arch-villain grab the device from the thug at the last instant, revealing that the thug was simply field-testing it for his true master all along. All pulpish ideas that would immediatly elevate this scenario from “filler” to “ongoing campaign element”.

“Soft-science” Superhero

Unless we’re talking quite low-powered superheros, we’re going to have to up the ante. One of the staples of the genre (ever since The Flash Of Two Worlds in 1961) has been the notion that adjusting subatomic vibrations to a different rate can project you from one dimension into another. And what makes things vibrate? Sound. (You could pay lip service to more modern physics by suggesting that the weapon changes the vibration rate of superstrings. You don’t even have to understand what superstrings are – this is soft science fiction!)

Perhaps a supervillain has created a device that rips whole cities into a different dimension where he can pillage and loot at will.

This gives rise to a scenario in which the PCs get called in when a city vanishes; they deduce the cause due to the effects on the fringes of the device’s range, and reports of an incredibly loud noise heard from dozens of miles away; they find a way to replicate the effect and follow; they confront the villain, who uses the weapon on them to trap the PCs in a far more hostile dimension; the PCs battle their way out, again confront the villain, and melt his device down for scrap, which somehow returns the city (and occupants) to it’s point of origin. Or perhaps the villain attempts to use the device to escape only for the PCs to change it’s tuning at the last second, leaving the villain lost in an unknown dimension, ready to return for a rematch any time the GM has another good idea for using him.

“Harder-Science” Superhero / Sci-Fi / Espionage

Intense sound can make substances exposed to it vibrate so hard that the molecular bonds that hold it together can be broken. This is the perfect way of disposing of atmospheric pollution, or so it seems – just fit one of these to every smokestack and exhaust pipe. The range at which the sound is effective for the purpose is very limited.

There are a lot of ways to develop this concept. Perhaps someone figures out how to overcome the range limitation, converting the devices into in-place disintigration bombs – that’s the superhero idea. Perhaps the treated pollution forms free radicals which start affecting various substances (and people) in a variety of unpleasant ways, and have been doing so for some time – that’s the sci-fi idea.

Other sci-fi ideas: Perhaps the device is capable of raising an object’s internal temperature without melting/boiling it, creating a form of matter in solids that is analagous to superheated liquids from a microwave oven, in which it is easier to induce a fusion reaction – and in which that fusion reaction is much harder to control than is expected. No-one would ever want such a device, would they? (rhetorical question!) Or perhaps it’s a device that monkeys with Heisenburg uncertainty, making nuclear reactions more prone to cascade into a chain reaction and rendering microchips useless in the vicinity – a terrorist group or criminal gang could employ them for the second purpose without knowing about the first. But every time they do, the nuclear reactors that power the city or the naval submarines or whatever happens to be nearby go out of control, and it’s this side effect that gets the PCs involved…

Western

None of the above ideas work in a wild-west setting. So perhaps “Thunderous Marracas” is the name of a Spanish-Indian halfbreed who comes to town to cause mayhem. I’m afraid that this is not my preferred genre, so this is only half an idea; I’m sure that someone more in tune with this style of game could take the idea much farther, or come up with a better one.

Horror

Finally, we come to the horror genre. Again, the idea that the words inspire when considering this genre are very different to all the others I’ve listed so far: I find myself connecting the sound with the term “death rattle”. Perhaps the device kills, the souls of the dead then being utilised for some nefarious purpose. Or, more unpleasantly, perhaps it only simulates death momentarily, permitting the posession of the body by an outsider – producing a number of otherwise sensible and well-respected people who without warning or explanation become members of an evil cult, bent on doing the will of some nameless horror…

Do your prep in advance

If you can keep ten or twenty such ideas on file that you’ve prepared in advance – to about the state of readiness of the examples above – then there is no need to fear the occasional dry spell. And sometimes what you came up with for filler will resonate especially strongly with an existing plotline that needs something more to fill it out.

For example, if in a pulp campaign I had an existing plan for a confrontation with a major villain but needed a few scenarios to build the bad guy up first, the pulp plotline suggested above could be incorporated into the bigger picture perfectly. If I had a D&D plotline that needed the PCs to be in a temple at the start of the scenario, the Fantasy idea is a perfect vehicle to lead into that scenario.

You can never have too many ideas, because ultimately you’ll never use them all – and the more you have, the more you can cherry-pick from the best of the ideas you have. And an idea you’ve prepped in advance in this way is much better than not being able to think of anything at the critical moment as a deadline looms!

But ultimately, the greatest strength of this technique is that by starting from an unusual idea, you develop a scenario that immediatly moves beyond your ingrained habits. The technique is liberating to the imagination. I would never have thought of half of the ideas presented above if it weren’t in direct reaction to the artificial phrase “Thunderous Marraccas”.

