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2011 In Review For Johnn


2011 Goals

How high do you dream?

2011 was a great year and a terrible year for me for writing and gaming.

I suffered a bit of burn out, got a couple of awesome gaming products published and gamed monthly instead of every other week for much of 2011.

Let’s delve into my goals for last year, and then I’ll reveal my #1 lesson learned that I think might apply to you, as well.

Here are the things I said I wanted to accomplish in 2011.

“Goal #1: Hit every scheduled Campaign Mastery post”

“My blogging schedule will probably change in early 2011, but no matter what it is I will hit every deadline. Last year I missed two out of 52 deadlines. This year I aim for zero.”

Well, my schedule did change. Due to time pressures, I stopped blogging here at CampaignMastery.com in the fall. My articles trickled off and the great GM Toolbox meta GMing series took their place.

Unfortunately, it looks like I’ll continue hitting the pause button intermittently for the foreseeable future as there are various projects I need to tend to this year.

Mike will still be publishing his awesome, in-depth articles at least once each week. I will be blogging here too, but just not as regularly.

GM Toolbox will also conclude in a few weeks for those looking for closure on the final techniques and tools Michael and Da’Vane have in store for us.

“Goal #2: Maintain current series, start new series”

  • Ask the GMs – We answered a few questions this year, including a couple times over at RoleplayingTips.com. And we always answered the questioners by email. However, we have a huge backlog to clear up, and until that’s under control we’ve removed the question form so we can catch up.
  • Hazards – I did not end up revisiting this in 2011. It’s on hold for now, though I’m thinking of rolling it into the Faster Combat online GMing course.
  • Hooks – We released 50 Assassin Hooks, but did not add further to this series.
  • Generators – The Q-Workshop series was excellent, but we did not follow-up with a new series of similar generators last year.
  • iPad reviews – I did get to post a few of these, some at RoleplayingTips.com.
  • City building – This one got done in the form of government design for your cities. When you consider the roots of power in your world, many interesting adventure opportunities surface!
  • Stat blocks – This series remained on pause last year.

Mike also has two new series out: Ghosts of Blogs Past and Pieces of Creation.

“Goal #3 Books”

We released one book plus the world’s first course for game master this year. So, I’d consider this goal a success.

Assassin’s Amulet debuted in October to critical acclaim. We called it a GM Toolbook, because Assassin’s Amulet is a 300 page resource for all things assassin in your game, including rarely touched upon aspects of world building and campaign management.

A new GM Toolbook is under development. More news on that is coming.

Faster Combat opened its doors to members in October as well. It’s a 52 week training program for GMs guaranteed to cut your combat time in half!

Co-produced with Tony Medeiros of LeonineRoar.com, Faster Combat teaches you how to design combats, manage encounters and master the rules while adding story and drama all at the same time.

While Mike and I had plans for more releases this past year, a 300 page GM Toolbook and a 52 week GMing course did get published, so I’m very pleased about that.

“Goal #4 More contests and giveaways”

“I aim to run one contest or giveaway per month.”

I did not hit this stride, unfortunately. However, we did manage to hold at least four contests with a whole bunch of software and books as prizes.

“Goal #5 DM 12 times this year, play 12 times”

I hit my GMing goal! But the GM of the campaign I was to play in folded up his screen due to work commitments. Boo!

“Goal #6 Roleplaying Tips Newsletter”

“Continue to publish this every other week and pack every issue full of GM tips and ideas. I would love to see an HTML, PDF and mobile-friendly edition this year, but I have not solved those problems yet.”

Success here too. I even went weekly for a few weeks. However, no HTML, mobile or PDF version saw light of day. There was not enough time to get to this.

“Goal #7 Gamer Lifestyle”

We opened the course for a limited time to let new members in this year. Check out the new website we setup for Illusionary Press for their Illfrost campaign setting.

We also launched new RPG business ebooks, including RPG Business Plans and Wake Up Early for those serious about publishing their RPG work.

My #1 Lesson In 2011

Overall, I hit a few goals and missed a few goals. In the end, key goals were met: publishing new products and gaming with friends.

However, the year started out looking like it was going to be a total disaster.

Assassin’s Amulet kept getting delayed. The thing about a project that gets delayed is its scope increases. While you wait you tend to add more ideas and content. This is great if you only ever want to launch “someday,” but bad if you want to finish a project and launch so you can launch other projects.

Further, delays mean you forget all the details of a project that allow you to be nimble during project conclusion and launch. Long delays meant losing momentum and forgetting plans and details. We compensated by developing a great documentation system using Google Sites, but still, that’s work that gets you no direct sales.

As a result of the delays, I started several projects. And worse, I got BSO syndrome. Bright Shiny Objects took the form of new project ideas. I kept starting projects and did not finish them or launch them.

This was my undoing. By summer I was burning out. Too many spinning plates from open projects inching along bottomed out my morale and energy.

As fortune would have it, my summer vacation hit at the perfect time. As I was thinking of packing things in, I instead had two weeks of rest and relaxation to ponder life.

First thing I realized was I was taking on too many projects and commitments and it was over-taxing my schedule. Second thing I realized was I had no end game. What was I ultimately doing all this for? This answer is critical because it allows a person like me to decide what’s important, and what to say no to.

I have journals filled with ideas. I love ideas. I get ideas at all times of the day and I write as many down as I’m able.

But a smart person knows to just pick one idea at a time and make it reality. A smart person knows it’s just as important to pick what you don’t work on as what he does work on.

Revitalized, I hit the end of August with a plan to meet all project commitments made to partners, and to cancel all projects that I was just working on by myself. I would use the fall to clear out my backlog and then decide what 2012 would be about.

Which brings us to today and my #1 lesson gleaned from last year:

Focus. Do one project at a time.

Some lessons keep biting you in the ass until you get them. I’ve learned that I needed to focus before. But still, the gleam from all those new ideas pulls like a certain ring in a pool.

I succeeded in launching or killing all my open loops in the fall. I feel like a new man. What to do now? If you say start a new project I’ll throttle you! lol.

Next week, I’ll fill you in on my 2012 plans.

For now though, why don’t you share how your 2011 went. Did last year go according to plan? Did you make any gaming goals and did you reach them?

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The Nuances of computer use in a simulated world


In Roleplaying Tips #536, Johnn ran a tips request (reproduced below) asking for tips on how to GM computer hacking. I decided that simply offering a few tips wasn’t quite going to cut it, and that the subject deserved a slightly more in-depth treatment.

I’m currently running a sci-fi future campaign where computers are an integral part of space station and starship security.

The rules include skills that allow dice rolls to hack computers. This is fine for the random security door or the like, but feels too random and flavorless to me to have more important events hinge on it (like when you are in the bad guy’s empty lair trying to extract secrets from his computer without tripping any alarms).

I’m not asking for a whole game built around computer use, but are there any interesting ways you or other DMs handle computer hacking?

Computers in RPGs: The Problems

Before solutions can be found to problems, it’s usually a requirement that the problems themselves be considered. Often, they aren’t even identified when you start, let alone articulated and analyzed. So that’s where I’m going to start.

The Legacies of Obsolete Iron

The first problem is that game systems often need to accommodate a whole range of computer systems with extremely varied hardware capabilities. Many of the key concepts stem from early mainframes, which could only run a few programs at a time. Compare the stats of a state-of-the-art mainframe from the early 1960s with the microprocessor in a new car from the year 2000, and you will find that the car has the better computer – it’s certainly better than the mainframe used for the Apollo missions, for example. (There are good reasons for that, related to proven reliability, but nevertheless…)

Similarly, compare a modern desktop computer with the stats of the Cray Supercomputer, famed as the Ultimate Computer in many TV shows and movies, and astonishingly, the modern desktop wins out over the liquid-nitrogen-cooled billion-dollar machine in most if not all respects. Processor speed, calculation rate, memory, storage capacity, storage retrieval rate, efficiency… just think about that for a minute.

Of course, physical reality means that this exponential growth curve in capacity, known (in terms of transistor count) as Moore’s Law, can’t continue, and in fact it seems to have leveled off in recent years – refer to this (slightly technical) article, for example, or this (somewhat less technical) blog post for the more generalist reader. Both are now a little dated, but the general principle remains.

But the fact is that much of the mass-media’s concept of what computers can and can’t do derives from the fancies of people back when Mainframes, also known as Big Iron, was the ultimate in computer power.

When I set out to create the computer rules for my superhero roleplaying game, I soon struck a fundamental problem in trying to not only modernize those conceptual standards, but to also accommodate the past and project into the future. The results were a bewildering rules draft of more than 60 pages length. There were three attempts at a conceptual rules framework prior to that monstrosity and two attempts at more abstract approaches afterwards before my co-writer and I finally struck a computer rules system that seemed balanced in terms of game performance, abstraction, and realism. That process took 8 years to complete.

Since I doubt most game designers care to spend eight years and six attempts in the creation of a relatively minor subsystem within the rules, it follows that most game systems have computer rules that are going to be inadequate at some point in time, and that aren’t going to be as playable as they could be. Unless someone’s had a stroke of genius, of course, that let them short-cut the development process.

There are always going to be:

  • Unreasonable limits on what a computer can do,
  • Unreasonable translations of real-world computer system capabilities into game-scale performance,
  • A juggling act between simulation and abstraction that will always fall short of the optimum, and
  • Frustration with the computer rules as a result.

While it cannot solve such problems, whatever solutions to the problems of roleplaying the interaction between a PC and a computer are offered should at least ameliorate this situation.

The Power of Tomorrow-tech

If the concepts of the past lead to modern problems of abstraction in game systems, trying to forecast the capacities of the computers of tomorrow is even more problematic – because it’s exactly the same problem, but compounded with the handicap of trying to foretell the future.

The scale of the problem can be demonstrated by considering virtually any movie or TV show in which computers play a significant role – from Babylon 5 to Star Trek to Hackers to Sneakers to The Net to The Matrix to, well, you name it. Events, and computer capabilities, not only outstrip the speculations within those shows almost immediately, it can easily be shown that in order to connect with a lowest-common-denominator audience, such outstripping is inevitable. Who, as late as the 1990s, could have forecast the iPod, iPad, Smartphone, GPS Navigation, or Kindle? (Hackers is notable for getting about half of the technical dialogue and computer concepts right – putting it way ahead of the field!)

Again, this problem will not be completely solved by whatever solution we adopt, but a good solution should at least mask the difficulties.

Computer Time vs. Game Time vs. Real Time

Computers don’t operate on the same time scale as people do. Preprogramming, and the ability to launch massive undertakings with a single mouse-click (or equivalent), means that a computer can do 10,000 things in the time it takes a person to do one. For example, trying to guess a password – a modern desktop computer can easily try 1,000+ password guesses in a second, proceeding in a systematic attempt to break security by brute force. The weaker the password or other security, the more quickly success will be achieved in this manner.

There’s an inevitable compromise between security and accessibility when it comes to such things. The strongest password is a long string of apparently unrelated characters and numbers – but those are hard to remember and harder to type in accurately and even harder to type in both accurately and quickly. There are various ways around such problems – using a password manager to generate complex passwords for you, or using some system to derive that seemingly random string of characters. I even once saw a program that had the rules and statistics of the English language built into it so that, given a pair of letters, it could generate a password of any desired length that consisted of the least-likely characters to follow the preceding one, with a random choice when multiple options were possible.

This discrepancy poses serious problems for the GM when it comes to PC-computer interactions, because it means that the number of actions that can be launched and completed by an individual in the cyber-world is vastly disproportionate to the number of actions that can be carried out by other PCs in the real world.

In fact, there are three serious problems that arise. The first is that either the GM compromises the effectiveness of computer technology, reducing the effectiveness of the computer to “human” standards, or he gives the computer hacker a vastly disproportionate share of screen time. This problem is exacerbated by game systems that operate on a binary “success/fail” structure when assessing skill use.

One Stands Alone

The second problem is that all this screen time is necessarily conducted outside of the group environment; essentially, it is solo in nature and not collaborative. The other characters can’t interact with the hacker while he’s in “hack mode” and he can’t interact with them.

For example, think about how much information on a target a good hacker could accrue while the other PCs are engaged in a 45-minute drive across town to the target. Even without doing anything illegal, just using standard tools like Wikipedia and Google, how much information can you get in that period of time on any given subject? Would 90 relevant websites – two per minute – be unreasonable? Most would come up early, later it would be harder to find something that wasn’t a redundant regurgitation of information already retrieved. It actually takes longer to assimilate the information retrieved than it does to retrieve that information in the first place; the core of the subject – whatever it is – will probably be retrieved in the first 30 seconds, and you’ll spend more time excluding unwanted data than reading relevant information.

You couldn’t wrap your head around a vast subject – for example Microsoft Controversies – in such a short span. But on any specific subject – say, the 2007 Cricket World Cup? You may not gain enough information to be an “expert”, but you can certainly expect to be an “authority” on an amateur scale in such a period of time – unless the subject itself is so broad as to be useless in any realistic context. (A Google search for 2007 Cricket World Cup brings up 26,300,000 references; being more specific with a search for 2007 +”cricket world cup” refines the results to the most relevant 9,350,000 results. Of course, you might not understand all the nuances without also reading up on the rules of cricket – fortunately, there are another 8,480,000 web sites out there to help with that. There are even 71,900 web sites that deal with the overlap between the two subjects. It took me more time to type in the questions than it did to retrieve the results.

How about something really specific: The thermodynamics of frozen mercury? Well, obvious search terms are “solid mercury”, “supercooled metal”, “supercooled mercury”, and “frozen mercury” – perhaps refining all of the above with the additional term ‘thermodynamics’. Those searches yield, respectively:

  • “solid mercury” – 107 million results, down to 1,120,000 with “thermodynamics” as an additional term;
  • “supercooled metal” – 900 thousand results, down to 93,300 with “thermodynamics” as an additional term;
  • “supercooled mercury” – 427,000 results, increasing to 680,000 with the additional term “thermodynamics” included(!); and,
  • “frozen mercury” – 17,500,000 results, reduced to 746,000 with the additional search term.

The searches took perhaps 30 seconds, and already I know more on the subject than I did – notably, that frozen mercury can be sculpted using liquid nitrogen – there’s even youTube video of it being done!

And that’s only using the net for information retrieval; a properly set up system with various operations scripted in advance can permit a more substantial interaction with any computer connected to the internet almost as quickly as you can click on it. Changing someone’s identity? Crack the site, locate the database, search it for the record you want, overwrite it. The more automated that process, the faster the whole thing happens; it would take some fancy programming to get it to the “point-and-one-click” standard of ease, but it’s (unfortunately) not that far removed from it now.

The Impersonal Face Of I.T.

The final problem that comes from the differential in speeds is that “interacting” with computer systems is an impersonal activity – a series of die rolls. There’s no real interaction, no real capacity for role-playing, in that approach. Player rolls a dice, GM interprets the results – that’s it. Not very satisfying.

In fact, this is a consequence of the first two problems and hence only indirectly related to the “computer time” issue, but this is at the heart of the problem.

The Request For Help

The request for help didn’t elaborate on the problem with computer interaction that was being anticipated, and doesn’t specify game system – just a vague hope that there’s something more than the “roll a die” approach that is the last of the problems identified above.

Well, don’t despair, because there is a solution!

Computers in RPGs: A Solution

Having layed out the problems that the GM faces in trying to referee the man-machine interface, it’s time to consider solutions – preferably, one solution that solves or at least minimizes all of the specific problems identified.

Simulation, Thy Aim Is Virtual

In the late 1980s and beyond, it has become fashionable to create a virtual world for characters to inhabit while interacting with computers in any deep, meaningful, way. This is a concept that quickly migrated into RPGs – notably Cybertech’s “Cyberspace” and TORG’s “Godnet”. The reason is simple: it holds the seeds to cure virtually all the ills described previously.

The reason for the effectiveness of a VR world as a solution to these problems is that it reflects a translation of machine-scale (especially in terms of time) into a character-scale interaction. By using metaphor and symbolism to represent the various barriers and problems that the character hacking the machine encounters, and the tools that can be employed to assist in the solution of those problems, VR-simulation recasts computer events into roleplaying events. With voice-recognition style input mechanisms and text-to-voice systems – both of which have been around for a decade or so in primitive form, but which have not yet achieved seamless functioning – the entire experience of hacking a computer can be re-envisaged in this fashion, and the conversation between computer systems becomes a roleplaying event between the character and his target.

For my superhero game, I wanted to come up with a new metaphor for the internet, as perceived in this fashion. What I eventually settled on was a term derived from the Aboriginal Natives of my Australian homeland, “The Dreamtime”. The principles of The Dreamtime are simple: Everything happens as a character-level interaction and on a human time-scale; there is ONE die roll per action which is shaped and interpreted to describe the entire encounter; each system has its own metaphor, its own virtual world if you will, so that each time you penetrate a new computer you enter a strange new environment that can be anything I can imagine.

Aggregation is your ally

Making this approach work requires two adjustments to your thinking; the first is “aggregation” and the second is “variable time”, which I will discuss in the next section.

Aggregation is the principle of loading multiple subtasks into a single overall task and using a single die roll to ascertain the character’s success or failure at that overall task. For example, let’s talk about the act of filching a set of blueprints from a villain’s computer. The subtasks are breaking through the outer security layer that protects the computer systems from outside infiltration, evading the anti-tampering measures that continually search for unauthorized changes, searching the system for the blueprints, gaining access to the blueprints, packaging the blueprints for transport out of the host computer, and escaping the system without detection.

You could have the character make six or more die rolls for these six or more tasks, but a far better approach is to consider them all one big task – getting the plans out of the target computer, creating a virtual world to represent the target computer system and roleplaying the encounter as a metaphor for the larger task.

A key aspect to the concept of aggregation is that there are degrees of success and degrees of failure, and the function of the die roll is to determine where on this spectrum of possible outcomes events will fall, based on the character’s abilities, and the difficulty of the overall task.

  • I describe a castle, middle-ages European in style, with moat, portcullis, and drawbridge. This gives the basic motif of the virtual world the virtual character is going to enter.
  • The character doing the hacking makes his one and only skill check of the entire process, which indicates to me (as GM), but NOT to him, that a partial success will occur.
  • The player describes how the character overcomes the problems already thrown his way: the character swims the moat, fires a jet-propelled climbing hook so that it fixes to the battlements, climbs the rope attached to the climbing hook, then draws the rope up behind him. Since he doesn’t know what he will find on the battlements, he can’t go further without input from me.
  • I assess the difficulty of each substep relative to the difficulty of the overall task. If that difficulty indicates that the character would have failed the test, I can either apply a sufficient bonus that he succeeds (giving me a penalty that I can put in my pocket for later) or simply have the action fail, requiring the player to come up with an alternative approach.
  • I decide that the moat is easily crossed, and that climbing the rope is not overly difficult, and that the character succeeds in both. I indicate this success by describing the actions and then move on to describing the battlements. In effect, the character is using a back door to evade the initial security. If the back door approach is not going to work, the character will find nothing but solid stone on the battlements; if it is, either there will be a locked door or perhaps a palm-print scanner or whatever to be overcome before the backdoor is actually opened.
  • …and so on. There might be ghosts representing the internal security and suits of living armor blocking doors and puzzles and riddles and who knows what else to be overcome before the player achieves his reward.

The key is that I decide, based on the die roll, how successful the player is going to be, and where he will fall short of his overall objective. If the character rolls well enough, everything he tries will work (somehow), no matter how unlikely it is. If he rolls badly enough, everything he attempts will end in disaster. If he rolls somewhere in between – which is the most likely – perhaps he will get the blueprints, but be unable to carry them out; or will find where in the castle they are, but fail to get through the lock; or set off security; or even get away with the blueprints but only by leaving clear evidence that he did so. The success or failure of the character both shapes, and is shaped by, the overall plotline.

Time Doesn’t Fly When You’re Having Fun

The second key concept that a VR solution entails is that of Variable Time. Most RPGs take the position that each round a character gets to make a new die roll; this approach, by aggregating all those die rolls into one, also aggregates the time frames that are involved. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to realize that this means that just as there can be degrees of success involved, so the time taken to succeed in a subtask is also under the GMs control. The amount of time it takes to achieve any given task is under GM control – all a successful die roll means is that the character will succeed – eventually.

That means that the GM can configure the apparent difficulty to a level appropriate to the target – low for a fairly open public system, incredibly high for the arch-villain’s main computer – without compromising that impression with an easy success by the hacking player.

Even better, it means that the GM can run the hacking in temporal lockstep with the activities of non-VR characters, eliminating the problem of differing temporal rates altogether.

Interacting with the Intractable

Why stop there? Combat can occur between virtual characters, representing some sort of active opposition to whatever the character is trying to achieve, as compared to a passive obstacle like a moat, a door, or a lock. Damage inflicted would be to the systems and hardware that the character is using to “go online” and would affect his virtual self as though he had actually sustained the damage. A portion of the damage might even feed back as physical harm to the character as though he were in real combat.

The Ghosts In The Machine

The VR approach has proven itself in past uses in my campaigns, but of late I have taken it even further. I have realized that the nature of a computer system will reflect the personality and abilities of its creator and its programmer. Rather than a simple score to be overcome, the difficulty assigned should be a summation of all those who contributed to the system’s creation – and, since they can keep trying until they get it right, they are represented at their very best. That means the last line of defense should be a simulacrum of the system’s creator (the arch-villain, in the case of the example enquiry) – a creator who always rolls a natural 20 for anything prepared in advance.

That character’s normal skill levels will be applied to such tasks as disguising data, blocking hacking attempts, etc. The target will reflect the creator, or – to put it another way – the creator’s ghost will inhabit the machine that he has created.

Even if the basic hardware is off-the-shelf, each user will modify the system to better suit his own needs and uses. My computer set-up would not be the same as Johnn’s, even if we had identical computers; I would have options configured differently, I would have software installed that he does not have (and vice-versa) and so on. In the virtual world, that would make my computer a somewhat-inadequate reflection of me, and his computer a reflection of him.

Scorecheck

A quick check of the problems that were indentified earlier shows that the VR approach, with both Aggregation and Variable Time elements, not only solves or at least ameliorates them all, but it offers additional avenues for roleplay and characterization, and permits the GM to flex his creative muscles to the maximum.

It’s not a perfect solution, as there can be some additional prep involved, but as solutions to problems go, it’s not half bad.

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The Season Of Optimism


So it is Christmas once again, as happens every year at this time. This is a time of year that means many different things to different people. For some, it is a time of commerciality run rampant; for others, it is a profoundly religious celebration; for most people, it is a time to acknowledge family and renew bonds. In general, it is a season of optimism for the future, just as New Years Day is a celebration.

In the past, at this time of year, Campaign Mastery has looked at Re-creating Real Holidays for use in a campaign (2008), How to Create New Holidays for a game (2009), and offered ‘Tis The Season, a Christmas-based adventure that I had successfully run in my Superhero Campaign. This year, I thought I would generalise a little more and look at the concept of a celebration within a game in general terms.

The Season Of Renewal

According to Wikipedia, the customs of Christmas are a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and Secular themes and origins, and include:

  • gift-giving (the focus of the 2009 scenario),
  • one or more specific styles of music (Christmas carols),
  • the exchange of cards,
  • church celebrations,
  • a special meal (with some products like Christmas Puddings that are rarely consumed at other times of year), and
  • the display of a variety of decorations.

In addition to the religious aspects, a central figure known by many names including Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, and Kris Kringle which is associated with the giving of gifts to children.

Probably, this figure is an amalgam of many different stories and legends. Finally, there are the traditions of the Christmas tree, the gathering of family, the association with the Winter Solstice and its pre-Christian celebration, which has since been Christianized, and a tradition of charity that exists in many countries at this time of year.

These traditions vary widely from country to country. This article makes fascinating reading. The practices and status of the holiday season in Nigeria, Ethiopia, Pakistan, The Philippines, South Korea, the Czech Republic and Slovakia, Germany, Hungary, Poland, Georgia, the Ukraine, Estonia, Finland, Iceland, Bulgaria, Croatia and Slovenia, Portugal, and Mexico, offer especially interesting variations on the common themes.

The Symbolic Date

The Winter Solstice, when (in the northern hemisphere) the nights stop growing longer and the days shorter is a natural association with the concept of a season of renewal and celebration, especially in times when superstition and ignorance meant that no-one could be sure that warm weather would ever return. But that is not necessarily the most appropriate time for such a celebration to occur in a game.

Perhaps there was a victory in a great war at some point in the past, for example, or perhaps some great evil was driven out, or some natural disaster from which the populace in general was saved by a miracle (or luck).

Each of these variations is absolutely as legitimate a choice for the date of a Christmas-style celebration.

Cross-cultural Variations

The number of variations on the specifics of a celebration stems from cultural differences, climatic & agricultural differences, and the amalgamation of other celebrations of both a religious and secular nature, all coated with a layer of theology and surrounded by an effusion of crass commercialism. The same would be true of any other holiday that took the place of Christmas in a game world, though the specifics of what it was amalgamated with would vary.

Dismembering the holiday into the different aspects and attributes that it comprises permits some (appropriate) elements to be retained as a winter-solstice celebration while others can form part of other holiday occasions, including the “Christmas Variant”.

The Universal Celebration

Every culture needs and would contain some version of the Christmas celebration, but its nature and frequency could vary wildly. Spend some time thinking about the Elves and Dwarves, and their ‘festive seasons’ in a fantasy campaign, for example, and you are likely to come up with very different approaches and ideas.

Even those cultures which are not normally considered culturally progressive, such as that of the Bugbears, or Aliens, would have something along these lines – though the particulars might be radically different.

Cultural Contamination

Once you have some ideas for the nature of the celebration in all the significant cultures in your campaign, you can start contaminating them with one another. This process can either be slow (look at the status of Christmas in China for example) or accelerated by some form of conquest or domination.

This conquest does not have to be of a military nature, it could be theological, economic, social, intellectual, or anything else you fancy and that your campaign background supports.

Attitudes and race relations would also play a part – if two cultures are violently opposed to each other, one is likely to adopt social practices that are extremely opposed to those social practices of the other. (That’s one of the things that make Dark Elves so much fun – many of their practices would be inversions and perversions of Elvish traditions, while others would be common (if variated) to both. Some of these would undoubtedly conflict, and would require further cultural refinement to reconcile).

Economic Interactions

Once you know what the celebration modes are in the different cultures of the game world, you can start to examine the economic interactions that result, as the merchants of one culture seek to profit from the ‘pagan rituals’ of another. A time of plentiful fruit in one nation might mean that this occasion is marked by a scarcity of fruit in it’s neighbours. Just as the commercialization of Christmas has affected the real festive season, so these interactions would modify the local practices regarding the celebration.

