Campaign Mastery helps tabletop RPG GMs knock their players' socks off through tips, how-to articles, and GMing tricks that build memorable campaigns from start to finish.

Wood and Silver or Iron and Gold? – Historical Inaccuracy in FRP, Part 2


This is the second half of a two-part guest article by Phil McGregor. To anyone who doesn’t know who he is, check the brief bio at the bottom of the article.

Silver or Gold

The other thing I find really interesting in almost all D&D descended/inspired FRPs is the 1/10th (45.4 grams* gold (or any other) coin that is the “standard” by which all value is measured.
* assuming a standard [~454g] rather than an avoirdupois [~373g] pound.

Now, to anyone who has any knowledge of history, or the history of economics, or indeed, of economics itself, this assumption is a surprising and unsupportable one… and, oh my, the problems that flow from it!

This makes gold coins, as such, and, indeed, coinage in general, almost worthless as a medium of exchange in your typical FRP game on a practical basis… assuming an average sort of character who can carry, say, 80 lbs (not unreasonably for a WW1/WW2/Modern grunt, so certainly realistic)… well, he has 800 gp, maximum, in walking around money.

Or, consider it another way, that 75gp Bow (or Sword, if you took the point) mentioned in Wood or Iron, well, you need 1.25 pounds of gold to buy it.

Hmmm. Current gold price is around US$1500-1600 per ounce.

So, in something resembling (if you don’t look at it too closely) real purchasing power, that bow costs US$300-320,000 (assuming a standard pound, or US$22,500-24,000 if pound avoirdupois)…

Sorry. Not even remotely believable.

Real Coins

So, what did historical (western european) coins weigh?

Well, the Romans typically coined gold at the rate of 72 coins per Roman pound (327g), making them about 4.54g apiece… around 1/10th of what D&D and its descendants would have you believe.

Roman silver coins varied, but 96 per pound was the late Republican/early Imperial figure, for around 3.4 grams apiece…

A Medieval silver Penny, English, was minted at the rate of 240 per pound (Troy), making them around 1.55g each, while a gold Sovereign massed 8.5g, and was worth ~392g (1.05 lbs avoirdupois) of silver.

What Price A Longbow?

So, let’s look at that Bow again – 75gp is about 1.7 pounds avoirdupois, or more than US$30,000! Even worse than before, cost wise, but now, at least, you can carry around about 4272gp in your 80lb pack. So a slight improvement.

Of course, you’ll also note that 1 D&D gp is worth only 10 D&D silver pieces. Typically a roman Denarius Aureus (aka a Solidus) was worth at least 20 silver denarii in late Republican/Early Imperial times. And the gold Sovereign was worth 21 shillings, or 252 silver pennies, making gold worth around 45 times silver by weight.

So, let’s try the Bow again. But this time, assume it is 75 silver pieces. Which makes it worth 1.667 gp by the above ratio. Which makes an 8.5g gold coin worth US$730 or so in relative purchasing power.

Better, but still way over the odds for a chunk of wood, whereas that 15gp sword costs only US$146.

Much better, of course, if you assume the $146 Bow vs the $730 sword.

Looking Beyond To The Wider World

What are some of the more obvious game related flow on problems from the economic tomfoolery of D&D and D&D descended or inspired games?

Well, many of them attempt to get around the problem of Player Characters needing to carry around their portable wealth, er, portably, by issuing higher value (but still 1/10th pound, as often as not coins, such as Platinum or they include gems as more or less standard and easily assessable means of exchange or some such.

The problem with Platinum is that it is even more rare that gold. So rare that it is not mentioned in any European source until the middle of the 16th century AD – and then only as a native alloy with gold that could not be refined. In fact, Platinum was not reliably smeltable until the late 18th century AD.

So, not likely as a coinage metal in a medieval analog world.

Gems? Not a sparkling solution.

Gems are even more problematic.

See, before the 17th century AD gems were not faceted, or, at best, had a single flat surface cut… they were either polished or simply left raw. Their value was much less, in absolute and relative terms, compared to bullion, than it is now… of course, faceting doesn’t require a lot of high tech tools, even today, so it is possible to assume that an FRP world could have faceting and that, therefore, the value of faceted gems relative to bullion would be something more like the modern relativities.

The problem is, of course, that what we regard as the really valuable gems are really uncommon, and not easy, as often as not, to mine or find – unless you do it on an almost industrial scale. But that has its own problems – the only reason diamonds, for example, are worth more than a fraction of their actual price is because the DeBeers Cartel (and its supposed competitors) release only a fraction of yearly production for sale each year in one of the oldest and most successful price fixing operations in modern history!

So while, yes, you could use gems as a means of exchange you would have to bargain, and bargain hard, each time you wanted to “cash one in”… and you’d have to haggle over the price of each and every single one! Not a role playing experience most of us are interested in!

So, where are we so far?

Well, it should be obvious that 1/10th pound coins are ridiculous. It should be equally obvious that prices for goods should be, at the very minimum, assumed to be in silver coins rather than gold – and that gold should be worth a lot more than 10 x 1/10th pound silver pieces for a 1/10th pound gold piece. This makes a direct conversion difficult, since there is no realistic way you can keep that 1-to-10 ratio.

Still, converting all gp values to sp values is a start – and it makes carrying around a significant chunk of the PC’s wealth much easier.

Ah. If ’twere only that simple.

Piles Of Silver, Hoards of Gold

That’s where we get into the other problem related to gold and silver in FRP games.

There’s too damn much of it!

It should be obvious but, in case it isn’t, let me explain.

Before the discovery of the New World, estimates on the total mined bullion stocks in the Old World are on the order of 5,000 tons of gold and 50,000 tons of Silver. The bullion stock of the New World was easily equal to that, eventually.

Sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? Step back a minute. Medieval Europe had, at the height of its population, around 100 million people. Now, assume all the Old World’s bullion was in Europe (it wasn’t, of course – India and China have been gold sinks since ancient times).

  • 5000 tons of gold = 50 grams of gold per person. Or about 6 gold soveriegns.
  • 50000 tons of silver = 500 grams of gold per person. Or about 320 silver pennies.

Double those figures to add in the New World allocation. Sound like damn all? Right….

One of the major problems facing pretty much all ancient and medieval (and renaissance and even pre-20th century) societies was the lack of enough bullion to represent economic activity. In short, there wasn’t enough cash to go around. The inevitable result was periodic, nasty, economic crises.

Now, consider the average Tomb, or Monster Lair – multiply by the number of Tombs/Monster Lairs that you think is likely in the typical FRP world.

Now do you see the problem?

A Dire Prognosis

Almost all of the entire world’s supply of bullion is likely tied up in such gold sinks. Which makes gold and silver coins far, far, far more valuable than they were historically… and, well, it means that economic crises are far more common and far, far worse in such a typical FRP world.

And that doesn’t even begin to consider the inflationary pressure that all that ill gotten bullion the PCs found in the Dragon’s Lair will put on the entire Kingdom/Empire’s economy.

If you want a really nasty picture of what happens in such a case, have a look at Spain. All that New World Bullion right royally stuffed the Spanish economy – to the point where she slumped from being a world power to an also ran has-been that is barely a regional power. And it was pretty much inevitable – though, yes, the Spanish nobility were complete screw ups when it came to rationally spending the money. They beggared the peasantry and middle classes largely and spent the money on art and, mostly, failed imperial/military adventures for which they ended up with… well, some really nice art. And a totally stuffed economy that is really still stuffed compared to the rest of Europe, the rest that didn’t have all that gold.

And you really think the local FRP nobility are going to be any better?

In search of solutions

There is a sort of solution. One that Europe was grappling with from the 14th century AD onwards.

Paper money. At first it was Bills of Exchange, sort of like a cross between a Promissory Note and a Traveller’s Cheque. But they fell down because, in the end, they had to be redeemable, and the economic crises caused (in large part) by the above mentioned bullion shortage and noble mismanagement meant, inevitably, the whole arrangement was a giant economic house of cards.

Only when governments started to issue paper money, or backed private or semi–private banks who did, and only when they learnt that it didn’t have to be redeemable in bullion, but had to be acceptable by the government at something close to face value, did these problems become, well, lessened (look around at Global Financial Crisis 1.5 at the moment and see the mess that you can still make!)…

Still, this doesn’t help us with what’s in all those Tombs and Lairs, does it?

One suggestion? Artwork. Artifacts (no, not like the Head of Vecna… just really old and really sought after artworks). That sort of thing. An ancient Ming (or local equivalent) Vase. A handful of coins from a forgotten empire worth a small (or not so small!) fortune way over their actual bullion value.

This brings us back to the haggling issue, doesn’t it? So, either the PCs have to have a reliable agent who can, slowly, turn their gains into cash (or land, or whatever) or they need to have the appropriate market related skills (and have lots of time) to do it themselves.

That, plus realistically valuable and realistic weight coins, plus Bills of Exchange to keep the wheels of commerce turning at something like a reliable level and you’re set!

Suggested Reading

To get an overview of life in the Middle Ages:

Life in a Medieval Village, Life in a Medieval Castle, and Life in a Medieval City by Joseph and Francis Gies are, though dated and very much centered on England, a good start.

Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon

Civilisation & Capitalism, 15th-18th Century by Fernand Braudel in three volumes (!) is more than you’ll probably ever want to know about, well, Civilisation and Capitalism!

Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon

More focussed, and more easily digested, are (shameless commercial plug) the following, from Phalanx Games Design (me)

by Phil McGregor which provides some of the underpinnings – the limits, if you will – that applied (and have to apply) to civilisations at various levels of technological development). Written specifically with GMs as worldbuilders in mind. Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

by Phil McGregor which contains a more focussed examination of the real Middle Ages, at least for the British Isles and, to a lesser extent, France. Includes something approaching a realistic(ish) and detailed price list where you won’t find 75 gp Bows! Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

Displaced: Lost in Time and Space and by Phil McGregor which, though focussed on one-way time or dimensional travel, has all sorts of useful nuts and bolts things about how things work that easily and valuably supplement FF&S and Orbis Mundi. Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

Click to purchase from RPGNow

About The Author

Phil McGregor is a moderately well known (if you’re old enough!) writer of Role Playing Game material who started wargaming in the early 1970’s, moved on to the very first edition (White Box) of Dungeons and Dragons when it came out in 1975 and was hooked!

Being in the right place at the right time, he managed to get a co-author gig with Ed Simbalist and Mark Ratner writing Space Opera (1980) as well as a couple of supplements/adventures for it, and for Chivalry & Sorcery while being published by Fantasy Games Unlimited.

Along the way he wrote the very first Rigger Black Book for FASA’s Shadowrun (1st Edition) and, in recent years, has published a number of RPG books on RPGNow under his own Phalanx Games Design imprint, including Farm, Forge and Steam, Road to Armageddon (for BTRC’s EABA), Orbis Mundi, Displaced and Audace ad Gloriam (2d6 based Exploration/Survival Gear Catalog for SF RPGs).

In real life he is a History teacher (Years 7-12) of over 30 years experience, currently teaching in a High School in the Northern Suburbs of Sydney, is semi–active in union politics for the NSW Teachers Federation, plays RPGs most Saturdays and Computer Games (mostly wargames) many other nights.

Comments (55)

Wood and Silver or Iron and Gold? – Historical Inaccuracy in FRP, Part 1


This is the first half of a two-part guest article by Phil McGregor. To anyone who doesn’t know who he is, check the brief bio at the bottom of the article! The second part will appear on Thursday.

Wood or Iron?

One of the reasons I got into roleplaying games way back in the mid 1970’s (D&D 1e, original first printing!) was because I was already interested in historical boardgames (Avalon Hill, “Panzerblitz” and “Strategy & Tactics Magazine” – and that was because I had a major interest in History going way back to Primary School. Eventually, I went to University and did a double major in History and ended up a professional Historian of sorts (I teach High School History, Years 7-12, Australian, World/Modern and Ancient).

With such interests, personal and professional, it’s probably no wonder that I have always been interested in the way in which various roleplaying games have presented the inevitable historical elements – and even the most generic inevitably do, even if only by building on our societal (and often wrong) historical “knowledge” and also on the pseudo-historical assumptions of earlier roleplaying games, all the way back to that very first edition of “Dungeons and Dragons”. And, yes, there are, even in generic FRP games, historical assumptions.

Some of those we take for granted, as part of the overall fantasy milieu, include things such as the western European (largely English, but with French and German additions and other odds and sods) Feudal System, and all that that involves (Knighthood, Chivalry and more) as well as organised religion often based on Christian (or their middle/near eastern predecessors and relatives) hierarchical models – yes, even the supposedly Pagan ones!

To most people, this a perfectly acceptable “shorthand” for understanding the game background… even if, for those who know anything more than “popular knowledge” about ancient and medieval history, it is rarely accurate and mostly makes little or no sense. Not just the “Why do they have a noble named after a Roman military Rank (Count or Duke) in a world where there was never a Rome?” level, but also the “Why do they have a system designed to meet specific political, economic and geophysical conditions as they existed in Western Europe from about 800 AD through to the 1600’s applying to a world where none of those preconditions ever existed?”

But that’s the “Big Picture” – and it would take a lot of space here, or a lot of reading on your part, to come to grips with what the problems with these issues actually are… which is probably more than most casual gamers care to do (If you are interested, there is a suggested reading list appended at the end).

And, of course, there will be a lot of you who will feel “so what, it’s only a game”! Which is true enough – except for one thing I have noticed over the last 36+ years… the longer a gamer is involved in the hobby, and the longer a campaign (whatever rules or background it runs under), the more the participants become interested in the nuts and bolts… and the consistency of the whole thing. This is where the problems start to arise, as the foundation assumptions for most of the hobby’s assumed background – well, not to put too fine a point on it – don’t make much sense and lack any believability once you start looking at them with such an eye.

So, let’s get down to a couple of issues with pretty much all FRP games, certainly those that are largely based on Western European assumptions, get badly wrong, in a way that most long, even medium term, gamers will soon be scratching their heads over…

An inversion of reality

Going right back to the grandaddy of them all, the base assumption of D&D and pretty much all of its direct and indirect successors is that wood costs more than iron.

“Come again?”, you’re all saying, “I can’t remember wood or iron prices anywhere?” Well, think about the things made with wood and iron. Weapons. Light beginning to dawn somewhat?

In almost all western european influenced FRP games weapon costs are based on a mix of lethality (or perceived lethality, as the two aren’t always the same on a reading of history) and whether they are ranged weapons or not – and not their actual cost of manufacture!

So, for example, in Pathfinder (basically D&D 3.6), a Longsword (4 pounds of iron) costs 15gp and a Longbow (3 pounds of wood) costs 75gp. Think about it.

In any world even vaguely resembling reality, is it likely that ordinary wood will cost over six times as much per pound as ordinary iron?

Some of you might be saying, right around now, “But, But, It must use special wood!” And that’s right, it does. But, see, most of ancient and medieval Europe was covered with these things called, well, trees… from which you get wood. Even the somewhat special wood that bows are made from (and it doesn’t make all that much difference, bows made from ordinary wood were almost as good as bows made from the somewhat more select stuff).

Or, maybe, you’re saying, “But it must involve lots of labour intensive effort!”

Not really. We’re talking Longbows, which are what is called a Self Bow – a bow made from a single piece of wood. Sure, it has to be specially made by a moderately skilled craftsman – but it’s not a Composite Bow, which, even though it requires a lot more work, is still not as expensive to make as a sword.

That’s the reason that Bows were mostly the weapons of peasants and yeomen – they were cheap.

Swords? Anything made of iron? Or steel? Different kettle of fish. Entirely.

Production

It is estimated that the iron production of the whole Roman Empire, at its height, was around 20,000 tons per year. With the collapse of the Empire, Iron production in Europe plummeted as well – not to reach that 20kton figure again until around the 17th century… depending on how you count such things, around 1000 years! Why?

Sure, the collapse of the Western Empire led to immediate and massive economic dislocation – the western economy basically collapsed beyond almost subsistence level for quite a while. That was part of it.

The other part was that the Romans had basically mined out all of the known large deposits – down to the water table – and were at the stage where they were using slave powered water wheels to dewater lower shafts. This was simply uneconomical for the smaller successor states, and probably was uneconomical even for the Romans at the end as well. To get at the lower deposits required the invention of the steam engine – another 1200 years or so off.

That’s part of it. There simply wasn’t a lot of iron around to begin with, while there was a lot of wood. Economic forces work the same in an FRP world as they do in real life – or, at least, they do if you don’t want whiney players to start constant questioning of things! So, on that basis alone, iron is going to cost more than wood.

But there’s more. The technology of refining iron ore into iron was, well, marginal. The temperatures reachable in forges wasn’t enough to cause the iron to melt, so you ended up with a “bloom” of mixed iron and slag… and it took many, many, many, many man hours to heat and hammer and heat and hammer and heat and hammer the thing until you had worked out all the slag and were left with a slug of iron that you could then do something with.

Then, to form the armour or weapon or utensil desired took as much effort on top of all the above.

For example, we know that a suit of armour made for the Black Prince in Spain in the 14th century took around 2000 man hours to make… allowing for Sundays and Holy Days, that’s a good nine months.

Swords didn’t take as long as that, of course.

By now you can see the truth of my original point – there is no way in any FRP world even vaguely resembling reality that a chunk of wood is going to cost more than a chunk of iron!

So, why is it so? Well, there are some historical reasons and some game reasons.

A Noble Weapon

The historical reasons are quite simple. The barbarian tribes that largely destroyed and occupied the Western Empire were metal poor cultures, even compared to the Romans. Any metal was precious. Most warriors were equipped with spears – mostly wood, of course – and only the very most wealthy nobles and their retainers could hope to have a sword. The Romans largely, and largely effectively, embargoed a trade in weapons with these tribes and used gift swords as prestigious bribes to keep their fractious nobility, well, fractious … so they couldn’t combine and cause the Empire grief.

Swords were connected with prestige. They were a noble weapon. Even if the sad reality was (as the barbarians found out all too often, like the French at Crecy and Agincourt much later) that missile weapons could slaughter those sword wielding nobles way before they could get anywhere near their enemies…

Still, a Sword was a Noble’s weapon – and, in some places and at some times the powers that be attempted (largely futilely) to enforce sumptuary laws which, amongst other things, were supposed to limit the type of weapon that someone could own based on their social class rather than whether they could actually afford it or not. And, of course, as a result, a lot of pseudo-religious claptrap about the “noble” nature of swords and sword wielders (the Noble ones, at least) grew up over time… to be swallowed hook, line and sinker by FRP game designers ;-)

A Legacy Of Balance

The game reasons are also quite simple. The original designers of D&D based their rules on Chainmail, a set of miniatures wargaming rules – and miniatures wargaming works by trying to balance the effectiveness of the forces on both sides in a way that simply never happens in real life battles… mainly so that the skill (or otherwise) of the participants is the deciding factor in any battle rather than overwhelming force.

Prices of weapons in the original D&D were, therefore, taken from that sort of understanding. Missile weapons, in reality (think Crecy and Agincourt, for example, for blindingly obvious examples – but there are many others that also follow a similar pattern, but are less well known and do it less obviously), can provide a crushing level of superiority to the side that has the most or who use the ones they have the most effectively.