A few more pairings to inspire you

Here are a few more random word pairings to get you started, and to wrap up this article nicely. Tell me you don’t get inspired reading them and I’ll add your name to the party poopers in the fantasy scenario….

:)

  • Sorted Holes
  • Blue Crush
  • Twisted Fruit
  • Domino Stack
  • Frigid Yellow
  • Drum Politics
  • Fast Measure
  • Tissue Disk
  • Sandwiched Pit
  • Grounded Beast
  • Urban Wings

…have fun!

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Maps Have Three Parts – Part 2: Adventuring Spaces


This entry is part 2 of 3 in the series Maps Have Three Parts
Map for an adventure by Carnifex courtesy of Cartographers Guild

Map for an adventure by Carnifex courtesy of Cartographers Guild

When mapping, I tend to focus on the corridors, rooms, streets, caverns and buildings. However, every map has more than just these areas; each has three zones in your design control. Next map you build, think of these zones and how you can change things up to be fun and interesting for your gaming.

This post focuses on zone 2, the spaces the PCs adventure in.

Improv the details

The best time to put flavour into maps is at the game table. You can certainly plan details out before game sessions, but they only benefit you. Details provided during sessions benefit players.

A little bit of improv about map details during games saves you a lot of planning time as well, so you can focus on higher priority items.

The best way I have found for improvising details is to visualize first, then tell. When drawing the map before the game, visualize the space you are creating. When drawing the map out for players during games, visualize the space again, and describe what you are visualizing.

This method gives you two mental run-throughs before you need to talk. The double-practice helps me a lot when trying to think up details on the spot.

By visualizing while you draw, you imprint the space better in your mind and associate it with the place you draw. This helps with remembering details, both long-term and while GMing.

The lines create a space

At the time of drawing, think about the spaces you create. What just seem like lines and patterns on a page are actually living, working or travelling areas. The lines close in on each other and create these spaces.

What are these spaces like? What kind of environments did the architects or builders create? Be a bit curious about the spaces on your maps as you craft them.

Picture yourself in each space, walk around a bit and think like an inhabitant.

For example, a 10’x10′ room. In one place it’s a bright reading room with soft carpet, comfortable chair and light beaming in from a high window. In another place it’s a stinking cell, chains hanging from stained walls and a drain on the floor to take away the torturer’s work. In another place it’s a quiet refuge of solitude, incense swirls around tapestries and sconces and stained glass colours the peaceful place with a soft red and blue glow.

Envision the inhabitants first

Another trick is to think of the dwellers and visitors first, then envision the place. Why was the place built and for whom? What amenities, services and storage was needed?

This not only gives you inspiration for furnishings and details, it also guides the map spaces and zones you create.

How tall and wide are the dwellers? How many arms? How did they move? In fantasy and sci-fi settings you can create interesting maps from spaces built for monsters and aliens.

Lighting and lighting effects

My favourite lighting effect in shows and movies from the 90s is the fan. Smoke or no smoke, the strobe and flickering effects of those fans added spooky and dramatic atmosphere to scenes.

Lighting in your mapped places does not need to be tactically reduced to just whether or not low-light or darkvision is required. Think up interesting ways to provide different kinds and levels of light:

  • Reflective ceiling
  • Stained glass
  • Small holes instead of windows, perhaps in patterns (clues)
  • Magic light fading – flickers or sparks
  • Painfully bright
  • Partially lit with dark shadow areas
  • Disco ball

Air quality

Here is a great way to get smell and taste senses into play.

It’s so hard trying to fit the five senses into your descriptions. The smell and taste of the air or atmosphere, though, is a perfect opportunity to trigger player imaginations.

Study your map:

  • Where does the air come from? Follow it to the source.
  • What places are between encounters and air source that could taint the air?
  • What things or nearby encounters could affect air quality and smell?

Ground and floor, ceiling

Something else overlooked on maps is footing and other ground features. As with light, switch up floor and ground types to make encounters and descriptions fresh. Think again about residents. Giant dire rats will make a nice nest in rooms that make footing tricky, slimes will leave behind pitted or slippery floors, guards might make watch marks or games on surfaces.

Same goes for the ceiling. Add chandeliers and stalactites to give flying PCs something to think about. Create nooks and holes for foes to hide – who looks up when assessing threats? Painters might decorate ceilings with delicious clues or world stories you can narrate.

Line of Sight

This is a personal favourite feature when creating my own maps.

Put yourself on the floor, into the map. How far can you see? What can you see?

For combat, line of site is important. Make twisty maps, with corners and offsetting doors and entrances so one can’t see far. Sharp corners also reduce lighting.

For roleplaying, line of site affects observation and spying. Create easy ways for NPCs to spot PCs talking with others to spur intrigue and rumour, and vice versa. Clear line of sight allows sound to travel better and lip reading.