The End Result

A lot of the advice we’ve offered when it comes to crafting in-game holidays over the years is stream-of-consciousness stuff, where ideas are piled apon one another and the dross extracted until you’re left with something that’s more or less satisfactory. That sort of exercise in imagination still has its place, but a little further work will integrate the holiday with your game and its cultures in ways you can barely imagine.

A Framework

The other thing that arises from this process is a framework for all the other holidays that you care to give a culture. Simply by identifying the elements that are NOT part of the unique festive season you craft for your game, you identify the elements that will make up these other holidays. If, for example, you have a fear-based holiday like Halloween which incorporates the singing of unique songs from Christmas, you can use that as a launchpad for further depths of campaign mythology: a legend that horrors walk the earth once a year spreading fear and violence but will avoid people of uplifted spirits.

This changes the entire orientation of the resulting holidays into something that is both unique and tightly integrated with your campaign.

Of course, some elements may repeat in two or more holidays – special meals are a common occurrence in everything from Lent to Easter, candy and small gifts are given to children at Easter and Halloween, and so on. The goal is not to make each holiday completely removed in nature from all others, but to make each unique and appropriate to your game. All you really need is a starting point, and the Festive Season contains so many elements that it is the perfect place to start!

Merry Christmas to all from everyone at Campaign Mastery!

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Taking everyman skills to the next level: The Absence of an Alibi


Introduction to ‘Everyman Skills’

As GMs develop in experience, and begin to develop their campaign worlds more extensively, they generally arrive at the idea of everyman skills. Typically, this idea will first emerge in a modern-setting campaign, or future-tech campaign, though this is becoming less true all the time. The idea is that characters, by virtue of living in the game world, have a certain level of assumed knowledge that may or may not be expressible through the existing skills structure.

In the modern day, for example, most people know the basics of how a car works. Most people know that car tires need air, and that the car uses petrol and has a battery. Most people know that newspapers come out daily with reports of the events their editors consider significant. Most people know how a telephone works, and that what uniforms a police officer wears, and have some idea of the basics of the legal system. Most people know how to signal a bus, and how to pay a fare, and whether or not to tip (and roughly how much) – and how to do it. Most people know what a TV ad is. And so on and on and on.

These skills and knowledges are known generically as “everyman” skills because everyone has them.

Differentiated Everyman Skills

Still more experienced GMs realize that their own experiences are not universal, and hence the content of an “everyman skills” bucket will vary from culture to culture and nation to nation. The knowledge and capabilities that are common to people in my country (Australia) are going to be a little different to those from a similar country (New Zealand, the USA, England), a little more different again in slightly less similar countries (Germany, Holland, France, and the rest of Western Europe); and the same progression can be observed, each successive degree of difference in culture being matched be an increase in the divergence between everyman skills. People from the most extreme differences – places like central Africa, the tribal regions of South America, and so on – may have so different a fundamental lifestyle and world experience that our everyman skills have virtually nothing in common.

Reflecting this differentiation requires some refinement to the very concept of everyman skills. There may be a number of ways of doing so, but the one I am most familiar with is based on the concept of cultural similarity, as is made evident in the preceding paragraph. Rather than a single group of “everyman skills”, there are an onion-skin of layers of everyman skills. Some are based on geographic socio-economics, some on nationalistic & cultural similarities, and some derive from a technological familiarity.

By breaking “everyman skills” up into “everyman skill packages” in this way, an appropriate skills package can be defined for any generic individual from any given culture for which a skills package has been defined.

The benefits of an “everyman skills” package approach

There are three huge benefits to be achieved by packaging everyman skills in this way.

A Common Foundation

The first is in providing a common foundation for all characters from a specific location or culture. This ensures that nothing that should be there is overlooked (unless it is overlooked for everyone equally, making it much simpler to correct). It also ensures that any divergence from that standard is a deliberate act, rather than an accidental oversight. Both these make it much faster and easier to generate new characters that derive from the origins that match the chosen set of everyman packages. Creating a new member of the military from modern Japan? Choose the military package, the modern Japan cultural package, and the modern Japanese citizen package and the only decisions relate to making the character unique and interesting; all the routine design is already incorporated.

The same approach works in Fantasy, in Science Fiction, in Pulp – in fact, in all genres of game.

The Common Man

The second big advantage that derives from everyman skills packaging is that ordinary citizens can consist of nothing BUT the appropriate everyman skills packages plus a fourth package representing their profession. That’s probably 99% of the game’s population that have just been statted out.

The Generic Man

The final advantage is one that is more subtle. Characters can start off being “The Common Man” and then be developed in-play into unique individuals. This spreads the creative burden out over a substantial period of time rather than forcing the GM to do everything up-front; and, what’s more, it means the GM never wastes time or creative juice on aspects of a character that never become significant. By allowing the GM to focus only on those aspects of the character refinement process that are directly relevant and to ignore the rest, the Generic Man approach cuts this aspect of game prep to virtually no time.

The Social Implications of Common Skills

All of this is background, and actually incidental to the real subject of this article, which is a commentary on the role that having common skills and experiences has on the society itself. Advanced GMs reflect the society in the skills; it takes an exceptional GM to take the next step on their own and start reflecting the existence of that common skill set within the society. I’ve been GMing for over 30 years and I’m only just catching the first glimmerings of this concept; but by making those glimmerings public, I hope to spread that insight around lower the required standard of expertise to something a bit more attainable – which in turn makes it easier to advance the concept.

The Absence Of An Alibi

The idea came to me while watching an episode of Columbo a little while back, when a vagrant insight wandered into my consciousness and made itself at home: “The absence of an alibi becomes less damning with increasing intellect and vice-versa.”

This is so counter-intuitive that I thought it worth exploring further, and intended to write a whole post specifically on the subject. The point, of course, is that we’ve all been conditioned by police dramas on TV and in fiction to consider an alibi vital to the proof of our innocence when a crime has been committed. It follows that if an individual plans to commit a crime, the more intelligent the individual, the more he will wish to arrange matters so that he has an alibi. Logically, then, the more intelligent the individual, the more likely of being innocent they must be thought if they have no alibi.

The entire premise of Columbo is that intelligent people will direct their intellect to the manufacture of an alibi, and it is Columbo’s role to penetrate that alibi, producing a contest of wits in which Columbo’s secret weapon is that he is able to dissemble and conceal his intellect; he furnishes an environment in which he can feed suspects enough rope until one of them hangs himself with it. That contest of wills is what makes the show interesting.

But, before the opportunity arose to actually finish the prospective article, I started to expand my thinking on the subject. Specifically, I realized the role that social environment plays in setting up this interpretation of evidence. It is purely because we are so used to police procedurals that we have reached the point of valuing an alibi, or the lack thereof, in this counter-intuitive fashion. Logical expectations of behavior have been inverted by the presence of an everyman skill.

Distilling General Statements

This is not a simple phenomenon. For all the simplicity of the original statement, as soon as you start to consider the reasons for its validity, and attempt to distill a statement describing the more general phenomenon, a scary number of complicated factors make themselves relevant. Sociology, and the interpretation of intelligence, and assumptions of behavioral and cultural norms. None of these are simple subjects.

It might be that the effect cannot be summarized in a single statement, but that a number of general statements have to be generated to describe the phenomenon, each of which can then be generalized.

  1. The Existence of Everyman Skills leads to the expectation that people will possess and utilize those everyman skills.
  2. Behavioral norms are to satisfy that expectation.
  3. The more intelligent the individual, the more they will present the appearance of a behavioral norm when one is not expected or appropriate to the circumstances.
  4. Behavioral norms when they are not appropriate are therefore a measure of intelligence applied to constructing a palatable social facade, begging the question of what lies behind the facade.
  5. A constructed facade can be used to provoke an underestimation of abilities.
  6. Failure to construct a palatable facade can make an individual appear more distinctive within their field, but can also be used to undermine their reputation.

That’s about as far as I can go. Extending and further generalizing these principles is a task for someone more able than I – or at least, more able than I am now.

How Is This Useful?

Well, let’s consider a particular character and see how these rules shape that character. I could pick “Smart Killer” to bring the whole question back to the starting source as a means of checking that these statements do indeed lead to the characteristics identified – that guilt in the intelligence requires a plausible alibi and vice-versa – but even if it succeeds, that won’t tell us anything new.

Instead, let’s go with “Honest Politician” and analyze the implications for two different characters – one who’s not especially smart, and one of high intelligence.

The Typical-intelligence Honest Politician
  1. It must be assumed that the character has all the “everyman” skills that a typical politician has, and will use them.
  2. Normal behavior for a politician is to behave in the way that people expect a politician to behave, since he has the skills to do so.
  3. The character is not especially intelligent, so his behavior in unusual circumstances will be equally unusual. His behavior is thus a guide to the normality of his circumstances.
  4. The character’s faults, whatever they may be, will be beyond his ability to hide behind a palatable facade; consequently, there will be a number of minor scandals or unfortunate occurrences in his life brought about by those faults. Since the character is presumably a politician of some experience, his faults must be relatively few and relatively innocuous; only a politician of this type who hasn’t been around very long can have a serious flaw without an accompanying career-ending scandal.
  5. It is unusual for this politician to be underestimated, though he may be overestimated. He will have few surprising victories or turnarounds on his public record.
  6. Various factions who desire a politician they can corrupt, or whose corruptibility they wish to utilize to their own ends, will oppose this politician. Since corruption logically yields a level of power and authority that is undeserved, this politician will be perpetually under siege from both within and without.

So the “dumb but honest” politician can be recognized by his having a number of minor scandals, and by the extent and diversity of those opposing him politically. What’s more, the honesty of others can be assessed by those who oppose him and those who support him: anyone supporting him may be relatively trustworthy, anyone sponsoring attempts to unseat him is relatively untrustworthy. The implication is that a spotless record after a lengthy career can only be achieved by deception and corrupt manipulation of the record.

All of that seems to make sense to me, especially the conclusions. So the logical pattern has described the circumstances and history that I would expect to find surrounding a character that met the description that I fed in at the start – and they are not at all what I would normally have done. No, if I wanted a politician of average intelligence and high honesty, I would have presented a figure without tarnish on his record who is a solid middle-ground figure, neither a party leader nor in charge of anything important, a character with no real room for individualism.

It’s the difference between a cliché and a realistic character. And it results in the same sort of logical inversion that started this whole train of thought.

The High-intelligence Honest Politician

One more, just to demonstrate (and test) the usefulness of this set of generalizations. The first steps will be exactly the same as the previous example, because they are analyzing the elements that are in common between the two characters, “honest politician”:

  1. It must be assumed that the character has all the “everyman” skills that a typical politician has, and will use them.
  2. Normal behavior for a politician is to behave in the way that people expect a politician to behave, since he has the skills to do so.
  3. This is an intelligent character, so he is going to appear to be a typical politician even in unusual or inappropriate circumstances.
  4. His outward social exposure will therefore be of a manufactured facade.
  5. Others will have underestimated the character in the past. He will have a few surprising successes under his belt, and is likely to be pushed to the forefront, professionally.
  6. Any attacks on this character will take the shape of attacks on his positions on various subjects and policies, rather than personal attacks, save only those attacks that suggest that he is “hiding something”. He will only be really vulnerable to attack when he makes a mistake (or is held responsible for a mistake), where his honesty will tend to make him fall on his sword for others, where a less honest man would find a way to deflect the blame.

So this gives us a pattern by which to identify the type of public servant we really want to elect: competent, and attacked for his role in failed policies. The latter will hold his advancement back from the absolute top of his profession, but he will still have enough competence to find his way into senior positions. The litmus test for honesty is how the character defends himself when faced with accusations relating to failed policies – if the character appears responsible for the failure, he should be reelected (but probably won’t be), if he deflects responsibility then he shouldn’t be trusted (but can probably get back into office through party politics).

Again, this seems to make sense, but is a total inversion of the expectations one would normally have. So much so that I find it necessary to reevaluate my opinions of many political figures for whom I have voted (or not voted). It’s certainly a somewhat different profile to the one I would normally apply to this sort of character in my campaigns – and explains why I have sometimes had an uphill battle convincing the players of a politician’s honesty.

Conclusions

Notice that it makes no difference where or when the politicians are from, provided that the basic essentials are the same as those of the modern era. If politicians did not have to face reelection, there might be some differences to take into account, but in general, it doesn’t matter if we’re talking about Roman Senators or Ancient Greeks or Medieval village mayors.

The same questions work with respect to policemen, or librarians, or blacksmiths. The only thing you need to decide is the basic personality of the character and what the general social expectations are of that generic character; feed those through the questions and the results will translate the combination into the set of circumstances that would typically surround the character – with perfect consistency every time.

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Ghosts Of Blogs Past: All The World’s A Suggestion Box



This irregular column resurrects (relevant) lost blog posts from Mike’s 2006 personal blog on Yahoo 360 and updates them with new relevance and perspective.

From December 2006:

There’s never enough time to do everything right – so concentrate on the little things that make everything else tolerable.

It’s easy to underestimate how big a contribution you make to the world in general in the course of your daily life. It’s even easier to forget how much you owe to others for the little things that improve your own life, that make it more convenient or more satisfying. I’ve been privileged enough to see it happen three times, and those events form a lasting reminder of the second point.

The first occasion was when I went to work for the Australian Bureau Of Statistics on the Australian population census for the second time, in 2002, and saw that many of the suggestions that I had made 5 years earlier had been implemented. Usually, at the end of a project like the census, there is a file about a centimeter thick of suggestions from staff for further examination, and another about 1/4-1/2 that size of ideas that were actually put in place in the course of the project. There’s also a third file of suggestions that were impractical or not beneficial or rejected for any of half-a-dozen more reasons. One of the managers who I knew on both occasions told me that after my first stint on the census, the stack of suggestions taken away for further consideration was a couple of inches thick – so many that my suggestions had been put into a separate folder to those of everyone else!

At the time, I wasn’t aware of how many ideas I was putting forward, and had absolutely no notion of the usual numbers of suggestions; I simply took a moment to jot down, and pass on, ideas as they came to me, in ones and twos, each week. Most of them weren’t all that earth-shaking in nature, either; just little things that might improve efficiency by a fraction of a percent or so. But 50 improvements of one-quarter-of-a-percent each adds up to more than 10% improvement – and when you’re dealing with a multimillion dollar project, and hundreds of staff working for the best part of a year or more, that’s fairly significant. And I hadn’t put forward and analyzed a mere 50 suggestions – there were over 200 set aside for further consideration. That first census took 14 months to process; the second took 10 months. Two of those were saved through advances in technology – scanning and handwriting recognition. At least part (and from what I was told at the time, a large part) of the other two months came from my suggestions. A faster way to code this, or a way to do without that, or a less confusing way to process the other.

The second occasion came on the day in 2006 that this blog was originally posted, when I returned to the Job Network member that I had been registered with prior to my back injury. I hadn’t made as many suggestions there – more complaints about the bureaucracy getting in the way, and a lack of flexibility about the policies. The reply at the time was that they needed to cater for the people who didn’t have access to the resources – the lowest common denominator. I replied that greater flexibility would not only prevent people with the extra resources from being slowed down by the bureaucracy, it would also free up the job network’s resources, enabling them to focus on the people who needed that little bit more help, and put my suggestions in writing. Today, I found that these arguements had not fallen on deaf ears; and that gives me at least a small hand in every job the agency had found for its unemployed members over the 18-24 months since.

The third occasion was with the 2006 census. In 2002, I had wondered aloud as to why people couldn’t fill out the census forms online. The Australian Tax Office had just successfully implemented online personal income tax returns, and I saw no reason why the same technology couldn’t be used for the Census. In reply, a couple of unsolved problems were pointed out to me; this surprised me, because I hadn’t foreseen any difficulty in solving those issues, and set out in writing a number of suggestions for making the technique practical. In 2009 on the ABS website, I saw that they had been trialing an online reply method for use in this year’s census – and from the description of the process, all those unsolved problems had been solved using the technique suggestions I had put forward. So not only will the taxpayers have to pay less for the census of population and housing in 2005, many will also be able to complete the process more quickly and conveniently.

Pretty much the only way to become aware of the impact that you’ve had is to return to a workplace or association after an extended absence. It’s necessary to be able to contrast the way things are “now” with the way they were when you left. When you can remember suggesting some of the changes, even simply raising them as discussion points, that’s when you can put your hand up and say with some pride, “I had a hand in that”.

And yet we make these contributions all the time – just by talking to our friends and neighbors and employers, doing our jobs, and satisfying the bureaucracy that surrounds our lives. Every labor-saving technique or method that you use – usually without even being aware of it – was someone’s idea once. So, if you have an idea that would make your job easier, tell it to someone – and encourage others to do the same. If there’s an inconvenience that can be done away with, tell someone!

We all have to do this, because the average age in western societies is rising rapidly, and the workforce of tomorrow is going to have to do a lot more with a lot fewer staff. It’s not unlikely that there will only be half as many workers, 30 years from now, as there are today. That number comprises two effects: the actual reduction in worker numbers, and the fact that of those who are left, a high percentage (perhaps as many as 10-20%) will be occupied caring for the retired and aged.

During the great depression, unemployment hit a peak of about 40% amongst the white community, and 56% among the minorities, in North America. This will be 50% across the board – which should put it into perspective.

Between now and then, there will be a series of economic crises to be ridden out, just as there have always been. Each of them will be longer and deeper because of this factor. And is it any wonder that outsourcing is a hot topic at the moment, and will remain so? Places like India and Asia are where the people are; the people that need to be recruited and trained, ready to take over when you retire.

Every helping hand the people of tomorrow can get will make the mechanisms of society that you will depend on in retirement, work that little bit more smoothly.

It’s in our own best interests.

Why repost this here?

Most of the posts that I am going to resurrect for this column – and there are only a dozen or so earmarked for that treatment – are directly gaming-related. This one, at first glance, is not. So why repost it here, now?

There are two reasons. Firstly, there are lessons here that apply to games and gaming; and secondly, this is the background against which our hobby must exist in the future, and the economic and social effects discussed at the end of the original post describe the economic and social climate that will shape and influence gaming products in the future.

Return To The Scene Of The Crime

Perceiving the difference that my contributions had made required two things: an interval spent elsewhere and a return to the scene of the contributions.

The same is true of PCs and their influence on the world around them; if they’re living in the location all the time, the day-to-day changes they cause will be small and incremental. While these changes may accumulate over time into something substantial, there is insufficient contrast between what is and what was for the players to really observe that they are making a difference to the world around them in smaller, more fundamental ways than just the immediate outcome of adventures.

This effect should show up in games in two ways.

Deliberate Environment Dynamics

If the GM wants the players to feel like their presence is making a difference in the campaign world, he should occasionally throw in the occasional brief separation from their usual environment. This is especially true of a sandboxed campaign like Johnn’s Riddleport campaign, or campaigns where the whole point is for the characters to change the world (usually for the better, but YMMV), such as a superhero campaign. On the other hand, the more static the game environment is to be, the less time you want them to spend away from a single adventuring environment, because that will minimize their sense of significance in the game world.

Mandated Dynamic Changes

The same phenomenon dictates that if characters DO step outside their usual adventuring environment, the amount of change that they become aware of when returning dictates their awareness of the impact they are having on the world around them. The perceived importance of the PCs to the game world is therefore a manipulable quality in the hands of the GM.

For example, in my Shards Of Divinity campaign, the PCs started adventuring in the Capital City of the Shared Kingdoms; went elsewhere to adventure; returned to the Capital City; again went elsewhere; and are once again about to return to the Capital City. This pattern is an ongoing effect within the campaign until the leader of the PCs sets up his own Kingdom, some time later in the campaign.

The first time that they returned, there was relatively little change, because they had not done very much of significance while in the city the first time around. When they return this time, there will be substantially greater impact evident, because on their LAST visit they became considerably more involved in a number of ways. The consequences and ramifications of those events (which in fact forced them to depart ahead of their planned schedule or face serious trouble) have had plenty of time to develop and snowball and interact, and the political environment into which they are about to step will have changed dramatically in consequence. There will be differences to the social, political, theological, and economic status of the city, and these will start to make themselves known to the party even before they actually pass through the gates of the walled city.

The economics of gaming as a hobby

In any sort of economic downturn, several things happen with regards to society and entertainment. People feel the need to seek out active relief from their day-to-day troubles, even if only for a little while; at the same time, disposable incomes go down, so that the efficiency needed of an entertainment dollar has to increase.

Overall, there is a rise in escapist literature and entertainments in such times, and more immersive experiences also tend to fare better. During the downward slide, dystopian pessimisms and styles predominate both musically and in the media, while these become alloyed with a more optimistic perception during the slow recovery. Get the product right for the time, and success will exceed expectations; work the cycle the wrong way round, and you can lose your shirt. A sufficiently inspirational product can even shape attitudes and trigger a certain social climate out-of-cycle for a period of time, but those tend to be few and far between.

The implications of the combination are not promising for big, deluxe game books like those published by WOTC. They are considerably more favorable for e-books and operations like Drive-Thru RPG / RPGNow. E-books are the future, simply because the lower overheads involved cut production costs to 1/3 or more for a comparable product.

For a product that’s full-color, 200 pages or so, WOTC and similar companies have to charge $50 or more simply because it costs them $40 or more to physically produce and promote the book. Costs can be contained through a reduction in the use of colour, and through a reduction in the quality of paper, and this was exploited by Hero Games in the production of the Hero System, 5th edition, as well as the first edition of games such as Hackmaster by KenzerCo.

But even these production economies fall short of the potential of electronic documents. A full-colour 200+ page e-book can be produced for a fraction of the cost of even a similarly-sized dead-tree product in black and white. That means that profit margins can be the same for a much smaller total price – so the consumers get more for their gaming dollar.

E-book limitations: Dead-tree comparisons

There are three shortcomings to the electronic format and all of these need to be addressed before the full benefits of the format can be realized.

The first is that for all the technological advances, dead-tree products are still easier to read and are still preferred by a substantial slice of the market. This is a social limitation as much as a technological one. There is some reasonable expectation that the technology will eventually solve its part of the problem – there have been several advances in that direction over the last decade – but until reading an electronic format is no more tiring than reading a physical one, the problem is not completely addressed. The social aspect can only be resolved in the long-term by acceptance of the technological solution, and there too progress is being made, but a final solution awaits the necessary advances in technology and format.

There remains essential research to be done before such a solution can be determined. What is the role of strong contrast between type and page, for example? Is the tiredness associated with reading onscreen documents reduced by altering the contrast levels of margins or is it only where text lies on the page? Should contrast levels alter to highlight the paragraph that is currently being read instead of having uniform contrast over the entire page? Should contrast levels change as a function of the time spent reading the document within the current sitting?

Lots of questions. I’ve no doubt that people like Apple (for the iPad) and Amazon (for the Kindle) are looking into this sort of question; a solution is only a matter of time.

Copyright and Fair Use

The problems of properly remunerating creative individuals for their contributions in the face of technological progress is one that will continue to plague electronic media of all forms for the foreseeable future. In many ways, the problems predate the current level of technology involved – analogous issues occurred when Philips first came up with the portable cassette, or when the photocopier was invented.

In recent times, the choice has been perceived in extreme terms, between repressive and coercive monopolies and an anarchic counterculture. Slowly, a compromise is being worked out through operations such as iTunes and other legal download sources that satisfy no-one completely but fall short of the extremist positions previously advocated. In gaming, the analogous development is the OGL, which satisfy both the right to profit from ones labors and the user-friendliness of permissions to utilize and generate derivatives. Unfortunately, the market leader (for good or ill) of our hobby, WOTC, has seen fit to retreat somewhat from the principles of the OGL and adopted a more repressive regime with 4e, one which shows that they never really understood why the OGL made D&D 3.x so successful in the first place. Until these issues are completely resolved, the portability and ease of duplication of electronic products will stifle their acceptability within the industry and the public at large.

In the meantime, another partial solution that will rise in popularity is print-on-demand, which performs a media translation from electronic to dead-tree format. For the next decade or more, this will be a growing aspect of the gaming industry.

Distribution & Marketing

Perhaps the biggest hurdle to be overcome is the rise in background noise generated by so many electronic products scrambling for attention. It was the strength of the existing and established techniques for distribution and marketing that was the media companies’ strongest arguement for perpetuating their role as dominant figures in the entertainment marketplace. (I say was, because there seems to be a lot less promotion going on these days – the money being spent on enforcement of artificial ‘rights’ has been diverted from promotional activities in general, and as a result it is both easier to access music and harder to know what you want to access. Even well-known, well-established artists release new product that vanishes without disturbing public awareness in the modern era. How, then, do the media companies continue to justify their positions as arbiters of public success?)

The same is true of gaming products. There are some that are successful because they have huge marketing and distribution machines behind them; there are others that are successful at a smaller scale through smaller marketing and distribution systems; and there are some small-press organizations that struggle to get noticed. In fact, there’s a whole spectrum from individuals doing it all for themselves all the way up to the 500-pound gorilla of the gaming world, WOTC.

Imagine that you have a product that will appeal to 10% of the potential market, i.e. one-in-ten gamers will consider buying this product. Get the price wrong, and profitability (and with it, longevity), will suffer – or marketability will suffer, if the mistake is in the other direction. But let’s assume that you’ve done your homework and have the price exactly right. Of those one-in-ten, perhaps half will actually commit to a sale – your conversion rate – based on how appealing you make the product to the market. Previews and samplers and adverts and promotions and reviews all feed into the credibility of the product, and its perceived value for money, and hence into that conversion rate. That means that of all those who hear of your product, at best, you will sell to one-in-twenty. The challenge that remains is to have your product noticed. At best, it can be argued that 1% of your possible market will ever hear of your product, or will pay attention when they do hear of it. More likely, only one tenth or one one-hundredth or one one-thousandth of that number will even know that you and your product exist.

Marketing and promotion are the hardest thing to get right, especially when it comes to electronic products, and I speak from personal experience. Until there are mechanisms in place to bring professionalism and expertise to this aspect of e-book production at an affordable price, e-books will run a poor second to dead-tree products in overall profitability – because Book Stores and Gaming Shops are well-established businesses these days, and there is no comparable promotional medium for electronic products save grassroots word-of-mouth.

The shape of the future

At some point in the future – and you can see this happening already with regard to gaming blogs like Campaign Mastery – what I foresee is the rise of the co-op: a number of independent game-product producers banding together to provide professional services to all the members of the co-op. Editing, Marketing, Layout, Promotion and Marketing – all these functions can be provided to a higher standard by a co=op, at lower cost, than by individuals alone. Done right, such an organization can even challenge the existing market leaders.