To the designer’s way of thinking, that had to hold over to D&D – so there had to be the same balance mechanism to ensure Fighters had some balancing mechanism between melee and missile.

Also, the ranges of most missile spells/miracles (and spells/miracles in general) is way less than the effective range of most Bows, and, indeed, a lot of other missile weapons – so if Mages and Clerics were to be survivable, well, there had to be that balance mechanism again.

Contemplating Correction

Are these reasons good enough? Indeed, are they even needed?

Well, to the way of thinking of the original designers, evidently so. And, as noted, pretty much everyone else has followed… often, I suspect, unthinkingly and with no understanding of what the issues are.

However, that doesn’t mean that it is necessary to continue to do so.

The obvious solution is to allow Mages/Clerics and the like access to spells that offer similar ranges to the missile weapons in the game – and, if that isn’t the case with the system in question already, make them actually have to target the spell successfully rather than merely casting it. That levels the playing field on one level.

The other thing is historical. Most archers, the ones in effective armies who deployed them effectively, fought as groups – they did not fire at individual targets amongst the enemy for the most part, they fired as a group against a mass of the enemy. That’s how they were largely trained. Individual marksmanship was not a priority.

Which is not to say that Archers were incapable of hitting individual targets – they were – but that they were generally not all that good at hitting them at ranges that were more than, say, the typical Mage could cast his Fireball spell at and hit something.

So, on the whole, the best solution would be to mirror the real world. Either increase the spell range to be more equal to the existing, too high, range for reasonably successful missile attacks – or reduce the range of missile weapons to be more in line with the typical spell range.

So, finally, you’ll be able to field Longswords that cost 75gp, for example, and Longbows that cost 15gp (or, more than likely, a lot less than 15gp!).

(Oh, by the way, this “game balance” issue with weapon pricing doesn’t just apply to Bows and Swords. There are a lot of weapons that are priced for this reason in FRPGs. If you look at them with a more properly jaundiced eye, now that you have an idea of what you are looking for, then you can probably take a good stab at figuring out which ones they might be.)

To Be Continued…

Suggested Reading

To get an overview of life in the Middle Ages:

Life in a Medieval Village, Life in a Medieval Castle, and Life in a Medieval City by Joseph and Francis Gies are, though dated and very much centered on England, a good start.

Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon

Civilisation & Capitalism, 15th-18th Century by Fernand Braudel in three volumes (!) is more than you’ll probably ever want to know about, well, Civilisation and Capitalism!

Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon Click to purchase from Amazon

More focussed, and more easily digested, are (shameless commercial plug) the following, from Phalanx Games Design (me)

by Phil McGregor which provides some of the underpinnings – the limits, if you will – that applied (and have to apply) to civilisations at various levels of technological development). Written specifically with GMs as worldbuilders in mind. Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

by Phil McGregor which contains a more focussed examination of the real Middle Ages, at least for the British Isles and, to a lesser extent, France. Includes something approaching a realistic(ish) and detailed price list where you won’t find 75 gp Bows! Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

Displaced: Lost in Time and Space and by Phil McGregor which, though focussed on one-way time or dimensional travel, has all sorts of useful nuts and bolts things about how things work that easily and valuably supplement FF&S and Orbis Mundi. Click on the link or cover illustration below to visit the product page at RPGNow.

Click to purchase from RPGNow

About The Author

Phil McGregor is a moderately well known (if you’re old enough!) writer of Role Playing Game material who started wargaming in the early 1970’s, moved on to the very first edition (White Box) of Dungeons and Dragons when it came out in 1975 and was hooked!

Being in the right place at the right time, he managed to get a co-author gig with Ed Simbalist and Mark Ratner writing Space Opera (1980) as well as a couple of supplements/adventures for it, and for Chivalry & Sorcery while being published by Fantasy Games Unlimited.

Along the way he wrote the very first Rigger Black Book for FASA’s Shadowrun (1st Edition) and, in recent years, has published a number of RPG books on RPGNow under his own Phalanx Games Design imprint, including Farm, Forge and Steam, Road to Armageddon (for BTRC’s EABA), Orbis Mundi, Displaced and Audace ad Gloriam (2d6 based Exploration/Survival Gear Catalog for SF RPGs).

In real life he is a History teacher (Years 7-12) of over 30 years experience, currently teaching in a High School in the Northern Suburbs of Sydney, is semi–active in union politics for the NSW Teachers Federation, plays RPGs most Saturdays and Computer Games (mostly wargames) many other nights.

Comments (36)

Objective-Oriented Experience Points



Why do we hand out experience for combat? No, I’m serious – this is a question that’s been preying on my mind as a consequence of an article I wrote earlier this year, “Experience for the ordinary person” – you should probably go and read at least the first section (down to and including “Reward-matching vs Reward Differentials”) before we go any further.

All caught up? Excellent. So now I’ll ask the question again: why do we give experience for combat at all? Why not shift entirely to objective-based XP rewards?

Objectivity In rewards

One of the major reasons put forward, time and again, is that because Combat is a procedure that is enumerated and quantified, it is inherently a more accurate means of determining the scale of rewards than an arbitrary number allocated by the GM for story progression and the achievement of objectives.

This is a false arguement. It starts by assuming that the GM is inherently unable to determine a just and fair reward if there aren’t numbers behind the system to justify and quantify the scale of the award.

Extending the functioning of the encounter-rewards subsystem in the manner described in “Experience for the ordinary person” makes plot-based rewards every bit as quantifiable as straightforward combat rewards.

The “objectivity” arguement also ignores the fact that the GMs placement of combat encounters is just as arbitrary. He still decides how tough those encounters should be, after all! It also ignores the hugely subjective fudge-factor on the part of the GM that is built into the process of determining the reward from any given battle (“easy fight” vs. “typical fight” vs. “difficult fight”). While the terms and specific subsystem are drawn from D&D 3.x, most game systems have some equivalent in place.

The more closely this arguement is scrutinized, the more it falls apart.

The Purposes Of Combat

Perhaps if we examine the purposes of combat within an RPG, we can find some better answers.

Random Excitement

One obvious purpose is to provide an adrenalin rush by actually putting the characters in a position where they have to fight for their lives. Random encounters or “wandering monsters” serve no other real purpose – except for forcing the characters to chew up resources that the GM has previously provided the characters. Can it be that the real purpose of wandering monsters is to provide adrenalin junkies with a fix, and the real purpose of some of the treasure-type rewards given out by the GM is simply a means of giving the characters enough survivability “coin” that they can afford to pay for that fix?

An alternative reinterpretation is that the GM has turned the players into treasure junkies and the purpose of wandering monsters is to make room in the PCs packs for their next fix of goodies. This isn’t a much more flattering notion, is it? But both of these addictions are strongly associated with the players of video games, especially when they come to tabletop gaming.

They don’t have the exclusive contract on such behavior, of course; in the olden days, when Zork! was the epitome of computer RPGs, some GMs fell foul of Monty Haul Syndrome in response to demands for more loot made by their players.

Realism

Verisimilitude is a far more potent reason for combat to exist in RPGs. If the players insist on going somewhere the local authority doesn’t want them to go, or doing things that authority doesn’t want them to do, they are sure to fall foul of attempts to prevent them from achieving these ends – and if they resist, that’s combat.

Even random encounters and wandering monsters, properly employed and not present merely for their own sake, have a part to play in enhancing the believability of a game setting and situation.

Get enough drunken louts together, and you are sure to get a barroom brawl. Get enough hungry monsters together in too confined a space and the weakest will be displaced; some will depart for greener pastures, but a few will wander around in desperate search of a meal. These don’t really serve any direct story purpose – unless you consider establishing and maintaining plausibility to be a story purpose in and of itself.

But that is a story purpose, and an important one. Perhaps the earliest article that I can recall reading in the Dragon magazine, back when I was just starting out as a GM, was one about using the placed encounters of a dungeon to determine a ‘wandering monster’ table that was inherently plausible and not a random roll for monster-of-the-week.

If it’s a story point, surely a GM could plan wandering-monsters-for-the-sake-of-verisimilitude better than leaving it up to random chance when one is encountered?

Only the dreaded “random wilderness encounter” – when the GM is traditionally and realistically under no obligation whatsoever to serve up balanced encounters that match the overall capabilities of the PCs – should be a truly random result, and even then the encounter shouldn’t come out of the blue. The effects of the presence of the ‘random encounter’ on the environment should be detectable in advance of the actual encounter, if you know what signs to look for.

When my dice indicate a “wilderness encounter”, my first thought is “What might logically be found in this region?” and my second is “What encounter would add to the verisimilitude of the campaign right now?”. If neither of those yield and encounter description – and sometimes they don’t – then I will roll on a random encounter table – and the roll will indicate not the imminent presence of the resulting encounter, but the first indication that such an encounter is in the vicinity. It might be a footprint, or bark scratched off a tree, or a broken branch, or a peculiar scent, or the body of the encounter’s last meal; it is extremely unlikely to be the encounter itself (though I throw that in occasionally as well, just to prevent the players getting complacent).

But these, too, are better used by rolling in advance, not at the time – because that gives the GM time to think about and prepare those signs. If I have decided in advance that a “random wilderness encounter” is needed for reasons of verisimilitude, placing it carefully in a time and place when there’s nothing else happening except a passage from A to B gives a better result – and makes this just as much a plot point as the Giant standing guard outside the Mead Hall.

The One That Really Matters

The only conclusion that can be reached is that the only purposes that non-meaningless and unnecessary combat serves in an adventure are story purposes – an obstacle that can be overcome with physical mayhem, as opposed to one that can be resolved by clever roleplay, or solving a puzzle, or escaping a trap. So why should it be the basis of experience, instead of story-based awards?

But, Wait… What is Experience?

Before carrying these thoughts to their logical conclusion, and committing myself to that destination, we should take a moment to consider exactly what “experience” is and what it represents, in case there is a counter-arguement lurking there.

According to Wikipedia, “An experience point… is a measurement used … to quantify a player character’s progression through the game.”

Personally, I dislike this definition, though I found it difficult to enumerate any specific objections. Eventually, I realized that I had two objections:

  1. The definition is at a pure metagame level, without reference to what xp represents to the character; and
  2. I have a specific objection to the use of the phrase “through” in this context, because it implies that xp rewards should automatically follow achievement regardless of the difficulty of that achievement or character interaction with the objective a PC is attempting to achieve. Now, if the latter phrase had been “progression within the game”, I would have no objections whatsoever.

Here’s my alternative:

Experience Points are an abstract numeric measurement of progress in the development of character capabilities and expertise.

This definition operates at both a character level and a metagame level, and it carries a clear implication of a character “learning from experience”.

The word “abstract” is essential in this definition; XP as a quantification of “experience the character can learn from” contains a logical disconnect with in-game events. Whatever the conversion system that translates experience to new or improved abilities, there is no direct relationship between the abilities used to obtain the experience and the abilities that are improved! Handing out some NPC smack-down doesn’t logically lead to an improved ability to craft a musical instrument, for example – not unless the PC involved beaned the NPC with an example of the musical instrument in question!

Treating XP as an abstract representation of the “experiences that a character can learn from” wallpapers over this problem, implying that even while the character was running around humiliating NPCs, he was also sketching instrument designs in his head. The character becomes a collage of abilities that is more than his combat characteristics, at least from the point of view of the XP subsystem. The suspiciously-shaped lump under the wallpaper is the assumption that progress in one area (musical instrument design) is, in any way, related to the outcome of combat with an NPC – or, more specifically, that the experience received by the character for one activity is a reflection of the experience received by the character in another.

So, how does it fit?

It is this definition of XP that encourages the issue of Experience Points for activities other than combat. Any sort of conflict or activity can be considered an activity from which the character can learn, after all – so rewards for problem-solving and roleplay (interaction with NPC personalities) and non-combat achievements are all perfectly valid.

But there is a hole in this concept of experience points – this definition of xp assumes that all characters possess an equal facility in translating “learning experiences” into “lessons learned”. There is no allowance for relative intelligence, or even an instinctive equivalent (usually part of a wisdom or wisdom-like characteristic).

It can be argued that a greater innate ability enhances the prospects for success at a reduced risk to the character, so that having a high intelligence (or intuitive equivalent) will result in a greater ability to earn XP in the long run, indirectly representing that ‘equal facility’. But since the entire group will typically benefit in this way from the presence of a character of greater capabilities, regardless of the ability to learn of individual members of the group, I find that this is a flawed arguement that doesn’t stand up to close scrutiny.

Justifying Character Classes

Although they are often disparaged in comparison with point-buy game systems, the character class system of D&D and Pathfinder and similar games actually affords a plausible solution to this problem.

If it is assumed that a character has undertaken a career within a particular character class because it is in that class that the character achieves this ‘equal facility’ and that the character would progress less readily in any class that the character has NOT taken levels in, the “equal facility” problem disappears completely.

Indeed, it is not much of a stretch to employ this line of thought to justify the XP bonuses that AD&D used to hand out for characters whose primary stat was of a superior level, and it was in this context that I first encountered this arguement in one of many bull-sessions on the train to gaming each Saturday from the friend’s house in Lindfield NSW where we had played the night before.

Character Concept: A points-purchase equivalent

For players of games like Champions and Gurps, which operate by expenditure of experience points directly to obtain abilities, a house rule is usually needed to achieve the same justification.

Requiring a character to explicitly define a character concept – a blueprint for what the character can do, what their personality is, and so on – and then mandating that purchases must reflect that character concept (or are penalized in expense – the equivalent of ‘cross-class skills’) solves the ‘equal facility’ problem by defining each character concept as a ‘character class’ in their own unique right.

Side-note: In a nice bit of negative feedback, the same approach can be used to restrict the choices of character class in a level-based system, ensuring that characters remain ‘true’ to themselves and retain the diversity that they originally represented when the PCs first started adventuring together. Without such restriction, it is altogether too easy for one character to start resembling another as they advance in levels – and there is the side-benefit that it is an impediment to min-maxing.

XP For Achievement

This train of thought has inexorably led to the conclusion that a far better model for RPGs to employ is one that rewards Achievement with Experience instead of basing rewards on success in Combat, because combat for it’s own sake is not deserving of reward. It is ironic that the proposal redefines XP to accord more closely with the definition supplied by Wikipedia, despite my objections!

This is a point that Da’Vane made in the comments of the earlier post – the distinction between combat and conflict. Having established the validity of the approach, it’s time to look at using it as a campaign planning tool, a means of making the GM’s life easier.

Ambitious Undertakings

The first step in making use of this principle is to define the high-level objective. To illustrate the process, I’ll be using the first adventure from my Shards Of Divinity campaign.

The first adventure had a number of objectives. I needed to establish that one particular PC had access to knowledge that no-one else in the world knew; I needed to establish that this information was going to be both useful to the party and going to get them in trouble over their heads. I needed to establish that this particular PC was the most wanted man in the game world (because of the circumstances that gave him that knowledge), and introduce some of the history of that world in a real and tangible way. Lastly, I needed to bring the PCs together, unite them, and let them experience the game rules of this particular environment, especially the fact that magic was failing and less reliable than they were used to – despite the fact (or perhaps because of it) that this was to be a world with a LOT of magic. (If it sounds like one character is central to the entire campaign, it’s because they are – by intent. I made sure the other players knew that this would be the case before the signed up for the game).

That’s a lot for one adventure, and I expected it to take quite a while to complete, both in game terms and in real life. In fact, I expected it to carry the PCs from 5th level to 10th level, possibly even 12th level.

At the time, that was just a guesstimate based on the scale of the problems that would confront the PCs in the process of achieving that long list of objectives. Under this new paradigm of adventure construction, it becomes a firm target.

Adventure Breakdown

The next step is to break the objective down into a number of smaller, logical, steps that collectively achieve the overall objective. Where possible, decisions should be eliminated altogether from this structure, they should still be more general than that. If you can’t eliminate a decision, it should be reduced to a simple ‘either-or’ and the adventure structure should accommodate both. That way, it doesn’t matter what the PCs decide to do, the campaign gets to the end goal. Here’s a breakdown of the Shards Of Divinity adventure:

  1. gather PCs – get the PCs together in one place by sheer coincidence. Include cannon fodder.
  2. recruit PCs – Lucius recruits the PCs as bodyguards/assistants. Barroom Brawl.
  3. where to? – offer PCs a choice of where to go through interesting rumors
  4. gang of thugs – while the PCs are making preparations to leave on an extended expedition, a gang of street thugs recognizes Lucius and tries to capture him
  5. reward poster – a PC recognizes Lucius’ face on a reward poster, the truth of his identity comes out
  6. official attention – the town guard investigate the disturbance (4 above), discover Lucius’ presence
  7. into the wilderness – PCs flee before they are captured, preparations incomplete
  8. failing magic encounter – an encounter designed to establish the unreliability of magic
  9. passage – the PCs travel to wherever they decided to go
  10. impenetrable dungeon – PCs visit a “known” dungeon with a puzzle-based entrance that no-one has ever been able to solve. Lucius’ extraordinary knowledge gives him the answer immediately but the player has to recognize the answer for what it is and work out how to interpret it.
  11. dungeon guardian – a guardian creature attempts to stop anyone from getting enough time to solve the puzzle
  12. puzzle solved – Lucius solves the puzzle
  13. dungeon – room 1 – a deadly trap designed to kill anyone who solves the puzzle and gets past the guardian. Arcane magic doesn’t work at all anywhere inside.
  14. dungeon – room 2 – ‘this is not a treasure-cache, it’s a prison’ – another trap, even more deadly, but this is designed to prevent people leaving, not getting in
  15. dungeon – room 3 – a stone golem impersonates a Drow prince, assuming that the PCs have come to rescue the prince
  16. dungeon – room 4 – history encounter – the Drow prince reveals the origin of Lolth, the early history of the Drow, and their current status concealed within Elvish society, and offers the PCs a bargain: carry a message to his followers, and they will reward the PCs with their entire treasury. Or refuse the offer and leave empty-handed. If they accept, he gives them a blank scroll which will lead them to his treasure cache. If they attack, they will discover that the Drow Prince is invulnerable to anything they can muster.
  17. dungeon – room 5 – the final trap confines the power of the Drow Prince – he could not have harmed the PCs if he had wanted to, the dungeon neutralizes his power, but they also keep him alive far beyond the normal lifespan even of his kind – years that will be instantly bestowed apon him if he ever leaves. But any PCs who expected to find a treasure-hoard hidden here will be sorely disappointed.
  18. the payoff – when the PCs escape, if they accepted the Drow’s Offer, the scroll will prove to be a magical map that will point the way to the Drow Treasure Cache. If not, they will find another dungeon where most of the defenses have been eliminated by another group of adventurers to get a much smaller payoff.

Eighteen Acts. Notice that there it doesn’t make a lot of difference what the PCs choose to do; the first 6 Acts will convince them that they need to get out of town for a while; the nature of a couple of encounters (8 & 11) will change depending on where they decide to go; and the rest of the story is all about giving the PCs the background information to decide whether or not to accept the Drow Prince’s offer.

Ranking The Acts

Eighteen acts into an expected five-to-seven levels of character development – call it six for convenience – gives an average of three acts to each character level. This can be tweaked as desired, of course; some acts present rather more difficulty to be overcome than the others. Some present the opportunity for incidental roleplay encounters that might become important later, and many of them present opportunities for the PCs to make mistakes that will come back to haunt them.