Alternatively, close things up if you want to discourage this. Make it difficult to spot things by creating breakout rooms, corners, curtained areas, and so on.

Movement

Your design will impact movement. Charging lanes, bottlenecks and access points are examples of design considerations.

A classic GMing trap is players finding alternate and unexpected ways to access an encounter location. Recently I ran an encounter out of a module where guards and barricades were facing one direction, and the PCs entered through the rear door. That encounter was short and sweet, and if it was by design to reward clever PCs then great, but I got the feeling the designers had intended the PCs to make a frontal assault.

That wraps up the adventuring spaces on maps. Stayed tuned for the final part in this series coming next Monday: negative spaces. Subscribe to our blog via RSS feed or email to get notified when part 3 goes online.

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My Favourite PC Travel Game: Campfire Chats


rpg blog carnival logoIn one campaign years ago, the PCs did so much travel it seemed far-fetched to give them an encounter every time they hit the road. However, I still wanted to pace things so the party was not instantly appearing at their destination each time. A fun solution we came up with was campfire chats. This month’s blog carnival is about travel in games, so I thought the campfire chats would be topical.

These chats take only a few minutes real time and are social mini-games that involve roleplaying and character development. Even combat gurus will enjoy these games, and all PCs will benefit, especially the cardboard ones.

Campfire chats represent periods where the party is killing time and telling stories about themselves. This might be done while sitting out dark nights around the campfire. It could also be done during brief exchanges when the PCs clump together on the deck or in their saddles to trade barbs and friendly banter.

The game is played like a trivia contest where players try to guess or remember information about each other. Groups with well-developed characters could use it to work out deeper character motivations and issues.

Here is how the game is played.

1. Create the questions

Before the session create several questions based on information and trivia characters would know about each other.

For example, how many siblings does each character have? Bonus: what are the siblings’ names?

It is not fun if you ask questions players would have no chance of correctly answering. The game is most rewarding if players get answers right.

2. Prepare materials

For each question during the game, players will write out their answers for each of their companions. How do you want answers to be recorded? You might need to prepare pens, papers, and whatnot.

Some options:

  • Scrap paper, throw-away answers. Players use any old scrap paper, and after answers are tallied you don’t care about keeping the information and answers are pitched into the trash.
  • Spare paper, keep answers. Use good paper you or players can keep and reference later.
  • Notebooks. This is my preferred method. I buy $1 notebooks at the dollar store and players record questions and answers in them. I collect the books between sessions and study answers for hooks, spotlight opportunities, and ideas.
  • Character sheets. This might be the best answer but requires advanced planning. Have players use character sheets with areas to record personal information about their personalities, traits, backgrounds and motivations.Answers to chats are available on the sheets, and if players don’t flesh out their PCs this way before the campaign starts, you can use the chats to get answers into slots over time. A nice easy way to round out PCs as the game wends onward.

You might also want to have spare pencils and erasers handy for player use.

3. Decide rewards

For every answer the players get right they receive a small reward. This teaches them to pay attention to the little details about their fellow players’ PCs.

For every answer other players get right about a PC, players also receive a small reward. This encourages players to share character details and remind each other about them, ideally through roleplay.

You decide what the rewards should be. Do this before session start, and best before campaign start, so you can establish game balance.

I use XP rewards. At low levels I offer 10 XP for each correct answer, for example.

You might offer other kinds of rewards, such as action points after 10 correct answers, special treasures place in later encounters after 20 correct answers, Pocket Points, bonus dice to future rolls, and so on.

Next, calculate the maximum reward possible after each chat. If a player gets every possible reward from a chat, what is the total? Use this number to see if you are potentially unbalancing the game, and then adjust individual reward amounts down if so.

If the maximum reward seems too small, then increase individual rewards a bit until you hit a sweet spot. Some players might not be too excited by these chats, but a decent reward will get them interested.

4. Start a campfire chat

When you feel the time is right, tell your group they are chatting with each other in-game, and that you’re initiating a round or two of campfire chats.

Try to set the scene with a good description to ease transition from typical gameplay to the campfire chat mini-game.

“You manage to build a small but warm fire despite the wet wood. As you huddle close, touching shoulders, to get the most warmth out of the meagre flames, you start to share bits and pieces of your pasts, taking turns it seems, so the memories might do their part to warm you up on this dark night in strange woods.”

Have your questions ready. Decide how much real time you want to spend on a chat. Often a single question is a great way to switch things up and make travel seem like it took awhile in-game.

A question should take about 10 minutes of game time, depending on group size.

5. Play the game

You ask one of your prepared questions.

Each player writes down their answers, usually one answer per fellow character.

For example, you might ask what each character’s last name is. In a group of five, that means each player needs to write four answers – the names of the other PCs.