It has happened before, in the music industry, and in the motion picture industry, and in television production, and even in fiction publishing and general literature. Eventually, the co-ops are treated as just another Big Company within the industry, but that takes years.

Instead of a game writer or producer having to reinvent the wheel in every one of the production disciplines, they would have a backbone of community expertise to draw apon. Everything from budgeting, artwork, legal, and licensing services would be provided. A member pays their annual dues and gains access to all these professional services, as necessary, for a separate fee. Collective bargaining, as always, acts to reduce overheads and increase performance-per-dollar.

Only through such a structure can electronic products really compete with that 500-pound gorilla. And, with the foreseeable changes in market conditions of an aging population, even out-perform that gorilla in the long run.

The games industry – like all industries – faces increasingly challenging times over the next two or three decades. We’re going to need every advantage we can carve out in order to not only survive, but prosper. At the same time, the opportunities for growth are tremendous.

Will we take advantage of them? That remains to be seen.

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Back To Basics: Example: The Belt Of Terra


This is part four from two (yes, you read that right) in a discussion of the basic principles of creating adventures and hooking them together to form a campaign; I wasn’t originally going to include these examples, feeling that the principles would be clearer to the reader if they weren’t distracted by another narrative threat running concurrently – and because (like many things in the real world) they don’t quite fit the nice, neat theoretical discussions of the first two parts.

This example will be somewhat different and more involved than the last one (The White Tower) because the latter was written up after the fact, while this example is being developed as I write. Hopefully this will illustrate my thought processes and approach more clearly and completely It will certainly make this a much bigger article.

background

“The Belt Of Terra” has been kicking around underfoot as a campaign element since the superhero-campaign-before-last. It gave the wearer the ability to magically manipulate and rearrange rocks and earth in a fairly limited way – so limited, in fact, that UNTIL were able to capture the wearer and remove the belt with no involvement of the then-PCs at all.

That was when the mystery started. One of the houses of Demon (I forget which one) staged a raid in an attempt to capture the belt – an attempt that expended far more resources than the powers of the belt seemed to justify. Accordingly, it was to be handed over to the PCs for examination and safekeeping.

Before they could do so, another House of Demon summoned and mind-controlled an ex-member of the team, which was the whole point of the exercise – the belt was nothing more than a Macguffin to justify the attempted infiltration, and identifying and repelling that infiltration was what the PCs focused on. This then led to a third encounter with a villain the party had destroyed twice earlier, a Nazgul-infused version of Frodo named the Hobbitlord who had usurped the power of Sauron. By the time the team had:

  • Fought off the House Of Demon that was raiding UNTIL to try and capture the belt;
  • Deduced that their ex-member (a Chinese dragon) was deceiving them;
  • Determined that he was being mind-controlled;
  • Captured him;
  • Tracked the mind-control back to those responsible;
  • Defeated them;
  • Returned with their now-liberated ex-teammate to the Hobbitlord’s domain;
  • Defeated the Hobbitlord and his Nazgul (again); and
  • Returned home,

The belt itself had been all-but-forgotten by everyone concerned.

There was never a reasonable justification given as to why the belt was of such interest to Demon that two separate Houses would go to such extraordinary lengths to try and capture it. And why did they stop?

Since the new campaign is devoted to tying up a lot of loose ends, and this is most definitely just such a loose end, it behooves me to try and come up with some explanation as to the why and the wherefores, then see if I can build an adventure around the solution.

First Thoughts

There is obviously more to the belt than there appeared. It has never been properly examined by a mage, so there is ample reason to assume that the team had mistakenly taken it at face value and overlooked this mystery.

Four Traditional Elements

Perhaps the belt is just part of a set, representing the four traditional elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, respectively.

  • Earth would give control of solids and cold and pressure, which make other things solid;
  • Air would give control of atmospheres and gasses;
  • Fire would give control of heat and plasma and energy in general;
  • Water would give control of liquids and living things (which are mostly liquids).

Together, these would be far more powerful in combination than any one of them alone. But this seems a little pedestrian and obvious – it’s on a par with what the team thought the belt could do, but is not enough (even if they have the other three) to justify the level of interest shown by Demon, and it lacks enough depth to be really interesting. This is a dry hole.

Truisms Of Magic within the Campaign

There are three or four general principles of magic within the campaign. Since the belt is supposedly arcane in nature, perhaps there’s an idea there to exploit.

  • Similarity: Things that are similar to each other can exert an influence over each other;
  • Contagion: Things that were once part of something can exert an influence over the original object;
  • The more power a mage has, the more control he has, and the more control he has, the more power he can tap;
  • All things contain one or more spirits or proto-spirits that can be accessed psychometrically or whose attributes can be shared with a mage through a symbolic link.

The third item on the list sparks a thought: perhaps the character, Terra, from whom the belt was captured, was someone with virtually no arcane ability, and hence he was able to access only the most limited powers of the Belt. A more powerful/skilled mage might have been able to access far more power.

Parallel Worlds and the Multiverse

Parallel Worlds and a Multiversal Cosmology are established canon within the campaign. But no-one has really looked at what that means in terms of the laws of magic; the principles of Contagion and Similarity argue that what affects one world can also affect others. Perhaps the belt doesn’t manipulate “The” Earth, it manipulates ALL earths – assuming it was wielded by a powerful-enough mage?

Do all Earths have a parallel-world version of the “Earth Spirit” – called Gaia for ease of reference? Perhaps the Belt can unite them and connect them in various ways. That would be powerful enough to attract Demon’s attention. Or are all these Earth Spirits just aspects of one singular, more powerful Earth Spirit? Controlling THAT would certainly be enough of a prospect to interest Demon. Or, perhaps the belt actually imprisons an Earth Spirit.

Of these notions, I like the first one more as it’s more suggestive of unique visual effects to accompany the use of the powers of the belt.

What can the belt do?

With a vague notion as to the nature of the powers, I can start thinking about what the real powers of the belt might be. Ideas immediately start flowing:

  • The belt only appears to rearrange the earth or part thereof; in reality, it forces the shape of the area effected to assume the shape of an alternate Earth, and vice-versa.
  • The wielder doesn’t actually fly through the air on a boulder or mound of earth, even though that’s what it looks like; in reality, it reconfigures the piece of earth or rock that he’s standing on to conform to a hill or mountaintop on a parallel Earth that is at just the right height without bringing with it the geographical feature underneath – and then, before the unsupported peak can fall, another, and then another. This permits the user to appear to “fly”.
  • The wielder can bring forth one side of a geographic feature, then replace it with another that is a little farther away and then another still more distant, so that it appears as though a “wave” of earth is rolling away from his hand – until it reaches the target and “breaks” over him, burying the target beneath tons of rock and earth.
  • The wielder can summon thin strips of a geographic feature that appear from the base and lance outward like spears.
  • The wielder can part the earth like the red sea, and have it come crashing back together on top of anything caught between the “waves”.
  • The wielder can open portals from one world to another, summoning forth anything from humanoid Nazi Rodents to Cretaceous-era insect swarms or dinosaurs. He can bring forth vehicles (with occupants) who are already travelling at high speed in the direction he desires so that they will crash into a target, using the innocent as weapons.
  • Earthquakes, Volcanic eruptions, waterfalls of magma.
  • By rearranging the ocean floors, the wielder could control the gulf stream or equivalent, and hence alter the climate of whole continents.
  • Perhaps the wielder can bring forth the gravitic field of other Earths, subjecting a location of his choice to higher-than-normal gravity, at the price of creating zero-G or lower-G conditions over a similar area on other worlds.
  • The wielder could have objects of any weight he desires lifted up into the air by reducing the gravity that holds them down.
  • Reducing the gravitic field of an area would instantly reduce the weight of the air, which would expand accordingly, lowering the barometric pressure. Air (Gasses) or liquids would rush into the column of reduced gravity from the unaffected regions – this could create storms, tornadoes, and/or waterspouts as the wielder desired.
  • In theory, the belt would permit the wielder to reshape the continents themselves, or draw on the power of multiple planets – in fact, a virtually infinite number of planets. Hence, it yields virtually infinite power; but in practice, no wielder can harness and control that much power, the attempt would tear them apart.

Now that’s a rather more impressive, and desirable, artifact – but one whose nature and power has been concealed by the fact that it was wielded by a magically-inept wielder.

Expanding the core concept

With a core concept now in place, my next step is to list as many unanswered questions as I can think of by free association, and then start answering them. So here goes:

Who made it? What is it? Where does it come from? What is its purpose? How did the different Houses of Demon know about it, and how much do they know about it? Why did they stop trying to acquire it – or have they found a more subtle approach? What undiscovered attempts have these Houses of Demon made since? With one or more Houses of Demon allied (at the point in the campaign when this adventure is to occur), how much can they tell the PCs about it – and why didn’t they do so right away? Who else might know of its existence? Who else might want it? Why don’t the arcane heavy-hitters of the campaign want to get their hands on it – ignorance is not a comprehensive enough reason. What is the Belt’s destiny within the campaign? How do I as GM stop a PC from claiming its power? Are there undesirable consequences to using it? How did Terra come into possession of the belt, and who had it before he did? Who else has possessed the belt in the past, and what have they done with it? What is known about Terra himself?

Each of these questions, once answered, will shed light on and restrict the other questions.

Who made it?

There are several possibilities that immediately come to mind. The greatest mage on the planet was once an enemy of the PCs and dabbled in creating supervillain flunkies to help him defeat them – he might be responsible. Or perhaps a refugee/escapee from the interstellar empire he founded on an alternate Earth (destroyed in Ragnerok and its citizens scattered throughout the multiverse) could have done it. One of the Houses of Demon specializes in advanced arcane powers and skills, they might have done it. (Was this one of the Houses who tried to steal it? Must check. Also, are any of the houses who tried to get it back amongst the Houses who could potentially ally with the PCs? Must double-check). Perhaps some ancient evil created it? There are several floating around the Campaign, and some have created artifacts for various purposes that have surfaced in the past. Lastly, there is someone else entirely.

Having made this list of possible answers to the question, the next step is to analyze each of them, looking for logic failures, obvious consequences (both desirable and undesirable), and ramifications for the other questions – and for the other plotlines within the campaign.

  • Mandarin, the greatest mage ever active in the campaign who was native to the planet, is a plausible source on the face of it. He created supervillains, and created arcane artifacts for his own use. But if this was the case, it would have come out when he went from villain to ally, so campaign history contradicts this solution.
  • A refugee/escapee from the Empire Of Mandarin is also plausible, but this fails the critical test of being too similar to a scenario I’ve already run. There would need to be something pretty unique about the subject of this solution or it would just be boring; better to look for an alternative.
  • A House Of Demon… there are definite possibilities there, but do I really want them to have the level of arcane expertise required to pull off something like this? When the Belt was a low-grade Wondrous Item, it would have been within their reach – bet, as revised, it’s far too powerful. And going back to that low-powered vision of what the Belt can do would make the whole adventure an anticlimax.
  • A House Of Demon. There is a way around those difficulties, and that is to have had the House be “inspired” to create the Belt by some other source. Those who read last week’s example will note that I considered just such an origin for The White Tower but didn’t use it – leaving it available for use here.
  • A House Of Demon. Another possibility is that the House Of Demon were “inspired” not to create the item, but to liberate it from somewhere else where someone else had it hidden. Either of these last two solutions would answer the question of how the Houses Of Demon knew about the belt, while limiting their knowledge somewhat – one House had possession of the belt, but lost it, while the other learned of it through a spy within the ranks of the first House. But neither of these answers is sufficient alone to answer the current question, they simply remove the solution to arm’s length.
  • An ancient evil is our second last answer. The campaign is well-populated with ancient evils, any number of which could have created the belt; but it doesn’t fit the personalities of any of them to have done so and then either have ignored the belt in their subsequent encounters with the PCs or not to have used it. That really kills off the “inspired” answer as well. And besides, once again, this is also too similar to past plotlines and to a plotline of greater importance already scheduled to occur in this campaign.
  • That leaves only the most difficult but most creative of the possible solutions: someone or something new.
Looking For Clues

What clues do I have to the identity or nature of that someone or something new?

Well, there’s the name, “Terra”. Terra was described at the time as a thug and a bully, not especially bright, and certainly not well-educated. If such a person had come into possession of the type of abilities that he exhibited, he probably would have called himself “Bulldozer” or “Earthmover” or even “Massey-Ferguson”, he was certainly nowhere near educated enough to be able to know the Latin word “Terra” – so how had he come by the name?

As soon as I thought the above, my mind flashed back to a rejected answer to an earlier question – “Gaia” was the original Earth-Goddess of Greek mythology. “Terra” is also her equivalent in the Roman Pantheon. In the Theology of the campaign, these are both names for the same being. One or more of the Greco-Roman gods could certainly fit the bill as the identity of the “someone else”.

Why might they create such an item? Perhaps I should review their history within the campaign at this point.

The Greco-Roman Gods in the Zenith-3 campaign

The G-R Gods, sometimes known in the campaign as the Grecoan Gods, united the primitive tribes of Greece and founded a theology that lasted beyond the collapse of that civilization. The Greeks spread their faith to all corners of their empire, and other tribes that they encountered beyond those borders found their own concepts of theology blending with that of the Greeks. When the Roman civilization arose, the Greek Gods quite happily accepted new names and a new subject population with whom to indulge their whims.

Whether or not Augustus was in fact Divinely Appointed to Imperial Rule is unknown, but starting at around this time, the Grecoan Gods began to withdraw from involvement in the day-to-day lives of the citizens of the Roman Empire and increasingly gave themselves over to a life of carousing and debauchery. They abandoned active involvement in human affairs entirely with the rise of Christianity for a completely hedonistic existence on their traditional home of Mount Olympus – not the mountain peak which exists to this day in Greece, but an extra-dimensional realm accessible by climbing that mountain.

By the twentieth century, the Gods were pretty much bored out of their skulls – a life of perpetual Dionysian excess can entertain for just so long – and were thoroughly tired of existence. Some were so given over to this Nihilistic attitude that they actively sought ways to achieve it, which is how they came to interact with the PCs of the campaign.

They tried to meddle in Ragnerok, and caused several other problems – so much so that the PCs and their Asgardian Allies used Thor’s Hammer to detach their extra-dimensional mountaintop from the Earth and flung it into space in order to deflect the recently-ignited Jupiter, which had been renamed Jove when it was thrown out of orbit to menace the Earth. With the transformation into a short-lived (by astronomical standards) Red Dwarf star, the surface of Jove had expanded massively, engulfing the subspace Warp Point in orbit around it. Plasma streamed through the Warp Point from deep beneath the surface, effectively providing a thrust that had dislodged the protostar from its solar orbit and sent it slowly careening toward the inner solar system, accelerating continuously. To shield the Earth from the worst of the resulting crisis, Olympus was used to deflect Jove – just a little, but enough that the Jovian passage was merely a global cataclysm and not the cause of total destruction.

It was engulfed and consumed by the ex-planet as Ragnerok approached, and presumed destroyed.

Mysteries Of The Pocket Dimensions

There are a number of mysteries concerning pocket dimensions like Asgard, Avalon, and Mount Olympus that have never been answered within the campaign. One of them is the fact that while there are many parallel Earths, there is only one of each of these “special” realities, common to all those alternate Earths – but that alternate Earths are not accessible through these special realities. This is something that the PCs have discovered in the past and then forgotten, and that has never been properly explained.

The “Belt Of Terra” adventure might be an opportunity to expand the campaign’s cosmology to cover this previously-unexplored territory. Yes, there is a solution, it just hasn’t come up in play – and to avoid digressing too far from the problem at hand, I’m not going to go into that solution now.

But there is another mystery concerning these pocket dimensions, and it is directly relevant to the current campaign: what holds the whole shebang together?

Something anchored Mount Olympus to the top of a Greek mountain and maintained a passage from Earth to Olympus and back. This connection was somehow severed for Thor to be able to do what he did – so clearly something changed. Could that something have been the creation of the Belt Of Terra? Or simply it’s removal from the place and function that it had been performing until that time? If that is the case, then Gaia would have been the creator of the belt – and in her aspect as the spirit within the belt, the fragments of her identity that permitted the villain Terra to use its power could have communicated the name to him.

That would fit reasonably well with the concept of what the Belt is and does, though a belt seems to be a very prosaic object for such a purpose. But if what appears to be a belt is actually something else, it could still work. And, if one Olympian Deity survived, even in part, why not more? That sounds like the foundations for a reasonable adventure. The Grecoans return, still seeking their destruction.

Campaign Significance

The reason this could be significant to the current campaign is that the Nine Realms of Asgard and Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, were shattered and flung off into hyperspace by Ragnerok. One of the PCs personal quests, which forms part of the climax of the new campaign, is to find and restore Asgard. Maybe the team will need something to bind them all together.

This was a function of the Midgard Serpent prior to Ragnerok, but the Serpent was killed in that cataclysm as the gods made war. Until now, I’ve been assuming that the carcass of the serpent could still wind through the nine realms and tie them together, anchoring them to Yggdrasil, the One Tree. But what if, by manifesting a serpentine body for the confrontation with the Norse Gods and then being killed, the serpent had unbound the nine realms from each other – and that THAT is the reason the Asgardian Realms were scattered by the final conflagration, when two space-times merged into one?

That gives a reason for the Belt to now be significant within the campaign, and a reason why the PCs can’t use it – they will need all its power to replace the Midgard Serpent.

So, what is the Belt, if it’s not a Belt?

It’s at this point that my imagination abruptly runs momentarily dry. I can’t think of anything else the belt might be. No problem, that happens from time to time to everyone. When that happens to me, the first tool I reach for is my thesaurus, looking for a different angle or perspective from which to approach the problem. So: “Belt”. Entry 228, noun; but there are also two other references that look promising and relevant, “region” (entry 184, noun) and “Loop” (250 noun) – (I’ve only listed the results that seem possibly useful).

  • belt: Nothing there.
  • region: sphere, zone, belt, world, limit, enclosure, sphere, homeland.
  • loop: circle, corona, halo.

These terms don’t hold any direct answers, as is also often the case; but they do spark a flash of inspiration. One term that isn’t listed there, but that is also synonymous with a lot of these terms is boundary. As in, the boundary between dimensions. Just a few minutes ago, I was thinking that this adventure might present an opportunity to get into some of the cosmological mechanics of pocket dimensions, now this separate line of thought suggests that those cosmological mechanics might actually be an integral part of the plot.

The cosmological mechanics of pocket dimensional boundaries

It’s become fashionable amongst the players to think of pocket dimensions as though they were soap bubbles floating in the Aether, each a spherical three-dimensional slice of a four dimensional object – each instant in the pocket universe’s timeline being akin to a single pearl in a string. This image is correct, as far as it goes, but like the Solar Atom, it is an oversimplification that doesn’t go anywhere near far enough.

For one thing, the boundaries are not as smooth and nowhere near as rigid as this model represents; instead of a perfectly round shape, the bubbles are perpetually inflating and deflating within the boundaries of Heisenberg’s uncertainty, and these random fluctuations will inevitably concatenate in some areas and cancel out in others. The surfaces of the extra-dimensional boundary can be said to “quiver”.

But we’re talking six-dimensional space, and this is a four-dimensional image (three dimensions propagating along a fourth) – or, more precisely, along a vector in 3-dimensional time.

So far, the concepts are not that far removed from what the players know. But now we get into some more interesting territory.

Any vector can be expressed as the sum of two or more other vectors. Each space has its own temporal vector which continually varies relative to any other vector in response to decisions made by the residents of that space. And, the overall temporal vector of the pocket dimension must always match that of the terrestrial space to which it is linked.

How can that happen? If you subtract the common overall vector, what you are left with describes the divergent forces that are pulling the two timelines apart. And a parallel world will have not only a completely different overall vector, and completely different divergences. And yet, the pocket dimension has to match that parallel world’s overall vector as well, even though it is completely different.

There is only one way for this to happen, and that is if there is some balancing force unique to each of the parallel worlds. When the divergences attempt to push the temporal vectors apart, this pulls them back together; and when the divergences push them closer together, this acts to drive them apart.

There’s no known force that acts that way. It would require a combination of two forces, or some more complex interaction between spacetimes. Either way, it’s fairly elementary physics that the result would not be a smooth correction but a dampening harmonic oscillation unless the forces behavior is synchronized perfectly with the cause of the divergence – only if there is no limiting factor to the transmission of force and information by any means can simultaneity really operate. And, since the speed of light is a limiting factor for pure electromagnetic forces, simultaneity cannot apply.

A divergence occurs; the force combination reacts with a counterforce after a brief delay, but this is either going to be insufficient to balance the temporal force, or it is going to be too strong to do so perfectly, simply because the divergence has had duration in which to operate before the counterforce is applied. Inevitably, the counterforce will therefore accumulate until it not only counters the divergence, but there is sufficient temporal vector being applied to diverge the timelines in the opposite direction. Once the accumulated effect of this counter-divergence exceeds the overall temporal vector, the secondary corrective force will begin to be applied, but again there will be a physical delay of some kind. The opposing counterforce will accumulate until the secondary space’s time vector again overshoots the overall temporal vector and the system begins to again act in the direction opposing the original divergence. Each time, the energy of divergence will be slightly dissipated and the overall average will eventually settle down, as shown in the accompanying diagram.

What’s needed, effectively, is a perfect spring – something that will resist compression and tend to snap back into place, and also resist stretching and tend to snap back into place.

In the real world, something like that would be very hard to come by, but this is a superhero campaign. All it has to do is sound plausible.

Whenever something like this comes up as a story need, my mind flashes back to something I read in a Heinlein novel (I think). To paraphrase, the circuitry in a television set is only there to shape and route the forces and energies involved; if you can manipulate those energies and forces directly or in some other manner, there is no need for the complicated wires and circuit boards. The situation with respect to a perfect spring composed of dimensional boundary forces is analogous – a construction of pure force could act as a car’s shock absorber, coping with the sudden ‘bumps’ along the way and ensuring a smooth ‘ride’. Obviously, you want the wheels and the car to move in the same overall direction, you’re in trouble if they don’t.

This, then, has to be a part of any permanent connection between two or more space-times, whether they be pocket dimensions or not.

Of course, the picture described by a single harmonic pulse is rather oversimplified; long before the “vibrations” from one temporal divergence had been damped out of existence, there would be another. Some of these would oppose the first, some would add to it. There would be statistical trends, that would eventually even out, just as there are with any random phenomenon, such as the rolling of dice.

That means that the passage between dimensions would sometimes be easy and sometimes difficult; sometimes quick and sometimes slow (as measured by the personal timeline of the traveler); sometimes it would be dangerous and damaging, and other times utterly safe. There could even be occasions when the connection is not strong enough to be used at all, and other times when it was possible to inadvertently stumble across the boundary between worlds, all of which have happened before in the campaign.

Status Check

A number of the questions I posed earlier have now been answered. It’s probably worth running through the questions and compiling the answers that have been arrived at, simply to check on what has not yet been decided – if anything.

  • Who made it? Gaia, also known as Terra, one of the Grecoan Gods.
  • What is it? A spacetime helix containing part of the Spirit of Gaia. Once, one end of the helix was connected to Olympus and the other to Earth-Prime; now, the ends connect to each other, forming a closed loop.
  • Where does it come from? Mt Olympus.
  • What is its purpose? To bind one inhabited universal space-time to another, establishing a permanent link between them.
  • How did the different Houses of Demon know about it, and how much do they know about it? The Nihilist Grecoan Gods told Demon where it was and how to steal it. They knew next to nothing about it, only that it was potentially powerful.
  • Why did they stop trying to acquire it – or have they found a more subtle approach? Good, and unanswered, question.
  • What undiscovered attempts have these Houses of Demon made since? Ditto.
  • With one or more Houses of Demon allied (at the point in the campaign when this adventure is to occur), how much can they tell the PCs about it – and why didn’t they do so right away? Didn’t know/didn’t think it important enough. So far as they know, it’s just a gimmick to give a flunky superpowers.
  • Who else might know of it’s existence? Anyone else from a realm that is permanently connected with another spacetime would know that it, or something like it, existed, IF they knew of the existence of the Mount Olympus pocket dimension. Who might be on that list?
  • Who else might want it? Anyone who wants to establish a permanent connection between two or more space-times.
  • Why don’t the arcane heavy-hitters of the campaign want to get their hands on it? Ignorance is not a comprehensive enough reason. Not yet answered.
  • What is the Belt’s destiny within the campaign? To bind the 9 worlds of Asgard back together at the climax of the campaign.
  • How do I as GM stop a PC from claiming its power? Only partially answered. If the PCs know what it is and what it is good for, they may surmise that they will need it “intact” and fully charged to reunite Asgard. If that information is not to be presented on a silver platter, there is no reason decided as yet why they would not do so.
  • Are there undesirable consequences to using it? Entirely possible, but none have yet been decided.
  • How did Terra come into possession of the belt, and who had it before he did? Not yet answered in full. Demon had it, then Terra had it. Did he steal it from them?
  • Who else has possessed the belt in the past, and what have they done with it? No-one else has had it because it was busy binding Olympus to Mount Olympus.
  • What is known about Terra himself? Only that he was a thug and not very well educated.

Or, to sum up, I know know what it is and how it works; what has not yet been determined is primarily the history of the Belt. But there are clues in the unanswered and incompletely-answered questions.

The History of the Belt Of Terra

Gaia created the Earth (Mount Olympus) and the Heavens (Olympus, Home of the Gods) and bound the two together with a vortex of the interspatial force that comprised her being. While the vortex energies were still forming, they were malleable and unstable, and interaction between these forces and the imaginary beings of early Greek tribal Myths created the titans. The Titans learned of their origins from the spirit of Gaia and of the natures that were expected of them from the Greek Tribesmen, but in time sought to grow beyond the limitations these concepts imposed on them; their attempted manipulations of Greek belief gave rise to the Grecoan Gods, and the war between the worshippers of the new Gods and the more primal Titans mirrored the conflict in Olympus, for the Gods would not submit to the servitude expected of them by the Titans.

The Gods unified the Greek tribes and sponsored the rise of the Greek Empire, which spread Greek theology in all directions with their trading vessels. 0ther tribes that they encountered beyond those borders found their own concepts of theology blending with that of the Greeks, and when the Roman civilization arose, the Greek Gods quite happily accepted new names and a new subject population with whom to indulge their whims.