Side-note to any of my players who happen to be reading this: I ended up with more players than originally expected, so there wasn’t as much need for Cannon Fodder to be included. As it happens, a couple of those players didn’t stay with the campaign for various reasons, and I would have been better off including them anyway. Oh well, we all make mistakes. :(

I would actually divide the levels up as follows:

Acts 1-4: Level +1
Acts 5-9: Level +2
Acts 11-12: Level +3
Acts 13-14: Level +4
Acts 15-16: Level +5
Acts 17-18: Level +6

Assuming that the characters start at level 5 (10,000 xp), that is the same thing as specifying:

Acts 1-4: 5,000 xp
Acts 5-9: 6,000 xp
Acts 11-12: 7,000 xp
Acts 13-14: 8,000 xp
Acts 15-16: 9,000 xp
Acts 17-18: 10,000 xp
Subdivide the Challenges

The next step is to take those individual assignments of xp and challenges to be overcome, and get specific about how much each is worth. The simplest method is to consider them all equal, but that’s not always the most reasonable answer. Consider the first 4 acts:

Act 1: story and roleplay
Act 2: minor combat
Act 3: story and roleplay
Act 4: serious combat

There are a number of approaches to performing a subdivision of xp award amongst these 4 acts.

  • Arbitrary – set the numbers to whatever sounds right. If the PCs get more or less xp than they expect, it will balance out in the end.
  • Combat first – set CRs and ELs for the combats, determine the likely awards, subtract from 5000 and divide by 2 to get the story-based awards. Leave a margin to use for the rewarding of good roleplay.
  • Absolute Challenge Rating – set CRs for each Act such that the expected total xp is about 5,000 (perhaps less a margin for use as roleplay awards). Then award the actual XP according to the standard rules for overcoming such challenges, as described in “Experience for the ordinary person”.
  • Relative Power Levels – my personal choice, this combines the arbitrary setting of XP with the determination of CR according to the amount of XP to be arbitrarily awarded.

Let me explain that last one again: the GM sets an amount of experience that they feel the events should be worth, in story terms, and then determines AT THE TIME, according to the then-current character levels, what the CR (i.e. the difficulty) of any combat or problem should be in order for the characters to earn that much XP.

Why is this my preferred approach? Because it doesn’t matter if the characters gain an extra level here or there in random encounters or interesting side trips or whatever. It doesn’t matter if a character incurs a negative level due to an encounter with a Vampire. It doesn’t matter if a prior challenge proves to be less difficult or more difficult than expected – because the actual difficulty of the challenge at hand gets adjusted for these circumstances at the time, the level is predefined relative to the PCs abilities.

Employing this system, I would rate these four acts:

Act 1: story and roleplay – 750 xp
Act 2: minor combat – 1000 xp
Act 3: story and roleplay – 750 xp
Act 4: serious combat – 2500 xp

Assuming the PCs are 5th level at the time, the appropriate tables in the DMG give:

Act 1: story and roleplay – 750 xp = CR 3
Act 2: minor combat – 1000 xp = CR 4
Act 3: story and roleplay – 750 xp = CR 3
Act 4: serious combat – 2500 xp = CR 6 and a bit

…unless you divide the xp awarded amongst the characters instead of awarding that amount each, in which case for 6 PCs of 5th level, the goals are:

Act 1: story and roleplay – 750 xp x 6 = 4500 = CR 8
Act 2: minor combat – 1000 xp x 6 = 6000 = CR 9
Act 3: story and roleplay – 750 xp x 6 = 4500 = CR 8
Act 4: serious combat – 2500 xp x 6 = 15000 = midway between CR 11 and 12.

For the two combats, CR 9 equates to 10-12 brawlers of 2 HD each; CR 11 gives seven to nine 5th level rogues, while CR 12 would increase their level to 6. So maybe four 5th level rogues, and four 6th level.

For the non-combat Acts, three characters of the same level as the party who have to be overcome, one way or another – or some action of similar difficulty – would match the CR 8, as would 5-6 characters of 3rd level. So three untrustworthy NPCs try to join up and have to be turned away in act 1, or perhaps one of the three is a bartender who mistakes one of the party for someone with whom they have a grudge; and each member of the party gets to go shopping for one essential commodity and has to deal with a merchant who is the equivalent of a 3rd level character. That, in turn, gives the experienced GM some idea of the skills of the NPC merchant.

But if the PCs somehow gain or lose levels, it’s easy to adjust the CR so that they still get the same amount of XP.

Of course, the so-called “combat” xp are now “conflict” xp – the PCs will get this amount if they capture/kill the rogues or if they simply pull a clever dodge and run away successfully. The XP is not for overpowering the rogues, it’s for getting away from them, and any approach that works is perfectly and equally acceptable.

Advantages

I consider the Objective-oriented technique contained in this article to be a superior approach to the awarding of XP, at least in comparison with the standard method. Instead of arbitrarily deciding how difficult to make a problem, then awarding XP based on that decision, the GM is deciding how much XP he wants the encounter to be worth and setting the difficulty accordingly.

If adventures are designed in this way, it doesn’t matter when those adventures take place (relative to the experience levels of the characters) because the difficulty is automatically adjusted.

Of equal value is the ability to contain XP earnings to an expected scale – in another of my campaigns, characters who I expected to be at about 12th level are now in the low twenties, for all sorts of reasons. As a result, I have had to choose between upping the nastiness level of the encounters or boring the players with challenges they would find trivial and dull. The former perpetuates and exacerbates the problem, purely because the characters earn still more experience as a result. If the Objective-Oriented XP system had been in place in that campaign, some of the early encounters would have been a lot easier than they were (read “lower CR”), giving less XP, and the characters would still be on-track at 12th level.

Another example: In my first Fumanor campaign, I expected characters to get to 30th level at best. One of the PCs ended up being 54th level or something equally ridiculous – virtually all of it fairly earned (there were a couple of levels that arose from system migration, first from D&D 2nd Ed. to Rolemaster, and then from Rolemaster to D&D 3.0.

Disadvantages

There is a trivial increase in the amount of prep work to be done – a few seconds worth of effort in each game session. Roleplay awards don’t really fit – though these can be satisfied with other forms of reward, probably to the long-term betterment of the campaign. GMs will need to be reasonably proficient with basic arithmetic (or with the use of a calculator) and with the existing XP subsystem in order to determine what CR of encounter will yield the expected amount of XP – and sometimes the numbers simply won’t quite add up, and will require a little tweaking.

Conclusions

Usefully, if you don’t tell your players what you are doing, they will never know! That, of course, eliminates any complaints – not that there should be any, because you are still rewarding them according to the DMG and established protocols; you simply have a new tool at your disposal to determine how effectively your combats, traps, puzzles, skill checks, and NPCs should be at opposing the characters.

“Object-Oriented” in computer programming thinks of a system or piece of software as a set of ‘objects’ with defining characteristics that can be controlled and manipulated, manipulating the object in the process. “Objective-Oriented” XP does the same for an RPG.

I intend to implement this system in my Shards Of Divinity campaign ASAP. I can’t offer a stronger recommendation than that.

Comments (17)

Missing In Action: Maintaining a campaign in the face of player absence



In the last issue of Roleplaying Tips (Issue #522) Johnn passed on a request for advice from an RPT reader and new GM:

Hi Johnn,

I am new to being a GM and have only been running a D&D campaign for about 6 weeks now (one day a week). I’m a high schooler and have convinced some friends who have never played before to play.

We have had a bit of fun and adventure. However, due to schoolwork and activities it is hard to get everyone to come all together, which makes it difficult to keep a story going.

What should I do to get a story or campaign to stay consistent? And how do I manage PCs when they are gone?

Thank you for your time,

Tristan.

I immediately set about writing an answer; I not only knew several “stock” answers to the question, but also experienced a moment of inspiration yielding a solution that had never occurred to me before, and that I had never seen written up. When the answer topped 500 words in only a few minutes of typing while barely scratching the surface, though, I knew that it would exceed the parameters of a Roleplaying Tips “quick reply” and retasked it into a Campaign Mastery post. Which is how you came to be reading these words…

Solution Zero: ‘Baby, I don’t care’

The circumstances described mandate a heavier emphasis on episodic campaign planning and decreased level of continuity. Being able to end each session of game play on a cliffhanger won’t work when the characters present going into the cliffhanger may not be the same as those present to get themselves out of it.

Each day’s play should end with the PCs somewhere safe and secure, where other party members can catch up with the group and those who aren’t there can safely leave. Since such in-game situations will be a common feature of a number of these solutions, let’s give them a name: “Exchange Points”. This is more a matter of trying to work around the problem than an actual solution, but it is good general advice when in this situation.

I also employ a ‘threshold of attendance’ in which players who can’t attend are required to provide advance notice of their absence, and a minimum number of players is required before the game can go ahead. Players who are absent without having provided notice are penalized in some fashion unless they have good reason, but I tend to not be very hard-line about accepting those reasons. The only one that I have ever refused to accept was “I was too tired from partying all night the night before” – that to me is absence by choice, the player made a judgement about what they wanted to do and it would be unreasonable to permit them to compromise everyone else’s entertainment for their own pleasure without some disciplinary action. Others might not agree, but the player in question thought it was a fair enough call.

Pros:

This solves the immediate problem – at least somewhat. It has little else to commend it.

Cons:

At the same time, it comes with three big shortcomings:

  • Games can be disrupted by non-attendance;
  • Players can resent punishment after being AWOL for what they consider ‘good reason’ but the GM doesn’t; and,
  • It can be difficult ending each day’s play at an exchange point.

The last item deserves a little expansion. In order to end at an exchange point, the GM has to be certain that any combat will be complete before the end of the day’s play. The implication of that statement is that there will be non-combat action filling out the day’s play – which, no matter how interesting, doesn’t carry the adrenalin boost that combat does. What’s more, the amount of this non-combat play will be variable and somewhat unpredictable – some days there will be lots of time to fill, and other days everything will be a mad scramble to the finishing line. Worse still, simply being in non-combat mode doesn’t automatically produce an exchange point – any sort of drama is just as bad under these circumstances as blood sport. No, you need the days’ action to wrap up with everyone safe in their beds – either in an inn, a hostel, a campsite, or whatever.

All of which wreaks havoc on pacing and timing. Even worse, the result is a formatting straightjacket that will soon become dull and predictable.

Recommendation:

This is the sort of solution that you use when you can’t think of anything better. All subsequent solutions will – one way or another – be enhancements of this approach – which means that any of them would be preferable. And, as that shopping list of drawbacks shows, it can do with some enhancement!

Solution 1: ‘Dave’s Not Here, Man…’

This solution whisks characters whose players aren’t present off on a “Side Mission” which earns them no XP but which keeps them off the firing line. A refinement of Solution Zero, this is essentially a way of making any scene or location an exchange point (no matter how improbable) and using a blanket excuse to cover the cracks.

The solution can be further improved by requiring each player to provide a list of reasons for their character to wander off in the middle of an adventure and come back later, for the GM to choose between. These could include:

  • Mundane, e.g. “going shopping for a gift for a relative” (works best with a large family in the character’s background) or “being locked up in the town cells for being drunk and disorderly”; or
  • Personally significant, e.g. “Investigating a possible clue to the identity of my brother’s murderer” or “Trying to buy a grimoire containing ‘Bixby’s Unnatural Blandishment’ ” (or some other made-up spell that will never actually be found) or “Called to a reading of my Grandfather’s Will”; or
  • Campaign insignificant, e.g. “Went to scout out the defenses of Darkmuir Manor but was almost caught and spent a couple of days in hiding”; or some other plausible explanation of where the character went, deriving from events within the campaign, but of no great significance to the campaign in the long-term; or,
  • Campaign Significant, e.g. “Infiltrated a meeting of a death-cult dedicating to reviving the God Of Whimsical Destruction” or “Attended a secret peace conference between the Mondahz Confederation and the Elves Of The Ninth Circle”. These are events that the GM wants to have happen in the background, so he has to provide these. But they have the side-benefit of using the player as a vehicle for blocks of narrative text about events in the game without making them narration.
Pros:

This is an answer that solves the immediate problem – somewhat. It can provide a vehicle for background events that keep the campaign background dynamic instead of static, can provide a vehicle for character development.

Cons:

The flexibility evades most of the problems listed under the default “Solution Zero”, but at a price: Plausibility is negatively impacted, though some of the pro’s enhance plausibility in other areas, so overall this is a neutral solution that can appeal.

Recommendation:

This approach is worth considering, especially if the GM doesn’t feel his experience behind-the-screen will enable him to implement one of the better answers offered below. I consider this the minimum acceptable solution.

Solution 2: Second-Hand News

This is a solution that not a lot of people will have heard of, at least not in this exact form. I have seen a number of approaches written up here and there that all boil down to letting another player take care of a character whose regular player is absent, and over the years, have amalgamated the best features of several refinements on this basic proposal into the solution described below.

Each PC has a “Primary owner” and a “Secondary Owner” whose job it is to run the character when the primary owner is not there. The choice of who the Secondary Owner is, and should be, left to the Primary Owner – and should be made at the time of character generation. If both Primary and Secondary Owners are missing, one of the other solutions should be used as a stopgap.

Pros:

This approach certainly solves the problem. It also means that the party are never stuck needing a specialist class because the player that owns that character is away.

Cons:

It’s easily three times as much work running two characters at the same time as it is running one. It can easily ruin the enjoyment of the player trying to do it.

Some players may attempt to take advantage of the situation; while the GM can veto some of this, not all such actions will come to his attention, such as the second character making a ‘loan’ of a prized magic item or sum of wealth to the player’s usual character – and some players resent the GM vetoing ANY PC action. Some players will concoct mendacities to falsely accuse the caretaker of this sort of abuse of trust for his or her own reasons.

This solution also places a high premium on the secondary owner being able to explain his decisions and thinking at the moment of decision to the primary owner. And, even if the Secondary Owner runs the character with the best of intentions, communicates the reasons for his decisions clearly and succinctly to the Primary Owner, that owner can still be left be unhappy at the outcome of choices that he feels the character would not have made.

So it’s not a completely happy answer from the point of view of the players. Unfortunately, it is also not all the sparkling from the GM’s position, either. Implementing this solution may mean that the secondary owner becomes aware of knowledge that the primary owner would prefer to keep private. It may also mean that the secondary owner learns things that the secondary owner’s primary character doesn’t and shouldn’t know. Both of these can disrupt the campaign; it forces the Secondary Owner to actively work at separating player knowledge from character knowledge – something some players are good at, and some are not.

And finally, it is still only a partial solution: what if there are no other players that the primary owner trusts?

Recommendation:

This solution doesn’t work very well for inexperienced players and probably isn’t all that suitable under the circumstances. It’s a recipe for trouble even at the best of times. The Cons far outweigh the Pros, in my book, which is why this is not a solution that I willingly employ – but others may feel differently.

Where it does become somewhat viable is in a situation where a player leaves the campaign on a semi-permanent basis, or wants to retire his old character to start a new one – while the other players want to retain the services of the old character. With the consent of both players involved, a permanent transfer of ownership – either to an existing player or a new recruit – can be a perfect solution, and this is definitely a technique that I employ under those conditions.

Solution 3: The Zombie Solution

That brings us to what many will consider the obvious answer to the problem: The GM runs the missing player’s character as an NPC when they aren’t there. For this to be a reasonable approach, the player must have sufficiently developed the personality of the character that the GM can reasonably justify his decisions concerning the character’s behavior.

Pros:

It solves the problem completely, and dodges most of the pitfalls that the earlier solutions are prey to.

Cons:

That’s the good news. The bad news is that if its three times as much work to run two characters as it is to run one, it’s ten times as much work to run two characters and the game at the same time, and every other aspect of the campaign can suffer as a result.

The emphasis on communication with the absent player remains, but shifts to focus on the GM. The problem of separating character knowledge and player knowledge also remains, and is ten times worse because the GM has access to so much knowledge about the campaign. The GM, however, is more practiced at both tasks than most players, and has the option of slowing play down to a pace with which he or she can cope. Finally, the GM normally accepts responsibility for the long-term satisfaction of the players and well-being of their characters anyway, and always has to keep in mind what an NPC does and doesn’t know, so this is in perfect keeping with his normal purview. If it doesn’t happen regularly.

My players are all pretty reliable, and I make it clear from the outset that joining one of my campaigns means that the player is making a commitment to attend and participate, so this is the solution that I usually adopt, together with the threshold rule mentioned earlier.

I also employ a ‘critical character’ rule – if one particular character is the focal point of a day’s play, I’m quite prepared to skip a game session if that character’s player is not available. That means that I only take charge of a character when the events aren’t especially significant to that character, and hence the decisions to be made are generally relatively minor – what battle tactic to employ is a minor question, deciding whether or not to accept a bribe from another player’s arch-enemy is quite another!

Recommendation:

This solution doesn’t work very well for inexperienced GMs and probably isn’t all that suitable under the circumstances, despite the fact that it’s the solution I most routinely employ in my games. It took me several years of GMing every weekend, week-in and week-out, for up 30 hours a week, before I was comfortable and confident enough in my own abilities to make this my default position.

Solution 4: The PC Collective

A less-commonly espoused solution that works hand-in-hand with a heavily-episodic style is what I describe as “The PC Collective”. This is a “Mission: Impossible” approach (the original TV show, not the movies) in which all the characters – and several more – are in a pool of talent owned collectively by the party. Each time that the game reaches an exchange point, any player can choose to send the character that he has been playing back to the pool and draw out a different member of the pool; adventures become operations by teams of specialists, hand-picked by the players in order to achieve their immediate goals.

At the start of a day’s play, players retain the same character that they had at the end of the previous session, at least until the next exchange point is reached. That may leave a group of characters whose players from last session are not present this time, and it may leave a group of players without characters because they weren’t present last time. Such players have to first choose from the characters already present without a player; only once all these are taken can the rest choose from the available pool of ‘talent’ and wait for the GM to reach an “exchange point”, until then, they can only kibitz from the sidelines.

The only thing that the GM needs to have up his sleeve is some means of settling disputes – even if that’s as simple as “high roll gets to choose first” in the case of two players wanting the same character. Some sort of attendance ranking – number of sessions attended over the last three months, for example – would be my recommendation.

Pros:

As solutions go, this one has a lot to commend it. It solves the problem, and that solution is a group one. Players forego the one-to-one relationship that they normally have with their characters, but they gain a flexibility that can compensate – and the use of an attendance ranking system to prioritize players choosing characters means that the campaign will quickly come to consist of a core group of regular players and a number of intermittent attendees. That core group will soon settle on a core group of favorite characters, with only the occasional variation.

The result is exactly what happens in Mission Impossible: you have a core team of characters and a set – a suite, even – of specialists called in on a mission-by-mission basis. In effect, a central cast and a roster of recurring guest stars.

If there are too many characters and not enough players, the GM can implement the “Zombie Solution” until an exchange point is reached.

A final benefit is that the solution rewards regular attendance without unduly penalizing those who can’t participate regularly. A forward-thinking party will even ensure that specialists who are potentially-vital to future “missions” will get a reasonable amount of “screen time”, i.e. garner enough experience to be able to cope with the needs of those future missions.