Provide a time limit. A minute or two.

When time is up, you start with one player, who reveals the true answer. Go around the table and have each other player reveal their answer. Wrong answers can be funny and their own reward.

Correct answers get the reward you’ve assigned. Each player with a correct answer gets a reward, and each player who has a correct answer about their own PC gets a reward.

Depending on the question and type of answer, you might ask players to weave a short tale behind their true answer, or you can run this as a simple trivia game.

Once all questions and answers are done and tallied, approve the reward totals and resume the main game.

Hopefully the players will have learned more about each others’ characters, and maybe their own as well.

6. Good questions are the key

The true benefit of the game is the answers that come out. Answers will teach players about the characters and the party. This is a great tool to flesh out characters, generate inspirational material, and connect characters with the campaign and setting.

The quality of an answer depends on the quality of the question. So, asking fun and interesting questions is the key to this mini-game.

Here are a few examples:

Trivia

  • What deity does each character follow?
  • What is each character’s favourite weapon?
  • What is each character’s favourite saying?
  • When is each PC’s birthday?
  • Who is each character’s biggest enemy?
  • What food does each character like most/least?

Hooks

  • What does each character’s father do for a living?
  • What is each PC’s hometown?
  • Who is each party member’s greatest enemy?

Character development

  • Why is each character a member of the party?
  • What does each character want more than anything else?
  • What does each PC fear most?

In groups where character stories are important and shared often, you might consider questions like these:

  • How did each PC get to be so good at their best skill?
  • How did each PC come to be a memmber of the party?
  • What was the lowest point in each character’s life and how did they get out of it?

Another way you can use campfire chats is to promote forgotten clues or to celebrate great campaign moments:

  • What does each character think the true identity of the villain is?
  • What is the best battle fought to date?
  • What’s been the worst inn stayed at so far and why?
  • Who does each character think has been the most interesting to meet and why?

This mini-game is a lot of fun and gets players thinking beyond the numbers and the rules. If you try campfire chats in your next game, came back and let us know how it went.

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Downsize Your Disasters: GMing catastrophes in your RPG


We hesitated before running this piece, which was written prior to the disaster on Haiti. It is certainly not our intent to trivialise what has occurred or in any way to be insensitive to the ongoing emergency there. Ultimately, we chose to run it at this time so that we could encourage all those reading this to support aid and disaster relief efforts in response to the tragic earthquake. Donations to The Red Cross can be made from this page (choose the second option), or to The United Way from this page.

Click the image to donate to The Red Cross

Click the image to donate to The Red Cross

Click the image to donate to the United Way

Click the image to donate to the United Way

Photo by Walkman200

Photo by Walkman200

It’s tempting to use a disaster to show your characters that there will always be things beyond their power and restore a sense of perspective. When I originally conceived the idea behind this post, the topic was going to be how to go about doing so, but the more I thought about it, the less that made sense.

Why Is The Sky Falling?

Disasters are often a way for the GM to show off his power to the players, which is profoundly juvenile behaviour (to say the least). But there are more legitimate reasons for their occurance within a game, and that’s what the blog was going to be about – and in some ways, it still is on that topic.

What are those reasons? Firstly, the GM might wish to subject his campaign to a “Radiation Accident,” with the cataclysm serving as justification for a radical evolution within the campaign premise. The disaster is simply a mechanism to stir up the status quo in a campaign that has become (or is becoming) too predictable.

Secondly, the disaster might derive from some unique aspect of the existing campaign, or be be the logical end product and ultimate dramatisation of existing campaign trends. The best example of this reasoning is still “Nightfall” by Isaac Asimov. There’s a reason this short story has won so many awards!

And finally, the intent might be to challenge the PCs with something a little more extreme (mundane or otherwise).

But – and this is where planning for this post went astray – isn’t that also the end goal of all the other justifiable reasons for a disaster? The intervening steps might vary, the disaster might be nothing more than a means to an end, but the objective remains the same, whether the challenge stems directly from the disaster, or indirectly by way of the aftermath.

A No-Win Situation

The more I thought about the types of disasters that could occur within a scenario, and the reasons for them, and how best to handle them as a GM, the more I came to realise that a full-scale disaster is a no-win situtation for the GM.

Either he frustrates the characters through their inability to prevent the cataclysm, or he permits them to do so (in the process voiding any reason he might have had for unleashing it in the first place).

The only ways out of this conundrum are to have the calamity take place out of the PCs reach, or to employ it purely as background for a more immediate struggle, or to downsize the calamity to a scale apon which the PCs can plausibly intervene to prevent the tragic outcome. What that scale is will vary from campaign to campaign, and genre to genre.