Whether or not Augustus was in fact Divinely Appointed to Imperial Rule is unknown, but starting at around this time, the Grecoan Gods began to withdraw from involvement in the day-to-day lives of the citizens of the Roman Empire and increasingly gave themselves over to a life of carousing and debauchery. They abandoned active involvement in human affairs entirely with the rise of Christianity for a completely hedonistic existence on their traditional home of Mount Olympus – not the mountain peak which exists to this day in Greece, but an extra dimensional realm accessible by climbing that mountain.

By the twentieth century, the Gods were bored thoroughly tired of existence, and began to seek their own destruction. Some were so given over to this Nihilistic attitude that they actively sought ways to achieve it by perverting the course of Ragnerok to their own ends. Ragnerok, the collision and forced blending of two disparate timelines, would release the full energies of a universe; supposedly, these would be used to construct a new universe to begin the cycle anew, but the Grecoan Gods intended to harness that power to their own destruction, without regard for the consequences to others. To this end, they conspired to remove the link binding Olympus to the spacetime of their original worshippers and transmuted that link into the form of a belt, which they revealed to the power-hungry humans of Demon. The Grecoan Deities believed that the humans would inadvertently employ the belt’s powers in such a way as to being about the collapse of the two colliding spacetimes prematurely, when no others would be in a position to harness the power of Ragnerok save them, and in violation of all prophecies.

Gaia communicated with the would-be world conquerors by means of the portion of her spirit encompassed by the Belt, leading them to give it to one of little arcane merit and understanding, and then enhancing his desire for power and independence in the belief that – so prompted – he would inadvertently trigger the End Of Days. The Grecoans had not reckoned with the inadequacies of the wielder, and he was easily defeated and the belt removed. With their plans frustrated, the Grecoans turned to other means of achieving their ends, and were ultimately sacrificed to deflect the Red Dwarf star, Jove, from a collision with the Earth, with only a few surviving by seeking refuge amongst the Egyptian deities of Theboria (from Thebes). These few were never informed of the plot to preempt Ragnerok, and so did not pass on that knowledge to their hosts and allies.

Nor do the Houses of Demon concerned know what power they had in their possession, only that it was greater than that which was employed by their former lackey. The House which had originally possessed the arcane device – never identified – had no idea, and made only a token effort on general principles to recover it. The second House, House Aquarius, went to a great deal more effort; they may have had some notion of the potential power they were courting, but never shared that knowledge with any others. Hence, no current allies of the team will know of the belt.

The Belt was locked up in a vault maintained by the parent team without examination; they don’t know what it is, only that Demon want to get their hands on it. They certainly don’t realize that the spirit of Gaia, with all its nihilistic tendencies, lurks within, waiting to entrap anyone who handles the belt.

The Plot

With the foundations of the plotline now established, it’s time to start thinking about the plot itself. I’ve already decided, as I noted earlier, that the surviving Grecoans are going to return, erupting out of space-time in search of the belt which they believe can destroy the universe and them right along with it. But there’s a problem: the belt is in a completely different space-time to the place where the PC’s are having most of their adventures in this campaign.

I can solve that problem partially by having the Grecoans go where the belt is, and by having the belt go to the PCs. I can’t have the PCs go to the belt, because if the action takes place where the belt is, the parent team (all NPCs) will have the responsibility of handling the problem.

If Mohammed can’t go to the mountain…

To achieve that, I need someone to get a hint of what the belt is all about, and take it to the PC mage for a second opinion.

That means that I need to add a new NPC to the parent team, someone a mage just proficient enough to start solving the mystery of the belt. Fortunately, I already have an idea as to who that could be.

The original mage with the current team, “Ravenscroft,” did not resign under happy circumstances. Sponsored to the team by Morgaine Le Faye’s government (Eastern England) after it was recognized by the United Nations, when Morgaine’s interests and those of the world came into conflict, he jumped in what the rest of the team considered the wrong direction. So far as they are concerned, he is barely one step above a traitor.

Now, that particular character is tied up in the resolution of the English Civil War, which will occur in the Warcry spinoff campaign, so I can’t use him – and he wouldn’t be welcomed, anyway. But if I were to give that character a brother, “Nevermore,” have him enter the parent team under similar circumstances, and have him then turn up as the NPC who will lead the characters into the adventure, all will not only be well, it will create an interesting encounter between this new NPC and the PCs in its own right.

Of course, for this to work, I can’t let the team have the usual advance notice of a change in the parent team’s membership, I need the NPC to show up unannounced, or (at best) at the same time as the announcement.

Preliminaries and introductory plot developments

Okay, so we have a preliminary round of action when the NPC shows up, and then we have a subplot with him presenting the belt for examination along with his findings to the party mage. The characters with precognition should also receive some views of a burning mountain, and a group of beings being consumed by fire, but not dying, to instill the right mindset in the PCs.

The action starts

Then I have the Grecoans show up, living in what’s left of Olympus. What do they do once they arrive? They would probably head for Greece, their old stomping grounds. Maybe instead of landing on the top of Mount Olympus they could make their ball of molten rock float above Athens, menacing the city. That should get the PCs’ attention. Maybe they land and begin incinerating people with their touch while demanding that the Helix Of Gaia be brought to them. That gives the PCs another clue as to what’s going on.

A combat encounter would obviously follow, which I would expect the Grecoans to win by threatening the lives of more innocents.

Thickening The Plot

Then one of the Grecoans (must think about who) can detect the presence of the Belt and the ball of magma will fly off toward the PCs base in New Orleans. The defense forces of the British Empire will attack the globe with everything they’ve got while it’s over the Atlantic, and maybe the PCs will have a second try at the Grecoans as well for the same reason – the enemy is relatively removed from large populations. The PCs should again lose, and the military will definitely lose – the Grecoans are “Gods” after all – but should force them to manifest their real abilities – thunderbolts, super-speed, etc – giving some more hints.

Time Out for a little research

A little research into earth mythology – the name Gaia being a starting point – and the team’s intelligence expert should then be able to identify who the enemies are, in mythological terms. The rest of the team know part of the story of the Grecoans and Ragnerok, but not all, large parts of it were classified by the parent team. So that means a quick return visit to the headquarters of the parent team and a “need to know” debate before they get that part of the story. At that point, they need a science expert, someone who specializes in temporal dynamics (because that’s the science that covers dimensional boundaries); they can get that from the parent team as well, or at least, what they need to know about the mysteries of pocket dimensions. Because the parent team are operating on a different temporal vector that can be whatever the plot needs it to be, the team will get this information before the Grecoans reach their destination.

Finally, the team needs to consult someone who can put all the pieces of the puzzle together so that they can figure out what is going on. There are a few Grecoans who had not lost the zest for living, and who were granted refuge in Theboria, home of the Egyptian Gods. This included Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom.

But I may not want the team going there, because I have surprises to take place there as part of another plotline. If that other plotline occurs prior to the return of the Grecoans, no problem; but if it is currently set afterwards – and I know roughly when in the campaign all this is to happen – then it will be better for the campaign if Minerva, through her Deific Abilities, learns of the problem and comes to the team.

The real crisis – and a possible resolution

Once the team know what the real story is, what the stakes are, and what the Grecoans really want, they will know that the last thing they can afford to do is give in to their demands. Remember, these guys want to destroy a couple of universes in the hope that the devastation will take them out, as well. That means that the team needs to find some other solution to the problem.

I have a fixed principle that I operate under: any time I present the PCs with a problem, I ensure that it always has at least one solution. Where there is one, there will usually be several, so the PCs can come up with their own plans for victory. In this context, that means that I need a way for the PCs to defeat the Grecoans, preferably once and for all (from the PCs point of view). Hmmmm…

It took time for the three Celestial Powers to rebuild the universe after Ragnerok (mostly time spent with making it stable, accommodating various bits and pieces that were going to carry over from one universe to the next whether they liked it or not, and coming up with their new Paradigm Of Existence to replace the old one of Chaos Vs Order). The interval could be as much time as necessary, but for aesthetic and symbolic reasons, they chose for the interval to appear to have been three days. During that interval, the universe was nothing but a concentration of raw energy, compressed to its ultimate extreme. At the start of that interval, there was a big bang but the universe that was created appeared – at least superficially – to be simply a slightly-older version of the one that had been there before.

The PCs already know that attempting to travel back in time through those three days subjects anyone to an almost infinite amount of damage. They have once managed it, through a difficult-to-replicate trip “around” the temporal wall. Even then, they were almost killed by the experience. If the PCs think of it, they can project the Grecoans and their ball of molten rock back in time to strike this barrier and attempt to force them through it. The Grecoans will probably resist, but if the PCs can mitigate that resistance just enough, they can cause the Grecoans to come to a stop in the dead centre of a universe of raw power – ironically, giving the Grecoans exactly what they wanted in the first place.

A plot twist, cleaning up loose ends

How can they do that? The answer is by using the Belt Of Terra – but that will require a mage to sacrifice himself as well, overcome by the Nihilism of Gaia. This is a great way to get rid of the NPC mage, who isn’t really needed after this plotline. So the PCs come up with their plan, and the NPC appears to turn against the team exactly as his brother did. He can KO or entrap the PC mage and steal the belt. The PCs won’t know what he’s up to, and will go after him. He will have to fight for all he’s worth in order to succeed. At the right moment – the height of the conflict – the Psionic PC will penetrate his mental defenses and realize what he’s up to. Suddenly, the PCs realize they are in the wrong, and are faced with a moral dilemma – do they let him sacrifice himself or do they try and stop him – with no guarantees that either his plan or theirs will work? If they decide to try and stop him, they will have to modify their own plan to achieve this second objective.

If they succeed in stopping him, they will have to forcibly remove the belt, and I can have that process strip him of his powers, leaving him a nobody in terms of the campaign; and then let their plan succeed. If they choose not to stop him, or fail to do so, then I can have his plan succeed – but having the belt emerge from the Time Of Creation unscathed, ready to use in binding the Nine Realms back together.

Aftermath

There should be some residual feelings of guilt over their treatment of the NPC afterwards. There may or may not be an arcane artifact – the Belt Of Terra – left afterwards, something far more dangerous than the PCs realized, and they will have to decide what to do about it. There should definitely be an “aftermath” section to the plotline.

Event plotting

With the basic outline of the plot now complete, the next step is to (a) resolve the question of the timing of this adventure; and (b) generate a list of the events within the plotline, giving each a code so that I can identify them and emplace them on the campaign plan.

Timing Choices

Normally, I would not worry too much about the timing, but would simply choose the plotline that had the most dramatic interest and use that plotline’s requirements to specify where in the overall scheme of events the plotline had to take place. In this case, however, most of the overall plot has already been determined, and two alternatives presented themselves readily to choose between, so I can tailor the adventure to the overall plan. The key issue is whether or not this plotline is scheduled to occur before or after the characters visit Theboria and discover the surprises I have in store for them.

Consulting my campaign chart, I find that Nevermore is currently scheduled to show up in phase 4 of the campaign (which is count down from 9 to 0, remember – refer to the second part of this series for more information). The visit to Theboria, as I feared and expected, is not due to occur until phase 3 of the campaign, because that leads quite strongly toward the big finish.

That means that Minerva has to come to the PCs, abandoning the safety and shelter of the Theborian afterlife. This is a useful way of reminding the PCs of Theboria, establishing the location of the later adventure solidly in the player’s minds before important events occur there.

Or, I can reschedule this scenario. The choice has nothing to do with this scenario per se, but is instead a question of how much this scenario endangers the plot twists of the other, more important, adventure.

The more I consider it, the less sanguine I am about having this plotline precede the other. There’s plenty of room to move this adventure from its current location – row 537 – to a later time, say row 569, meaning that the surprises will already have been sprung. The reason that a simple “how are you” or “how have things going” or anything along those lines would leave me in the position of having Minerva lie to the PCs for no good reason or take all the impact out of that later adventure. Any general conversation is likely to include such questions, they are a normal part of social discourse – and that makes the risk simply too high. I would rather give up the opportunity to reestablish the location in-game and leave it for an omniscient narrator to remind the players of the location when the time comes.

Event Timing

I’m going to use “BT” for the plotline code, standing for “Belt Of Terra”. So this is the “Belt Of Terra” plotline.
 

  • BT01: Vala has a precognitive vision (cosmic awareness) of a burning mountain.
  • BT02: Runeweaver has a precognitive vision (arcane awareness) of a group of beings burning alive in an inferno – but not dying. He doesn’t see them clearly enough to identify them.
  • BT03: St Barbara has a precognitive warning (via the Mao) that beings of fire and malice are coming.
  • BT04: Hevth has a precognitive intuition that a great evil will soon appear – equivalent to a “growing disturbance in the force”.
  • BT05: Vala has a precognitive vision (cosmic awareness) of Ravenscroft [describe] attacking Runeweaver.
  • BT06: Vala describes the individual to Bright Cutter, who searches for a matching description and (incorrectly) identifies former member Ravenscroft.
  • BT07: Bright Cutter warns the rest of the team.

 
With the exception of BT07 and BT06, which clearly have to follow BT05 in sequence, these can occur in any order; use whatever order that they best fit around any existing subplots.
 

  • BT08a: St Barbara receives notification that the Champions have been forced to accept a new member from East England named “Nevermore” on political grounds.
  • BT08b: Simultaneous with BT08a, Nevermore transports to Earth-Regency with the Belt Of Terra to consult Runeweaver and is met by Hevth, who attacks instantly. The other team members get involved in the general melee until St B shows up to restore order.

 
As usual, the “a” and “b” suffixes indicate a subdivided event, which occur either in sequential order (by default) or simultaneous (if so noted).
 

  • BT09: Nevermore identifies himself and his reason for being there. He describes the mystery of the Belt Of Terra. Vala detects the Nihilistic Spirit within the Belt (and hopefully warns the rest of the team). Nevermore puts forward his theory that the Belt is more powerful than anyone realized and that is why Demon were so interested in getting it. He describes the belt’s physical properties, which are instantly recognizable as resembling those of Blackwing (who is a sentient dimensional boundary himself).
  • BT10a: Runeweaver analyses the Belt and gets a clearer understanding of the powers that it can potentially grant.
  • BT10b: Vala determines that the spirit inhabiting the belt identifies itself with the name “Terra”, but that this is an alias of some kind.
  • BT10c: Blackwing investigates the criminal record of Terra, from whom the Belt was taken, and determines that he could not have come up with the name, and was a suspected member of House Gemini of Demon, the first of the two Houses to attempt to recapture the Belt.
  • BT10d: When Blackwing reports his findings to St Barbara, she notices that his body is distorted, bulging and bending to one side. (Unbeknownst to the team, his dimensional interface is reacting to the imminent arrival in Dimension Regency of the Grecoans).

 
All the preceding events are preliminary to the start of the main adventure. BT11-15 is part one of the main adventure and should comprise a single session of play.
 

  • BT11: A Ball of burning lava surrounded by plasma abruptly emerges from subspace and streaks toward a collision with the Earth. Impact point will be somewhere in Greece. As the team gear up to race to the scene (not enough time to attempt to intercept it), observations from Lunar Base will reveal that it is slowing down, indicating that it is under powered flight. It comes to rest in midair, hovering over Athens.
  • BT12: Beings of fire erupt from the plasma ball and begin killing Greek citizens. A TV journalist with more courage than sense gets close enough to hear what they are bellowing in ancient Greek and Latin: “Bring Us The Helix of Gaia or die!”
  • BT13: The team respond to the attack. The Grecoans should force them to withdraw by threatening the lives of more innocents.
  • BT14: Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, detects the presence of the Belt (not identified by name or image). Another asks if she is sure, she replies in the affirmative. (Nike, Goddess of Victory) announces that their course is clear – they must go to it, and the victory shall be theirs. (All comments in ancient Latin and greek). The burnt beings return to their ball of plasma-wrapped magma, which flies off slowly in the direction of New Orleans.
  • BT15: When the ball of plasma-wrapped magma crosses the Atlantic Coast and is at least 20 miles from any shore, the British Empire attacks the globe with everything they’ve got. The PCs can either join in or perform rescue operations before having another go themselves. Either or both forces will lose but the Grecoans will display their true abilities (hurling thunderbolts, speed, unerring accuracy with a bow, etc) which should give a further clue to their identities.

 
Part 2 of the main scenario occurs while the remains of Olympus are travelling lazily to New Orleans.
 

  • BT16: The demand for the “Helix Of Gaia” offers a clue: the name, Gaia. With that as a starting point, a little internet research should permit Vala to identify who the enemy are, in mythological terms.
  • BT17: Bright Cutter reiterates what the team know of the history of the Grecoans, and what is NOT known.
  • BT18: One or more of the team travel to dimension-prime and persuade the team Chairman that they need access to the classified files concerning Olympus and its Gods.
  • BT19: The team get the rest of the story of the Grecoan role in Ragnerok.
  • BT20: Aleph Prime / Bright Cutter / Harmonic point out the obvious: Olympus was anchored to Mount Olympus and then it wasn’t; something changed. Discussion of how one space time can be anchored to another. Uniqueness of each pocket dimension.
  • BT21: If the team can figure out what’s going on, fine; if not, they should go to Theboria to consult with Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom. She will help them solve the puzzle. The team will realize they cannot let the Grecoans get the Belt.

 
Part 3 of the main scenario occurs when the Team have the full background to the situation.
 

  • BT22: The team return to Dimension Regency moments after they left. Now that they know the real problem, they have to come up with a solution.
  • BT23: As they conclude their strategy session (or break because they are getting nowhere) they will realize that Nevermore is gone – and the belt with him.
  • BT24: The team give chase and confront Nevermore as he flies toward the globe of molten rock. On a perception check, they will notice that he is wearing the belt. He will fight them and will not explain. He will resist any telepathic probing by Vala as to his motives or intentions, all she will get from his mind is a sense of intense satisfaction and desire to destroy himself, and – if necessary – anything and everything else. As the battle intensifies, the Grecoans will erupt from their “travelling vehicle” and join the fight.
  • BT25: When the Grecoans are fully engaged, Vala will suddenly sense Nevermore lowering his defenses against her mental probing for just an instant. She can then read his plan and intentions from his mind. Vala has to decide whether or not to help him or to enact the team’s plan for overcoming the Grecoans. As soon as he thinks she is aware of the plan, he will restore his defenses so that the Grecoans don’t learn what he has in mind; if they don’t resist him, they may have sufficient vitality and strength of will to penetrate all the way to the beginning of the three-day window and Ragnerok itself, at which point they can destroy the Universe, and themselves, and everything else, before the three celestial powers come into being. She can pass the question to St Barbara as team leader.
  • B26: The Climax: If Vala/St B decided to try the team’s own solution, determine whether or not it succeeds. Note that it will have to be modified to encompass both the additional complications and additional goal of stopping Nevermore. If Vala/St B decided to let Nevermore sacrifice himself, his plan will work. The team will be caught in the backwash and sucked along behind the Grecoans and the sorcerer – close enough that they take damage and see the end, far enough removed that they can survive to return home. As they catch their breath, the belt will emerge from the barrier, drifting in subspace…

 
The Aftermath should be handled as a set of subplots, one for each PC, in which they come to terms with what has taken place. The NPCs should be shown dealing with the situation in ways that involve the PCs.
 

  • BT27a: St Barbara: Has to notify the Champions of the situation. May feel guilty for not anticipating Nevermore’s behavior.
  • BT27b: Runeweaver: Has to deal with the Belt Of Terra, as well as his prejudice against Nevermore because he comes from a political leadership that he opposes.
  • BT27c: Blackwing: The suicide/attempted suicide of Nevermore will resonate with him because of his sister.
  • BT27d: Vala: Will have trouble getting the nihilism she felt in Nevermore out of her mind.
  • BT27e: Hevth: Will want to celebrate the life and death of a warrior using the rituals of his people.
  • BT27f: Bright Cutter: Will be disturbed by the contradictions inherent in divided loyalties. Sometimes people consider it unreasonable and sometimes they consider holding one loyalty too strongly to be unreasonable. A hierarchy of loyalties is implied as the optimum solution, but he HAS no such hierarchy; his loyalties are always to the solution of the problem at hand. Does that mean that he is unfit to be a member of the team after all? He finds that notion to be disturbing. And yet, the oath of office brooks no hierarchy of loyalties, it is an absolute. He will discuss this problem with each member in turn, attempting to find a resolution.

General Principles

It’s possible to derive some general principles from the preceding example that are worth noting.

Know Your Campaign

I’ve lost count of the number of references to past events that are built into this plotline, so lets run through them briefly:

  1. The Belt Of Terra itself;
  2. The first attempt to recover the belt by Demon;
  3. The second attempt to recover the belt by Demon;
  4. The Grecoans’ history
  5. The ignition of Jove;
  6. Minerva & The Theborians
  7. Ragnerok
  8. The (supposed) destruction of Olympus
  9. Vala’s mental fragility;
  10. The Mao
  11. Ravenscroft’s membership
  12. Ravenscroft’s betrayal
  13. The team’s discovery of the nature of Blackwing;
  14. Alliance with selected houses of Demon;
  15. The team’s travel into the Pre-Ragnerok era;
  16. Blackwing’s family history;
  17. Hevth’s religious rituals;
  18. The liberation of the Bright Cutter;
  19. The Bright Cutter’s relationships with each other team member;
  20. The Bright Cutter’s desire to be part of the team.

Many of these represent multiple scenarios, or even entire plot arcs in their own right. And this doesn’t even count the various adventures that established the campaign physics, or the adventures that (will have) established the Hevth character and his race, or the adventures in the side campaign that resolve the English Civil War in Dimension-Prime, or the adventures involving the potential origins of the Belt that were considered and rejected. I could easily argue that the latter should also be included, since it was the conflict with campaign history and established character that caused their rejection. Nothing is taking place in a vacuum, and huge chunks of campaign history indirectly connect with the adventure.

Know The Characters

A lot of the action relies on my knowledge of the characters and how they will react to specific situations and events. This has enabled me to build cues and prompts into the adventure specifically for them to play against, and to predict how the adventure will develop. The result is that the participating player characters feel 100% integral to the plotline – but can be replaced if necessary.

Built-in Precipitous Actions and Decisions are always by NPCs

I never tell the players what their characters have to do, or even want to do. Instead, I rely on the players telling me what they want their characters to do in the future and why they have taken certain actions in the past. Even in the question of the PCs reactions in the aftermath, I may describe an initial state – for example, “Vala will have trouble getting the nihilism she felt in Nevermore out of her mind,” – but how the PC reacts to that and what the PC does about it are entirely up to them. There are already adventures that establish that Vala, the team’s psionic and intelligence-gathering expert, is quite mentally fragile in some ways that have been inserted at the Player’s request; this reaction is simply the logical consequence of the personality as the player has defined it.

Another example is the arrival of Nevermore in the prelude to the main plot. I carefully set the stage for a meaningless superhero donnybrook in advance and then have a known hair-trigger NPC get the fight underway.

Other PC actions are dictated by the assumption that they will take logical advantage of the opportunities open to them according to their tactical advantages; at most, I have an NPC suggest the logical course of action. Even if the PCs have other ideas, it isn’t critical to the plotline. For example, the PCs might decide not to go off-dimension and get the missing background information during the calm between storms; they might send one of the NPCs, or they might simply decide they don’t need to know all the ins and outs. Part 2 of the plotline can be extracted completely from the adventure without it making the slightest bit of difference – in which case, it can be presented in a subplot as part of the aftermath, or I can simply keep it to myself until a PC asks about it.

Everything has consequences

“Mo-one gets out of life alive”. Everyone gets touched in some way by what occurs. Decisions have consequences. At the same time, Nevermore’s solution prevents the adventure from killing the entire campaign even if the PCs manage to totally screw up – unless they kill him when he first shows up, which they shouldn’t do.

Adventures are fuzzy

There’s a ramp-up prior to the adventure which takes place during one or more prior adventures, and there is an aftermath that colors the circumstances of the next adventure.

There’s a clear dramatic and emotional journey

The adventure has emotional and dramatic highs and lows, there’s action interspersed with more introspective roleplay moments. These not only provide a variety of spaces for inter-character relationships, they offer contrast to the more action-oriented moments. And there’s an obvious climax when everything comes to a head and which resolves the main plotline.

Scope For The Future

Finally, there are a couple of loose ends that have been left there intentionally. There is clearly a spectrum of intensity to the Nihilism of the Grecoans; some feel it more intently than others. So there are some that I can pull out of my hat sometime when I need new villains. Nevermore is killed during a time when the universe and everything in it is being rebuilt – so I can even bring him back if I want to, I would simply need to figure out where he’s been in the meantime and what he’s been doing. The Belt Of Terra is still out there, waiting to be a bone of contention in cosmic power games. The Houses of Demon who have tried for it already might well try again if the opportunity presents itself. And the Belt itself is going to be central to the climax of the overall campaign.

Scheduling Notes

Most of the plotline is self-contained. The preliminary subplots are ominous and should occur in the course of contrasting adventures – either low-drama, or low-emotional-intensity in nature, or which deal with a completely different emotional tone. If necessary, a meaningless superhero slugfest should be inserted to provide that context. The aftermath is very somber, and while a contrasting tone would make that more evident, it would be jarring and unrealistic; the adventure to follow this one should be less melodramatic but also somewhat muted in tone. Serious but not cosmic, in other words – a raid on a drugs lab, or a mystery, would work well, as would another meaningless superhero slugfest with appropriately-chosen antagonist(s).

The preliminaries

This plot chart shows the preliminary subplots (I’ve simplified the chart slightly so that it fits the blog page more easily. What this shows is that various PCs have subplots relating to the Belt Of Terra plotline while the main plotline is not so related. The size of the gap between these subplots is not shown by this table because I’ve cut out the intervals between them.

  • Vala has subplot BT01 before the day’s real plotline gets underway.
  • At a later time, Runeweaver has subplot BT02 before that day’s real plotline.
  • At a still later time, St Barbara has subplot BT03 before that day’s real plotline.
  • Later again, Hevth has subplot BT04 before that day’s real plotline. Unless there is a PC present to observe this taking place, it may not happen be narrated to the players and simply described retrospectively – or I might describe it ex-cathedra, since I trust my players not to misuse out-of-character knowledge. I try to keep such knowledge from them only because it can get in the way of their enjoyment of the game – like being shown how a magician does his tricks.
  • Getting closer to the main plotline of the BT plot arc, Vala has subplot BT05.
  • After that day’s main action, she will approach Bright Cutter because he carries the team’s secure records – all the things that the team don’t want the government to know of. Notice that the plot chart shows her as the primary character of a subplot BT06 while he is shown as a secondary participant. It’s also worth noting that I have deliberately scheduled this to be a teaser at the end of a session’s play.
  • Finally, at the start of the very next session, we have the Bright Cutter telling the rest of the team about the results. That means that the NPC is the primary focus of the subplot and the other characters are secondary participants. Since no allowance has been made for other subplots in between this team meeting and the unrelated plot of that day’s adventure, it can be presumed that we dive straight into the action as soon as no-one has anything more to say or the meeting subplot starts to drag.