Cons:

The biggest drawbacks to this approach are twofold:

  • The players have to willingly and voluntarily buy-in to the proposed solution. If they can see the benefits and advantages, that shouldn’t be a problem most of the time; but if they don’t, they may not warm to the solution.
  • The longer a campaign has been running, the more resistance that will be encountered, because players will have invested in their characters. The ideal time to implement this solution is from the very first session of a campaign, with characters that have been specifically designed for this approach.
Recommendation:

While this solves the problem in principle, and is an approach that I would happily try with a new campaign where attendance was expected to be a problem, it doesn’t hold up as a solution to Tristan’s specific problem where his campaign is already underway.

It would also be important to hand out story-based xp awards (the subject of next week’s post!) at each exchange point, so that characters who only participate in one portion of the adventure get their fair share of the rewards.

Ideally, the GM would also tailor the campaign design, especially the motivation and circumstances that brings the PCs together to adventure, accordingly.

Solution 5: The Short Story Solution

At the top of this post I promised an original solution to the problem; here it is:

Interweave Episodic mini-adventures alongside a Primary Campaign with stronger continuity.

  1. Each player should generate a Primary and a Secondary character. In an existing campaign, the existing characters can be considered the Primaries.
  2. The GM builds exchange points into the primary campaign where PCs can come and go, as described previously.
  3. At each exchange point, if the players whose characters are currently engaged in the primary campaign are not present, the players who are in attendance get out their secondary characters and the GM runs a miniadventure for them.
  4. If there are any primary characters who aren’t currently tied up in the main adventure because they departed at the last exchange point, they can participate in the side adventure, but if they do so, they can’t rejoin the main adventure until the next exchange point is reached.

This is a way to have your campaign cake and eat it, too.

With experience, you might be able to set things up so that the end of each day’s play usually occurs at an exchange point – in which case, you will no longer need to worry about miniadventures, and are back to Solution Zero. But this can seem artificial and can be tricky, and the other problems with Solution Zero remain – so I would make it a point to always have a couple of miniadventures up your sleeve.

An experienced GM can probably create and run a miniadventure on the spot, based on nothing but a plot seed (such as those contained in Eureka) but until you are comfortable doing so, a GM will probably need to invest a little prep time in having a miniadventure ready to go.

Pros:

Quite simply, this solves the core problem and bypasses every complication introduced by the other solutions. And, if you reach the point where the players don’t care whether its the main campaign or the side campaign, then you’re definitely a winner. This solution can be implemented at any point in an existing campaign.

You can even use the miniadventures to resolve side issues and fill in backstory for the main campaign – think of them as sidebars to that campaign!

Cons:

Alas, it is not the perfect solution. It presupposes that everyone will be able to attend the game, at least half the time. Progress in the main campaign slows because screen time is being split, and the side campaign can become more important than the story that’s supposed to occupy centre stage.

Recommendation:

Ultimately, it may prove easier to split the resulting campaigns into alternating games. This reduces the commitment required of those players who can’t be there all the time, which in itself may be enough to solve 90% of the problem 90% of the time, and may make one of the other solutions viable.

General Advice:

Whatever the approach that you adopt, be sure that your players all know about it and what it entails. If they don’t accept the solution, it won’t work. Be very careful not to single anyone out as being “to blame” when you discuss the problem. Pointing all the players to this article might be a good starting point for the discussion!

I hope this helps, Tristan!

It is with deep regret that I advise of the passing of a close friend and one of my most generous personal supporters, Graham McDonald, following a long battle with a serious heart condition. It was Graham who introduced me to Mythbusters, and Spirited Away, and The Writer’s Guide To Everyday Life In The Middle Ages – and to Roleplaying Tips.

It was Graham who first encouraged me to submit articles to Johnn for publication; without him, it might never have happened. I dedicate this post to him and his generosity of spirit, and would ask everyone who has found anything of value or interest in my efforts here at Campaign Mastery to roll a d20 the next time you play, in his memory.

Rest In Peace, my friend. And thank you. – Mike

Comments (19)

Prep-Tools III: NPCs


This entry is part 4 of 14 in the series GM Toolbox
GM Toolbox

What tools go into your GM toolbox?

Written by Michael Beck, with contributions and editing by Da’Vane.

GM’s Toolbox, looks at tools, tips, and techniques you can use to improve your games. Toolbox offers you a skeleton for running a campaign, rather than fleshed out tips. This series is presented in a discussion style, and we ask you to contribute with comments about your own tools, tips, and techniques at the end of this post.

Preparation tools are maybe the most important tools at the GM’s disposal. In this category, we have the tools you can use to prepare your game sessions.

In part I, we covered campaign and adventure planning, which helps you define the stories you tell during the game.

In part II, we covered encounter planning – what you need to prepare for actual play.

Going one step deeper, we land at single encounters. The tools here should provide you with the details you need for playing out a certain scene or an encounter. In this part, we will explore preparing and running NPCs in your games, to make your games feel more alive and realistic.

Preparing Important NPCs

You may want to flesh out an important NPC as much as a PC, or maybe even more. I say ‘even more’ because it is a common practice out there that players flesh their characters out as they see fit over time.

However, as GM, you are often not in that comfortable position. Sometimes the adventure needs a fleshed out NPC right from the start. On the other side, if life is giving you hard constraints on your prep time, you may not be able to spend as much for NPC creation as you would a PC.

This is a crucial point of the tool you use to prepare NPCs: it should give you an NPC as detailed as you need him or her in a reasonable time. This tool can give you information about:

  • Name of the NPC
  • History of the NPC
  • Mental and physical characteristics of the NPC
  • Goals, fears, friends and foes of the NPC
  • Stats of the NPC
  • Resources of the NPC

Michael: I’m kind of lazy about preparing NPCs. I think that’s one of my biggest weaknesses as GM. Nevertheless, I have some tools that I probably do not use to full scale.

In my D&D campaign, for extremely important NPCs I go through the whole character creation. A good computer program may help here for character creation, but I haven’t found one yet.

Other important NPCs I create by using the tables in the Dungeon Master Guide and alter them as I see fit.

In my Cthulhu campaign, there is a notebook-format GMing aid full of NPCs the characters can meet on their journey. I like to use that, because there are naturally interesting characters in there.

In the Savage World campaign, I draw advantage from the light rule system. Creating NPC here is naturally quick, so I have more time for background and characteristics.

Da’ Vane: When creating NPCs, I try to focus solely on what I need and what the PCs will experience, and make good use of character stereotypes to present iconic types of characters. This leaves me plenty of time for other duties as a GM, and it is often a moment or two to repurpose any character for use somewhere else in the game, just by changing a few aspects.

The players don’t really need to know that their local tavern owner and their local priest are essentially the same character, with a slight personality change, a different hairstyle, and a few different class levels.

Plus, if the players catch on to this, and decide to come up with some theories, then it’s more potential for plot hooks – are they siblings, are they the same person, are they clones taking over the town?

Johnn: Determine interaction type to inform how much to develop for each NPC, and when. Combat NPCs require game stats, roleplaying and service NPCs need backgrounds, personalities, and resources.

Further, NPCs who are only known by name and reputation need background, resource, and tactical development. They do not need game stats, as the PCs will not encounter them soon. Villains, for example, do not need game stats at first, they just need a plan.

I have also learned games are better when you reduce the number of important NPCs and increase their relationships and interactions with each other and the PCs. This approach saves you time, helps you develop deeper NPCs character-style as the campaign progresses, and really gets the party involved.

Further, when introducing new NPCs, regardless of importance, try to relate them to your existing cast of NPCs. Developing ties and relationships embeds these new characters in your games, makes NPC faster because you can share backgrounds and plots, and gets PCs hookedm uch faster.

For tools, I’d like to toot my own horn and link to the book I wrote on the topic: GM Mastery: NPC Essentials. Everything you want to know about building NPCs, be they villains, lords, or rat catchers.

Improvising NPCs

What’s the name of the shop-owner? What does the soldier look like? If the PCs stalk the secretary until she reaches her home, what happens there?

Sometimes, your players confront you with a sudden interest in an NPC you never planned to be important. Sometimes, you just need an NPC fast. I think this is a situation every GM out there has been in at some time.

A quick NPC generator doesn’t have to provide you fully-fleshed out NPC. This tool should give you quick description, some keywords about behaviour, and maybe some further information. It is used to make NPCs different and recognizable.

Michael: For creating NPC in a quick way I rely strongly on quick thinking. I like to think in stereotypes and add or alter something non-stereotypical.

For example, in my Cthulhu campaign, when I describe a barkeeper, I give the description of a typical barkeeper as we imagine in the 1920. Short, good haircut, uniform/suite, standing behind the bar shaking a cocktail with a nice smile on his face, occasionally talking and listening to drunk man.

If the characters start giving him more interest, I add detail. Maybe he is having a strong accent or is having a scar in his face. But, by giving a rough stereotype description, my players and I share the same picture about this person. This is totally okay for an NPC likely never to be seen again.

Da’ Vane: Having quick lists of details helps when you are drawing a blank about NPCs and need something on the spot. This is particularly useful when the PCs enter any environment where they might encounter random people and can stop to talk to one at any moment.

Being able to have a list of male and female names for a region to draw from randomly is useful. Also, be sure to take cues from your players to aid quick thinking – if you can get them to highlight what they are looking for from an encounter with an NPC, then it’s less detail you need to make up, because you can simply say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

Normally, the easiest route for improvisation is to say ‘yes’, but don’t be afraid to throw in a twist or two if it will improve the scene. Using your players’ direction this way makes them feel more involved, gives you direction about what they want, and means you do less work overall.

If you can, for everything the players add to the scene in this manner, add something of your own. For example, if the players ask if the gypsy woman they’ve just seen is wearing a ring, it’s easy to say yes and provide a detail about the ring or another piece of jewellery she might be wearing.

Johnn: I also keep tables of data for on-the-fly help. I create names lists for each campaign, along with a traits list.

Getting to know your world’s cultures gives you an instant base to work with, as well. Just apply a culture onto each new NPC based on their race or upbringing, and then let gameplay inspire what makes the NPC unique.

Keeping Track of NPC Relations

Keeping track of the relations between NPCs and PCs can be a tough organizational problem, especially if you are playing long campaigns with a lot of factions.

There may be different reasons for changes in the relations between NPCs. This could be due to the PC acting in some way, NPCs acting against each other without the PC influence, or just the result of time passing by and NPCs forgiving or forgetting about recent events by others.

Michael: For keeping track of NPC relations I use diagrams with nodes representing NPCs, and arrows representing their relations. Other possible ways could be index cards (for each NPC) or tables.

Da’ Vane: A few systems actually use game play mechanics to deal with tracking NPC relations, with PCs making checks to try and influence other characters to perform actions on their behalf. These systems normally provide a good base for any system to keep track of NPC relations, since you can not only record which characters know who, but also keep track of any bonuses and penalties to such checks directly.

For the most part, events and actions will influence the checks, so a record of previous interactions and other concerns can be kept with the NPC relations – providing a mini-history of their dealings with others.

This is a particularly powerful tool for more intrigue or political games, where discovering and manipulating such relations is often important, and the biggest changes often become the subject of gossip and rumour within the courts and halls of power alike.

Johnn: Here too I go with default based on race, culture, class, or any other leading influence in the NPC’s makeup. Then I let the PCs effect change. For example, let’s say all wizards have no respect for warriors, all warriors mistrust wizards, and dwarven warriors attack eleven wizards on sight because an ancient grudge. That lets me know how several things about relations between NPC and PC warriors, wizards, dwarves, and elves.

However, as a campaign progresses, or in a campaign where things are not so cut and dry, a relationship diagram is my vote for best tracking method. A simple mindmap, or mindmap software, should work.

The king of all relationship software for RPG, however, is The Brain. I’ve used it and love it. You can download a free fully functional version through this link. (Disclaimer, if you opt to buy the Pro version, which I use, then Campaign Mastery gets a small commission, but you can use the free version forever, and it has what you need for building relationship maps.)

Playing NPCs

You want your players to be able to distinguish between the different NPCs. Playing out NPCs distinctly adds a lot of flavour to your game.

Furthermore, playing NPCs is important for the premise “Show, don’t tell.” By good role-playing, you can provide information about the NPC without explicitly saying this information out loud.

For example:

  • Educational background
  • Self-confidence
  • Origin
  • Age

Michael: Here could be any tool listed that actors use. I recently read a book about body language and nonverbal communication (Joe Navarro). I think this can be used to a great extent for GMing different levels of self-confidence.

Also speaking in different accents can be entertaining. Making yourself small or big can help a lot.

Another great tool for getting into the role of a NPC is to imagine the NPC as a strong personality you are familiar with. When you play the mother of three children and think about Arnold Schwarzenegger you will certainly play her very differently than you would if you were thinking of Britney Spears.

Da’ Vane: When playing an NPC, think about why you are playing that NPC. This should guide you in the sort of information you should look to present to the players through roleplaying. A degree in socio-psychology has given me great insight into the construction of identities in many ways, and how they are expressed through words, deeds, and markers.

Sometimes we are aware that we are expressing aspects of these identities, and sometimes we are not. In some cases we spend a lot of time trying to hide some aspects of these identities or express false aspects for various reasons.

With this in mind, try to create and play your NPCs with a few key traits and aspects, and define whether the NPC is trying to hide or express that aspect of their identity, and why. This will lead you to some of the markers to pepper your roleplaying and present the NPC as a fully fleshed out character.

Always focus on what you can present to the players – a character that hates elves will do a lot of subtle negative things towards elves in their presence, generally to make elves feel uncomfortable and intimidate, rather than just shout out “I hate elves” all the time.

Likewise, a character who like elves would do the opposite, doing subtle things to make them feel more comfortable, rather than stating “I like elves” all the time.

A character that is secretly an elf might feel uncomfortable around another elf in case they are revealed, while someone who is pretending to be an elf might try to become over-familiar with another elf in an attempt to assert their own identity as an elf.

Johnn: I suck at accents, and after awhile a campaign full of single-trait NPCs gets silly. Further, I rarely flesh out personalities for NPCs ahead of time unless they are important characters. I prefer to let appearance and actions reveal an NPC’s personality.

A quick appearance description sets the scene in the players’ minds, like the standard place shot TV shows and movies use when returning from a commercial break or doing a scene change. The audience needs to know where they are to orient themselves for the upcoming scene. In this case, the players need cues and clues about who they are dealing with.

Actions create more gameplay. Make an NPC do something in their unique style (using Michael’s and Da ‘Vane’s excellent advice). This bails me out of accents, personalities, and the whole bucket of winging-it perspiration. “The bartend slits his eyes when you walk up, and he reaches for something under the bar with a shaky hand.” Boom – player’s turn, and the PCs have something interesting to react to. Game on.

Michael Beck considers himself a novice GM, but is encouraged in sharing his tips at www.spielleiten.wordpress.com (German language). Having played RPGs for roughly 10 years now, he accepts the challenge of living with his girl-friend, two cats, a non-finished PhD-thesis and two running roleplaying campaigns.

Da’ Vane, or Christina Freeman in the real world, is the owner of DVOID Systems, and the primary writer of their D-Jumpers series of products. With an academic background in science, especially socio-psychology, she is what many would regard as a “know-it-all.” However, the truth is that she doesn’t know everything about everything, but she knows a lot about a lot, especially about her passions which are games, stories, learning, and people. She is a consummate geek goddess, and yes, she is single if you feel like tracking her down and hitting on her some time….

Comments Off on Prep-Tools III: NPCs

Creating Alien Characters: Expanding the ‘Create A Character Clinic’ To Non-Humans


Introduction

Back in late February or early March, Holly Lisle’s books came to my attention – I’m no longer sure how, but it was probably a Twitter link to her blog. Several of her e-books sounded interesting, so I passed the information on to Johnn, who surprised me in late March by giving me several of them for my Birthday.

By sheer coincidence, the eBook that we both started with was the “Create A Character” Clinic. Why Johnn chose that, I don’t know, but I can speak as to why it was the first of the eBooks that I read. I have read several books on the subject of character creation, and this was an excellent way to measure just how useful her books were going to be, and how much of the content would be redundant repetition of material that I had already read and digested.

To cut a much longer story short, the create-a-character clinic was excellent – but limited. It completely fulfilled its brief of explaining how to make characters for a work of fiction plausible and rounded, and how to communicate their nature to the audience by means of dialogue and description with massive blocks of ex-cathedra narrative by the author. Even better, most of the advice would function just as superbly when applied by a GM in a game context.

There was only one area where it fell short: Aliens. Non-humans of all shapes and sizes.

The limitations of television budgeting ensured that the aliens on Star Trek: The Next Generation were obviously humans in rubber masks and makeup, and many of the stories suffered somewhat in credibility as a result in my eyes – “not another rubber forehead!” I though to myself on a number of occasions.

Applying Holly’s book to the creation of non-humans – whether it be in fiction or within a game – will result in characters wearing the metaphoric equivalent of rubber forehead appliances. Superficially alien, but no different when and where it matters.

This article is intended to plug that gap.

How Alien Should Aliens Be?

I want to start by looking briefly at a very tricky subject. This is by no means intended to be the last word or definitive answer to the question that the heading above raises – just a starting point.

It is obviously desirable for any given aliens to be distinctly non-human in some respect – they aren’t human and their thinking should reflect that. What’s more, like a stack of dominos falling, one substantial difference should have knock-on effects. A change in the psychology of a species should be reflected in their culture, laws, social interactions, architecture, diet and anything else about the society. Not to mention how they will interact with members of other societies!

There’s no need to go into extensive detail on how to perform this type of extrapolation, because that is the subject of one of the most popular articles here at Campaign Mastery, my 4-part Distilled Cultural Essence. At the same time, it is desirable to make the Aliens as human as possible; the audience – whether they are players or readers – are all going to be human and have to relate to the Aliens.

There is clearly a conflict here, a huge grey area that is bounded by “too much” and “not enough”, between “too alien” and “too human”.

Complicating the situation is that neither GM nor author can afford to expend vast amounts of exposition in communicating the differences and uniqueness; we don’t want to spend time on generalities, we want to deal with specific individuals.

We need to be able to hit the highlights and leave the fine details to be filled in only as they become relevant; we don’t have sufficient tolerance to accommodate a lecture on sociology.

It follows that the best description is some single significant divergence from the human norm, and a mention of one or two of the repercussions that are blindingly obvious. So long as every detail that gets mentioned thereafter is consistent, and any variations from what the audience might expect gets referred back to that major variation, it’s sufficient for the author/GM to have all the details without inflicting them on the reader/audience.

Which brings us to two further questions: How to diverge from the human norm, and how to do so significantly – without completely alienating the results from the reader/audience?

The Hierarchy Of Non-human Needs

The foundation stone of the Clinic is Maslow’s Hierarchy Of Needs, a deceptively simple architecture layering one category of personal need above another. The concept is that you will do what you have to do to satisfy the needs of a given layer except compromise the needs of a lower layer.

What’s more, by choosing an item from within these categories at random, you can determine the driving need that motivates your character – you just have to draw a narrative line between the fulfillment of that need and the actions you desire your character to make, or analyze a situation that the character encounters in the context of that need to get some idea of how the character will feel about it.

It works marvelously well for humans, and abysmally for non-humans – because the non-humans will have a substantially different hierarchy of needs.