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

What does moving a calamity out of reach of the PCs entail? Well, it means that the disaster has become inevitable by the time the PCs know about it. Either it has already happened, and the consequences are only now beginning to catch up with the characters, or it took place so far away that all there is left to do is to deal with the knock-on effects – in other words, placing the catastrophe trigger at a distance either temporally or geographically or both.

In this circumstance, it’s not the disaster that’s the story, so far as the characters are concerned, it’s the repercussions, and those can be dealt with in relative isolation or as a local impact, rather than dealing with the disaster as a whole; in effect, the disaster has been downsized purely by removing it from the PCs frame of referance.

Dark Shadows Across The Stage

Using the disaster as a background element, bigger than the PCs but only affecting them (and everyone else) indirectly, is the second approach that was mentioned. And once again, those effects are local and not global, though they may be ever-present, a constant consideration that impacts on every decision made by the PCs.

This is the approach that I am taking through the initial stages of my Shards Of Divinity campaign, in which Magic is failing and becoming unreliable. Right now, it’s purely a background phenomenon, but over time it will become a central factor in the life of each member of the party – at which point, they will have the necessary motivation to do something about it beyond idle curiosity and intellectual challenge.

The Lesson Of Ragnerok

I actually employed both these approaches in handling Ragnerok within my superhero campaign in it’s previous incarnation. Not only was the cause of the disaster something tiny and seemingly innocuous, by the time the PCs knew it was happening it was already inevitable. It then became a background element, providing motivations for various characters to act in ways that led to confrontations with the PCs. When the disaster actually struck, there was to be simultanious action in four different locations.

But the problem was that it overstayed its welcome. The sword of Damocles can only dangle overhead for so long before frustration sets in, and I let it linger there for too long while the campaign stagnated. Eventually, the only solution was to take a lengthy break while I fictionalised the climax, revealing all the answers that had been lurking behind the curtain, and setting the foundations for the campaign to enter a new phase with new characters, which is now known as the Zenith-3 campaign.

As a background element, Ragnerok was tremendously successful. It transformed the campaign. But not all of the ways in which it did so were either intended or even recognised at the time.

(As a side note – the PCs in the Zenith-3 campaign have only recently discovered the causal triggers behind the circumstances that led to Ragnerok happening at all – and with it, the suspicion is growing that it’s not completely over yet…)

Getting back on topic, reducing the disaster in this way is simply another means of limiting its scope – since the PCs aren’t expected to be able to do anything to stop it, all they are left with is coping with repercussions.

Downsizing

If both the techniques for making indirect disasters tolerable within a campaign can be characterised as downsizing, how about circumstances where the characters are expected to actually confront (and possibly prevent) the calamity in the first place?

Well, either it’s too big for them and they are reduced to treating it as a temporary environmental circumstance, or they are up to the task and can confront it head-on. In either case, the disaster has either been downsized to something manageable or was already at such a scale by definition – in either case, the answer is the same. The disaster has been downsized.

Peril lurks, however, if the PCs do not clearly recognise which of these two categories the disaster falls into. This is especially likely in high-level Fantasy campaigns, where characters have the magic to deal with extraordinary conditions; in high-tech sci-fi campaigns, where they have the technology not only to intervene, but usually to see the potential train-wreck coming; and in superhero campaigns, where an ‘immovable object’ is merely a figure of speech (as is an irresistable force, for that matter). These guys and gals are used to dealing with cosmic level threats; disasters, either natural or artificial, are unlikely to faze them.

A secondary peril is that characters can be left out. While the high-level Wizard might be able to cope with a flood, there isn’t a whole lot that the high-level fighter can do about it.

The solution to both these dangers also lies in the concept of downsizing. Let the fighter lead a heroic attempt to reinforce the levee banks while the wizard is seeking the source of the greater problem. The campaign is better served by treating the disaster as a local phenomenon as much as possible – in other words, by downsizing it.

The story isn’t the flood, it’s the saving of the town from the flood.

With that realisation behind us, let’s look at some specifics…

Really Really Big Disasters

These resist downsizing after the fact. The sun going nova; time getting stuck in a loop in which nothing can change; the planet (or just the PCs) getting sucked into a black hole; a planet-killing asteroid heading for Earth; Ragnerok… well, you get the idea.

There are just two ways to downsize these into manageable proportions: either you violate the precept (whatever it might be) that prevents post-cataclysmic downsizing (time may be stuck in a loop but there can still be changes; Ragnerok isn’t the end, it’s merely a transition; or whatever) – or you let the party discover the imminant disaster in time to do something about it.

Locally Cataclysmic Disasters

Famine, Plague, Flood – think Biblical. Volcanos erupting, tidal waves, earth runs out of fossil fuels. Wars and Invasions. These are all disasters, but they are small enough that the consequences can be dealt with locally, so the GM doesn’t have to be afraid of letting them happen; the techniques already provided are perfectly suited to these, especially the maxim of focussing on a succession of consequences that are localised to whereever the PCs happen to be at the time.