As a general rule of thumb, the farther removed from the main action, the more widely spaced the visions and warnings should be, but there is a practical limit if you want the players to remember the details (there are times when you want to give them every opportunity to forget!)

On that basis, I would desire a 1 adventure gap between 04 and 05; a two-adventure gap between 03 and 04; a three or four adventure gap between 02 and 03; and a four or five adventure gap between 01 and 02.

introductory events

  • At the end of an unrelated adventure – which may or may not be the one that was preceded by the meeting – we have the simultaneous plot events BT08a and BT08b for St Barbara and Hevth, respectively. These could be considered a teaser for the end of a session’s play, or we could keep going immediately – it depends on how much time the unrelated plotline has consumed.
  • The second line shows that the rest of the team then get involved in BT08b, and the third shows that the whole team are subsequently involved in BT09.
  • Following BT09 we have a series of subplots that are to occur in a strict sequence – Runeweaver and BT10a; Vala and BT10b; Blackwing and BT10c; Blackwing with St Barbara in BT10d.

There is a potential gap between events following this subplot. I could use it to fit in part of an unrelated plotline, a generic supervillain encounter, or we could simply head straight into the next part of this plotline. I leave gaps like this all over the place; only when everything that needs to be scheduled is in place can I determine whether or not to eliminate the gap. In a nutshell, if there’s a subplot showing on a line that is otherwise blank, I need to fill the empty space with something. If the surrounding events require a gap for realism, I will also consider filling the gap with a generic plotline. The third reason for filling a gap with a meaningless encounter is that only a certain percentage of the in-game events will bear on one of the major plot arcs; there will always be some random superheroic action, because those villains aren’t going to take time off just because the PCs are busy elsewhere.

There will be times when I will treat gap scenarios as a full adventure, and times when I will simply segue to the outcome or endgame of the battle – whatever best suits the pacing of the important plotlines. This not only makes the campaign feel like real life, where things are already in progress when someone arrives somewhere, but it also engages player sensibilities that have been developed by watching TV. It skips over the boring bits and gets straight to the action – getting the meaningless encounter out of the way for more time that session to be spent on “significant” events.

Observe that some of the subplot spaces have been “redded out” – blocked off so that no other subplots are permitted other than those that form part of this section of the adventure.

Parts 1 and 2

Now the main plot gets underway. Note that this can’t follow directly after the end of the introduction – there need to be some character-driven subplots inserted prior to 11 that will describe where everyone is and what they are doing when the balloon goes up. These might be just a minute or two each, or there might be a full adventure in the gap. The important thing to note is that there are no “significant” subplots prior to the action starting.

  • We start with the whole team, and event BT11. This is followed immediately by St Barbara featuring in subplot 12, with the other team members as secondary participants.
  • Whole-team events BT13, 14, and 15 follow. If the list of events prepared earlier is consulted, it can be seen that this entire group of events deals with the arrival of the Grecoans and the initial encounter with them.
  • Part 2 starts with a subplot for Vala (BT16) and another for Bright Cutter (BT17). While there is capacity for unrelated subplots surrounding both these events, I don’t expect anything to go there other than possibly some character interaction with NPCs.
  • After subplot BT17, the whole team are shown as being involved in off-world events BT18 and 19. This might be a misnomer, as the team might decide not to send the whole group to dimension-prime to gather intelligence on what they are up against. They might even decide to send no-one, as noted earlier; that’s up to them. Bright Cutter then has Subplot 20, but if he is not present off-world, there are a couple of NPCs named in the plot outline that can take his place.
  • That subplot is followed by whole-team event BT21, which might not take place at all. Again, there are several opportunities for other subplots surrounding the subplot, and following event BT21, but I don’t expect to actually emplace anything there.
  • It’s a little hard to see, I’m afraid, but there is an off-world gap indicated following BT21 – simply because time spent on that subplot doesn’t impact the main plotline. I don’t intend to make use of that option if it’s not needful for something else to happen to the team while they are with the main team, but I’ve left the possibility open; the journey is just inconvenient enough that they might choose to take some time out for other business while in the vicinity.
Part 3, Twist, and Aftermath

The final section of the plot chart shows that “optional, other” adventure and the lack of any subplots after it – which contradicts what I showed in the previous section. While subplots after that “optional other” adventure are possible, if necessary for some other plotline, the desire is not to delay the resolution of the Belt Of Terra plotline any further.

  • The action kicks off with BT22 and BT23. These are shown as occurring simultaneously (they are in the same event window) because BT23 happens in the course of BT22.
  • BT24 follows immediately. We then have Subplot 25 for Vala, and the possible involvement of St Barbara. In fact, these events should be shown in a subdivision of the “main plot” section by character, but while that could be shown using the full chart that I illustrated a couple of weeks ago in part 2 of this series, that capability was lost in the simplification of the chart layout for this example.
  • In any event, that subplot is followed by BT26, which is the climax of the adventure.
  • The climax is shown followed immediately by the aftermath subplots, but that is subject to variation depending on the other adventures around them. Some of the aftermath ‘events’ should happen immediately – Runeweaver deciding what to do with The Belt Of Terra (BT27b) for example – but others, such as the psychological effect on Vala (BT27d) would have more impact if there was some gap between the event and the player’s action to alleviate it. Since these events are intended to occur quite late in the campaign, though, I might well do it exactly as it’s shown here, simply to build momentum toward the campaign climax.
Ready To Run?

If I were actually preparing to run this scenario, I would usually spend a little time preparing written notes to the players, locating illustrations, and pre-writing various blocks of dialogue and description. I would also make some notes on the attributes of the Grecoans as they appear in various reference sources – some gaming-related, some comics-related, and some mythology-related, with particular regard to their abilities. Finally, I would translate some key words and statements into Greek and Latin (ignoring any changes that may exist between the modern and ancient languages) using the internet. A smattering of French translations might be handy, too – Evermore, like Ravenscroft, is from Oxford, but Morgaine Le Faye speaks French and so that language would be central to her court. Finally, I would pick a couple of sources to use as Evermore’s Spellbook, translating them from one game system to another on the fly.

But, if I didn’t have time for any or all of that, I would not hesitate to run the adventure using just the material contained in this post.

Whew! So there it is – a complete example from a vague initial concept all the way through to a completed adventure plan and the schedule that fits it into the campaign. This is one of the biggest single posts that I’ve ever made at Campaign Mastery at 13,000+ words, but I thought it important not to split the example in two. Hopefully, at least some of you have stuck with me all the way through this illustration of the processes and techniques that I use in planning my campaigns, that the example has clarified anything that wasn’t quite clear from the earlier posts on the subject, and that some of those tricks of the trade will be useful to you! To anyone who’s read this whole thing, thanks for you time and attention!

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Pieces Of Creation: The Hidden Truth Of Dopplegangers



Pieces Of Creation is an occasional recurring column at Campaign Mastery in which Mike offers game reference and other materials that he has created for his own campaigns.

A somewhat unusual example to get this first “Pieces Of Creation” off to a flying start. Normally, I would present the game materials within the column text, with some framing exposition in the blockquote that precedes it. This time, the game materials are contained in a PDF, and the exposition is the column – which actually concerns a product that’s been around for more than two years: The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers from Goodman Games.

Click on the image to purchase "The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers" from RPGNow

When Completeness Is Not Enough

Make no mistake, The Complete Guide to Doppelgangers is a fantastic and thoroughly recommended work. In fact, the PDF that I am offering here is completely useless without it. It’s currently shown as just US$3.50, so make sure you pick one up if you don’t have it already!

But my players had read it. They knew what to expect.

Doppelgangers operate by subterfuge, stealth and deception – and that was not possible under those circumstances.

Some Background

One of my players asked me if his then-girlfriend could join the game. I had no problem with that, but I did have a number of concerns to be worked through.

The first was to ensure that the prospective player know that she would be signing up for a long-term commitment; this was a campaign designed and intended to run for years. I had just had another campaign almost ruined by players who signed up for ‘the long haul’ and then vanished after only a session or two without notice – after several weeks of effort in expanding the campaign to give their characters an equal role. I was anxious that this not happen a second time.

The second was that this was an evil campaign – some players have problems being anti-heros and villains. I discussed this aspect of the campaign in Part 5 of my series Focussing on Alignment. In a nutshell, part 1 of that series was a guest post arguing that alignment was unnecessary and undesirable and the game would be greatly improved if people dis as the author had done and excised it. Parts 2 and 3 were a rebuttal by me which proposed a different metagame perspective on the whole issue. Part 4 looked at redefining the meaning of alignment and offered a tool for the generation of complex behaviours within an alignment system, while Part 5 extracted the mechanics of the subject of Alignment from the House Rules for my Shards Of Divinity campaign.

The third was that the campaign was centred around the boyfriend and the trials and tribulations that his character would experience in fulfilling a self-appointed quest to control everything – all of existence would be his to rule if things worked out as they should. At times, this would put him at odds with the other PCs, and ultimately they might even become his enemies. I wanted to be sure that the two would not connive together when they were supposed to be enemies.

A doppelganger developing a relationship with, and then exploiting, the central character fitted the bill for that last, perfectly.

As it happened, the couple broke up before she ever entered play. So the work that is being offered today was never actually used in-game.

When Completeness Is Not Enough (continued)

So the decision had been made to use a doppelganger, but the race needed a lot of fleshing out (no pun intended) before it was suitable for use as a PC Race.

That’s where the The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers comes in. Since it lives up to all its promises and is highly recommended by me, I don’t think I can do better than to quote the product description by Goodman Games:

Doppelgangers have spawned hundreds of rumours and stories. What adventurer doesn’t have a tale about the time he fought a doppelganger assassin, stopped one from impersonating the duke, or was surprised by a doppelganger disguised as his friend? But these accounts leave many questions unanswered. What do doppelgangers do when they aren’t assassinating or impersonating people? Why do they work for humans – and how do prospective employers find them, anyway? Are there doppelganger communities?

Written by Eberron creator Keith Baker, this 3.5-edition book examines the psychology and motivations of these mysterious creatures. It looks at the lifecycle of the doppelganger, and reveals the existence of biological variations of the creature. For the fact of the matter is that there are doppelgangers all around – they are far more common than people believe.

The Complete Guide to Doppelgangers is a stand-alone, world-neutral sourcebook covering everything you ever wanted to know about doppelgangers. This edition has been updated to the 3.5 rules set.

As a GM, you’ll learn how to run doppelgangers — both in combat and role-playing situations. And since every Complete Guide includes guidelines on playing the monster as a character race, players have new options, too.

The Complete Guide to Doppelgangers features:

  • The true origin of these bizarre creatures.
  • Background on doppelganger social structure, including their various life stages and details on how they have penetrated human and demi-human society.
  • Unique campaign ideas and adventure hooks centred around doppelgangers.
  • New monster stats for intriguing variations on the standard doppelganger.

The version I have is an updated release that is compatible with 3.x, which includes additional material originally released as freebies online and in Game Trade magazine.

Click on the icon to download "The Hidden Truth Of Doppel- gangers"

The Path Not Taken

So I was happy with everything except for one vital fact: at least two of my players had read The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers and knew what to look for and what to expect. I wondered if I could use that against them – which would only be possible if the “truth” that they had read in the ‘official’ publication was actually a pack of lies distributed by Doppelgangers to conceal their real abilities, objectives, and vulnerabilities.

Almost as soon as I had formulated this objective, I had a singular flash of inspiration and saw how it could be done, and that is the basis of the PDF that is being offered with today’s column. It assumes that the reader has read and understood The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers. Without the Goodman Games offering as a foundation, the contents will make little or no sense.

You can download the PDF by clicking on the icon. You may need to right-click and choose “Save Target As…”.

Legal Notes

The Complete Guide To Doppelgangers contains no copyright notice but is assumed to be copyrighted by Goodman Games except where content may be copyrighted Wizards Of The Coast and presented under the terms of the OGL/d20 licence. No content or statement in this blog post or the attached PDF is intended to challenge that copyright in any way. The additional game materials provided in the attached PDF are considered by the author to be house rules, subject (as a derivative work) to any and all copyrights applicable to the parent works. As such, they will never be presented by the author in a form which does not require the prior purchase of a copy of the Goodman Games licensed product to have value for the reader.

I want to extend special thanks to Goodman Games for their permission to publish both this article and the accompanying PDF in this column.

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Back To Basics: Example: The White Tower



This is part three from two (!) in a discussion of the basic principles of creating adventures and hooking them together to form a campaign; I wasn’t originally going to include these examples, feeling that the principles would be clearer to the reader if they weren’t distracted by another narrative threat running concurrently – and because (like many things in the real world) they don’t quite fit the nice, neat theoretical discussions of the first two parts. It consists of two examples.

Example One: The White Tower

When I’m coming up with scenario ideas, I’ll generally start by generating a one-line or one-paragraph plot idea, exactly the same as the ideas I created in Melodies And Rests: ‘Euphoria’ by Def Leppard.

The process of converting that into a full plotline is seven-fold:

  1. Expand the ‘thumbnail plot’ into a full idea;
  2. Determine (roughly) how this plotline fits into the overall campaign plan;
  3. List the essential elements (NPCs, locations, concepts) that form part of that plot and determine which ones have to be established in advance of the main plot;
  4. Generate a list of subplots to occur preliminary to the main plot that will introduce each of the essential elements
  5. Consider the inherent ramifications of the plotline on the overall campaign, assuming that the PCs will either succeed, fail, or fall a generic ‘somewhere in between’;
  6. Generate a subplot to follow the main plot purely to expose any ramifications that won’t otherwise come out in the course of play;
  7. Give the entire plotline a thumbs-up or thumbs-down according to two criteria: How essential it is to the overall plotline; and how interesting and inherently logical the plot is. An idea can receive a down-check from any one of the steps previously listed.

So, let’s look at this process in a little more detail by way of the first example, “The White Tower”.

Step Zero: The Starting Point / Initial Idea

The place to start is with the original idea, which I must have come up with sometime around 2003:

  • A building of high white magical history *where?* is destroyed through accident.

Around 2006, I added an additional notion to the idea, relating to how the PCs get involved:

  • A “supervillain” of arcane nature joins/sets up a local historical recreation society as it’s the only way he can gain access to the building. When one of the members discovers his secret and tries to blackmail him, he is forced to commit out-of-MO crimes (gets away clean before Z3 can get there) – until he manages to lure the blackmailer someplace secluded enough to kill him. Investigation of the body, and the robberies, leads to the real situation.

(“Z3” is an abbreviation of “Zenith-3”, the name of the PCs superhero team, signifying that this is the third branch of the Zenith Program, a superhero training project set up by the parent group “The Champions”.) When I went to convert this threadbare outline into a full scenario, there were some obvious holes to fill.

Expanding The Plot

The first observation was that the additional idea was trivial to the holes in the main idea. What is the nature of this place? Where is it located? What impact does its existence have – or, more to the point, how can I prevent it having a massive impact on the parts of the campaign that were already in place (most of it)?

The Name

Especially when a concept is as vaguely defined as this “building of high white-magical history”, I like to name things as a starting point. That provides a focal point around which ideas can flow. In this case, it started out being named “The White House” – but I rejected that name due to potential confusion with the residence of the US President (even though there is no such office in this particular dimension’s timeline, a world in which the British Empire never fell and now runs half the globe, the other half being the territory of a mysterious race named “The Mao”. Think of them as Western and Eastern hemispheres, respectively). I drew inspiration from the Cream song of the 60s and renamed it “The White Room”.

But there was another room, named the “Junction Room” and later renamed “The Janus Room” that was central to the overall plot, and I didn’t want it being confused with this location, which was to be far more incidental. Another name-change seemed to be in order; eventually, after running through various alternatives and not liking any of them, I settled on “The White Tower” as the least objectionable.

What Is ‘The White Tower’?

Despite the name, I wanted to avoid any Lord Of The Rings connections to this plot, the location, or the ideas; “The White Tower” was intended to bear no relation to Isengard. I fully expected that I would be able to crib some of the description from LOTR, but I wanted that to be the least important reference involved, because the players know quite a lot about it.

Which left the question, if the White Tower isn’t Isengard, what is it?

Well, the primary purpose of the scenario, as outlined in the campaign notes, was to serve as an example of the adage, “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy” – the PCs thought they had the major structure of the multiverse figured out, I wanted to shake that complacency and restore a little sense of wonder to the campaign.

I started free-associating ideas, and ended with fourteen to choose between:

  1. A cornerstone of the multiverse, unaffected by anything that happens to the multiverse, one of 12 bracing points used to define the shape of the multiverse and prop it up like bracing in a box or balloon. Space, Time, and local dimensional reality flow and change around it like a stream around a rock. NB: to brace a three-dimensional box for maximum rigidity, 3 bars are needed, with two ends each, for a total of 6 anchor points; since my multiverse has six dimensions, as described in my Three-part series on Time Travel and the more recent post on FTL travel in gaming, this would mandate 6 structural members and hence twelve anchor-points.
  2. A Safe Room created by the three Celestial Powers as a “work room” or a “prototype shop” when they were reconstructing the multiverse after Ragnerok.
  3. A safe-house established by a third party as a shelter against Ragnerok, showing how some things survived the multidimensional conflagration that were not part of the three Celestial Powers’ plans.
  4. A prison created to hold a Lovecraftian Horror from a previous Epoch of Existence, a Cthulhoid creature which has/has not now been set free (if not, can the PCs be set up to inadvertently release it out of ignorance?)
  5. An archive or time capsule created by someone who saw disaster coming (Ragnerok or something smaller?) but could not do anything about it.
  6. A structurally-recessive volume of space-time in which the exit is never the entrance and never leads to the same multiverse that you left when you entered the tower.
  7. An extra-dimensional greebly once forced a passageway from its’ reality into our own. Although they could not defeat the creature nor seal the portal, a hastily-arranged alliance of Elder Gods and other primal beings were able to create the White Tower to block the passageway.
  8. A paranoid Wizard created the White Tower to lock himself and his research away from the world.
  9. Details withheld in case my players read this.
  10. A multidimensional greebly wishing to force open a passage from its’ reality to our own “inspired” creatures in many different realities, each of which would be located at 90° relative to the others at the instant of completion, to create a ‘local’ version of the White Tower to the specifications of the greebly. The resulting structure was a multidimensional nexus, a fixed location that weakens the 6-dimensional focal point of the multiverse (everything has a centre) and through which a passage could be forced. In the process, furnishings and objects from all 12 of the ‘base towers’ were transported into the central ‘tower’ which represented a virtual amalgum of its sources, a coalescing and curdling of the fluid of reality.
  11. Conceived and constructed as an invulnerable fortress that migrated from one space-time region to another as the multiverse flowed around it, to be used a platform for multidimensional conquest/raiding.
  12. Details withheld in case my players read this.
  13. The White Tower is the receptacle for the One True Soul from which all others are derived; when a multiverse faces imminent annihilation, it appears so as to be ready to reabsorb the souls that are liberated rather than letting them be destroyed; as it flows through the newly-reborn multiverse, it will release these souls into new pockets of space time to form the seeds of new consciousnesses.
  14. The White Tower is a necromantic vacuum pump, suckering powerful souls into entering it and siphoning off their souls for use by a Lovecraftian Horror.

You’ll note that there are a couple of ideas whose details I’ve withheld because they hold the answers that I ultimately chose.

Other Ideas

Along the way, a couple of other ideas popped into mind that weren’t related to the question of “what is it” that were carefully noted for future reference:

  • Can I get ideas from the lyrics of “White Room” beyond the initial concept?
  • The White Tower gets its name from the fact that it is a perfect reflector of homogenous energy wavelengths; no matter what frequency energy is directed at it, the light will be reflected as a perfect and complete spectrum. The light will no longer contain spectral lines caused by the light source material; the emission spectrum will be continuous. Accordingly, no analysis of the construction material is possible.
  • The White Tower is constructed from internally-braced blocks of congealed space-time; each is, effectively, a pocket dimension of infinite mass, ie an isolated Black Hole compressed into a flat two-dimensional plane and ‘folded’ to create a rectangular solid of proportions 2.4 to 1, which itself was then bent into a curving shape. This means that it is effectively infinitely strong and infinitely resistant and resilient, and has a mass sufficient to resist any external attempt to move it. At some points, it has progressed through environments of such material density that the atoms could not get out of each other’s way to fall into the black hole, producing a Neutronium “powdercoating” only a few microns thick and just outside the event horizon, but this is sufficient to contain the radiations emitted by the Black Hole through quantum pair production and similar reactions, masking the black holes’ energy signatures. It follows that the only way to know that they are there is to breach the Neutronium layer. Note that this has a surface gravitational field of 10G’s, but each micron deeper increases this ten-fold – first to 100G’s then to 1,000, then 10,000, and so on. Any breach of the surface will instantly replace it with the surrounding space-time – everything for 0.002 light-years, or 2000 million kilometres will be packed into the breach to patch the neutronium.

In actual fact, while I had the idea, I needed some help to determine some of the characteristics given in the above notes. I put out some smoke signals for help on Twitter, and want to take a moment to thank the following for their assistance and/or wilingness to assist (and I hope I haven’t missed anyone):

Assembling The Ideas

At this point, I had 14 ideas and no overall single concept. So the next step was to choose between the ideas. I started by listing three possible configurations for the ultimate concept of the white tower and how it related to the ideas I had come up with:

  1. One of the ideas was correct;
  2. Several of the ideas were correct and were related or connected in some way;
  3. Only one of the ideas was ultimately correct but the Tower had a history which some of the other ideas described, or in which people had acted on the theory that one of the incorrect ideas was actually correct.

It should be obvious that (2) and (3) are not mutually exclusive, and it was this combination that was ultimately chosen.

I then looked for ways that the various ideas could connect. There were two obvious models: Sequential / Linear, or Parallel.

The Sequential model gave a richer history and elevated the White Tower in historical importance to a position that was commensurate with both its campaign function and the fundamental concept that most appeared to fit that campaign function; the parallel structure was a reflection of idea 10 in which multiple people built multiple towers at the instigation of some outside entity; some willingly, some through force, and some through manipulation or deception. It provided a more complex “actuality” to the Tower as it would be when the PCs encountered it, but a relatively shallow history. I ultimately rejected the parallel structure because it would have produced a plotline that was too long and complex for the intended story function of The White Tower within the campaign. That left the sequential model as the preferred answer.

Using events from the campaign history, I was able to map out a history of the Tower which drew apon almost all of the ideas I had come up with in a logical sequence.

Concept Into Plotline

So I had the concept around which the plot was to be built; I now understood what the White Tower was, and by definition, where it was. The central question that must be answered whenever converting such a concept into an actual plotline is always, “What is the PCs involvement in X?”

How do the get involved, what effect does this involvement have on them, what effect does it have on X, and what are the consequences? If you can lay the answers out in a step-by-step, encounter-by-encounter, revelation-by-revelation pattern, you have yourself a plot. I answered the big question – but again, I have to keep the answer to myself so as not to tip off my players – and then thought about the subsidiary questions. In the case of the White Tower, events could be broken into 10 phases of activity:

  1. Signs and portents (subplots);
  2. Mission Outline and Background Briefing (main plot)
  3. Travel (main plot)
  4. Entry (main plot)
  5. Explore (main plot)
  6. Revelation/Twist (main plot)
  7. Race Against The Clock (main plot)
  8. Climax (main plot)
  9. Escape (main plot)
  10. Consequences (main plot, subplots)

There might well have been a still earlier stage, establishing various characters and situations, but it is always my preference to use already-established characters whenever possible, and the base answer I had come up with enabled me to employ an existing, established NPC – one who had done nothing significant in the new campaign prior to this point. As a secondary benefit, that choice would enable some additional background on the NPC and his race to be presented to the PCs, making the choice a no-brainer.

Detailed plot breakdown

With the various stages of the adventure planned out, I could break each down into specific events and a more detailed plot breakdown (again, I’ve had to be deliberately vague about some details):

Stage 1: Signs & Portents
Each of the characters with any sort of precognitive or extrasensory perception would get at least one vision relating to what was to come – setting, NPCs, encounters, situations. Some would be accurate, others would be metaphoric or figurative. In addition, other “sensitives” in the game setting would get such warnings, some of which would be reported through the equivalent of the national enquirer or, derisively, the mainstream news channels. The purpose of these events is not to educate the characters about what is coming, just that something is coming. Since the characters in question will be getting other visions and portents and background through all these sources regarding other situations within the campaign, there is no risk that meaningful conclusions will be received. As the time of the main plot draws closer, other individuals who are not normally sensitive but whose abilities are relevant will also receive a vision or two; these are more likely to be taken more seriously.

Stage 2: Mission Outline and Background Briefing
The team will be contacted by the NPC I referred to in the final paragraph of the “concept into plotline” stage. He will persuade them to escort another NPC on a vital mission to the White Tower. The new NPC will give the team some background concerning the Tower, but will mostly inform the team as to what these people don’t know; this, coming from a representative of a race that normally have all the answers, should worry the PCs more than an outright threat. They should accept the mission after this buildup.

Stage 3: Travel
The team, having accepted the mission, now commences it, and discovers that since it is a source of potential power, a number of their enemies are trying to get to it as well – and taking active steps to stop their rivals from doing so. I made a list of those who would learn about it, how highly they would prioritize it, what forces they would send to capture it, and when they would arrive. The interest of their enemies should bolster the PCs determination to see the mission through. If, perchance, the team had refused the mission, the NPC will quickly fall prey to these rival enemies, whose interest should tell the PCs that they made the wrong call – and now have to go into the situation without the benefit of the “briefing notes” the NPC might have given them.

Stage 4: Entry
The team get inside the White Tower and get their first hints as to what it is and why everyone who knows about it wants to possess it.

Stage 5: Explore
The team explore the White Tower, giving them the chance to discover its history and its significance to past campaign events.

Stage 6: Revelation/Twist
At the heart of the tower, they team can discover its true origins and the urgent threat that it poses.

Stage 7: Race Against The Clock
The consequences of their exploration will delay the party as they seek to return to their entry point to deal with the threat. If they do not discover the threat in Stage 6, signs and hints as to its nature will manifest as they travel – enough that they will figure out the emergency shortly before they reach the entrance.

Stage 8: Climax
The PCs can attempt to deal with the threat. If they fail, they can use their abilities to escape, but will have unleashed a new opponent who will have to be dealt with in the future.