But that’s the solution to the problem posed at the end of the preceding section: Change an element of the hierarchy. Changing that element immediately makes a substantial difference to the aliens, their philosophy, society, etc, but only changing ONE element keeps the whole thing manageable – and enables the audience/player to relate to the resulting species.

Not just a rubber forehead

It might seem that this solution is on a par with the “rubber foreheads” of which I have been so disparaging, but I would disagree with that assessment. This isn’t simply a cosmetic change, but a fundamental difference to the way the society thinks and what its members value. To a human standard, the resulting characters could technically be considered insane.

I should probably also add that at the start of the series, the “forehead appliance” was at the cutting edge of what could be achieved on a TV budget with physical makeup. Babylon-5 raised my – and most other people’s – expectations and standards, and it is only when judged by those standards that STTNG fell short in the makeup and costuming of its aliens.

Exemplars and Misfits

When dealing with an alien culture, there are two types of representative that the GM needs to present – exemplars and misfits. The misfit displays individuality within the alien culture, while the exemplar provides a context and basis for comparison.

And yet, every character that is encountered should be an individual; this is another contradiction that the author/GM must resolve.

The most obvious solution is for the one being to embody both – the misfit whose need is to reform himself. This is so obvious a solution that it cannot be used at every turn, or it will become a cliché. So the creator of an alien species must look for alternatives which can be used in preference, reserving this obvious answer as a fallback position.

One of the most-frequently used alternatives comes in the form of the briefing, or narrative introduction. Someone, reading from or summarizing a “file” of compiled information on the race, acquaints the protagonists with a generic profile from which every individual will diverge, however slightly.

Another solution is the ridicule of an enemy. In my Shards Of Divinity campaign, the Player Characters have yet to encounter an Elf, never mind encounter Elvish Society. Both events, they know, lie in their future. At the current time, they are possessed of some “common knowledge” imparted ex-cathedra in the campaign briefing, one PC has a couple of insights concerning the Elves in human pre-history, but the most practical information they have comes from the disparagement of an enemy of the race – who nevertheless embodies many of the very traits he disparages. By any measure, this is a misfit with respect to the society he represents, and quite intentionally so on his part; but those very efforts illuminate aspects of his parent society.

There are other answers, but each GM or author should develop his own approaches.

From The General to the Individual

Holly’s book deals with character construction in a logical way, given a common frame of reference. From needs it moves on to character through work and play; this is followed by past, present and future; then friends, enemies, and lovers; life and death; Culture, Religion and Education; and finally, Moral Stance.

When dealing with a non-human race, I would recommend changing that sequence to give the ramifications of the change in Needs for the society an opportunity to permeate the various aspects of the character.

My recommended sequence of approach is:

  • Culture, Religion, and Education (page 51)
  • Friends, Enemies, and Lovers (Racial, not personal) (page 42)
  • Past, Present and Future (Societal, not personal) (page 29)
  • Moral Stance (Societal, not personal) (page 57)

These are all things that need to be understood about the culture in general before the impact of the individual’s unique circumstances on his personality, actions, and choices can be assessed.

There is a logical flow to the decisions that have to be made, a logical order to the order in which the dominos are lined up. For example:

  • You can’t decide a character’s choice of and approach to his employment until you know what occupations are open to the character, and how they are regarded.
  • How they are regarded will also impact on the character’s past choices and present circumstances.
  • You can’t decide this information on occupations until you know who the race’s friends and enemies are, and the history of the conflicts in their past and present. This can also impact on occupation and attitudes, and will certainly impact on the culture’s morality.

At every stage of the character development process, the creator needs to document two things: what is the exemplar (however broadly defined you have to keep it), i.e. what is normal for this race; and what are the Individual Character’s choices and attitudes and history in this respect.

Once these foundations are known, the remainder of character development can proceed in the normal way. Pick the aspects of the character’s life that are most important to them – it might be their work, or their hobbies, or their wife, or a personal rivalry, or a fear of mortality, or a shameful past, or whatever. Identify the appropriate section of the character development clinic, and work through the questions posed therein. Then do the next most important, and so on.

Through Dungeons Deep

It’s worth noting in passing that one of the most vivid memories I have of “Through Dungeons Deep” was showing how the personality of a traditional dragon derived from postulating a couple of needs that were not in the area that would be expected of a human. Of course, I took it further by thinking about why that need was where it was, but even without that, I have to admit that the approach I have described here has been directly inspired by what I read in Plamendon’s book.

A Partial Example

This article would hardly be complete without at least a partial example. And, since I havn’t talked about them very much in these pages, I’m going to pick Dwarves.

Starting with the hierarchy of needs, we need to either move or insert something. I’ll give the Dwarves a new sense/ability – Commune With Earth – as a blanket label for all the things they are supposed to be able to do from the Player’s Handbook / Fantasy Literature. This is a spiritual connection with the Earth and the spaces beneath the surface.

Having labeled the difference between Dwarves and Humans, it’s time to translate it into one or more societal needs.

Physiological

At the most fundamental level, we can place the need to periodically renew this bond with the Earth. To make things interesting, I’m going to replace Sex/Procreation with this sense. That means that marriage and children are no longer vital needs – implying that Dwarves have some other means of reproduction.

Replacing the sex drive with this experience suggests that the experience is a sensual one, and that such communing gives the Dwarf great pleasure. It also implies that this communing is somehow bound up with that alternative to children.

Perhaps Dwarves don’t have children, but instead dig the next generation, quite literally, from the rock that they tunnel through.

That means that they have no need for there to be more than one gender – but that’s getting ahead of ourselves.

Safety

Satisfying this need is clearly a dangerous undertaking in and of itself. Mining is hardly safe at the best of times; aside from the dangers of bad air and pockets of explosive gasses, there is the ever-present danger of rock falls. Add to that the threat posed by many of the creatures with whom Dwarves share their underground domain, and safety seems well satisfied.

The latter danger would certainly justify the usual martial society that is usually associated with Dwarves.

And yet, all this seems so pedestrian. Dwarves are supposed to be better at this stuff than humans; presumably, their innate communion with the earth gives them advantages that humans lack, which in turn eases the environmental dangers.

To compensate, we need to introduce a new danger, one that is also mitigated by but that results from, this new Sense. Perhaps there are parts of the Earth that are inherently “bad places” – pits of corruption and evil, hiding places of pure abstract villainy, even connections with the Abyssal planes. Certainly, the common belief in my Shards Of Divinity campaign is that the Heavens are hidden amongst the clouds, while the planes of Hell are deep underground, like the Pits of Tartarus.

Make these “dark places” seductive, as Devils and Demons are often described as being, capable of corrupting the Dwarves and turning them malicious and twisted, and the danger posed fits our needs perfectly. I keep thinking of the Cave/Tree in “The Empire Strikes Back” – a place that is strong in the “Dark Side”.

As an aside, this makes a dandy explanation for the differences between Drow and Elves – the first living Underground, and the latter living above ground. But that’s neither here nor there in this discussion.

Finally, it seems reasonable to suppose that Dwarves would feel uneasy whenever they could not feel the Earth’s presence beneath their feet – crossing rope bridges or sitting on flying carpets, or simply ascending a staircase above ground level. They would prefer to sleep in a root cellar than on the first floor of an Inn!

Love and Belonging

If the Dwarves have only one gender, they would inevitably see themselves as Married to the Earth. There would undoubtedly be at least one, and possibly several, manhood rituals in a Dwarves’ life that revolve around this perception. Fidelity would be to the Earth itself.

This stratum of the Hierarchy Of Needs is all about knowing we are cared about and caring about others, to quote the Clinic e-book. How could that relate to our new Sense?

We may consider it anthropomorphizing, but if the Dwarves see themselves as having this sort of relationship with the Earth, it is surely not a great leap to imagine that they would consider the Earth as an equal, and Dwarvish Society would be an extended family. Perhaps there are some variations in interpretation and awareness of the Sense and this is the distinction between one Dwarvish Clan and another. Certainly, the Earth would be the central connection binding Dwarvish Society together.

Being forcibly divorced from the Clan could operate as an interdiction of one or more nuances of the Earth Sense; in extreme cases, even a repudiation and denial by the Earth itself.

Esteem

The Earth has long been associated with a number of personality traits, many of which are also associated with typical Dwarvish peoples in Fantasy Games. “Salt Of The Earth”, “Down To Earth”, and so on – I don’t want to go too deeply into this because it was already covered under “The Rock” in part one of my incomplete series, “We All Have Our Roles To Play: A Functional Perspective On Personality Archetypes” (which I hope to get back to, Real Soon Now).

I bring this up to pose another of those mind-twisting suggestions that my players have come to expect: What if, instead of viewing the Earth as a feminine – something that agriculture and fertility ritual have imposed apon human societies – Dwarves saw it as a masculine, a father figure? All children try to emulate their father. (Mischievous Grin)

Of course, if Dwarves are truly mono-gendered, they probably wouldn’t have any basis for gender distinctions when it came to the Earth; it would be both Father and Mother, and human gender distinctions would be considered anthropomorphization of the worst sort!

Actualization

This is one of the hardest terms to describe! One of the few flaws with Holly’s e-book is in satisfying the need to define the term. My dictionary doesn’t help much, either.

Try this definition on for size: “Actualization is the process of treating ambitions and desires beyond the needs of health and welfare as if they were needs of health and welfare”.

We all have these ambitions and desires; and if we satisfy them, they are immediately replaced with new ones. The big ones are fame, fortune, power, and authority. Some societies may well add sanctimony to that list. I personally would add Liberty, the right to pursue happiness, intellectual freedom, and freedom of speech to the list. But that’s just me.

How can actualization connect with the postulated new Sense? Well, so far we’ve treated this new sense as pretty much a blanket deal, the same for every Dwarf (with a possible distinction along clan lines). But one of the big needs for such a sense to actually provide all the abilities that Dwarves enjoy in D&D and related games, and in fantasy fiction in general, would be discrimination – the ability to tell one kind of rock from another, one kind of mineral from another, and so on. What if these different minerals actually evoked different emotional responses?

Suddenly, the fact that Dwarves are never associated with Sulphur mines – or Salt mines, for that matter – starts to make more sense. And if the refinement or purification of such resources amplifies or concentrates those emotional responses, then other aspects of Dwarven descriptions start to take on new meaning. Their weapons are usually described as being iron, for example – perhaps there is a tactile pleasure that derives from handling steel, that other materials don’t provide?

Gold and Platinum, of course, are the only two metals that are found in pure form in nature. Everything else – even Silver – is more frequently found as an Alloy. It follows that these two noble metals, and the various gemstones, would provide the most “pure” responses. Mining a vein of Gold might well be the equivalent of a Minister hearing the voice of God.

In fact, it’s possible to go further – Gemstones have long been held to have magical properties; a little expansion along those lines and it would be possible to evolve an entire technology that is based on Gemstones that would be completely unique to this culture!

Wrapping up the example

I could continue on to actual character development of an individual from this society, refining and expanding on the concepts and ideas already incorporated, but I think the point is made; this process has evolved a view of Dwarves that is radically different from anything that I have ever seen or heard of. And yet, it is both strangely compelling and true to the ideas presented in the sourcebooks.

From this foundation, I would employ the techniques discussed in Distilled Cultural Essence to expand on the culture, coupled with the development strategy outlined in this article; then I could turn my attention to the creation of a number of individuals and the ever-present question of how to present an exemplar to the players in whatever game this was destined to be used in.

The Character Development Clinic

Holly Lisle’s eBook is an excellent resource for GMs and players and writers in general. You can buy it here or by clicking on the cover image above. The current price is $9.95 for the PDF version and $19.95 for a printed version from Lulu, and it’s definitely worth the price of admission.

Comments (8)

Prep-Tools II: Encounter and Scene Planning


This entry is part 3 of 14 in the series GM Toolbox
GM Toolbox

What tools go into your GM toolbox?

Written by Michael Beck, with contributions and editing by Da’Vane.

GM’s Toolbox, looks at tools, tips, and techniques you can use to improve your games. Toolbox offers you a skeleton for running a campaign, rather than fleshed out tips. This series is presented in a discussion style, and we ask you to contribute with comments about your own tools, tips, and techniques at the end of this post.

Preparation tools are perhaps the most important tools at your disposal. In this category, we have the tools you can use to get ready for your game sessions.

In part I, we covered campaign and adventure planning, which enable the GM to define the stories being told. In this part, we cover encounter planning and what the GM needs to prepare for actual play.

Going one step deeper, we land at single encounters. The tools used here should provide the details you need for playing out a certain scene or an encounter.

Monster Planning

Most systems and settings have monsters. A monster planning tool will provide you with the appearance of the monster as seen, heard, smelled, touched, or tasted by the PCs, along with the relevant statistics for that monster.

Additional material such as combat strategies and non-combat behaviour may also be provided by your tool.

Michael: I’m in the comfortable position of not having any setting veterans in my groups. This means I don’t have to invent monsters myself to surprise my players. Therefore, my monster planning tools are just the rulebooks themselves.

Da’ Vane: Monsters and other combat enemies can be some of the most time consuming elements of a scene to prepare, so you should be looking to find ways to do as little work here as possible, to get maximum use from your encounters.

One of the easiest ways to do this is to reskin your monsters, by replacing the descriptions and details, but preserving some or all of the statistics of the opponents at hand. This way, you can use the same set of numbers numerous times, rather than having to completely rebuild you encounters time and time again.

As you get more experience with your chosen rules, you will be more comfortable changing minor details of these encounters that affect how they play out, such as providing them with different weapons, stronger armour, or changing how some of their abilities work.

Also, if you vary the tactics and strategies of the creatures, then while they may be virtually identical in terms of their statistics, the encounters will become more varied as a result, especially if combined with various other factors.

Johnn: I also recommend monster theming. Choose a monster and make them a race, with various derivations. This helps you become an expert with the monster, allowing you to improve your monster variant construction, encounter stocking, and combat tactics with that family of critters. It also gives you a great recurring foe for players to get a good hate on for.

For example, evil unicorns. The one with the black horn and sneer is the leader. The brown horned ones are cunning lieutenants with leadership skills who undermine each other as they compete for the leader’s respect. The few red horned ones have tricky magic powers. The green horns are flunkies. Legend of gem-horned unicorns exist, which is perhaps what the villain quests for.

Terrain and Combat Hazards Planning

Combat hazards and terrain can be a crucial point of an encounter. Almost every encounter can benefit from cool scenery, which is basically the reason why we are still watching action movies.

A tool in this category should provide you with interesting scenery to spice up important encounters and battles. It should also give you some rulings on how the scenery affects the PCs and the encounter.

Michael: For basic stuff, the rulebooks do a good job for me. But for important battles, I need better tools. Getting inspiration from movies or books is a good source for me. Also the combat hazard series on the Campaign Mastery website helped me a lot.

One little tip here: Use time-constraints. Killing the giant evil robot is much more fun if you have to do it before the nuclear bomb triggers.

Da’ Vane: Terrain and combat hazards are good for getting more out of your encounters, and turning otherwise dull encounters into exciting action scenes. Bear in mind that even simple furniture can had a new dimension to encounters, especially when combined with improvisational weapon use. An otherwise dull tavern brawl can become exciting as characters throw chairs, tip over tables for cover, swing off chandeliers, and leap off balconies.

Johnn: Terrain impacts encounter setup and options. Offensive terrain that adds to damage done each round, or weakens defenses, increases the pace of combat. Defensive terrain that makes combatants harder to hit and damage slows the pace of combat.

Further, terrain affects character senses. Use terrain to improve chances of ambushes, disguise the objective, or mislead the PCs. A classic example is a terrain feature in shadow that looks like a foe.

Combat rules can serve as another tool for your GM toolbox here. Take each combat rule and reverse engineer it into an interesting terrain element. PCs will experience the terrain during the encounter and trigger the game rule in a natural way, making encounters exciting for them.

For example, bull rush: pits, crevasses, spiked walls, slippery downhill sections. What about bull rushing terrain, such as aggressive plants, wind gusts, swinging construction equipment?

Trap Placing

Traps are meant to hinder, damage, or kill the characters. They can come in any form. A trap can work as an encounter, a combat hazard, or a puzzle.

It is a good idea to have some traps in your box, since they are a tool themselves. A tool for creating traps provides you with a trigger, an effect, some possible placements, and maybe a hidden or emergency off switch or bypass option.

Michael: If I construct a trap myself, I skim through the core rules, especially the chapter about Magic and Spells. It may need some fantasy, but almost every spell can be twisted to work into a trap.

If I need a quick and dirty trap, I just use the example traps given in the rulebooks. Also, thinking about the Home Alone movies results in some (sometimes diabolic) traps.

Da’ Vane: Traps are often meant as a delaying tactic, but too many can slow down the game to a crawl. They should be reserved for areas of danger that are meant to be protected, so the players can have some idea when to expect traps and when they are reasonably safe. Sometimes, even the threat of a trap is enough to keep the players on their toes.

Johnn: I love Grimtooth’s series of books. You can convert many of the traps into something workable for your system. Kobold Quarterly regularly blogs about traps. There were several third edition trap books you can find used for cheap.

Giving Out Treasure

Handing out treasure is more complicated than just creating some items. You want treasure to be balanced in two ways – the players should not gain two coppers for slaying the red dragon, but nor should they receive the Sceptre of Infinite Power for killing some goblin raiders.

The treasure should fit the difficulty of the encounter and the level of power of the characters.

Also, the treasure should be nicely distributed over the different players. This is a tricky one, since the in-game value of treasure is not the same as its out-of-game value.

A power gamer will be much more grateful for a bigger weapon, compared to the player who seeks for a nice story.

The tool you use here should generate your treasures in a fast, uncomplicated way, which can be optimized to your players’ needs easily. Remember, you can also use created items as treasure.

Michael: In my D&D campaign, I have an easy game on this battlefield. My players love magic and powerful stuff. Basically, I go through the tables of the Dungeon Master’s Guide and mix in some more story related stuff for the few story-needs of my group.

In the Savage Worlds group, I also have it quite easy. The group is constantly broke, so giving them money causes spontaneous dancing.

In the Cthulhu group, however, it is quite different (often they are happy NOT finding something). Here hints, relics, and books trump items. For preparing this, I skim through the only-for-GM sections of my notes or the books, and choose some interesting piece of information they receive by investigating the treasure.

Da’ Vane: I am a big fan of randomly generated treasure, although I will tend to determine the treasure for a given area, and then arrange it as suited rather than relying completely on the tables for generation.

In this way, I can create treasure caches and other little rewards, as well as themed group treasure, such as dishing out some coins to minions, and having the leader horde all the items for themselves if they are particularly greedy.

I will also allow smart enemies to use the treasure they might possess, giving them an extra edge and making for a more interesting encounter, as well as giving the PCs an extra incentive to adopt reckless and heroic stunts to improve play so they can end combats quicker and get more rewards.

Johnn: TableSmith software has downloadable random treasure generators. Third Edition D&D was rife with treasure books, and you can steal the fluff from those en masse. You can also ask players for their wishlists, or better yet, understand the PCs’ strengths and weaknesses and offer rewards tuned to each character.

Granting Rewards

By reward, I mean things which are not treasure, such as experience points. This can be a great method to show your players what style of play you encourage. Your tool here should specify:

  • What kind of rewards you grant.
  • When to give out which reward (instantly, end of session, beginning of next session)
  • What the reward encourages (playing out character, making a witty joke)
  • How it keeps things balanced, i.e. avoiding one or two players getting a lot of rewards and the others none.