And the same is true of everything smaller. A leaking gas main, a burning building, a small avalanche, even an icy street – just keep it all local to the PCs and all will be well.

Personal Disasters

This is a completely different kind of disaster. It encompasses everything from losing one’s job, to being framed for a crime (or actually committing one in a moment of madness or poor judgement), to being diagnosed with a fatal disease, to having a loved one so diagnosed, to being tricked by a swindler, to investing badly and losing the kids’ college fund, or the house, or whatever.

Some of these are hardly the-end-of-the-world-as-the-character-knows-it, others should so affect the character so strongly that they will never be quite the same again. Individual dispositions and psychology should have as much to do with such differentiation as any absolute measure of calamity.

But here’s the problem: if you inflict one of these on a PC, at least one of three things had better be true: either there’s an easy way to undo it, or it is done with the player’s active and willing cooperation, or it turns out not to be as bad as it seems – in other words, it is downsized. And in any of these cases, there had better be a good reason for it in terms of the plotline of the campaign.

The reason is that if these are not the case, then you are arbitrarily inflicting discomfort and inconveniance on the PC in ways that he cannot fight, and for no good reason. That lands us right back at the unacceptable reasons for a disaster that I described at the start of this article.

On the other hand, if just one of these conditions are true (plus there’s a good reason for the event), then the personal tragedy is analagous to any other form of disaster. It is either projected into the background with only the repercussions affecting character decisions and plotlines – that’s the same as a personal tragedy for the character that’s inflicted with the cooperation of the player – or the calamity is reduced in permanence or in significance.

In other words, the disaster is either unacceptable or it’s downsized.

Exceptions

Once I percieved this general rule, I tried very hard to find exceptions. In the end, I only found one: When the disaster is something that is unique to the game setting – the campaign world or the game system – then it is actually beneficial to play up the disaster.

By “unique to the game setting”, I don’t mean just that it affects a race that is unique to the world, or that such a race be the focus of responsibility for the disaster (though that might be the case); I mean that the phenomenon itself is somehow directly identifiable with this particular game.

Emphasising such disasters not only emphasises the unique aspects of this specific campaign, it makes them stand out against more mundane catastrophes as something exceptional.

In D&D for example, a plague that only afflicted divine beings would get a lot of attention. So would the failure of magic.

In a sci-fi campaign, it’s always fun (but a lot of prep) to mess with one of the universal constants. Or perhaps an alien race deploys some sort of energy field that makes hyperspace wildly unpredictable. Or something has happened to the flow of time. Or someone is running an experiment that could start a chain reaction, destroying the whole planet. Or there is something happening that could make the sun go nova. Or an anti-matter asteroid is about to strike an inhabited planet.

Most of those work in a superhero campaign as well, as does the rise of some Nameless Horror Man Is Not Meant To Know.

In Cyberpunk, some sort of computer virus is always fun because of all the man-machine interfaces. Or perhaps a drug that leaves the AIs in control of implanted cybertech, or a computer becoming self-aware, or a flesh-eating virus that only affects clones (including a PC who didn’t even know they were a clone?).

All these disasters deserve prominant attention, should they occur. But they are the only class of disaster that I could think of that can in any way be considered an exception to the general rule.

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Paint On A Canvas: A Personality Metaphor


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Tony Scott, in the interviews that accompany “Beverly Hills Cop II” states (while discussing the casting of Brigitte Nielson for that movie) that his background is in painting, and that casting is like putting colours on the canvas.

I found this to be a really interesting comment. I’ve written articles in the past about giving each PC their own role within a scenario (Scenario and Campaign Arc Building Tips, Part 1, Part 2), but this suggested something slightly different to me – the concept of giving each principal character (PC or NPC) their own distinct emotional tone. The suggestion was that emotional tones amongst the PCs that are complimentary would create a more cohesive and interesting style of interaction amongst the members of a group of connected characters, whilst contrasting tones would help set key NPCs apart from the group.

If The Chemistry Is Right…

Associations immediatly began to flash through my mind. We’ve all see movies where we feel that the leading actors are slightly miscast, even though there’s nothing wrong with the actors abilities or with the interconnection between the roles that we’re playing. When the reviewers talk about such films, you always hear them use the term ‘chemistry’, as in “there was no chemistry between the cast”. A favorite example is Dick Tracy – there was nothing wrong with Warren Beatty as Tracy, or with Madonna’s performance in the movie, when considered in isolation – but the combination just didn’t Gel, at least for me. In comparison, where the chemistry is right, such as that between Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwartzenegger in Twins, it doesn’t matter how unlikely the combination seems at first glance – it works brilliantly on the screen.