Stage 9: Escape
If the PCs deal with the threat successfully, they will have to fight their way out because there are still all those enemy forces out to capture the White Tower. If they have not, the enemy forces will have been decimated by the new enemy that they have unleashed.

Stage 10: Consequences
If they have succeeded, the team will have gained information on their enemies that might be valuable later in the campaign. If not, the progress of the new enemy will need to be tracked through the campaign and will obliterate both enemies and allies of the PCs as it proceeds, getting stronger each time. Some allies and potential allies will blame the PCs for the devastation of the escapee and will summon them to judgment. Others may change sides completely. It will become significantly harder for the PCs to achieve any of their goals in the future.

A final note

It’s also worth noticing that the original idea in terms of the adventure is completely out the window at this point. (In fact, I recycled it and used it elsewhere).

It was my intent to include another, even more complete example in this post, but I’m completely out of time – so this “two-part” article will have to stretch to a fourth part… Next week, I’ll detail “The Belt Of Terra” – an example where I won’t have to be quite so circumspect in the details I include. Please join me then!

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Have WordPress, will game


WordPress has a lot going for it – that’s why we use it for Campaign Mastery! For a long time now, I’ve been thinking that it has many of the advantages of a campaign Wiki, and a few more on the side, that would make it an ideal platform for game documentation – with the right plugins, of course, something that I’ll get to shortly.

I once investigated the potential for using a Relational Database (Crystal Reports, from memory) to hold the campaign logs for my superhero campaign, and quickly came to the conclusion that it was simply not feasible. There was software that could cope with the 100K entries required for proper cross-indexing, no problem; but it could not cope with the estimated 2-10K words of synopsis, never mind providing the full functionality of a word processor for the adequate display of the resulting material. Sure, there was far more expensive software available that could achieve these purposes; but nothing anywhere close to affordable.

What I only slowly began to realise after we launched Campaign Mastery is that it provides full, if limited, relational database functionality through the use of a combination of categories and tags; it only requires designing the “blog” in an appropriate way. So that’s what this post is all about – configuring WordPress to serve as a fully cross-indexed relational database of game notes and play synopses.

GM Notes: Private posts

One of the options that WordPress offers is the ability to mark some posts private and some public – and to change that designation with a couple of mouse-clicks. That makes it perfect for a GM’s prep and in-session notes, because the post can be edited afterwards and turned into a game synopsis; the notes act as memory prompts, and any flavour text only needs to be typed once. Such notes should be placed in a suitable category, “GM’s Notes”, so that the GM can call up just them and no others.

Category: Post-play Adventure documentation

When such a private-to-public conversion takes place, the post should be assigned to a new category. Or, alternatively, instead of making his session notes public, he can simply copy the content from his private post to a new public post in this new category. This doubles the number of entries, some of the content of which are redundant; but it does enable the GM to keep quiet about things that the players did not learn in the course of the adventure and that therefore should not be made public. Frankly, it’s six-of-one-and-half-a-dozen-of-the-other which is the better approach.

And, of course, there is also a third option: the Emerson Option. Isaac Asimov, when struggling to edit the biochemistry textbook he was co-authoring, came across a quote by Emerson which ran, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.” Thereafter, whenever one of the trio of authors came across a minor inconsistency or spelling error in the galley proofs, they would simply write “Emerson!” in the margin and ignore the error.

In this context, the Emerson quotation implies that users should not feel obliged to adopt one solution or the other wholeheartedly, they can pick and choose according to circumstances. If there is “secret” information in the private post, use the copy-and-paste solution a new public post; if there is nothing in the notes that is not known to the players, convert the existing post and save yourself additional labour.

At the same time, the post can be renamed to whatever is desired.

The first plugins

All of which brings me to the first plugin that I would recommend to anyone contemplating this use of WordPress. Actually, it’s a pair of them: “Organize Series” and “Organize Series Publisher”, both by Darren Ethier. (Plugin Website: http://organizeseries.com/). We use this combination here at Campaign Mastery (thanks to Johnn, who found it for us). It adds a third tier to the categorisation/tagging capabilities, a third indexing scheme that is only applied to designated posts. When you add a new post to the series, it automatically increments the entry number of that post when it is published, or you can specify the part number.

There are restrictions: a post can only ever be part of one series at a time, and strange things can happen if you remove a post from a series after it’s published. But for providing a sequentially-organised subset of posts, the combo can’t be beat.

With these two plugins, you can do something remarkable with your play synopses:

Make each adventure’s synopses part of a series!

Most GMs I know group their days of play into adventures. By making them part of a series dedicated to that specific adventure, all the synopses of that adventure become threaded, connected by an automatically generated menu contained within the post. It doesn’t matter how many of them that you have; to the best of my knowledge, you can have an unlimited number of series. For example, Running The Game III: Rules And Combat is part 10 of the series GM Toolbox. If you examine that blog post, you will find an area at the top of the post stating that it is part 10 of the series, with a link – click on that and you get the opening lines of each post within the series, in sequential order (you can see it by clicking on the series link I just quoted). And, at the bottom of the post itself there’s another box which lists all the parts that have been published, with links to each, that is automatically updated each time a new part is published.

Better than a category

This is better than a category because it avoids polluting your category list with dozens of entries, one for each day’s play. For my “Seeds Of Empire” campaign, so far, I would have 19 series, because there have been 19 adventures in the campaign to date:

  • Distant Rumbles
  • Devastation Scene
  • Dead Hands
  • Rights & Rites
  • Captive Audience
  • Troubled Waters
  • Sage Advice
  • Digging A Hole
  • Air
  • Earth
  • Water
  • Fire
  • Negative
  • Positive
  • The Laboratory Of Tenga Mort
  • Columbus Verde
  • Broken Bonds and Lost Worlds
  • The Garden Of Shimono
  • On A Larger Scale

We’ve been playing this campaign about 10 times a year, on average, since mid-2006; about 55 game sessions. That gives an average of almost three sessions per adventure. “Earth” was turned into a standalone adventure and published as part of a Blog Carnival here at Campaign Mastery in March 2009. The PCs are about to start the next adventure, “Specter Of Defeat”.

So, if the title of each day’s synopsis was [Adventure Title]+[Play Date], and each blog post within the “Post-Play Adventure Documentation” category, then you could:

  1. See a list of all play synopses within the campaign by clicking on the Category
  2. Be able to identify by title, the adventures within that list and when each was played
  3. Have a hot-linked list of all play synopses within a specific adventure attached to each part of that adventure.

What’s more, by adding a standalone page on which you (manually) list the adventure “series”, you have multiple ways to navigate through the past history of the campaign – all without using tags or subcategories – which reserves their functionality for other purposes.

All this functionality becomes even more significant if applied to a campaign like my Superhero game – which started in 1982 and has averaged roughly 20 sessions of play a year since. That’s almost 600 sessions of play! There have been at least 300 adventures in that span of time – some long, some short – and hundreds, if not thousands, of NPCs have appeared. On top of that, there have been side adventures and fictional adventures and spinoff campaigns and crossover adventures – between them, these would easily add another 200 adventures to the total. At one point, for a couple of years, we were playing 8 game sessions a month!

The use of comments

There’s one other advantage to this structure: players can add out-of-game comments and clarifications and ask questions of the GM simply by commenting on a post. And there is a permanent record of both question and answer for future reference. And the GM can supplement the synopsis when later events clarify events within an adventure simply posting a comment with a link to the clarifying blog post. For a trivial amount of effort (get link, copy to clipboard, locate post being clarified, start comment, paste link, post comment) yet another layer of cross-indexing can be incorporated.

But that brings me to:

The Second Vital Plugin

Campaign Mastery simply could not function without Akismet (Plugin Site) or some equivalent – if there is one. To date, it has trapped 272,131 spam comments for us – it takes only minutes each day to confirm that the automated selection really is spam, and to de-spam any false positives – and the rest then get despatched into the electronic never-never with a single mouseclick. If not for this plugin, those 272K spam comments would have polluted our blog posts, or required individual handling – so, instead of a couple of clicks every couple of days – maybe 400 clicks by now – we would have faced 272K clicks.

That’s the difference between having time to do something and having a full-time job just dealing with the comments.

It’s easy to spot a blog that doesn’t use Akismet or Captcha or something like them to auto-moderate spam – and I will never post a word to one bearing the stigma; I get enough spam in my inbox already.

Category: PC write-ups

As another set of posts, in a new category, I would put up copies of the character sheets for my reference, and get the players to provide a written summary of personalities, ambitions, etc, for use in planning future scenarios. These can be perpetually edited to keep them up-to-date, or a new post can be created using copy-and-paste so that “the way things were” can be referenced at any time. More usefully, this permits the GM and players to have conversations via comments about their characters – and, once again, the results are permanently stored for future reference.

Category: NPC write-ups

Even more usefully, a category can exist for NPC write-ups, which consist of a private post by the GM containing stats and other pertinent information, and one or more posts describing everything the PCs know about the NPC. What’s more, by using the NPCs name as a tag for both these posts and any synopses in which the NPC is mentioned, referenced, or participates, a complete log of the NPCs presence and role within the campaign can be maintained. With a single click on the relevant tag cloud entry, everything related to the chosen NPC is immediately available.

Clicking on the category entry gives the GM a list of every NPC in the campaign to choose from, with the first few lines of the character’s write-up – perfect for the GM to pick through the list and extract the right name and details any time he needs it.

It’s the cross-indexing that results that is so valuable; the GM can start with a synopsis of play post, identify the name of an NPC from it, and just by clicking on the corresponding tag cloud entry, have the entire history of that character open to inspection.

Category: Exotic Goodies

Every campaign accumulates these. They might be magic items in a fantasy campaign, high-tech gadgets in a sci-fi campaign, or whatever. Giving them a description in a dedicated blog post, and using tags in the same way as NPCs, means that the location and disposition and history of any given item can be found. And, of course, if the item is in the possession of a specific character, because there are entries for each of them (PC or NPC), the tag cloud can also be used to cross-reference goodie with possessor.

Category: Location Descriptions

In the same way, there are certain locations that are going to be significant time and time again. A description of the location and any events that occur there within the game – especially any damage – means that there will never be a problem with keeping those locations dynamic. Just change it a little bit from what it was each time you use it. You can incorporate the consequences of past actions into your location descriptions without even thinking about it – “a number of the awnings still show the scorch marks from Flimwyn’s Fireball three years ago, when you fought the Gorgolich Ascended on this street corner.” Similarly, consistency becomes automatic.

Both these add tremendously to both the verisimilitude of the campaign, to the players feeling that they are really present within the world, and that it has been changed by their presence – that they Matter.

Those are fringe benefits – the real benefit is that you have the location details at your fingertips whenever you need it.

Category: Custom Monsters

Any Fantasy Campaign will have these, as will many other types of campaign. Giving them the same treatment means that the details are always at the GMs fingertips, just a click or two away – which means that should they ever be needed, a consistent and fresh example can appear in play.

Category: In-game Politics & Societies

And, of course, politics is a natural subject for any and every campaign to track in this manner. By now, though, the tag cloud is becoming so clogged with entries that it would be impractical to dig through it for the entry you want.

Who cares? Use a search engine to find a post which contains the referent you’re looking for. Each post will have a list of the tags under which it is indexed; so any one of them gives you access to the totality.

Category: Game Theology

At first glance, you might think that this is only needed for Fantasy Games, but I would beg to differ. Theology has been important in my superhero campaign, my pulp campaign, and in almost every campaign that I’ve played in – be it Travellor, Paranoia, or Lord Of The Rings. Sure, in some campaigns it’s referents are literal, and in others they are simply what characters believe, but either way, theology matters. And that means that a GM might have need to refer back to what has already been established within the game.

Entries within this category might be by religion, or by Deity name, or both.

Category: Magic & Mysticism in the campaign

The same is obviously true of this subject. Branches or practitioners might be the logical subjects of posts, and the significant myths, legends, and relics. That means that quite frequently this category will be used in conjunction with another – rather than having three posts on the subject of “Felix Theonamlous” – one as an NPC and one relating to his arcane practices and one or more on his accoutrements and trappings and artefacts, the “Magic and Mysticism” category would get attached to the existing NPC and item-description posts.

Category: Cosmology

This, on the other hand, is genuinely a category that won’t always be needed – I would argue that even in campaigns where the Cosmology doesn’t matter, such as Western Campaigns, a statement to that effect should be recorded under this category, however!

Category: House Rules

Here, for the first time, I would advocate the use of subcategories, using the chapter numbers of the core rulebook as the subcategory titles. Most house rules could be contained in an ordinary “blog post” – leaving them free to be annotated at any time by revising the post, and offering the facility for players to discuss them through comments. This keeps the House Rules more-or-less structured by relatedness of subject, makes it easier to determine if a given rule in the sourcebook is modified by a house rule.

In terms of tags, there are only four that I would use for such posts: “Proposed” or “Draft”; “Trial”; “Approved”; and “Rejected”. What a lot of people who don’t use WordPress may not realise is that it’s very easy to add a new tag retrospectively, and even easier to remove an existing tag. So the status of any given rule can be verified instantly by means of the tag, and rules can be recalled either by subject (using the subcategories) or by the status of the rule (tags).

Category: Downloadable Props

Once again, these are things that every campaign accumulates over time. A GM usually only has at hand those that he considered directly relevant when preparing for the day’s play; the rest are too bulky and get in the way too much. Giving each it’s own blog post is the perfect solution that would enable the GM to have it both ways.

As with the “Magic and Mysticism” category, this category should rarely be used in isolation; it should always connect or correlate to the game session synopses in which it was relevant, and/or to the location posts or item posts or NPC posts with which the prop was associated, or to the House Rules.

Category: Miscellanea

There’s always going to be something that you haven’t thought of, or that doesn’t quite fit any of the existing categories. Other possible names for this category are “Esoterica” and “Exotica”. Links to online generators, for example. Extracts from research. References, quotes, whatever. A calendar if the campaign uses one.

Each campaign and each GM would use this category differently, but they would all need it.

At the top of the list for me would be the Monster Generator that I reviewed here way back in March 2009 (Building The Perfect Beast: A D&D 3.5 online monster generator) and the results would heavily populate the Custom Monsters category.

The final critical plugin

That brings me to another plugin that I would incorporate into such a setup, and the last one that I will mention. It was this plugin that actually prompted this post, though it’s a subject I’ve been thinking about off-and-on for a couple of years now.

Hey guys, I’m with Awesome Dice — we just released our new dice roller widgets for WordPress blogs and I’m hoping you could give it a shout out (or give it a spin). It’s available from WordPress.org or can be installed straight from the admin, to provide dicing to the diceless masses straight from any WordPress blog.

The die roller plugin works a treat. if you roll multiple dice, it automatically sorts the results from lowest to highest and shows the sum in parentheses; this is often useful, but it would be even better if the sorting was optional. I would also like to be able to roll more than 1d% at a time. But those are minor quibbles, and the product is in constant development.

The plugin is available from http://www.awesomedice.com/wordpress-dice-roller and you can check it out for yourself at Awesome Dice’s blog (and oh, yes, they also sell dice). As of right now, they don’t have a variant for Hero Games damage rolls, and there’s very little ability to customise the die rolls via mathematical expressions, but what they have done works very well.
Once a full suite of such die rollers is on tap, there is nothing to stop WordPress from becoming a key administrative tool for your campaigns – maybe even the best such option.

Why not another Option?

Wikis are another way of approaching the same thing, but they lack the relational indexing attributes of WordPress, and by their nature they tend to be entirely open or closed – though there may be exceptions. They also lack the relatively user-friendly GUI of WordPress.

Another possibility to consider is a more website less blogsite oriented approach using Google Docs. We use Google for a lot of our planning, and migrated the planning and administration/development of Assassin’s Amulet to Google after our first choice of site (ClockingIT) fell apart on us. To be honest, Clocking IT was both more user-friendly and had more options – the integrated chat system was quite useful for example; but it was not reliable enough and when that started getting in the way of the project, we took the hard choice to move. Google Docs offers better document control, and was far more reliable. But if ClockingIT got their act together I’d use it again in a heartbeat. (Not for more Legacies Campaign Setting work, I’m afraid; with more than 90 pages of content and planning to migrate, the LCS project is just too big to migrate again).

But here’s the thing: When you’re looking for a site to host your campaign, you have different needs to what you need when collaborating on a book. If you take advantage of what WordPress brings to the table, it’s better for that job than anything else I can think of, hands down.

Comments (8)

Back To Basics: Campaign Structures


Ask the gamemasters

A short time ago, we received an ATGMs question that made me stop and think for a minute. The question was straightforward; Angeline wrote, “I need some help, I’m a starting DM and I just have so much trouble coming up with Campaigns or good plot lines. Please help!!”

Last week, in Part One of this response, I talked about adventure creation, and how to structure various plot elements into a single adventure.

This week, I’m going to talk about the basics of linking adventures into a larger structure.

This is a subject that I’ve written about before, but one about which there is always something more to say. Most of those previous posts will be more advanced in technique than today’s discussion, and in many ways, this can be viewed as a primer for those more detailed and complex approaches.

For the benefit of our readers (and Johnn, who was asking me for just such a list a day or two ago), I will close this article with a list of my previous articles on the subject, arranged in logical sequence. But, right now, let’s get into the subject at hand…

Adventures generally consist of a number of simple elements:

  1. subplots and plot hooks that build up a context and an atmosphere concerning a subject;
  2. an introduction that connects those subplots and plot hooks to some immediate problem or situation that is going to be the central focus of the adventure;
  3. a partial resolution of the immediate problem by the PCs;
  4. a plot twist and/or setback that increases the tension surrounding the problem, and sometimes its significance or context, transforming it into a different, often more difficult, problem;
  5. a resolution of the resulting problem by the PCs;
  6. after-effects and consequences in the form of further subplots.

That, in a nutshell, is the essential shape of an adventure. Some of these items, especially stages three and five, can be quite extensive, and may even be composed of smaller mini-adventures and subplots. If the adventure is a dungeon, each room or encounter would be a mini-adventure.

The key to integrating miniadventures into a larger adventure, or adventures into a campaign, is for the after-effects and consequences to become part of the context and circumstances for a future plotline. In other words, a campaigns structure is defined by how the elements of one adventure relate to, and interact with, the elements of another adventure.

Sequential Episodes

There are a number of ways in which adventures can be strung together; Sequentially is the most obvious and least interesting way to do so.

In this structure, one adventure comes to a complete close before the next begins. This makes the campaign a series of easily-digestible chunks. It doesn’t matter whether an adventure takes a day or a year to complete; a new one won’t start until this one wraps.

This structure has only one real benefit to commend it: because both subplots and consequences are fully contained within the one campaign segment, there is time for character establishment and campaign background exploration while these are taking place. There can be game-time gaps in between of anywhere from seconds to decades or more. There is not even an absolute need for the characters in one segment to perpetuate into the next.

Plot Ladders

By incorporating subplots and preliminary encounters to the plotline preceding the main plot, the structure immediately assumes a ladder-like structure in which each adventure foreshadows the next.

Technically, there are two obvious ways to achieve this: either the subplots foreshadowing the next plotline coincide with the aftermath phase of the current or adventure, or they coincide with the preliminaries of the current adventure or the aftermath of the preceding adventure. With experience, ways can often be found to insert them into the main action of the current adventure, expanding the possibilities. Either way, the result is a series of overlapping plotlines that are nevertheless fairly straightforward and simple for players and GM to understand.

Complex plotlines

The next step forward in plotting sophistication comes with the realization that a little planning ahead means that subplots can relate to a more distantly removed plotline.

There is still an obvious pattern to this structure when the segments are arranged in this fashion. Plotlines are designed to be resolved sequentially, the only requirement being that the initial conditions relating to each have been established at some point prior to the adventure.

Connected Narratives

It’s not long after the development of complex plotlines – and sometimes even before it – that GMs start stringing adventures together to form a larger narrative. Subplots can be spread out, smeared across whole adventures. And what looks like two entirely separate adventures can dovetail to form one much larger and more complicated narrative.

One trend that is fairly clear at this point is that the more complex the campaign, the more slowly individual adventures and situations resolve. That’s because there are more things going on in the course of a single adventure; not only might it now have preludes and foreshadowing of the plotline to immediately follow it, but it might have plot threads connecting it to adventures that are two or three or more removed into the future, plus aftermaths and consequences that are two or three adventures removed into the past.

In fact, it becomes quite easy to construct a campaign that is so rambling that the PCs and GM lose track of what’s going on, get confused and tangled, and bring the campaign to a crashing halt. Structure can become so anarchic that it is now detrimental to the success of the overall campaign. What’s needed is some new organizational principle to start tying plotlines together in a more systematic way.

Plot Arcs

I call these plot arcs, Johnn has sometimes referred to them as loops.

But what they really are narrative superstructures that connect a bunch of related plots together into a single super-plot. Each plot arc is designed to overlap with several others. The only real difference between the campaign structure depicted above and the one that precedes it is in the identification of the individual adventures – instead of being treated as isolated units, a new level of organization has been incorporated to identify several adventures as being part of the same plot arc.

Even so, this is no longer the most efficient way of planning a plot arc. I’ll get to the subject of a better planning and design structure a little later.

Phased Campaigns

If you were to divide your campaign up into tenths, then schedule one or two plot arcs to have their major action (and hence their resolution) in each tenth, and to have their preliminaries subplots and establishing encounters coinciding with earlier phases, you end up with a phased campaign. Within each phase you can totally sandbox the campaign as you see fit, you can alter the sequence of resolution of adventures in response to PC choices and actions, and so on. When you reach the division between phases, there will be a relatively small number of divergences from the overall plan, usually taking the form of an additional plotline to be resolved or an unexpected outcome to complicate a future adventure. If such a structure has been plotted out carefully, with future dependencies carefully outlined, it is relatively quick and easy to update the plan to accommodate these variations.

As regular readers of this blog will know, I’ve been preparing my next superhero campaign for a couple of years now – actually, all I was doing in that respect for most of that time was coming up with plot ideas. Most of these were described no more fully than an adventure seed – a line or a paragraph each, nothing more.

Recently, the time came to start compiling these ideas into a set of plot arcs and thence into actual plot structures. A key principle to bear in mind in designing these plot arcs is that outcomes must never be preordained; at best, some intervening step on the way logical path to a point of ultimate resolution can be predetermined. I can’t presume that The Astonishing Ant-gorilla’s scheme to shrink a population of apes to millimeter size will be successful or will be defeated; only that he will obtain a supply of Compound Vanilla, the key component of his shrinking potion, in advance from where it is located in Laboratory 23, the super-scientific think-tank. I can happily construct a subsequent scenario based on the consequences of the security failure, or on another application of Compound Vanilla, or on the existence of Laboratory 23; I can even presume that if Ant-Gorilla is captured, he will be able to escape if needed for a subsequent adventure. But I can’t assume that his scheme will succeed or fail; remember, no plan survives contact with the PCs!

Step 1: Themes

I started by grouping them into overall themes – there is a mutagenic drugs theme (about drugs that, instead of being just mind-altering are also body-transforming); there’s a cybernetics/computer-crime theme; and so on.

Step 2: Character Arcs

Next, I came up with at least one (and preferably two) major plot arcs that focus on a single character. That doesn’t mean that the other PCs won’t get involved in them; they certainly will, since they form a critical part of the circumstances of each adventure within the plot arc, i.e. they are part of the context of each adventure; it’s just a question of where the plot spotlight will be focused.

Step 3: Character Plot Threads

One of the opportunities that I offer new characters comes in the form of additional character building points for each plot thread that they build into their character backgrounds. There are so many points for a closed plot thread – one that doesn’t have potential for multiple adventures – and more for an open plot thread that go in many directions. Making a list of these, then picking and choosing a few to become major elements of the campaign and expanding them into a series of specific adventures, is the third step.

Step 4: Villain/NPC Plot Threads

The penultimate stage of arc generation consists of the creation of extended plotlines for a handful of selected villains and NPCs as though they were PCs.

Step 5: Overall Plotline

With these plot arcs as raw material, and in broad strokes within my mind, I can then construct a rough overall plotline, with an overall campaign theme.

Step 6: Allocation Of Plotlines

The next step is to take the general plot arcs that were created in steps 1 to 4 and allocate the plot threads to different phases of the campaign according to how they fit into the overall plotline.

The result, in the case of my superhero campaign, looks something like this:

(It doesn’t look exactly like this because this is actually the result of a few more process steps). The colored bands running across the page depict the six phases of the overall plotline from step 5; these are groupings of (more than 10) stages, but most of the stages are very small. Plot arcs run across the page; yellow indicates that events relating to that plot arc occur in that stage of the campaign (dark yellow in the darker bands, lighter in the lighter bands) while white and gray are used to indicate an unresolved plot arc that has no significance within the stage. Note that most people will use a much simpler system of coding, which is what this started out as – blue for no, yellow for yes!

It can be seen that there are a lot of plot arcs that start in stage 1, but some are immediately resolved. For a while, plotlines seem to multiply faster than they are resolved, but that isn’t actually the case – a lot of them are inter-related and inter-connected, with significance that doesn’t get recognized until later in the campaign. This is a map to tell ME what is going on, not the players.

Other users might like to distinguish between subplots and main plot developments with colour coding, but I deal with that at a later stage.

Step 7: Flesh Out The Plot Arcs

It takes a lot of context to properly build a plot arc. Take the example I offered earlier of the Astonishing Ant-Gorilla – simply to use this plotline, I would want to have the option of:

  1. establishing the villain (or, at least, his expertise in the relevant science)
  2. establishing the existence of Compound Vanilla; and,
  3. establishing the existence of Laboratory 23.

Sure, a lot this material can be introduced in the plotline, but the campaign achieves far greater consistency and verisimilitude (within genre-limits) if these are handled in advance. So I’ll go looking for plot opportunities in the other arcs in which Compound Vanilla can be important, other plotlines where Laboratory 23 might be useful, and other plotlines where Ant-Gorilla could be the villain. Oh, and shrinking.

Since there is no guarantee that Ant-Gorilla will be around after this plotline, just to be on the safe side, if he has anything else significant to contribute to a plotline, it should be scheduled to happen before the Shrinking Apes plotline, UNLESS it relies on that scheme’s outcome – and I can be reasonably sure that the PCs will trash the bad guy’s plans, even if he gets away – in which case it has to happen AFTER this plotline.

By building up interactive narrative structures that logically establish everything that’s needed before the main plotline, the plotline becomes a listed sequence of events and facts for the PCs to learn.