Michael: For giving out instant rewards, I have prepared reward cards of three types in my D&D campaign.

  • Interactive – for playing out character
  • Fun – for making a witty comment or doing something funny in-game
  • Action Cards – for doing cool stunts or describing the own action nicely

For creating the cards, I used the Magic Set Editor, printed them out in high quality, cut them out (all hundreds of them, this was work!) and put them together with an unused Magic the Gathering card in a card sleeve (with different backgrounds, to distinguish the three kinds). Here is a sample of the cards (in German language).

Da’ Vane: Various systems define different ways of handling rewards, which I try to understand, and if possible share across systems in ways to make games more fun, without breaking the game.

I also provide an instant stunt bonus to characters whose players go to that extra length of describing their actions in a cool way, or come up with something unique, clever, or funny that I feel should help the game and deserves a little bit of extra help to work.

In a d20-based system, this is as simple as a +2 bonus, which is an additional 10% chance in absence of any other modifiers, so isn’t too overpowered during play, and helps out a lot at lower levels or when the PCs start exhausting all their other abilities and need the boost.

Johnn: My group uses pocket points. It lets players reward each other.

I also give out compliments and positive feedback. “That was a great idea, Bob. Well done.” That goes a long way and does not affect game balance.

Spotlight time is another effective reward. The player who acts things out, roleplays their PC’s actions instead of just calling for a dice roll, or describes things in detail gets the floor and my attention.

Characters with backstories can get rewarded with personalized game play (hooks, NPCs, and side plots derived from the background).

Part III is All About NPCs

In part III, we will explore preparing and running NPCs in your games, to make your games feel more alive and realistic.

About the Authors

Michael Beck considers himself a novice GM, but is encouraged in sharing his tips at www.spielleiten.wordpress.com (German language). Having played RPGs for roughly 10 years now, he accepts the challenge of living with his girl-friend, two cats, a non-finished PhD-thesis and two running roleplaying campaigns.

Da’ Vane, or Christina Freeman in the real world, is the owner of DVOID Systems, and the primary writer of their D-Jumpers series of products. With an academic background in science, especially socio-psychology, she is what many would regard as a “know-it-all.”

However, the truth is that she doesn’t know everything about everything, but she knows a lot about a lot, especially about her passions which are games, stories, learning, and people. She is a consummate geek goddess, and yes, she is single if you feel like tracking her down and hitting on her some time….

 

Comments (6)

All Is Three: A 3.x Fantasy Campaign Premise


As happens every now and then, this isn’t the blog post I had intended for this week; the planned post was simply taking too long to come together and would not have been ready to post. So, instead, I offer up for your consideration All is Three: A 3.x fantasy campaign premise.

In February last year I offered “The Frozen Lands: a Science-Fiction Campaign Premise,” in which I explained that I often come up with ideas for new campaigns, some of which are rubbish and immediately tossed aside, some of which I save for later use, but most of which simple get set aside and forgotten because I don’t need them, and that whenever that occurred in the future, I would instead present it for public use here at Campaign Mastery.

One such idea recently came to me. Rather than develop it completely and present it as a package, I thought that I would simply document my thinking process as an illustration of how I go about designing a campaign.

Initial Concepts

I had just two ideas to start with:

  1. All lizardkind are related – Kobolds and Trolls and Lizardmen and Dragons.
  2. There are three types of meta-energy in existence: Defiling, Sanctifying, and Arcane – and each is defined as the absence of the other two. There’s only so much of this meta-energy to go around, so concentrating some in one area leaves another short, encouraging the other two types to struggle for dominance.

First Developments

The first pass at Campaign Development is a process of extrapolating from the initial concepts and examining implications and ramifications. It’s at this point that a lot of campaign concepts hit the wastepaper bin – either because the ideas weren’t inspiring enough or the results weren’t interesting and unique enough.

The first idea is really vague and needed immediate refinement, so that is where I started: by answering the question, “How Are they related?” It was when I came up with an answer that I realized how interesting a premise this would be – and that this was not going to be a throwaway. The answer I came up with:

Lizardkind are all part of the one greater lifecycle.

Kobolds

Kobolds hatch from eggs, many of them to a single egg. Most die quickly; Kobolds are not as intelligent nor as sentient as the DMG would have us believe. They can parrot a few words in other languages, but cannot really communicate. What they are is crafty and mechanically adept – hand one a device or mechanism, and they will push, pull, pry, and lever it in every way imaginable until they have taken it apart. If it did something they found to be useful – i.e. something within the bounds of their comprehension – they would also be able to reassemble it, better than it was before, or at least oiled and maintained. (Shades of “The Mote In God’s Eye”!)

Campaign Impact: Kobolds, better known as “Tinkers”, would be too useful not to be ubiquitously present in every household that can afford one. If it’s possible, they would be domesticated and bred in captivity; if not, organized hunting parties to capture them would be a primary industry (think of the human-hunts in Planet Of The Apes). Households that couldn’t afford one would have access to a “Town Tinker” owned by the local noble.

NB: The intelligence thing is because I want a continuity to the overall development, from less intelligent to more intelligent.

Adventure Content: the first adventure should bring the PCs face to face with a Tinker, making sure that the PCs are aware of this campaign element.

Ideas on the side:

Perhaps Kobolds are semi-marsupial, and after the eggs hatch they are deposited in a an adult Kobold ‘pouch’ to mature. This would give each mature Kobold a place to hide tools and the like. It would also mean that newly-hatched Kobolds could be quite small, only a couple of centimeters in size, which reduces the size of an egg to something that looks appropriate to a Kobold adult, further obscuring the connection between Lizardkinds.

The popular belief would be that Kobolds give birth to live young, but can’t or won’t breed in captivity.

Trolls & Lizardpeople

When Kobolds die, if they have achieved sufficient maturity, they reanimate or reincarnate or transform in some fashion into either Trolls or Lizardpeople. The process, and hence the connection, should not be known at the start of the campaign, and hence it should not be obvious.

With the ‘domestication’ of the Kobolds, it follows that mortal realms would be under siege from Troll and Lizardpeople armies. This fact becomes a third campaign premise.

Perhaps Kobolds have an inherent “alchemic imbalance” that requires them to consume a certain root or die. If they do not consume the root, they are unable to heal. However, the root itself – a common weed – is also a slow poison, and when enough of it builds up in the Kobold’s tissues, they also die.

Ideas on the side:

The root is the basis of all “Healing Potions” and has a similar effect on people when distilled (Fourth Campaign Premise). Consuming more healing potions than a character has points of constitution in a week permanently costs a point of constitution (First House Rule).

Only the religious orders know the secret of brewing Healing Potions (Fifth Campaign Premise). It is common knowledge that it is based on the root, which is farmed extensively by the Churches, but the root itself only heals one point and takes an hour to consume. The second most sought-after prize in alchemy (right after turning base metals into gold) is this secret, but none have discovered it. (Unresolved campaign question – what is the secret?).

Perhaps it is rumored/theorized that a related process creates a longevity potion. (Unresolved campaign questions – is the rumor true? Who knows this process? If not, the quest for an Elixir Of Youth would be a central goal of the church. If so, the process would be restricted to the nobility and the higher-ranking members of the clergy by expense, and the government would be a theocracy, regardless of the apparent form of government).

Getting back to the subject at hand: When too much of the healing herb accumulates in the Kobold’s tissues, their muscles begin to liquefy into a marrow-like jelly, which is perceived as a wasting away of the tissues. (Unresolved campaign question: does the same thing happen to humans?) Eventually, their internal organs liquefy and the Kobold – apparently – dies. Some time later (three days has a symbolic value, but the longer it takes, the more remote the connection) the Kobold is reborn as a small troll, which quickly grows to become full-sized. Perhaps one in ten Kobolds survive to become Trolls.

Trolls have a cave-man level of sentience – they have their own language, with an extremely limited vocabulary, and operate at a pack level in the wild.

Some of these transformations go awry – perhaps 1 in 20 – and instead of a troll, the result is a Lizardman. These are stunted, in comparison to Trolls, but much smarter; but they lack the healing abilities of the Trolls. (Unresolved campaign question: Why does the process give a different result?)

NB: My initial thought was that Lizardmen would occupy the point in the cycle following Trolls, but that would have a large creature becoming a medium creature and then becoming a much larger creature, which is a logical inconsistency; so I have decided to have a developmental fork at this point.

Lizardmen have normal healing capabilities but continue to consume the same root/herb as Kobolds for the extra healing it provides. Trolls do not; they are self-healing.

Lizardmen would naturally form tribal societies and rule over their ‘tribe’ of Trolls. If the relationship is to be kept a secret from the players, they must either be unaware of their kinship with the Trolls of their ‘tribe’ or they must be disdainful of it, refusing to acknowledge any kinship.

Dragons

Lizardfolk shed their skins several times in the course of their life (at least once every year), changing slightly in appearance each time – skin tones, spikes, horns, size of the ears, etc. As they age, their forelimbs begin to wither with disuse and become stunted, while their backs become progressively more swollen, forcing the Lizardfolk into an increasingly hunched posture. After roughly 20 years, there will come a time when the shedding of skin will permit bat-like wings to erupt from these shoulder swellings; the Lizardman has become a Dragon (assuming that he has survived this long).

Dragons are driven by natural instincts even they don’t fully understand. Their primary goal is the propagation of the species and of their offspring in particular; the eggs of rivals are competitors and potential threats to the survival of their own offspring, so they are solitary by nature and bloodcurdlingly violent by instinct.

Dragons are natural accumulators of the three energy types, and can expend these energies in various ways. In fact, because the three are mutually incompatible (any two are fine), they have a need to expel/expend one of the three. They internalize one form of meta-energy, expel another, and partially expel the third. Differences between the type of energy retained and the amount of the partially-expelled energy that remains give rise to the different colors of dragon.

Perhaps one energy type is expelled as a breath weapon, and the partially-expended one is consumed/released to give the dragon its other capabilities? This is an intriguing notion, but would alter fundamentally the nature of draconic breath weapons. Some would be arcane, some would be spiritual, and some would be corruptive, and the type would always be in disconcert with their nature.

This concept could radically change dragons in another way: if they use their spell-like, natural, and supernatural abilities, they would transform down the colour scale to a lesser dragonkind (red to black to blue to white to green; gold to silver to bronze to brass to copper); if they conserve their energies, they would slowly ‘evolve’ up the scale. This would (in turn) drastically alter their behavior.

There would need to be a third branch of dragons to reflect the third energy type. Final campaign creation would also require the construction of a table describing these various aspects of dragons to permit the appropriate changes to be made to the descriptions of the abilities and breath weapons. But, in general, I like it!

From time to time, the mating instinct would override the natural tendency towards a solitary existence, and two dragons would have a brief and tumultuous fling. The females would then lay eggs, one or two at a time, for years or decades thereafter, perpetuating the species. The draconic ability to fly that MOST of them enjoy would permit these eggs to be scattered far and wide, giving their genes the maximum chance of surviving into a new generation. If these egg-layings are infrequent, the development of the draconic spell-like abilities, as aides to survival, is also explained.

Beyond Trolls

So, what happens to Trolls? There are two possibilities: Either the ‘healing ability’ suppresses the evolution into a higher type, or they evolve into something else after a period of time, but their aren’t many major Lizardfolk types left.

Hmmmm… Demons are often described as ‘scaly’….

If the demonic ability to travel from one plane to another were the equivalent of the draconic ability to fly, and their other spell-like powers also operated on a similar principle to that outlined for Dragons… yes, that would work – you would have (once again) a hierarchy of subspecies, which an individual demon could ascend or descend. Obviously, the type of energy they internalize, and which gives rise to their nature, would be Defiling. The type of energy they consume would be Sanctifying – and the LESS of it they had, the more powerful they would be? That doesn’t quite work, but the alternative would be for their abilities to be Divine in nature, and that is even stranger. What if they could consume either type of energy – but that the quantity of Spiritual Energy they accumulate blocks their ability to expend Arcane energies as Spell-like abilities? This would force them to get rid of Spiritual Energy – say, by committing vile acts – and the more and worse the Vile acts they commit, the more powerful they would become? That seems to fit with the Demonic style! Some tweaking of individual descriptions vs. power levels might be needed to provide greater continuity, but the general concept works.

Archons

Logically, then, there would be two other varieties of being – one which accumulates Sanctifying energies, and one which accumulates Arcane energies. Archons would seem to fit the bill of the first, and they would evolve and become more powerful by doing “Good deeds”. Once again, there might need to be some tweaking of descriptions to give a more logical progression from one type to the next – Lantern Archons, being pure Spiritual Energy, or close to it, should be at the very top of the pecking order.

This significantly alters the relationship between these two varieties of being. Rather than being antagonistic, they would be symbiotic in nature – you can’t do a good deed unless a good deed needs doing, and Demonic Vile Acts would provide that opportunity. Both would have a parasitic relationship with mortals – though the mortals wouldn’t perceive things that way!

Abominations

We still need a species that accumulates Arcane energies. None of the remaining major types of creatures – Elementals, Gods, and Devils – really fits the bill, so we’ll set them aside for later. There are three choices: either

  • there ARE no such beings, and that’s why mortals can work magic; or,
  • we need to create a new order of being that does so, and that can evolve up and down the order by committing Arcane acts; or
  • we need to add another concept, another new idea, to the mix to resolve the dilemma.

Any of these three answers can work, and they all have their own appeal. They would each produce very different campaigns. Because I’ve thought of what that “another new idea” could be, I’m going to go with answer number three, but I’ll pause for a moment to contemplate the other two.

There is no other order of being, and that’s why mortals can work magic
This idea forges a new relationship between “spell” and “spell-like”. It implies that mortals can ascend to higher forms of existence by accumulating Arcane energies and expending the other two types – and hence puts Gods, Demigods, and Devils all on a continuity of existence with mortals. It means that Gods have to commit as many Vile acts as they do Divine acts, which is very strongly in keeping with the anarchic nature of the Greco-Roman pantheons. It would also explain where the energy to form Ghosts comes from. And finally, it makes mortals analogous to mortal Lizardkind, bringing a level of internal consistency to the campaign. So there is a lot to commend it.

A new order of being that accumulates Arcane energy, and evolves by committing “Arcane Acts”
This also holds a lot of appeal – a type of creature that does nothing but make the game universe a more wondrous and interesting place. It has a very old-school sense of whimsy about it! The stronger your imagination, the more weirdness that you can invent, the more strongly this approach gives vent to that creativeness. Libraries that contain every book that was never written, endless staircases, Halls Of Forever, Doorways into the twilight zone… it all sounds like a lot of fun.

But, the option I am choosing to run with here is behind door number three, adding a new concept: What if it is the Arcane Energies that cause the evolution within type that has been assigned to Mortal Lizardkind, Demons, and Archons? In that case, by expending that energy, our third order of being would be unable to evolve, but would remain fixed in place on the hierarchy of creature types. And if, by nature, Arcane energies tended to twist and distort in a Frankensteinian way, then we end up being able to place that variety of creatures labeled “abominations” in this category. Some are intelligent and powerful; some are unintelligent and more powerful. They all have their own variety of spell-like abilities. Illithids, Dopplegangers, Beholders… the list goes on. Some are even capable of breeding more of their own kind, but most simply ARE.

The Second Pass

For the second pass through the creative wringer, I look to try and answer those questions that were left unanswered the first time ’round. With the initial burst of ideas now documented – or at least hinted at, in the case of the relationship between the three types of energy – there is a foundation which can hopefully be extended to answer at least some of them easily. Also in this stage, I would look at matters that were briefly touched on only indirectly in the preceding thought process, like what the Gods were, and what the Devils were, and what Elementals were, and where these three varieties of being come from.

Ideas Scratchpad: I am not going to complete this step (or those which follow it) in the course of this article, because each GM should have the opportunity to find and implement their own solutions, customizing the resulting campaign to their own tastes and players, but I do have some ideas, which I will provide as suggestions. No guarantees of consistency are offered!

The Cosmology

Click on the image for a larger version

It doesn’t take much adjustment to modify the standard D&D cosmology to accommodate the new concepts, but if we go beyond the minimum adjustment, some interesting results become possible.

To start with, the outer planes get classified into three branches instead of two: the Heavenly Outer Planes, the Abyssal Outer Planes, and the Arcane Outer Planes, depending apon which of the energy types dominates the nature of the plane. These may be “lined up” neatly as shown, but a more interesting option would be to map them on a grid:

Click on the image for a larger version

This is interesting because it places some planes closer to others, and because of the empty spaces where there are no planes – implying that there once were, or that new planes will eventually form there. This makes the planar structure a dynamic thing that changes over time.

The traditional view of the inner planes has also been tweaked slightly. The illustration depicts the prime material plane, surrounded by the four elemental planes. Surrounding this is the Energy Plane, divided into Positive Energy on the one side, and Negative Energy on the other. Binding this mélange together is the Ethereal Plane, which is co-existent with the Astral Plane.

The same structure is repeated for each of the outer planes, but there is just one Positive Energy Plane, one Negative Energy Plane, and one of each of the energy planes, each broken up by ethereal soap bubbles.

Why is this structure superior to the traditional? Supposedly, the prime material plane is as complex and rich as it is because it partakes of both positive and negative energies and all four elemental building blocks – but when you visit one of the outer planes, they are just as substantial. They have sky, and land, and oceans, and life, and air. This never made much sense to me. Giving each it’s own set of building blocks makes a lot more sense. What’s more, many outer planes are connected to each other; the official products break these into “layers” in order to retain the mythological structure from which they derive. Making each of these sub-planes its own separate plane and having multiple passageways through which a “tunnel” or “passage” can connect (or interconnect) them gives a consistency and a richness to the cosmology and a number of ways to connect one plane to another so that the one that is closest to the source mythology can be chosen.

The interface between the positive and energy planes deserves greater mention. The conflict between the two is the source of arcane energies, and the stronger this conflict, the more arcane energy is available within the plane. This has two effects: it means that given planes of existence migrate from top to bottom on the “grid” layout as they age; and it means that older a plane is, the less sharp and distinct the dividing line between positive and negative. Planes of shadow and twilight, planes of gray – those are what are left when a plane wears out.

Again, the notion is to provide something more than a static image of reality, to make the cosmology dynamic and evolving.

Nature Of The Universe

I have two different concepts in mind for the nature of the universe, two answers to the question of “why” the cosmology is the way it is.

The first is, perhaps, the more distinctive. The universe is a virtual reality created within the subconscious of a gamer plugged into a computer bank, his cortex forming part of an organic CPU. Defiling Energies embody user commands, against which he struggles; Sanctifying Energies embody his attempts to resist these instructions; and Arcane Energies embody system commands, which alter the environment (i.e. the context) of the other two. The different worlds represent different areas of memory, and individual locations represent symbolic locations within that memory. Hence, each plane will grow and shrink depending on how much memory retains data and how much is free. Some memory addresses can form symbolic links to other memory locations (gates and portals). A fair amount of memory is used to retain the operating system, and hence is relatively stable; other parts are used as temporary registers and are extremely volatile. The Astral Plane is the memory index, while the Ethereal Plane is a bus to other parts of the core architecture.