That was the first association: that this was a metaphor that permitted an insight into creating a “chemistry” between the principal cast of a movie – or, in our case, a game.

Identifying Emotional Tones

Artists use specific terms to describe colours, some of which translate directly into emotional terminology. Warm, friendly tones work well together. A single strong contrast with a hint of a matching tone can be complimentary. A lighter tone only balances a darker tone in the company of a central tone, whose ambiance associates with both the other tones. There are all sorts of colour-compositional analagies that can be created.

Can you picture a single colour that is representative of the emotional contribution of a single PC in your campaign to the overall party? What sort of ambiance is created by the interplay between the colours of the party – and is anything out-of-place or missing?

These are subjective and philosophical questions with no easy answers, but the benefits of such an identification, at least in theory, are manyfold.

Using The Palette

Every NPC is more than just a collection of statistics on a page and a story function. Even if there is a personality profile and background, there are still a whole range of ways that personality can be expressed, a diversity of styles in the way the character can manifest – and each with its own emotional nuance and colour.

The metaphor, in other words, gives a tool by which the manner in which the antagonist’s relationship and interaction with the protagonists can be tuned and tweaked. Bluster and Bombasticy? Icy and emotionless? A perpetual slow boil? A Sarcastic manner of expression? Everybody’s friend? Soft-spoken and Creepy, or Loud and Manic? By choosing what aspects of the personality you put on show, you manipulate the mode of engagement between the PCs and the character, with the result that the relationship can be exploited to support the story function of the character.

Exploring the emotional tones of the character within a campaign won’t solve every problem, but it’s a different way of looking at the makeup of a campaign, and having a different perspective at your disposal is never a bad thing.

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63 Wizard Hooks


This entry is part 2 of 5 in the series Character Hooks
A magic tome speaks to the wizard and tells him to do things at night.

A magic tome speaks to the wizard and tells him to do things at night in exchange for the promise of great future power.

The following ideas could be used for player characters stuck on a PC background and purpose. Game masters could also use them for interesting NPC wizard hooks. If you have any ideas for more hooks, just comment below, maybe we’ll get to 100.