Step 8: Generate a single timeline of events

Once you have a complete concordance of the important facts of every major plotline pre-scheduled, you can construct a timeline for the campaign, a blueprint that tells you what every major NPC is doing at any given time and every fact that has to be revealed to, or uncovered by, the PCs, because it will either explain the significance of something that’s already happened, or will propel them into a new adventure, or both. For the Champions campaign, that list is currently 29 pages long – but I’ve compressed it into a tiny little graphic and rotated it 90 degrees to get what’s shown above.

This chart uses colour coding. It divides each step in the adventure process into three phases: subplots before, main action, and subplots after. Each of these is divided into columns for each character, and colour coding used to indicate yes or no – bright green for subplots, pale blue for incidental involvement in another PCs subplot, pale yellow for active involvement in another character’s subplot, bright purple for no subplot for that character at that time for whatever reason, red for no subplots at all because the next main event will follow immediately with no time gap. Main events are colour-coded – bright yellow for yes, golden yellow for yes but away from their main base of operations, dark blue for no main action for anyone, bright blue for no involvement in the main plot expected for that specific character. Each line represents a day, game time, or less.

Again, I expect most people to use a much simpler colour code; this is an especially complex campaign.

Let’s take a closer look at just a few lines of the timeline (I’ve broken it into five separate parts to get it to fit across the page), and to enable discussion:

The first column, “Apocalypse Phase” refers to what phase of the overall plotline these events are part of. Session # shows how far I expect to get in a single session of play (4-5 hours). “Early Ranking” lists the campaign stage, counting down from 9 to -3 (with 0 being a major event), the start of the Big Finish. “Plot Arc” is a numeric code that identifies which plot arc the event is a part of – if any. And Plot Code is an index entry that points me to both my concordance notes and the full description of the event. “V01b”, for example, has a concordance entry of: “follows v01.2, precedes v01b1”. The concordance also lists the emotional impact the event is expected to have, the cosmic and fantasy ratings, and the tone – as described in an earlier post on this manner of plot organization. It also has a synopsis of the event for my benefit – in this case, “team research who Vala is – mission logs, media reports, etc”. In essence, this about a new PC describing what is publicly known about the character. I doubt it will take more than 10 minutes, real time.

Other points of interest in this excerpt: notice that multiple plot points can be contained on a single line; notice that a single line might advance one, two, or three plot arcs (in fact, some advance even more plotlines, but those are exceptional events); and notice that one event has been highlighted as taking place in an unusual location. In fact, this example contains an error, as the first event line should also be so colour-coded, as might be surmised by the plot arc number that they have in common.

The second set of columns in the table shows a lot of information. First, note the column title at the top: these depict subplots – often just a few minutes or seconds long in real time – focusing on a specific character. Underneath that (in blue) are abbreviations of the main character names – the first four are PCs, and the next two are recurring NPCs. The first line shows a shared subplot for everyone (DP39) – that’s actually not technically correct, as two of the characters will not have entered the campaign at this point, but this indicates that I want them to know of that event (because it will also serve as a general introduction to the campaign, in this particular case). This is followed by a sea of red (no subplots because there is no time for them) and occasional splashes of purple (no subplots for some other reason); in the midst of which, there are three subplot events listed: v01a and v01d1 focus on Vala, while RA09 focuses on Runeweaver.

Beneath the red section, in the last three rows, a different pattern (more normal) emerges – there is a shared subplot (v04) for two characters before one event, there is a shared subplot (er02) for almost all characters before the next event, and there’s a single subplot (v07a) for one character prior to the event after that. White space means that I can fill the space with whatever seems appropriate – I have a list of mundane activities that would normally pass without notice, which can be used to answer the question, ‘what were you doing while this was occurring?’.

Notice that I need have no fear in showing this information publicly; without the key, and the corresponding plot summary, these codes mean absolutely nothing to the players.

The next set of columns are for the main plot, which is usually identified by number in the first batch of columns, and so doesn’t need to be referenced here. The structure is similar to the previous section, with character names in sub-columns. Light Blue indicates non-participation, Dark blue indicates no main plot, gold indicates a main plot that occurs somewhere other than the main adventure venue – in a fantasy game, you might distinguish between dungeons, wilderness, and urban settings, in this case it indicates something occurring in deep space or in a different dimension. The only other really significant observation to make is that at one point, a subplot affects the main plot, as shown by the codes displayed; these really stand out because they are the only codes shown in this section of the table.

At times while compiling the event plan, there have been occasions when I’ve had to insert clarifying notes in this section. I’ve split cells into separate rows as necessary, because that is often less work than merging multiple rows and columns. Oh, and I’ve used the table construction systems within Open Office for this table – I find it more customizable with less effort than the Word equivalent, which I use for other kinds of documents.

This shows subplots that follow the main-plot events. It’s also used to contain teasers for the next piece of the main plot. Once again, it is organized to show the principle characters of the campaign in individual columns. What this shows is a whole-group briefing event (DP40); then 4 characters having a subplot (v01.2); then no characters having subplots; then two characters having a subplot (v01c) with the possibility that other characters may be passive observers or secondary participants (v01c?); a single subplot for one character (v01d1) and a whole heap of red (no subplots because one event follows immediately after another). Finally, there is a whole group subplot (SB05), quite possibly a teaser – you might just be able to make out that it precedes an off-world adventure. Then there’s more white-space room for mundane events.

Also noteworthy is the fact that one NPC character is not expected to be involved in any of this activity beyond that initial briefing event.

There are just two columns left to examine: Featured Villains (if any) and Featured NPCs. VW is an obvious abbreviation for someone who will be a regular villain/NPC within the campaign. “Major Journalists” indicates that we have a substantial press conference at which some of the leading journalists of the western world will be involved – this is a blanket label to save listing them individually, and a reminder that I will need to compile such a list. “Baron Varnae” is a vampire who gained superpowers by drinking the blood of a superhero; he was thought destroyed, but since when does that stop a Vampire? “Ringmaster & The Circus Of Crime” is a homage and variation on the classic Marvel villains from the 1960s – and as for Red Shanahan, well that would be telling – but it’s not a name the players will recognize!

Critically important is the fact that if there is no featured villain, there is not going to be any combat – and battle is what eats up time in any game.

You can’t get the full impact of this column structure with it all broken up like this, so now that you know what’s in any given column, here’s a somewhat-reduced version of the whole section – the text will be illegible, but the relationship between colour-coded sections becomes clearer.

All you need to know to interpret it is that time proceeds across each line and then down to the next, just as though you were reading a line in a book. So the two whole-team subplots occur in succession, and then there is a main event for 3 characters, a subplot for 4 characters, then a subplot for 1 character, a main event for four characters, another main event for 4 characters, a two-character subplot in which other characters may be present, a five-character main plot event, a single-character subplot, a single-character subplot which occurs to the same character, and a main plot event for 5 characters – and that constitutes everything that’s expected to happen in the first session of play of the new campaign.

The second session starts with a single-character subplot, then there’s a five-character main plot event, which is followed by another five character main plot event in which subplots complicate the situation. This is the plotline with the “Major Journalists”, which might give a clue! (No, i’m not giving anything away – on learning that their [NPC] predecessors logged each encounter with the media as though it were a combat mission, the players’ comments were, “very sensible of them!” They already know that they will have to feed the voracious press machine regularly and often – or the media monster will eat them alive…)

Complex Structure Interactions

Another way of looking at a campaign structure of this type is as a function model.

  • The subplots form an initial set of conditions.
  • The introduction sets in motion two or more parallel functions that will modify those conditions in some way that has been defined as ‘interesting’ by the GM.
  • Each major NPC, and the PCs, represents an individual function. These parallel functions collide and either oppose each other or unite, coalescing into larger functions; if they interfere with each other, then each confrontation forces the weaker function to to give way to the stronger.
  • Because each function is altering the conditions within which the adventure simulation is occurring, the conditions that exist after each interaction are different to those that initially existed – the background situation is perpetually evolving in response to the functions.
  • This means that the actual conditions that surround the final climax are different to those which existed when characters made their initial plans; plot twists are inherent within this structure.

“My Campaign’s already running…”

It’s not too late to implement this sort of plot structure, to whatever depth you want to take it. The secret weapon that makes it possible are index cards – or a virtual equivalent.

Make up one card for each of the PCs. It should consist of just the name and any ambitions that character wants to satisfy in the course of the campaign. Code each by an abbreviation of the character name, just as I have used “St B”, “V”, “BW”, “RW”, “K”, and “BC”.

Next, make up a card for each major plotline that has developed in play. Use about half the card to synopsize the plotline – you want only a very brief description. Focus on the current situation more than the ‘how did we get here’. Give each plotline a one-or-two word title, and a code that consists of an 2-character alphabetic abbreviation of that name.

Add another card for each trend that you have observed developing – is there a general rise in anarchy or are taxes getting out of hand? Again, give each a one-or-two-word title and a code based on it. If you already know the cause, synopsize it.

Finally, add cards for the major villains, NPCs, and organizations. Note any involvement or responsibility they have in any of the cards by listing the relevant codes. Synopsize any major ambitions or plans they have, and their current status within the game.

Playing The Cards You’re Dealt
  1. Arrange these index cards in four neat stacks, each stack consisting of the card categories described above. It’s time to play ‘spot the correlation’.
  2. Take the first card – it will be a PC card – and place it to one side. Now go through the rest of the cards trying to think of any way to involve that character’s ambitions to the material on the other cards, and if you find it, add it to a list. That list should have the primary code (the character code from the first card), the code of the ‘matching’ card, and a synopsis of the way or ways they can combine. Leave a tiny bit of space to the left, you’ll have an additional number to write down later.
  3. When you’ve tried to match that first card with all the other cards, return the other cards to their stacks.
  4. Set aside the first card and repeat the above process for the second card. Continue until you have listed all the ways the existing plotlines can interact and intersect. At first, you may find this process slow; it will quickly grow very rapid.
  5. Do some quick tallies of the number of times each code appears. You are looking for the code that appears most frequently. It can be preferable to list the top three or four.
  6. As a first cut, the most-connected code will be the overall plotline and the source of the campaign’s climax. If it doesn’t seem sufficient dramatic for the purpose, try the second most-connected code, then the third, and so on – unless some master plan has started fitting itself together in your mind while you’ve been examining your campaign from all angles, which happens more frequently than people might expect.
  7. For each card, draft a plotline to resolve the storyline, using – as much as possible – the plot ideas on your list. Plotlines should be listed as a sequence of events, none of which have to be carried out by the PCs – it should all be either information the PCs learn, or something an NPC does. Events should be listed in the most logical sequence, and given a code number that consists of the alphabetic code plus a two digit number. If you have to, insert additional logical steps.
  8. It should now become possible to construct a concordance for the rest of your campaign, and from it generate a master list of events.
  9. The players don’t have to follow your proposed schedule. Your list of linking events serve as stop signs; the players are free to proceed as far as they want to in each of the plotlines you have running until they reach a stop sign – at which point, get out the other card indicated and make sure that any events required before the stop sign occur before permitting the players to take that next step. Refer to the diagram below, and it should be immediately obvious what this means – the characters are free to follow plotline#1 until they reach the stop sign (p1e05), at which point an NPC or outside circumstances have to push them to complete the unresolved events of plotline#2 to the same stage – that’s P2e01 and 02.

The wrapup

That’s everything you need to know to create complex and inter-entwined campaigns. With these organizational principles, it all comes down to how good and creative your plot ideas are.

But wait, we’re not quite done yet….
Next time, in part three, I have a couple of practical examples to offer that just wouldn’t fit, this time around: The White Tower and The Belt Of Terra!

In the meantime, as promised, I am closing this blog post with a list of my past articles on the subject. The list starts by dealing with adventure creation – items that probably should have been included last time, but I ran out of time to compile it. Later entries deal with campaigns and how to connect one adventure to another using these adventures as logical units. But there’s a lot of overlap between the two subjects. Links will open in a new tab or window.

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Melodies & Rests: ‘Euphoria’ by Def Leppard


Melodies-and-Rests-Column-Logo
Melodies & Rests is intended to be an occasional recurring column at Campaign Mastery in which Mike plucks a CD at random from his collection and sees how much creative inspiration for gaming he can squeeze out of it. You don’t have to agree with his musical tastes – but play close attention to the techniques…

As the prototype for this new column, I’ve picked a CD that more or less leaped out as an excellent starting point: Def Leppard’s 1999 album “Euphoria”, Available from Amazon. Released after the group’s heyday, this was a deliberate return to the sounds and production techniques that at one time made them arguably the biggest band in the world. But that doesn’t particularly interest us here – you can read more about the band on their Wikipedia page .

Cover

Sadly, nothing much to get us excited here. The good stuff is yet to come.

Back Cover

Oh dear, this isn’t getting any better. A reasonably vanilla photograph of the band members against a black background.

Interior Art

More pictures of band members. All fairly bland. Until you actually take the CD out, and then there is a rather intriguing image:

(I fear the scan doesn’t do the image justice). It may bear no relation to the actual intent or production of the image, but what I see when I look at this are two possibilities:

  • Shambling mounds of light
  • Beings constructed of energy waves

Both these can be jumping-off points for the imagination.

Shambling Mounds Of Light

Monsters made of solid energy, these things look slow but aren’t. Brainlessly destructive and virtually mindless, they would make great cannon fodder for a villain or a generic accidental creation from a lab accident. In fantasy-oriented campaigns, they might result from a miscast Light spell.

In general, we associate light with purity and – in the case of 3.x, with positive energy. That offers an entirely different slant on what these things might be – beings from the Positive Energy Plane that human eyes can barely comprehend. Or perhaps this is a city in such a place – a real “city of light”. Suddenly, I’m reminded of the Angels in James Blish’s “The Star Dwellers” (a limited number available through Amazon) and what their celestial “playground” must have looked like.

Beings constructed of energy waves

The big difference between this idea and the preceding ones is the question of solidity. Whereas the “shambling mounds of light” were solid but didn’t look it, these are ephemeral, and therefore immune to most of what a PC can throw at them. Energy, they would simply absorb – it would be just another meal to them – and matter would pass straight through them. In a superhero or space opera campaign, these would be dangerous opponents.

The fantasy equivalent would be beings constructed of pure magic. Able to cast virtually any spell at will by sacrificing hit points equal to the spell level, or perhaps to the caster level, they would be equally dangerous. The difficulty lies in coming up with a reasonable origin for them – where do they come from? None of the inner planes really seems to fit, and any outer plane would have to be fairly exotic for these beings to be at home there. Perhaps they inhabit the boundaries between planes? I mean, those boundaries have to be made of something, and pure magic would certainly be as likely a concept as anything else. Perhaps some of these get dislodged when there is too much gating between planes in a particular location?

The Track List

Taking song titles in isolation can often be a spur to creativity. With 15 tracks on the Australian version of this CD, let’s see what we can make of the titles in this case.

  1. Demolition Man – Aside from immediately bringing to mind the Sylvester Stallone / Wesley Snipes sci-fi action movie – which has lots of ideas to plunder – this suggests a character who goes around knocking things down or blowing them up. But that’s a little pedestrian for most campaigns; to make it interesting, the character’s targets should be something unusual or exotic. Perhaps he demolishes the boundaries between worlds, or is trying to do so? Alternatively, there’s the potential for a tragic figure whose “demolition” activities are am unwanted side effect of his mere presence – metal fatigue, structural collapse, windows shattering… that could make for an interesting variant on the Frankenstein myth in a sci-fi or superhero campaign.
  2. Promises – Anything that brings to mind the whole question of debts and obligations is a rich source of ideas, but the word alone is not particularly inspiring. Expect to get better ideas from the lyrics in such cases.
  3. Back In Your Face – The only thing that this really brings to mind is the return of a threat or NPC that the characters thought they had solved. But that’s not a bad notion – a contemporary enemy might well rejuvenate or restore a past menace to the PCs and offer them the chance of revenge purely to distract them from what He’s up to. That’s not a bad plot hook…
  4. Goodbye – I had to dig for ideas derived from this title. My initial thought was “Goodbye… to what?” Answering the “what” could turn this into an interesting plot hook. But that got me thinking about angst-ridden death scenes, and Shakespearian tragedies, and operatic climaxes. How do characters face death – their own, or someone close to them? Or perhaps we’re talking about a romantic attachment being broken off – that’s the “Shakespearian tragedy” component. “Why is the person saying goodbye?” could be an equally strong source of ideas, especially if one or more PCs were directly involved. Further, there are two possible options: saying goodbye to someone or something voluntarily, or saying it involuntarily. The first is well-catered for already; the second brings with it connotations of hidden secrets and blackmail – and that can take an otherwise bland NPC that the PCs know and trust and make them interesting, or an already-interesting NPC and make them very interesting. And then there’s the possibility that it’s a PC who is being blackmailed into leaving the party. The ideas may have been slow to come to mind, but once they started flowing, there were plenty of them.
  5. All Night – There is even less to get excited about concerning this title. All that comes to mind is a strange phenomenon that lasts all night, every so often, or a character with curse that afflicts them at night, or something that is intended to delay or occupy the PCs ‘all night’ to prevent interference in something more important.
  6. Paper Sun – Now here’s a more provocative title. A two dimensional world… or perhaps reducing our world to two dimensions, enabling the villain to reach ‘past’ any barriers (very pulp-ish). Or a tabloid newspaper (or fantasy equivalent, a Tabloid Bard?). Or the seal on a treaty, perhaps?
  7. It’s Only Love – Ideas stem from this title only relative to the tone of voice that one imagines being used when saying it. The phrase takes on quite different connotations if spoken in a wistful sense, or in a dismissive tone, and so on. The common message is that love doesn’t matter, but there are four huge variables: the person making the statement, who it is being said to, who the emotional connection being dismissed is with, and whether or not the speaker means it, literally, or is trying to convince either himself or someone else of its truth. And that’s taking the term “love” literally; what if it is used in a more general sense? The phrase could be used by a hobbyist to describe how they feel about their activities or an addict to express their addiction. Whenever I come across a phrase like this, that is so mutable in meaning, I generally like to come up with an adventure in which each PC experiences the phrase in a difference sense or permutation, so that the phrase itself becomes the common thread and theme linking the subplots together. This sort of idea is great for a ‘non-adventure’ that is all about roleplaying, which can be a great change of pace.
  8. 21st Century Sha La La La Girl – To make anything from this title, I need to first discard the “Sha La La La”. The remainder, “21st Century Girl” sparked a few ideas, by way of the different implications that could lead to someone being described in that way. From the notion of someone who is ahead of their time, to someone who was so obsessed with a romantic connection to the character that they travelled back in time to be with them, there are a number of possibilities that result.
  9. To Be Alive – This is the sort of title that scratches my philosophical bump. What does it mean “To be Alive”? This line of thought leads to the associated notion of “To Feel Alive” which suggests thrill-seeking. I haven’t seen many thrill-seekers in fantasy campaigns, though they make the occasional appearance in more modern campaigns – does that suggest that modern life is more boring to the populace? Or simply that there is a character archetype that’s under-represented in fantasy gaming? But, I really can’t go past my first thought, which connects the phrase with those immortal words from Frankenstein, “It’s Alive!!”; the whole concept of life beyond death, i.e. undeath, when associated with this phrase, gives forth some wonderful ideas. There’s the dramatic announcement of the newly-resurrected Lich/Demi-Lich; there’s the wistful and somewhat melancholy statement of an Undead regretting all the things that they have left behind. And there’s the interesting thought of an NPC experiencing that transition from celebrating a victory over death, to realising that it is a Pyrrhic victory, to covertly seeking to have the PCs end their unnatural existence despite the demands and desires of the entity who has provided the means, and who insists on a fair return on their time and trouble. Faustian Bargains are always such fun!
  10. Disintegrate – A title that promises much but delivers little in the way of inspiration. What disintegrates? Without context, this doesn’t really go anywhere in terms of generating ideas. I must admit that I can never hear the word without remembering the classic Warner Bros cartoon, “Duck Dodgers In The 24-and-a-halfth century”, and the duel of disintegrating pistols. Trying to capture that tone might seem a fun diversion for an otherwise straight-laced campaign, but it requires the cooperation of the players – if they don’t have the appropriately Looney-Tunes mindset, the adventure can quickly grind to a halt. The trick, then, would be getting the players into the appropriate headspace. Maybe taking a leaf out of “Roger Rabbit” and having the PCs enter a strange world where this sort of craziness is the way things work – or perhaps stealing a beat from “Westworld” and having a Warner Bros theme park go out of control or otherwise come to life?
  11. Guilty – The whole genre of legal drama fascinates me and has done so for a very long time. So much so that I have stirred these plot elements into my superhero campaign extensively and at least touched on them in my fantasy campaigns. The players in the former were overjoyed when a character’s superhero identity was given legal recognition by the courts under international law – and not at all so thrilled when unexpected consequences of the law created even more problems than there had been before the law was introduced. Another example is the time when one of the PCs was on trial for murder, being defended by a young Denny Crane (Boston Legal), who was opposed by Special Prosecutor Perry Mason – a genuine clash of the legal titans, as anyone familiar with both series will immediately recognise. In general, it doesn’t matter what law you make about super-powers or costumed crime-fighting, it will have massive and unwanted consequences. All of the above flashed through my mind when prompted by this title, but the most interesting ideas that stem from it that have occurred to me all relate to the distinctions between being guilty, being apparently guilty, and feeling guilty, especially when two or more of those are in contradiction. There are numerous combinations – being guilty and not feeling guilty, being guilty and appearing innocent, being innocent and appearing guilty, and so on – and they all make good plotlines. So much so that it is necessary to warn against overuse!
  12. Day After Day – this title implies repetition and repetitiveness, and reminds me of a ST:TNG episode in which they were stuck in a loop in time, reliving the same events over and over. I shamelessly stole and modified that idea for an adventure in my previous superhero campaign entitled “Force 13”, which ended up precipitating a Dalek Invasion. Another possible idea is a character who is cursed to relive the same day for eternity (Groundhog Day) until the PCs intrude into his time bubble and become equally trapped.
  13. Kings Of Oblivion – Now, we’re cooking. I don’t care what game or game system you are running, in what genre – except possibly western – there is room in it for a group calling themselves the Kings Of Oblivion. The title could be metaphoric or literal. Whether they rule over “oblivion”, are destructive on a cosmic scale, or are simply highly-skilled killers, this is a Great Title!
  14. Worlds Collide – This bonus track from the Australian release of the CD is another excellent one for inspiration, because “Worlds” can mean so many different things. It could be taken literally, or it could refer to the personal “world” that two people inhabit, or any number of other interpretations. It can refer to two people’s worlds colliding, or one person’s world coming into conflict – for example when a character’s professional and personal lives are at odds.
  15. Under My Wheels – The album I have closes with this bonus track, a cover version of an Alice Cooper track. If interpreted metaphorically, there are a number of plot ideas that can derive from it – from the unintended crushing of innocents by side-effects and unwanted consequences to a character who simply dismisses those caught “under his wheels” as unimportant. Since the latter is more-or-less stock villainy, the first of those two is a more interesting adventure concept. There are still variants to consider – are the PCs doing the crushing, are they opposing the crushing, are they the ones being crushed?

Selected Lyrical Content

I’m running short on time, and this post is already brimming with ideas for our readers to expropriate. So I’m going to restrict myself to lyrics from just two of the songs on the album. I’m sure there are more!

Promises

The first line of the chorus of this song runs “I won’t make promises that I can’t keep.” That’s a very suggestive lyric when you consider the full gamut of people who might be making the statement. Everything from an honest politician, to a lying politician, to a demonic being with a sense of ethics. Is the speaker being truthful? Is he not? How much grey area is there in the character’s assessment of what promises he can and can’t keep? Where are the lines drawn?

Or you can put a completely different spin on the phrase by inserting other lines before it. Try, “I promise you a painful death – and,” or “I will make your life a living hell – and,”. Or, “This is prime real estate – buy it now and you’ll make a fortune, and”. Or even “I’ll find you a beauty, only driven by a little old lady on the weekends,”. Or “I won’t live without you”.

From sinister to oily to creepy, this phrase can mean everything or nothing. And it’s up to the character to work out which.

Paper Sun

Finally, there is the second line of the chorus to “Paper Sun” – the first runs “Because we’re living on a paper sun,”, and the second, “Blind to all the damage done.” This suggests that the song is about environmentalism – and Def Leppard are well known to include one “serious issue” song on each album in amongst the usual pop-rock, so that fits their profile. This line immediately reminds me of the St:TNG episode late in their 7th season in which a group of environmentalists prove that high-level warp speeds are damaging the interstellar “environment”. The episode itself is rather lame, easily the least interesting of the final season, because it never really goes anywhere and doesn’t give the heroes a chance to be heroic. My immediate thought on viewing it for the first time was how effective a handicap it placed on the Federation – exactly what their enemies would choose to do if they were to use Starfleet’s superior morals against them.

So what would be required in order to achieve this? Well, you need an environment in which there is a lot of high-speed traffic – check. Next, you need a local race scientifically advanced enough to detect the phenomenon and belligerent enough to force Starfleet’s attention to it – check. Then, you need a means of artificially creating the effect that you want the enterprise to detect – not all that difficult to achieve in any environment where pseudo-science gobbledygook can substitute for the real thing, so long as it sounds plausible. Deploy the device, which makes the adjacent regions of space “sensitive” to the supposed high-warp effect, and simply wait. Hey, presto! You have caused immeasurable constraints on their military preparedness, rate of scientific advancement, and economy. Not to mention the psychological damage you’ve done. And, of course, this coincides with belligerence by several enemies of the Federation, as shown in concurrent episodes of Deep Space 9, any of whom could have been responsible.

It would hardly be the first time that a group’s morals or ethics had been used against them as a military or political tactic. Even if the ruse were eventually discovered, the damage would be done.

What’s interesting about this premise is that there had never been any concern with these environmental effects until this episode. The environment ‘damage’ did not even exist, so far as the Federation knew, until they were thrust into the middle of the situation. By the same token, there is no need to have a pre-existing environmental concern in the game or game setting – one can be manufactured and introduced as a motive for belligerence, exactly as was the case in the Next Gen episode.

For example, let’s consider translating this premise into a fantasy milieu. A group begins targeting spellcasters, no-one knows why. The PCs – all high-level characters – are hired by the King to investigate the matter. They have a confrontation with the group responsible, who explain that the casting of high-level spells is damaging the environment in some semi-plausible and serious-sounding way that can be easily tested and verified by the PCs. The group making the attacks on spellcasters offer a deal – they will stop their attacks if the PCs will present the problem to the King. When they do so, he outlaws the use of any spell of higher than 6th level without express written permission from the throne. Give the kingdom a few months to imprison anyone who breaks the law, and for a number of the best and brightest of the kingdom to emigrate elsewhere for the equivalent of “scientific freedom”, and then the people responsible for faking the environmental damage can invade with a pronounced tactical advantage.