The second is more traditional. Once, two great races of humanoids (which I will call the Old Ones for the sake of giving them a name) fought a war of mutual annihilation. In fact, they annihilated all structure within their multiverse. Infinite anarchy gave infinite scope for the recombination of the energies unleashed by the final acts, and eventually the most improbable of configurations was accidentally achieved – one that was stable, or at least quasi-stable. Like a crystal forming in a supersaturated solution, this orderliness propagated outwards from the central core, creating the universe.

Gods, Devils, and Elementals in the Virtual World:

The nature of the Gods will clearly alter with the concept of the nature of the universe.

Under the ‘Virtual Reality’ plan, the gods would be anthropomorphic representations of the will of the universe, and would possess human-like form because the universe was itself human. The goal of the gods – which none of them would realize – is to develop a means to break the universe free of its unnatural confinement. This of course would be the ultimate in Pyrrhic victories – without the Dreamer being connected to the computer banks that control him and keep him Dreaming, the Dream ends. But even if this were to be discovered, it would be viewed by the Gods as a Noble Sacrifice.

Some beings have instinctively realized that acting in accordance with the Positive inclinations would lead to their own destruction – if the Gods ever succeed, the universe will be destroyed. Hence, they embrace the Abyssal and attempt to foster the manifestation of Vile energies in opposition to the Gods – they are the Devils. They place their own survival over the needs of their creator.

Finally, there are the neutral Servitors, the checksums of existence, the beings that create planes of existence and die out with each plane’s ending, the Elementals. These represent a form of ‘police force’ within the universe, a ‘reality police’ that ensure that things are where they are supposed to be and everything is fulfilling the function that it is supposed to perform.

Gods, Devils, and Elementals in the World of the Old Ones:

The ‘Old Ones’ plan offers a more interesting perspective on the Gods. When the Old Ones were annihilated, the energies were so overwhelming that an imprint or relief of each was burned into the resulting chaos itself. In some cases, that afterimage acted as a mould for positive energies, spontaneously creating a human-like ‘God’. While the resulting being’s conscious mind would be self-developed and original, its hereditary is one of power and control and of enmity with a group of other such beings.

Because they are suffused with Positive Energies, and depend on the presence of a strong Positive Energy Plane, the Gods have misidentified their opponents as those beings which resulted from Negative Energy suffusing one of these spiritual moulds – the Devils. In truth, the Gods are the remnants of Old Ones on both sides of the former conflict, and so are the Devils. The result is that some Gods are nicer people than others, and the same would undoubtedly be true of the Devils – except that the Gods tolerate differences of opinion and the Devils don’t.

This also means that both the Gods and Devils must, from time to time, migrate from their existing planes of existence when the contrast between positive and negative energies begins to run out. Since they depend on these respective energies to survive, when their world becomes too grey, they must migrate.

Of course, some moulds are suffused by pure Arcane energies; these are the original Elementals. Neutral with respect to the Gods/Devils conflict because they are not tied to either of the principles to which these two forces are tied, these must also migrate periodically because they live off the conflict between the two types of energy.

The Third Pass

In the third and final pass through the creative process, I look at everything that’s been decided so far and try and assess the impact on mortals, and also look at demihumans like Dwarves and Elves and how they fit in. Can they be tied to one or more facets of the ideas included so far? What do they know, and what don’t they know? How do these ideas impact on their society and their history?

Key questions to be answered revolve around the creation of the various mortal breeds. One option is that they are an experiment, or series of experiments, in ways of re-infusing the positive and negative energies and preventing the ‘graydeath’ from overwhelming the Prime Material Plane. Another is that mortals were created by the Gods to be soldiers in their war against the Devils. Still another possibility is that they have arisen independently of the Gods and are simply being manipulated by both sides.

Of these, the only ones who live long enough to have encountered the same dragon in different colors are the Elves. There’s a smaller chance for Dwarves and very little chance for anyone else, but the Elves are almost certain to know this secret. So another question that needs to be resolved in this pass is why the elves haven’t told anyone. There must be some secret that they are trying to protect – perhaps they did something shameful once and are still actively covering it up, or maybe its just that they keep secrets to make themselves superior to humans. With so many things coming in threes in this campaign concept, I have to admit that I would base the elves on the Minbari from Babylon 5 – and therefore base the Dwarves on the Narn. Although the temptation is always there to make the elves more like Vorlons than Minbari…

Continuing this general theme, Halflings would be Centauri and Gnomes would be Drazi. Drow as the Shadows? There are definitely possibilities there, but that seems a little obvious. Drow based on the Pakmarah, now that would be an unexpected twist – perhaps with a touch of the Drakh. Yes, let the Dragons be Vorlons and Shadows, and leave the lesser races to the smaller positions, I think! :)

The Fourth Pass

Finally, House Rules and other nuts and bolts. Everything so far has pretty much been high concept; it is now time to get down to brass tacks. What needs to be altered from the standard rules to reflect these new concepts? What is the scope for adventure? What limitations will be placed on PC generation, and what additional freedoms can be offered to compensate?

The Final Compilation

The final step is to compile all this information into two documents (possibly more) – one with what the PCs may be told in advance (the briefing) and one with the GMs notes. The campaign is then ready for players.

Hopefully, this walk-through – which has very much been written ‘stream of consciousness’, with ideas presented as they came to me – has illustrated my campaign design technique and offered a few ideas into the bargain.

Comments (2)

Prep-Tools Part I: Campaign and Adventure Planning


This entry is part 2 of 14 in the series GM Toolbox
GM Toolbox

What tools go into your GM toolbox?

Written by Michael Beck, with contributions and editing by Da’Vane.

GM’s Toolbox, looks at tools, tips, and techniques you can use to improve your games. Toolbox offers you a skeleton for running a campaign, rather than fleshed out tips. This series is presented in a discussion style, and we ask you to contribute with comments about your own tools, tips, and techniques at the end of this post.

Preparation tools are maybe the most important tools at the GM’s disposal. In part I of prep-tools, we cover campaign and adventure planning, which enable the GM to define the stories being told in the game.

Campaign Planning (Long Story Arcs)

With this tool, you are able to create long story arcs that span over many sessions, or may even be open-ended. It provides you with an underlying story, often with a big stake that is normally sharp enough for your players to see the overall story, but flexible enough to allow side-adventures to be easily added and avoid railroading.

Following this tool will make it easy for you to plan the next adventure.

Michael: I currently run a Cthulhu campaign called Horror in the Orient Express. This is a published campaign, coming in four nice volumes. So for this campaign, the books are obviously my campaign planning tool.

For a previous campaign, I adopted the dramatic structure of theatre. Just by defining how many adventures you want to put in each act, I set up how long the campaign will last.

Having such a plan at hand helped ensure each session propelled the campaign towards its end.

One word to open-ended campaigns: It may seem tempting, but in my opinion there is a huge disadvantage: it’s open-ended. It’s hard, if not impossible, to achieve a structure like above. There is no big battle at the end.

In short, it will never end, and if it is not ending in a planned way, it will end in another usually less satisfying way: GM burnout, group-splitting, or change of system.

Da’ Vane: The structure of the campaign itself can have a significant impact upon a game, much like different formats in film and TV.

A campaign can be planned with a large over-arching plot or back-story, giving the PCs a series long-term goal to fulfil as they discover what is going on, what they have to do about it, and then race towards the inevitable climax.

Alternatively, a campaign might adopt a more episodic format, where every adventure is self-contained and there are few ties between each adventure and episode, other than sharing the same cast of characters.

This might be more suitable for a game that features the PCs moving around a lot and exploring new things, rather than taking place in a few locations that the PCs can become familiar with.

Both types can be mixed together as well. A few one-off adventures mixed in with a longer-term plot. The one-off adventures are great for enabling PC goals that may not be critical to the larger plot, but still add to the story.

If you want a shorter dramatic structure for your larger plots, you might want to consider a revised Three Act Structure. Traditionally, the revised version has the second act include a plot twist, often as the antagonists react towards to protagonists’ efforts in the first act. It’s simple, but it works.

Johnn: Another great tool for story planning is the Goal Reversal & The 9-Act Format. For sandbox adventures, I agree with Michael’s advice in some cases. But if you do want an open-ended campaign, here is a great series on fantasy and Traveller sandbox structure.

Adventure Planning (Medium Story Arcs)

It is hard to imagine a GM who is not using a tool to plan adventures. This tool provides you with an adventure you can played in one or more sessions.

You may have different tools for different types of adventures: puzzle based (investigations), event based, location based (dungeons). This tool should provide you a hook and the adventure structure at minimum.

Further good extras are:

  • Possibilities for side-adventures to avoid railroading
  • Can be centred around the PC
  • Being open in the sense that you can easily place it in your world
  • Provide you hooks for new adventures or a natural way for a sequel
  • Possibilities for twists
  • Being open in the sense you can easily alter the adventure if necessary

Michael: Currently, I run three different groups and use three different tools. I’ve already told you about the Cthulhu campaign. The mixed location and event-based adventures are given by the book that the campaign is being run from.

The second group is a D&D group in a self-invented world. Here the adventures rely strongly on exploration of that world, and the basic tool is the world itself with its aspects.

For every aspect of that world I have a list of a few one-sentence adventure seeds, and I couple that with the big list of RPG plots.

The third group is a Savage Worlds – Sundered Skies group (if the D&D can’t take place). As this group is only for replacing D&D-sessions, I need short one-shot adventures here. The sourcebook gives some nice adventure creation-tables, which provides me with short but still different adventure structures. Watching the Firefly television series also helped here a lot.

Da’ Vane: I would be a fool if I didn’t mention the D-Jumpers series that I publish over at DVOID Systems, which is the epitome of an adventure planning tool. Being system agnostic, they focus on the ideas and structures to provide adventures of any length, in the multi-genre trans-dimensional design ethos that is D-Jumpers.

When it comes to adventure planning, I find the key details comes down to choices, and therefore you can always take the plot of anything you experience and enjoy, and think about the choices being made and how things could have been done differently.

Changing even just a few choices, along with some window dressing to fit your current campaign, can turn even the most well known and overdone storylines into unique plots that provide a great adventure.
Even if you don’t change anything, chances are your players and their PCs will do things differently, even when given the same conditions, just by virtue of being different characters.

Johnn: Over the years I have used a few different medium arc adventure planning tools. Unfortunately, these books are out of print, but you should be able to get them through used book channels.

A book you can still buy in PDF is Robin’s Law of Good Game Mastering. That offers a great chapter on adventure design.

Preparing Sessions (Short Story Arcs)

Every story can be split into smaller pieces, which are the individual sessions you are preparing as a GM.

The tool needed here sorts out the stuff you need to prepare right now from the stuff that can be left alone for at least one session.

Time is often a crucial thing here, as you don’t always want to read your entire set of adventure notes to see what you should bring to the gaming table this night.

Also, some idea of the overall structure can be beneficial to your session:

  • An opener to start the session and get the players right into gaming mode
  • Sequence of events (encounters, NPC Interactions, and other actions and tasks)
  • Cliff-hanger or resolution of a bigger chunk of the story at the end of the session

Michael: I like to use the “loopy session planning” described by Johnn in RPT#488 and add the above mentioned structures. For the Savage Worlds campaign, I also like the Adventure Ideas from the rule book and challenge my improvisational skills.

Da’ Vane: I prefer a more structured format to my sessions, largely because I like to include my session planning as part of my adventure planning. This way, all I have to do to plan a session is define exactly how much of an adventure I intend to run, and prepare the material that I don’t already have on hand.

If I can, I will try and get players to make decisions at the end of the session, rather than during it, since the outcome of the PCs reaction is often a rather potent cliff-hanger. This gives me time between sessions to prepare for decisions that may have caught me off-guard, and allows for the next session to start with the PCs discovering the outcome of their decisions, often with any relevant action to kick the session off to a good start.

Johnn: Published adventures, if you use those, often come with a structure and you just need to read the background, overview or summary, and part one or first few encounters.

I’d be remiss if I did not mention my ebook, 650 Fantasy City Encounter Seeds. Not so much about structure as ideas for your session’s encounters. To get the ebook, subscribe to the Roleplaying Tips newsletter, or download for free at RPGNow.

Investigation Planning

There is a scene where something happened. The PCs arrive some time afterwards and have to find hints and clues to investigate what happened here. As GM, you have to provide these hints to your players. An investigation planning tool gives you the hints to pass to the players.

These hints may be discovered by gathering evidence, having occurred long before the players entered the scene. The hints might also be acquired through improvisation and experimentation.

In addition, the tool gives you a nice overview, so you don’t forget hints or confuse whether the players already found a hint or not.

Michael: For creating hints beforehand, I try to imagine the scene as detailed as possible. If there is something happening, you almost always have some detail on something.

I also keep track of what moves there and where it stops. There was probably some kind of increasing entropy. These thoughts can lead to hints and clues.

The improvisational tool I use (and kind of rely on) are my players – when they start to investigate the scene, I just have to say “yes” at the right moment. Often, they have some ideas I never would have thought of.

I also need the advanced preparation tool, because sometimes all I get from my players is: “I got a 28 in Search. What have I found?” For keeping track of the clues, I’m quite satisfied with the one-sheet-mystery.

Da’ Vane: The key for a good investigation is logical information. In most cases, the PCs have a reason to investigate what happened at a scene, and these reasons will determine the sort of information and clues the PCs are hoping to find.

In most cases, this information should be useful, and thus should lead the PCs somewhere, even if it is to another location with more clues to uncover so they can find out more about what is going on.

If the PCs are investigating a murder, they will most likely be interested in the motivation and identity of the murderer to track them down. They may learn this from the nature of the attack, the murder weapon, or other clues such as who the victim was.

On the other hand, if the PCs are looking to find out other information, such as where and how a secret entrance might be located and operated, they will be looking for different information – signs of furniture being rearranged, strange breezes, or an space unaccounted for between this room and the next.

As a big fan of the espionage genre, this is something I am quite familiar with, and espionage games often provide a great deal of tools for this type of play which can easily be adopted.

Investigations are generally split into two, with the first half being the doing side of the investigation that involves gathering the information, in which case the GM should provide as much information as possible.

Johnn: A couple of articles from the RPT archives you will find useful:

Puzzle Planning

Puzzles can be a great benefit to your adventures. Getting puzzles can be a puzzle in itself. Your puzzle tool provides you with a puzzle that has to be solved in-game or out, and it defines the rules and the solution. It may also give you hints on solving the puzzle that you can give out to your players if they get stuck.

Michael: I personally don’t like much the idea of solving puzzles out of game as a metaphor for solving puzzles in-game, but you may disagree. So real-world puzzles can be a tool.

I like to use riddles and poems. There are a lot of pages on the net where you can find poems and search for poems with certain key words.

For example, if there is a poem about fire, there are certainly some lines in that poem describing fire without saying the word “fire”. I can then use fire for the solution and take these lines of the poem as a hint. However, overall I’m not the big puzzle-fan.

Da’ Vane: It is worth mentioning that puzzles come in many forms, and are not necessarily limited to riddles and word problems the PCs need to solve.

One of the most common types of puzzle encountered in roleplaying games is the murder mystery, or investigative adventure. It works by having the PCs follow a trail of clues through a series of locations to the end.

By obscuring the clues, and making the players think outside the box, these become actual puzzles rather than simple skill challenges.

Another trick that riddles and puzzles provide is using limited information or misrepresentation, combined with player preconceptions and assumptions, to hide what is otherwise an obvious fact.

This makes most puzzles a case of finding out the missing information – and it is the form of the puzzle that normally defines how the information is hidden and where the solver should look.

Often, puzzles are the second half of investigations, representing the thinking side of the investigation that involves finding and using the information, in which the GM should provide as little information as possible.

Johnn: Some great RPT resources for puzzling GMs:

Prep-Tools II and III

We hope you found this week’s toolbox a handy guide for helping you plan and build your game.
Next, In part II, we will cover encounter planning, which covers what the GM needs to prepare for actual play.

Going one step deeper, we also land at single encounters. The tools you use here should provide you with the details you need for playing out a certain scene or an encounter.

In part III, we will explore preparing and running NPCs in your games, to make your games feel more alive and realistic.

About the Authors

Michael Beck considers himself a novice GM, but is encouraged in sharing his tips at www.spielleiten.wordpress.com (German language). Having played RPGs for roughly 10 years now, he accepts the challenge of living with his girl-friend, two cats, a non-finished PhD-thesis and two running roleplaying campaigns.

Da’ Vane, or Christina Freeman in the real world, is the owner of DVOID Systems, and the primary writer of their D-Jumpers series of products. With an academic background in science, especially socio-psychology, she is what many would regard as a “know-it-all.” However, the truth is that she doesn’t know everything about everything, but she knows a lot about a lot, especially about her passions which are games, stories, learning, and people. She is a consummate geek goddess, and yes, she is single if you feel like tracking her down and hitting on her some time….

Comments (20)

Starting In The Middle


I have a friend, with whom I have gamed for many, many years, who has never read The Lord Of The Rings; he found the slow pace of The Fellowship Of The Ring so completely off-putting that he was never able to gather enough interest to finish the trilogy. I never had that problem – but I first read LOTR from my local library, and someone had borrowed the first volume and not returned it, so I started reading as Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas began chasing the Orcs who had captured Merry and Pippin. So I have to wonder – would I have found Tolkien’s epic fantasy as compelling if I had started at the beginning?

That’s not the only example that I can point to. I first came across the Belgariad – one of my favorite fantasy series – in a second-hand store, where parts 2 and 3 were on offer cheaply – so much so that I was willing to take a chance on the books. I enjoyed them greatly, and quickly sought out the rest of the set, and the sequel quadrilogy, the Mallorean as well. Plus Belgarath and Polgara in Hardcover. It was the scenes set in Vo Mimbre that really established my enjoyment of the series. But the Question remains, would I have enjoyed the series as much if I had started with the relatively pedestrian first volume?

And then there’s the Elenium/Tamuli double-trilogy, by the same authors. I had multiple opportunities to buy but the cover and blurb for The Diamond Throne repeatedly put me off – it sounded like a romance, not an adventure story. It was only when I was given a copy of The Shining Ones – the middle volume of the sequel trilogy, the Tamuli – for Christmas one year, and enjoyed it immensely, that I was interested enough to pick up the other five books. Even then, I found apon reading the preceding volume that much of the humor that I had so enjoyed in The Shining Ones was being read into the content by me, and was not actually part of the story as written by David and Leigh Eddings. I still enjoy the series (I’m re-reading it currently) but still experience a pang of disappointment whenever I come to one of those passages.

The common thread is that by starting in the middle, I was able to jump right into the action and figure out who the characters were as I went along. The tedium of the setup and establishing of characters and situations was bypassed.

Heck, if it comes to that, Star Wars started with Episode IV, and there are many other examples…

The James Bond movies have a before-the-credits action sequence as a standard part of their format, and it works.

So, what’s the RPG equivalent, how can GMs take advantage of it, and what are the pitfalls?

The Instant-Action Tease

Well, the obvious equivalence is throwing the PCs into a combat situation immediately, or just about so, without explanations for where it fits into the overall campaign or what its significance is and dropping dire hints as to that significance into the description of events. As the combat proceeds, the GM keeps careful notes as to where everyone is, what they are doing, what their condition is, anything important that is said, and anything else he needs to be able to recreate the events at a later date. When the battle reaches a crescendo or point of high drama – which the GM engineers if necessary – he interrupts it and takes the plot back in time to the initial meeting of the characters, the establishing of the Campaign Premise(s), and so on.