  1. Master’s experiment goes wrong, transforming the PC and cursing the master. PC quests for way to save master’s plight.
  2. To become powerful enough to destroy an evil artifact that has cursed his family for generations.
  3. Impress the local village beauty with wizardly power and marry her.
  4. Bend a powerful, named demon to his service for 100 years.
  5. Seeks immortality, not just for self, but for ailing mother as well.
  6. Raised and trained in a horrible wizard school, he yearns to return a hero with great powers and lord it over his teachers and former fellow students.
  7. To become a god, but not just any god. He wants to stage a coup against the god of magic and control the entire domain himself.
  8. An evil despot enslaved his family. He will pay.
  9. To uncover a whole new source of magic (via a rules supplement you’ve been dying to try out).
  10. He does not understand his powers. They seem to happen at random or when he’s in great danger. Perhaps he will one day learn to control his gift.
  11. To become a benevolent master of several worthy apprentices.
  12. To found a significant and powerful school of magi.
  13. To master the art of magic item creation and quests for ways to make the process quicker and easier.
  14. His master and fellow apprentices were attacked by powerful creatures and whisked away. It’s up to the character to find out where they are being kept and to free them.
  15. To attain the power of wish and use it to undo a great wrong the PC has committed.
  16. The character desires to master illusion to become a spy for the arch-magi.
  17. Magic is dying, fading. The mage must discover the source of magic, learn why it’s diminishing and restore it.
  18. A race of strange creatures who feed and grow on magic are hunting wizards and magic items for food.
  19. The character wants to create an artifact to solve the problem another hook in this list poses.
  20. A thief broke into the master’s tower and stole a powerful item. The PC has been tasked with the item’s return.
  21. The PC is being forced into marriage against his will. He flees instead, determined to use his wits and growing magic powers to make a name for himself in the world.
  22. The character found a scroll long ago with magic writing on it. So far he’s been unable to read it, but it promises to reveal incredible secrets and knowledge. The PC searches for a means to read the scroll.
  23. A mysterious order has recruited the PC in its fight against a powerful cabal.
  24. The PC’s family serves a nearby wizard enclave’s mundane needs. Now that the character has shown some magical aptitude, he’s been assigned the role of ambassador to help with village-magi issues in exchange for ongoing training.
  25. The PC has discovered a secret path to a strange realm and wants to explore it, but he cannot do it alone as the realm seems dangerous.
  26. The PC has learned of overlaps between planes and dimensions and seeks these areas out to explore possible treasures hidden within.
  27. The wizard yearns for fame as the scribe of the world’s most powerful spells.
  28. The identity of the PC’s master remains a secret, and the missions he sends the character on are bizarre, but there must be a grand plan behind everything, which the PC is determined to discover.
  29. The PC wants to travel the planes and explore places never seen before with civilized eyes.
  30. An ancient prophecy predicts a dangerous result but great rewards, and the mage is determined to make the prophecy come true.
  31. The character wishes to learn the source of magic – and then control it.
  32. The PC’s bullying brother is also a wizard but much more powerful, and the PC needs to protect his parents and other siblings from the brother’s brutal ways.
  33. The wizard seeks magic power to gain temporal wealth and mundane power to rule a region.
  34. The PC wants to build a society of scribes who trade knowledge, incantations and scrolls throughout the realm – and to also act as an organisation that fights against evil/good/an enemy.
  35. The character wants to setup a simple alchemist shop, brew potent potions and become a secret power who manipulates the nobility.
  36. The mage quests to learn a whole new type of magic and bring it back to the King to protect the small kingdom from its many enemies.
  37. A demon killed the wizard’s master and the PC now seeks the creature’s identity, its home base, and a way to kill it.
  38. A cult bearing torches and pitchforks drove the magus out of his village and left him to die in the forest. The PC wishes to return some day to drive the cult out so he can be with his family again.
  39. With a lust for magic items, the wizard seeks to collect one of every type of magic ring.
  40. He longs to start a travelling road show that delights folk with the strange monsters, cruel traps and wondrous magic he encounters in his travels and explorations.
  41. He inherited a mighty artefact yet cannot determine how to tap into any of its powers. He must keep the artefact a secret while pursuing all options to learn how to unleash the item’s abilities.
  42. The fledgling wizard has six powerful spells he desires to someday master (such as invisibility, teleportation, etc.) as a matter of personal style (think themed comic book hero or villain).
  43. To graduate from the school where the PC has become an exceptional student, custom dictates he duel another graduating student to the death. The PC has exercised an obscure rule that allows him a two year sabbatical to give him time to gain more power on his own and ponder what he will do.
  44. A secret order of magi who serve the emperor has told the PC he will join their ranks, but the PC has no desire to become a magical assassin and has evaded their recruiters…so far.
  45. The wizard’s youngest sibling summoned a being from another plane who escaped his shackles and now roams free in the land, killing and sowing misery. The being has sworn vengeance upon the character’s entire family.
  46. The spellcaster wishes to merely be an entertainer who uses his abilities to amaze audiences, but the Bard’s Guild forbids magic use and is watching the caster carefully.
  47. The wizard’s noble upbringing gave him the life-long services of a humble servant who is secretly a spy and who has been responsible for many of the PC’s conflicts while growing up without the PC realizing it.
  48. The wizard’s family worships a god who opposes magic, and now the PC is being hunted by his own relatives.
  49. The god of magic is actively trying to recruit the PC, going to more extreme lengths each attempt.
  50. The character craves to join an elite group of warrior mages but he is not tough enough, so the mage quests for ways to make him stronger and a better fighter.
  51. The mage is cursed and is one of the rare few who can fumble while casting spells. (While the PC quests for ways to remove the curse, the DM should make up a fumble chart.)
  52. A battlemage since birth, he is tired of war and went AWOL a few weeks ago. He is uncertain if the military hunts him, but if so, there will be other battlemages as part of the hunting unit(s).
  53. The wizard wants to assemble a great library of arcane knowledge and hire sages and scribes, but agents from the Library of Lore plan to sabotage his efforts and steal away any scrolls and books of value.
  54. With intentions of founding a new arcane guild, the character has created an order that uses colours of robes and styles of hats to establish a hierarchy, but enemies see this as a way to identify the most valuable targets.
  55. The character has studied the planes all his life and now recruits companions to explore legendary locations.
  56. A villain amasses a strange retinue of monsters that the PC has learned consists of thought eaters, rust monsters, disenchanters and other threats to knowledge and lore.
  57. An ancient tome, that has fallen into a young wizard’s hands, describes the incredible and powerful properties of rare herbs whose locations are remote and dangerous.
  58. The character seeks to make his name famous and synonymous with high quality and powerful magic items that he will some day learn to craft.
  59. In a terrifying discovery, the hapless mage now knows the true name of a powerful devil.
  60. Magical locks are his specialty, and he makes good coin with his security services, but when a rash of thefts from his clients occurs, fingers begin to point at him.
  61. The character specializes in breaking magical locks, bypassing arcane barriers and solving the most diabolical guarding puzzles. A villain who depends on his magical defenses targets the mage and his associates to rid himself of a potential security threat.
  62. What would you do with knowledge of crafting various types of golems faster, cheaper or with new capabilities?
  63. The mage wishes to make his young warrior companion the King so he can become the power behind the throne.

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