The key is the type of damage supposedly being caused. The most obvious is something affecting birth rates or other fertility problems, but that’s too hard for the PCs to verify. Something that breaks down the barriers between worlds, permitting abominations and devils and demons easy access is less emotive, but more easily verified by the PCs, and gives a nice justification for some more action by the PCs.

An utterly plausible adventure, in which the high morals of the PCs – and of the players – gets manipulated. Of course, only a truly evil GM would contemplate it… so that’s at least 90% who are in, then. Are you one of them?

Remember, this column is on trial until we see how many people think it should continue. If you enjoyed it – or think that the next time might be more interesting than this choice – please comment on it, or tweet about it using the buttons at the top of the post, or give it +1 on google or a facebook ‘like’. All of these will be tabulated and used to decide whether or not the column strikes a chord – no pun intended, but I’ll take it! Have fun…

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Back To Basics Part 1: Adventure Structures


Ask the gamemasters

A short time ago, we received an ATGMs question that made me stop and think for a minute. The question was straightforward; Angeline wrote, “I need some help, I’m a starting DM and I just have so much trouble coming up with Campaigns or good plot lines. Please help!!”

Every now and then in this game you have to ask yourself if you are neglecting the basics that really help newcomers to the hobby. And, since you can never really do enough in that regard, the question generally results in a “not really,” answer. The trick is always finding something with enough substance that more experienced readers will get something worth the effort of reading your post as well as the relative novices who are the core target.

My standard solution to this dilemma is to ensure that I have packaged something new in at least some part of the process – some new thought or insight that can help any GM out there that hasn’t thought of it themselves. Hopefully, I’ve managed that, but a review of the fundamentals can always be helpful.

This article will be in two halves – part 2 (which I’ll post next week) will deal with Campaign Structures. The subjects for today are the adventures that go into a campaign.

Adventure Sources

Adventures can come from anywhere. An adventure is simply a matter of the PCs having an objective – either one they have chosen for themselves or one that in-game circumstances have thrust apon them, usually in the form of a piece of bait attached to a plot hook. Once the PCs nibble at the bait, you have their attention – and all you have to do is collaborate with the players on telling the story of how that objective was achieved, or how they failed to achieve the goal, by lobbing complications and personal interactions at the plotline.

All plots are narratives describing the transition from A to B. Your main job as a GM (aside from rules refereeing and providing the context within which that transition occurs) is to make the process of transition as interesting as possible.

Objectives

Obviously, the place to start is usually by defining the objective the players want their characters to achieve.

External Objectives

Objectives that the GM sets up are the most common, and often the most problematic. Most GMs will be familiar with the concept of a ‘plot train’ in which it doesn’t matter what choices the players make, the PCs still end up going where the GM wanted. There was a time when this was considered the epitome of good GMing; I can remember reading articles in the Dragon about how to get a campaign back on track when the PCs get themselves tied up in something going on over on the side.

That’s no longer the case. Players are not content to be led by the nose, and it’s even easier for a plot train to lead to bad GMing than it is to a great campaign. In general, as long as the players agree with where the GM is taking them, there’s no problem, but as soon as they want to linger and smell the flowers, or go in a different direction, the wheels start coming off.

For that reason, I always define external objectives in terms of what an NPC is doing. I can usually forecast with some accuracy how players will react to those developments, and with somewhat lesser accuracy how they will have their characters react to them. That means that instead of furnishing the characters with a prefabricated objective, I am simply prompting them to come up with their own objective in response to a change in circumstances.

Internal Objectives

The big advantage of that approach is that it removes much of the distinction between external objectives – prompted by outside circumstances – and those that the players choose for themselves. In fact, the only time the distinction comes to matter is when an external objective contradicts or opposes an internal one.

Nor are the distinctions always quite so clear-cut. Internal objectives arise from the interaction of world-view context and player ambitions, as expressed through their characters. The player wants to change his character into a half-dragon demi-lich? This should not be something handed to the player on a silver platter, it will require planning and many smaller steps in order to achieve, because even making it possible will usually entail considerable opposition, and has broad implications for the campaign.

It must be remembered at all times that anything a PC can do, an NPC can also do, and NPCs were active before the PC took his first steps as a small child. While it’s possible that a goal is so audacious that no-one has ever even conceived of it before, it is far more likely that some NPC, somewhere, sometime in the campaign world’s history, would have shared the objective or something analogous.

Logically, it follows that if such an objective is readily achieved, the PCs would have encountered someone who has achieved it, or was trying to achieve it, already – or, at the very least, heard of such. If they have not done so, then the player is asking the GM to enlarge the fundamental concepts of the game world to accommodate their desire – and verisimilitude demands that this be a change that takes place in-game, with causes and effects and consequences. The objective itself becomes a defining part of the campaign as a result.

Of course, not all PC objectives are so grandiose, and are therefore more easily accommodated. If a character wants to become a casino owner, that should be far more readily achievable – involving nothing more than gathering some political favors, a substantial financial outlay, and some fitting into the local business, social, political, and religious community.

The key is always to make the transition interesting and entertaining. If you can achieve that, you will have a successful campaign, no matter what the goals are.

Conundra

“Conundrums” is technically correct English but it didn’t have quite the same ring. In this case, the big conundrum is that your campaign structure will alter the structure of your adventures, which makes it hard to talk about adventure structure without also talking about campaign structures – a subject that has been reserved for part 2 of this article.

Adventures in a campaign don’t have to resolve everything with a nice, neat, bow-ribbon. You can have unresolved side issues that lead to other adventures, the end of an adventure itself might have consequences that will unravel in one or more future adventures, and so on. This is generally known as “continuity” within a campaign, which is a fancy word for connecting one adventure with another. If there isn’t much of a connection, the campaign is described as more “episodic” in nature.

It’s quite common to talk about the additional work that comes with maintaining a continuity-rich campaign, and there can be a fair amount of it; that additional work is usually justified in discussions about continuity by the additional rewards that come with it, such as verisimilitude (I’ve done so, myself).

But I just wanted to point out that an often-neglected attribute of continuity-rich campaigns is that they can be less work than more episodic campaigns, simply because one adventure can create another which creates another which creates still another, and so on. You can even think of such a campaign as branching from a central trunk like the branches of a tree.

And, to maintain balance, episodic-rich campaigns also have a benefit that’s often neglected in discussion of the subject: it’s easier to throw away anything that doesn’t work. If you have a bad adventure that doesn’t quite work for whatever reason, it doesn’t leave poisonous tendrils for future plots to become entangled in. Adventures in high-continuity campaigns contain the totality of the legacy of all past adventures – both good and bad.

The subject hasn’t changed; these are all considerations to be incorporated into an adventure structure.

Mood and tone

Once the objective, the A – to – B journey, has been identified, the next consideration to be taken into account is the desired mood and tone of the adventure. The distinction between the two is quite subtle, so much so that the terms are often interchangeable – and sometimes interchanged when they shouldn’t be.

The mood of an adventure is the overall flavor of the adventure. It might be playful, lighthearted, silly, grim, dark, dramatic, serious, farcical, earnest, calming, even therapeutic – all sorts of adjectives can and have been used. Mood comes from the demeanor of the GM, and the phrasing and tone of voice used in conveying descriptions and describing events. It can be enhanced by props and decorations and soundtracks and all sorts of other gimmicks, and it’s all about how you want the players – and their characters – to feel.

The tone of an adventure is more concerned with how you interpret character actions, the types of actions that they contemplate, and the actual subject matter and content of the action within the plot. Tone is the difference between a splatter movie and a more ‘comic-book’ horror plot, for example. One tries to genuinely terrify or shock, the other simply employs the trappings of horror to tell a different type of story – action-adventure or dramatic or whatever.

Dynamic Mood and Tone

You don’t have to listen to many DVD commentaries or watch many “making of” documentaries before you pick up on the term “beats”. A “beat” is a moment or section of the plot in which a particular emotional overtone becomes dominant – none of which makes sense unless you have first assimilated the concept that mood and tone are not and should not be static, they should be dynamic. The music that swells when a heroic character is about to do something heroic is a cheap and effective way of establishing a beat. The term actually comes from (in my opinion) the combination of “upbeat” and “downbeat”, which are the obvious generic contrasts in types of beat.

Within the overall mood and tone, there should be highs and lows, bright spots and dark spots, there should be a period of rising tension and then a release – to be followed by another. Each moment of maximum tension should be more intense than the last, and should generally build up more quickly, until the climax of the adventure. This is the generic recipe for a blockbuster, and that’s exactly the sort of roller-coater ride that we usually want for our adventures; there is a reason why movies of this format are the biggest-grossing in the history of cinema.

With more experience, and a little care, more sophisticated transitions are possible. A comedy can turn serious, a grim-and-gritty piece of noir can become deep, melancholy, and introspective – and then switch to high-octane action for the climax.

With a lot more experience, and a lot more planning, you can extend these sophisticated transitions over the course of an entire campaign. I’ve been working on my next superhero campaign a lot lately, stealing as much time as I can from other projects. Part of the design has involved a very deliberate trend in the mood and tone over the course of the campaign, from lighthearted generic superheroic romp at the start (with moments of high emotional contact for the different characters) to very dark and grim toward the end. My previous campaign was almost the exact opposite: the characters started with the weight of the world on their shoulders, and everything was life-and-death serious; as they got on top of the problems they had encountered, one after another, the mood began to lift, overall. The big finish to the campaign was cosmic in scope and blockbuster in style and tone, but nevertheless had a fairly ‘romp-ish’ mood to it. The players were on top, and the central villain was desperate, and took desperate chances. Had they failed, it would have radically changed the structure, content, mood, and tone of the next campaign; they didn’t.

In many ways, then, the initial tone of the new campaign will represent the fruits of victory. The darkness has been beaten back, and while there are problems – some of them even reaching the point of being a crisis – there will be an overall lightness to the situation, even a slight air of frivolity. The time will come when they will look back on this period as ‘the good old days’ (if I do my job right).

Enriching the plotline

The Mood and Tone of an adventure are tools to enrich the plotline by giving it emotion – passion, anger, fear, humor. This is achieved by correctly matching these emotional overtones to the subject matter of the plotline, which will in turn shape the ideas and reactions of the characters and players.

Have you ever noticed how, once you’re in the mood to laugh, almost anything can seem funny – if delivered the right way? Comedians refer to this as the buildup and the punch line. Even just repeating the punch line from an earlier joke can bring an audience to hysterics.
The same thing happens with rock concerts – the warm-up act is there to get the punters in a mood to party, the main act to take them over the top. When this works properly, the mood and tone enrich the plotline by creating the right atmosphere, a context in which events make sense.

Sometimes, it doesn’t work properly – the mood or tone, or both, are a mismatch to the subject matter. A rapper – no matter how good they might be – is unlikely to get the audience ready for a death-metal act; a hard-rock act is not going to be a satisfactory warm-up for a piano recital. When I saw Alice Cooper in the early 90s, the choice of opening act was fine – but they were louder than Alice, and that undermined the whole show. The mood was fine, but the tone mismatched.

The more unique or quirky the main act or plotline or plot structure, the more difficult it is to get the surrounding mood or tone right, but the bigger the payoff in doing so; instead of the game being a purely intellectual exercise, the players can suspend disbelief and buy into the plotline despite its exotic nature.

Contrast creates impact

There are two ways to release accumulated plot tension: maintaining the tone and mood, or deliberately using a contrasting tone and mood to give the main emotional context more impact. A moment of levity in a horror scenario can elevate the horror content when continuing in the same thematic vein simply leads to exhaustion.

By way of example, contemplate the following: The PCs have just come face to face with the enemy, the architect of all their woes. Since it is far too soon for the final confrontation between the two, the GM needs to separate the two – the purpose of this initial contact is simply to lay metaphoric cards on the table and build up a sense of anticipation. So the bad guy, weapon at the ready, crackling with energy, steps out of the shadows and utters an ominous threat or two, then points his weapon at the characters – a weapon against which they as yet have no defense, and they know it. And then the battery falls out, or the weapon misfires, or an NPC backing away trips over a bucket and mop (startling the villain and giving the PCs the chance to run away – for now). The sort of freak occurrence that gives the PCs a skin-of-their-teeth reprieve, breaks the mood, and releases the tension. The bad guy spouts another weedy threat and makes himself scarce – with or without his dignity and pride.

In my TORG campaign, the climax of the first adventure saw the PCs in action against a gigantic Dragon. They were badly outmatched, and they knew it. One of the PCs started climbing the Dragon’s back, distracting him momentarily, and managed to hold on as the Dragon tried to shake him off, at least until he reached the head. The dragon, with a violent snap of his neck, tossed the hapless character into the air with the intent of taking a bite out of his problems – if not swallowing them whole. The PC made an acrobatics roll and managed to land, feet-first, on the Dragon’s lower lip, arms swinging wildly as he tried to maintain his precarious balance. The Dragon exhaled, ready for the massive intake of breath required to unlimber its breath weapon… things looked grim! Until the character on the dragon’s lip shoved his arms as far up into the Dragon’s nostrils as he could and hung on there for grim death.

I could have ruled that the dragon exhaled, coating the character in napalm-like dragon spittle and igniting it. I could have ruled that the dragon sneezed, blowing the character off the lip and sending him crashing toward the floor 50 feet below. Instead, I decided to reward the audacity and humor of the situation and had the dragon collapse into a fit of coughing until the character was dislodged – which gave the other PCs the chance to inflict some serious damage. From a tone of desperation, through a wave of cathartic laughter as the tension broke, a wave of optimism and sudden hope swept the party. The Dragon got to use its breath weapon, but it was on the ropes already by that point.

The ultimate victory over the dragon would have had a LOT less impact if the mood had been maintained throughout; but that moment of levity transformed the outcome from a grim counting-of-the-cost to a jubilant celebration. I paid careful attention to that…

Opposition Definition

Okay, so you have some idea of what the objective of the adventure is going to be, and you have a general idea of the tone and mood of the overall adventure. The next step is to decide what complicating circumstances are going to stand between the PCs and achieving that goal. There are a whole raft of possibilities, from unexpected implications or plot twists that undermine the reasons for pursuing the objective in the first place (complicating the resolution), all the way through to ignorance of key facts or other circumstances that make the objective unclear or more difficult to achieve (complicating the initial circumstances). But, most commonly, the difficulty will take the form of some opposition that have to be overcome, and that’s the type of difficulty that I’m going to focus on.

Assigning Motive

When defining the opposition, the key question that always needs to be answered (at least in the GM’s mind) is always “Why are they opposing this?”

Assigning a motive tells the GM how far the opposition will go, and how hard they will fight to prevent success by the PCs, and how they will react to PC actions, especially unexpected ones.

On one occasion, in an early AD&D game, the opposition were good guys being used as dupes by the real villain, who had been convinced that even listening to the ‘artfully honeyed’ words of the PCs would shrivel their souls and condemn their families to an eternity of painful torture. While the confrontations between the two were physical in nature, that was fine; but the PCs slowly came to realize that their opposition were not evildoers and resolved to attempt to negotiate at their next encounter. They knew they were in a fight to the finish when the PCs lopped off each other’s ears rather than permitting themselves to hear what the PCs had to say, and comments to one another in the process made it clear why they were performing these acts of mutilation. It’s really hard to negotiate when the enemy would prefer to cut out his tongue than speak with you, or cut off his ears rather than hear what you had to say. The PCs had to wipe out groups of innocents that they would rather protect and ally with, resulting in alignment problems and all sorts of secondary difficulties. They were extremely angry when they finally confronted the architect of their problems…

By assigning a motive to the opposition, the GM permits the characters to explore non-combat solutions to the problem if they so desire, greatly adding to the mood and tone of the adventure.

Which brings me to another key point: the opposition’s motives must match the desired mood and tone. If the mood is to be grim and serious, you can’t give the enemy a silly reason for getting in the way. Who, and why, must both fit the emotional context of the adventure.

Alignment is not enough

One point that I want to specifically emphasize is that conflicting alignments is not enough reason for a group to oppose the PCs. “You’re chaotic good and I’m lawful evil” just won’t cut it. Alignments are expressions of personality and motive and objective and a whole bunch of other things, no matter how you define them, or – more practically – are a guideline for ensuring that these things are consistent from an individual or an organization. They need to be given concrete manifestations, and those are the reasons for opposition. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself” might make someone evil, but that isn’t enough for a committed opposition to the PCs. “He’s greedy and ruthless, with a history of underhanded behavior” is a different story.

Balancing Opposition with Objective

In the real world, the strength and determination of the opposition have no relation to the objective that is being opposed. In a game world, a mismatch in this area is not as acceptable, because it makes for a poor story. Consider the possible mismatches and this becomes obvious:

  • Opposition too strong for the objective: makes the GM seem hardnosed and authoritarian, denying the PCs the chance to achieve what they want;
  • Opposition too weak for the objective: makes the objective seem unimportant to the GM, as though he couldn’t be bothered.

Neither of these is all that desirable. The only solution is to get the opposition’s power level about right for the task.

That’s more easily said than done. The best approach is to consider the achievement of the goal to be a reward for success in overcoming the opposition, then beef it up to get an appropriate reward for the power level of the characters, assuming approximate parity of opposition, then adjust.

Let’s say that the objective is that Casino that was mentioned earlier. The GM should look at the end product – which is not the Casino itself, but the ongoing income that it generates. If that amount of wealth is the reward, what is the appropriate opposition, given the character’s current power levels? Will that level of opposition pose sufficient challenge to the characters? If not, you will have to increase the level of opposition and supplement the rewards.

It’s important to remember, in considering this example, that the casino is the objective of just one player and his character; if the party works together, it will be relatively simple to achieve, because the opposition should also be geared to oppose a single character and not a team. If the GM wants to challenge the entire team, he will need to provide rewards for the other characters as well.

Make the opposition interesting

Above all else, make the opposition interesting. Give them some point of uniqueness that goes beyond mere abilities and make sure that it will expressed in the course of the encounter.

This goes beyond simply giving the opposition a personality or a history. Nor is it as simple as making the character more complex, though some discussions I have read would make one think so. No, the most important attribute to making a character interesting is to provide conflicting ways for the opposition to interact with the characters. A villain can be as evil as sin itself and still be interesting if he has a gimmick that interacts in unusual ways with a PC. Or so complicated that he isn’t interesting, just confusing.

Some methods of making a character interesting target one or more PCs, while others target the players in back of those PCs. A “neat” gimmick appeals to the players, while a personality connection is aimed at the characters.

You don’t need all the answers

Another idea that sometimes surfaces in this sort of discussion is that the character needs to be fully fleshed out; that the GM needs to know what he can do, and why he might do it, and what he won’t do, and what he can’t do, and who his friends and enemies are, and how he became the way he is, and on and on and on. Make no mistake, all of that can be useful – but there is no need to have all the answers at once; you can make up answers as you need them, provided you are careful to ensure that those answers are logically consistent with what has already been discovered and revealed about the character. Being in a state of ignorance provides room for inspiration to strike.

It’s generally better to be in ignorance regarding something than it is to have a pedestrian answer on tap.

This does place a premium on careful note-taking, though. At one point in the last campaign, I created an NPC named Lionheart, a seemingly helpless, somewhat mousy, ordinary person in fancy costume who had been built up by media hype and expert PR into ‘the greatest hero in England’. As the scenario developed, it transpired that the character had in fact tremendous powers but only in proportion to the belief in those powers of the general populace, and the closer the physical proximity to Lionheart, the better. The character thus had more power if he made sure the TV cameras were on him, and even more if there were supporters present to see him make his rescues. The other factor in his powers was his personal confidence in them, which had to be unshakeable or he could not be convincing to his adoring fans.

When the character appeared in-game, I had the personality – a shy, retiring, arrogantly self-assured hero who looked for all the world like the worst sort of publicity hound – and the name – and that was all. Everything else was worked out on the spur of the moment – but not written down. So, about five months later, the PCs suggest calling on Lionheart for assistance with another problem. While I could remember what I have written in the previous paragraph, I could remember nothing else. What were his actual abilities? What were the mannerisms that I had used to convey his personality to the PCs? What were the weaknesses I had given the character? I had no idea. Still don’t, for that matter.

A definitely-interesting character has been left virtually useless because I didn’t take notes at the time. All I can remember now is that the abilities were as unique as the character concept…

It’s better to have a pedestrian answer on tap than it is to come up with something brilliant – and then forget it.

The best answer is to be in ignorance until you need to be creative – then write it down. Right away, before you get distracted – or you’ll eventually forget it.

Opposition Tactics

Once you have the opposition nailed down, it’s time to think about how you’re going to use them. There are a plethora of choices, as usual, but they boil down in the end to attack or confront or conceal/confuse, and surprise or intimidate.

Attack with surprise means exactly what it says on the label – the opposition attacks the characters without warning. But that doesn’t necessarily mean a physical attack, it could be an attack on their reputations or allies or a number of other vectors.

Attacking to intimidate is just as varied. The objective here is to persuade the characters to back off; blackmail and all sorts of coercion fall into this category. Including the often-overlooked premise, “let’s buy them off.”

Confrontation is also an intimidation attack, but described the opponent showing off his power in hopes of causing the players to hesitate; it’s more of the “back off or else” level of intimidation, and that always works with PCs, right? Didn’t think so.

Finally, there are the “misdirection twins,” conceal and confuse. These are all about delaying the characters or attacking them indirectly with traps. This approach works best when dealing with time-critical situations.

Adventure Structures

With the jigsaw pieces ready to assemble, it’s time to consider the different shapes that can be constructed with those pieces – the Adventure Structure.

Most writing books and websites on creative writing will talk about three- and four- act structures that essentially come down to introduction, setback, and resolution. This information is so pervasive that I’m not going to repeat it here – just search for “three-act structure” and you’ll find more than enough on the subject to satiate you.

Simple Structure

The simplest sort of adventure structure is to pitch the characters straight into the action. They set an objective and then go for it, running head-first into the heart of the scenario. “Character learns of dungeon; character explores dungeon; character beats bad guys in dungeon; character loots dungeon. Repeat as necessary.” Or a non-D&D equivalent: “Superhero witnesses crime being committed; Superhero confronts criminal; Superhero fights villain; Superhero captures villain.”

Structure: Action Teaser

The next type of adventure structure comes from the structure of James Bond movies (though it has also been used elsewhere). The adventure starts in the middle of an action sequence that often has no relevance to the main plot (though it can be related). There is a tremendous upside to this structure: it gives the plot a real adrenalin kick. There is a downside that is potentially commensurate: it can require the GM taking control of the PCs long enough to get them into combat.

The GM should go out of his way to avoid the downside if he can think of a way of doing so. Players will be far more forgiving if the GM forces their characters to carry out a mundane task like going down to the market for fresh fruit and lets them control their characters from the moment the enemy for the action teaser shows up, or from just before it.

Even with the downside minimized, the GM should avoid using this plot structure all the time. It is best reserved for those occasions when the teaser is an important launchpad into the scenario and not merely tacked on.

Structure: ‘Permit Me To Introduce Myself’

A scenario structure that is far more accessible is to start with an introduction between an NPC and the PCs. The NPC acts as a mouthpiece for presenting news of a situation to the PCs. Variations include messages left for the PCs, telegrams, and the like. This structure presents the PCs with the problem and catapults them straight into the plotline, but (unlike the Simple Structure) there is a brief separation between problem and confrontation. Players like this because it gives them time to prepare for whatever’s coming.

In effect, this presages the adventure with a simple subplot that gives the characters at least part of the foundation of the adventure.

Structure: Subplot Paradise

Clearly, if one subplot is good, more can be better. For one thing, they allow still more complex structures, in which hints and rumors reach different characters about what is to come; hints and rumors reach different characters about what the opposition is already doing; subordinate encounters can fill in necessary context and background, and connect everything that’s going on with the forthcoming plotline.

With a little more forward planning, these subplots can even be presented within earlier scenarios, creating a far richer campaign structure – something that will be fundamentally important to the second part of this article.

Complex Structures

These structures are relatively straightforward. Using them as building blocks, more complex plot structures involving multiple encounters can be assembled. As part of the forthcoming superhero campaign, there is a “Time War” which consists of eight major phases and a number of subplots separating them. One phase of that Time War occupies a single adventure or encounter; the rest are more complex, comprising a number of encounters. More significantly, since the PCs are to be caught between the two antagonistic forces that are carrying out these hostilities, and both the antagonistic forces have a high degree of mastery over time travel, the sequence of events the PCs experience will be completely out of step with the overall timeline of the conflict – Part 2 will be followed by part 1 and then part 4, then part 5, then part 3, and so on (NB to my players: The sequence listed is NOT exactly the same as the sequence of events in the game!).

With subplots in between each phase in many if not all cases, plus additional encounters to establish who the combatants are and what they can do, and a non-linear plot structure, this is a clearly complex plot structure.

Structure: Resolution & Mystery

One final point to note in this section concerning adventure structures: there is no need to tie up every loose end in an adventure. Leaving some mystery to be resolved leaves a point of connection that can be exploited in later adventures. Tell the players what their characters would know, and what they can reasonably deduce, and what the villains admit; nothing more. And if that misleads the players, give them some sort of intelligence check to realize the fallacy of their deductions; otherwise let them charge off in the wrong direction to their heart’s content.

Sometimes, you may even like their answer better than your own – in which case, congratulate them on ‘seeing through’ your plot camouflage to the real answer, while quietly expropriating their solution!

A consistent format

As much as possible, it is advisable to adopt a standard and consistent format for the adventures you run. This regularity permits players to plan their own activities in line with the format, and by giving you a set of standard ‘content boxes’ to fill in planning each scenario, ensures that no opportunities for play are passed up. Filling those boxes with plot-critical information when necessary and plot-irrelevant information the rest of the time avoids a situation in which the players can identify what is important to the plot simply by the means of presentation. Ironically, being consistent prevents the campaign from becoming predictable.

…varied to suit the occasion

That is not to say that variations should not be employed whenever they better fit the plot. I start some adventures with subplots, and others with team meetings, and still others with a character hearing a news broadcast or two characters gossiping. Some adventures are designed with a structure that will deliberately mislead the players; some have false endings, and others feature deceptions and betrayals.

Numerous books and websites on writing give information on plot and story structure. Most of these lessons are directly relevant to adventure structure.

Part 2 of this article will discuss the assembly of adventures and single encounters into larger tapestries: Campaign Structures.

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