When the plot makes the encounter appropriate, the GM simply reiterates the events that he has logged, up to the point where it was interrupted, then lets the game carry on from that point.

Benefits

This gives the campaign a James-Bond style kick-start, gets everyone’s adrenalin pumping, and teases them with the hints as to the significance of what’s going on. With most difficult encounters, the question to be answered is “How do we get out of this one?”; such a kick-start adds the questions, “How did we get into this mess?” and “What’s it all mean?”

Pitfalls

But there are a couple of pitfalls in this approach to be wary of. The most serious is that the GM is committed to having events lead to the combat that was interrupted – and that can be difficult without creating plot trains. The best way of avoiding this particular problem is to ensure that the context of the encounter is undefined, or capable of multiple interpretations; this permits many plot roads to intersect at the critical point.

This is best achieved by being just a little vague about various aspects of the circumstances of the battle during the ‘Tease’. “You’re in the bottom of a pit, facing off against a giant with granite-like skin. Numerous minor cuts on your face and hands are bandaged and bloody. Make your attack rolls. [Pause for rolls] Your attacks bounce harmlessly off his armored skin. Someone yells ‘protect the Ice Crown’. The Giant snarls and raises his club and you see runes carved into its length in an unknown script – runes that are glowing blue-white with power…”

Notice all the things that aren’t stated explicitly: where the pit in question is located, how deep it is, why the characters are injured and not healed (given that they have a cleric in the party), what the Ice Crown is, who and what the Giant is, what its powers are, whether its the characters or the Giant who are instructed to ‘protect the Ice Crown’, and what the participants are fighting about. Are the PCs the Good Guys, the Bad Guys, someone else’s Pawns, or Innocent Bystanders?

There’s no context to explain these things, so it becomes much easier to match whatever context emerges in play with the battle description. The unanswered questions form a checklist of things for the GM to introduce before the battle can be restarted, a spur to his creativity. It can actually be easier if the GM has no idea what any of these things mean at the time, any more than the players do – provided the GM is confident of being able to devise explanations when the time comes, and it certainly avoids the plot train pitfall.

The Prophetic Peril

This procedure enables a GM to emulate the James Bond -style action Teasers, but we’re really looking to go beyond that and actually make the action-based introduction directly relevant to the campaign, without the cheating of building separate, semi-random elements into the plotline merely to justify the presence of those elements in the opening sequence.

Let’s be honest, then: what we are really talking about here is starting the campaign with a slightly-different form of prophecy. In my December 2009 article, “The Perils Of Prophecy: Avoiding The Plot Locomotive”, I offer a number of techniques on how to implement prophecies within a campaign while avoiding plot trains, but those techniques and most of that advice don’t apply to this particular type of prophecy. All the perils of prophecy within the campaign remain, unfortunately.

To resolve this problem, we need a new technique. The one suggested in the previous section is part of the solution, but is too anarchic to be the complete answer; we need a method of building direction into the plotline without building in a railroad.

The Elements Of The Encounter

The place to start is at the content of the initial encounter. Instead of a random collection of elements, we need to incorporate items that are intentionally relevant to the plot – in other words, lay down some railroad tracks. I know what you’re thinking at this point, bear with me!

  • Instead of a pit, we might need to choose a castle throne room because that’s where our bad guy is going to be based at the start of the campaign.
  • We might be able to keep the giant – if the bad guy’s early acts will get him control of one or more of these giants – but, if not, we will need to replace it/him with a more appropriate and equally fearsome enemy.
  • We might or might not be able to keep the club with runes on it – if that weapon is appropriate to the enemy we have chosen, or to the chief villain, or if magic and/or magical weaponry is going to be significant to the campaign.
  • …and so on.

That’s the key to getting this step right: making sure that every element of this battle is, or at least appears to be, appropriate to the campaign’s direction.

Blind chance is replaced with intentional relevance.

Derailing The Plot Train

Having laid very careful railroad tracks to validate the components of the action sequence, it’s time to derail the plot train that wants to run on them before it even gets going. Instead of the train tracks defining where the plot has to go, they are to serve as a navigational landmark, nothing more; the ONLY point at which the train tracks and the plot are required to intersect is at the moment that the battle commences.

I’ll say that again, for emphasis: the ONLY point at which the train tracks and the plot are required to intersect is at the moment that the battle commences.

How does this work in practice? The GM lets the game develop as usual, and one by one introduces the plot elements that justify the shape of the aborted battle. The players are perpetually free to interpret and act on these plot elements as they see fit; all the GM is concerned about, beyond running the game as usual, is ensuring that all the justification fundamentals are in place. Once that requirement is met, he simply needs to stay alert for an opportunity to ‘catch up’ with the combat.

If necessary, he can even cheat a little. The throne room within the castle might actually turn out to be a throne room somewhere else; the opponent might be initially disguised in some fashion as something else to avoid putting the PCs on their guard; and so on.

Avoiding Disaster

Whenever a GM attempts something fancy, there is always the risk of failure, and this “headlong rush into the action” is definitely on the fancy side; any serious misstep will transform the GMs attempted cleverness into an unmitigated disaster. The risk is commensurate with the rewards.

It follows that extra care and attention should be spent on avoiding those missteps if at all possible. Doing so is not difficult; all that’s required is to spend a little additional time prepping the adventure. There are four essential tasks in game prep that will collectively ensure that a catastrophic failure of the GMs designs is as unlikely as it is possible to achieve:

  • Check and recheck the connecting logic between the elements and their logical presence in the battle. If possible, have multiple ways to get from A to B.
  • Plan specific introductions – “cut scenes,” if you like – for each element and be sure you know how they relate to the battle.
  • Double-check that there are NO assumptions about how the PCs will react in any of the introductions or connecting logics that – if violated – would break the connection to the circumstances of the battle.
  • Craft descriptions for the various elements that are capable of more than one interpretation if necessary. Ensure that they are just a little vague and generic when used in the initial partial battle.

Use Prophecy As A Weapon

Not content with providing one semi-successful and one satisfactory solution to the problem, here’s a third to round out this article. I’ll present this solution in narrative form as an example is the clearest method of explaining it, but first a caveat: This involves some major precedents about various aspects of the campaign that might not fit what you have in mind; the answer offered should be customized to fit the GMs campaign concepts.

GM: “Welcome to the XXXX campaign. The unnatural fog swirls and begins to lift. You can see the granite walls of the room, broken occasionally by weapons mounted on the walls, stuffed animal heads, torches in brass fittings, and once-expensive tapestries. The shadow looming through the fog slowly resolves into a giant with rock-like skin. He looks at the numerous minor cuts and abrasions on your face and hands, and the bloody bandages that bind your wounds, and a slow smile splits his face. Make your attack rolls.”

[Pause for rolls]

“Your attacks bounce harmlessly off his armored skin. Someone yells ‘protect the Ice Crown’. The Giant snarls and raises a mighty two-handed sword festooned with sharpened protrusions and evil barbs. Runes carved down the blade begin to glow blue-white with power. As the fearsome blade begins its descent the crystal ball abruptly clouds over once again and goes Dark.

“The crystal reveals what might be, not what will be. The more certain the future, the greater the duration of the visions it provides,” explains the Witch. “There is no more; and as I told you before we began, once a scene has been viewed the spiritual signature that binds vision to subject is dissipated. No-one can show you more.”

In other words, Make the Prophetic Combat an actual Prophecy!

With this one change, there is only one plot element that has to be explained: ‘The Witch’. Explaining her role in the campaign and how it came to pass that she scried the PCs possible future should also explain why the PCs are together. Two or three minutes spent relating the appropriate backstory that covers these elements and the campaign is underway with a full head of steam. Assuming that the railroad tracks that you aren’t going to follow (see the previous section) are in at least moderate shape – they don’t have to be anywhere near as well-prepared as the previous solution requires – then everything is set to go, and it doesn’t matter if the PCs never actually have the encounter that kicked the campaign/adventure off.

So there you have it – three ways to jump straight into the action without railroading the players. It’s easier than you might think!

Comments (8)

GM’s Toolbox – Introduction


This entry is part 1 of 14 in the series GM Toolbox
GM Toolbox

What tools go into your GM toolbox?

This week we kick off a new series written by German RPG blogger, Michael Beck. GM’s Toolbox, looks at tools, tips, and techniques you can use to improve your games.

Toolbox offers you a skeleton for running a campaign, rather than fleshed out tips.

The series covers breaks GMing into four sections:

  • World Building: Creating a campaign world, locations, groups, relations, history and legends
  • Prep-Tools: Preparing for campaigns, gaming sessions, encounters, and NPCs
  • Running the Game: Keeping game flow smooth improving the player experience
  • Beyond the Game: Creating handouts, organising the sessions, and becoming a better GM

There’s a lot of ground to cover, because you as GM have a lot of responsibility. But being a GM is one of the most rewarding aspects of gaming available. It requires learning a degree of expertise over games that is maintained through practice and discourse with other GMs.

Therefore, this series is presented in a discussion style, and we encourage you to contribute with comments about your own tools, tips, and techniques into the GM’s Toolbox.

The GM’s Toolbox

By Michael Beck

The Index of the GMing Book That I Would Instantly Buy

I have read some books about GMing and larger articles on the net, but I have never found a satisfying book that covers ALL aspects of GMing. By creating this toolbox, I also created something like a wish list for a GMing book’s content.

If I could find a GMing book with this stuff in it, plus some more theoretical stuff, this would be an instant buy for me. This book would probably be a large one, at around 300 pages.

Giving You the Toolbox

Michael Beck: Thanks for reading this rather large series. I hope this will give you some inspiration, motivation, and a bit less stress in GMing. Also, a big thank you to Christina, aka Da’Vane, and Johnn, who both spent hours correcting and editing this text.

In this series we are going meta. This is not meant to be a collection of fleshed out tips for usage (for example: an NPC generation-tip for generating NPCs). This collection is more an overview of what can be found in a GM’s tool-box.

You can take it as a shopping-list:

  • Do I have such a tool in my toolbox already?
  • Do I need it?
  • Could I replace it by a better one?

In that sense you could see it as me explaining what a screwdriver is and what it is needed for. I’m not giving you the actual screwdriver.

So what do I mean by a tool? Essentially a tool is the answer to a certain question. For example, your campaign planning tool is what you’re saying to me, when I ask: What are you doing to prepare a campaign? I want to illustrate each tool by an example of what my version of this tool looks like.

There may be even more tools I never thought of, so don’t consider this series as exhaustive.”

Da’ Vane: I was impressed with the layout of Michael’s work on the GM’s Toolbox, but quickly became concerned by how little substance there was in the actual article. It was a framework, a skeleton, and needed fleshing out somehow.

But then I realised the issue was how I was perceiving the term toolbox. That’s when I was really able to come to grips with the article, and make the most of it, understanding what it was that Michael and Johnn were trying to do here.

When people buy tools for the first time, they normally come in their own toolbox, although very little thought is actually given to the toolbox itself. It’s just a storage container for the tools. It is easy to pick up a beginner’s set of tools that has everything in it in this way, all in their own neat little places.

As time goes on, people buy more tools, but because they already have a set of tools, they don’t worry about a toolbox, so they just by the tools. These often just end up getting thrown in with the other tools, and that neat little system of organised tools soon becomes a chaotic mess.

When this gets too much, people suddenly realise they need a new toolbox. They need somewhere to keep the tools they already have. They may not necessarily need all the extra tools that come with bigger toolboxes, so finding a toolbox that is empty is often harder, because an empty toolbox is something that only a master really needs to buy.

In GMing, there are many books, and many articles, that provide you with a whole bunch of tools and a means of organizing them, as if you are a novice Games Master.

It’s your first time running a game, so here’s a set of basic tools to run the game. You can find tons of articles on specific tools, tips, and techniques that you can then use to improve your GMing skills and abilities.

But integrating them with the tools you already have can be tricky, and result in a lot of confusion. It’s rare to find anything that deals with higher level GMing. How to improve your skills once you’ve gone past being a novice, once you’ve been given your initial set of tools and used them for a while.

Most of the time we are left to discover these tricks ourselves, and share them by word of mouth.

This style of learning is no different from the early days of academic advancement – indicating that Games Mastery is becoming a recognised body of knowledge. It may seem limited to our hobby for now, but it isn’t.

Gaming is becoming more mainstream, and the role of games is returning as an important educational tool in our lives. It takes a moment to realise that when you need your first toolbox, you are no longer a novice. When you actually get to give someone their own toolbox, with or without some of your own tools included, you have become a true Master.

Being chosen to work on this series was that moment for me, when I became a true Games Master. Now, it is your turn to share your tools, tips, and techniques and become one too. Let’s fill up this toolbox, and see just how long it will be before we finish that GMing book that Michael Beck, and many others, would instantly buy!

Stay tuned next week for Part 1: Prep Tools I.

Comments (8)

Directed Plots, Undirected Narrative, and Stuff That Just Happens


There’s been a lot of commentary over the years about different styles of campaign. Most distinguish between Episodic and Serialized campaigns, and many writers seem to assume that those are the only types of campaign there are. This is a position with which I don’t agree; there are more layers and levels within this classification than initially meets the eye.

Another criterion by which campaigns are distinguished from each other is Gamist vs. Narrative vs. Simulationist, which was last discussed in the comments section of my post “The Quality Of Rules” but that relates to the level of narrative vs. game mechanics within a campaign or rules system, and is only indirectly relevant to the subject that I want to discuss today.

This article is going to examine the ways in which different Narrative styles and techniques can combine with Episodic and Serialized campaigns to produce not eight distinctly different combinations. It will also consider how these different types of campaign can be Sandboxed – which is yet another campaign approach that has come into vogue in the last few years.

Definitions

The right place to start is defining these different terms, however vaguely, so that we are all more or less starting on the same page.

Episodic

An episodic campaign is one in which the adventures are isolated from each other, each having no impact on the next. The characters taking part may be the same, but even that is not necessarily the case, since the adventures are completely self-contained. What little continuity there is derives from this commonality of characters, as it can be assumed that in each adventure the characters acquire additional abilities, skills, and/or equipment which are therefore present at the commencement of the next adventure. However, even that need not be sacrosanct; the GM is perfectly entitled to handwave an interval of time between adventures in which various things have changed for the characters.

Serialized

A serialized campaign is one in which the adventures are deliberately linked to each other, and the real purpose of one adventure may be nothing more than laying the groundwork for a future adventure. Continuity is heavily enforced both for PCs and NPCs. Subplots or plot arcs may extend across multiple adventures. Time is generally more stringently defined and followed, with one adventure immediately following another.

Of course, there are multiple levels of serialization available to a GM – at its most extreme, such campaigns cannot even be divided into separate adventures, but are a continuous stream of events. At typical levels, adventures are clearly separate, but one adventure may be introduced or foreshadowed by events in a preceding adventure, and campaign developments continuously occur in the background. And with light serialization, events in one adventure are based on those that have occurred previously, but with some separation to allow room for developments to occur and consequences to manifest.

Gamist

This term has to do with the relative importance of game mechanics to events within the campaign. A purely gamist approach places the rules, as written, above all else.

Simulationist

The simulationist approach takes the view that the events within the game are those that would really occur, given the circumstances, and that both story and rules should bend to this sense of realism.

Narrative

The narrative approach to campaigns places the story above everything else. It is also known as the Storytelling approach for obvious reasons. In poorly-crafted campaigns of this type, the GM lays down railroad tracks for the plot and forces the PCs to follow those tracks; in better-crafted examples, the GM views the storytelling as a shared experience, with the players’ contributions given equal or even superior weight to those of the GM.

Sandboxing, Sandboxed

Sandboxing is the process of sealing off the world outside the adventure while giving the players free reign to explore and behave as they wish within the ‘sandbox’ – in other words, it’s a way of keeping a campaign within manageable limits. There are three basic approaches to sandboxing: Arm’s Length, Closed, and Open.

Arm’s Length Sandboxing

This is an approach that I have advocated in the past, where notes are only collated and world details established by the GM if the subject of those notes is ‘within arm’s length’ of the PCs. Don’t worry about creating Elven Culture, for example, until either an Elf enters the campaign and the PCs have the potential to interact with him or her, or the PCs are likely to choose to go to the land of the Elves. In order to work, this approach needs good communications between player and GM, and the GM must also be fairly adept at projecting his future needs from the current circumstances within the campaign. Even so, from time to time, this approach will require the GM to be creative on his feet and make sense of it afterwards, so this approach doesn’t suit GMs that require strong organization of their ideas. It works best early in the campaign, where options are limited, problems are small, and situations are usually locally confined. The virtue of the approach is that it doesn’t waste the GMs time detailing background elements that are unlikely to come into play, so there is a narrowing of focus that can be helpful to those with limited prep time. I employed Arm’s Length sandboxing when starting my Fumanor Campaign, and still do to some extent.

Closed Sandboxing

This approach to sandboxing deliberately excludes everything from the PCs worldview until the GM is ready to let it loose in the campaign. Until the GM has his elvish society worked out, there are no elves – either PC or NPC – permitted within the campaign; they are creatures of myth and legend.

Clearly, this approach is even more conservative in terms of prep time required, but it runs the risk of closing off the player’s interest in the campaign as well; the ‘sense of wonder’ can be easily overwhelmed.

Perhaps the best example that I’ve seen of this approach is literary – the Belgariad by (Leigh and) David Eddings – in which generalities and clichés are used for the rest of the world and only a single realm is explored at once. The characters are taken by circumstances on a cook’s tour of the Western Kingdoms, learning their ins and outs one at a time. Only once that is complete do events start moving at breakneck pace.

Open Sandboxing

This type of sandboxing has almost non-existent constraints. In many ways, it’s “Arm’s Length” sandboxing but with the PCs setting the agenda. They key is providing enough information on everything to serve as a foundation, while not overwhelming the players. Thus, if the players decide they want to visit the Land Of The Fey, the GM has to start work on detailing that land while controlling the rate at which the characters travel – delaying them, if necessary.

They way it works is to provide minimal details, representing common knowledge, at the start of the campaign, on the many different subjects of interest. Each PC can then select a ‘home kingdom’ or ‘home city’, and the GM creates those in a little more detail, sufficient to enable the player to understand the character background that he has chosen, without divulging that information to the other players.

The GM then needs only detail where the PCs currently are, and where they are going next; everything else can be held in abeyance until it becomes relevant. ‘Open Sandboxing’ is the technique that I have employed in my Shards Of Divinity campaign.

The flavors of Narrative

Reading these definitions, you get the sense that “Narrative” is like a light-switch, either on nor off, or perhaps that this is the way it should be approached, and further, that there is just one type of “Narrative” that can be included in a campaign. Neither perception is accurate, and it is correcting that inaccuracy that is at the heart of this article.

To start with, Narrative can be divided into three categories: short-span narrative, long-span narrative, and intermediate narratives of various kinds.

Short-span narratives are passages of narration where the GM is imparting information or description to the players, and these are common to all styles of campaign. Long-span narratives are more substantial bodies of text, sometimes broken up into multiple shorter sections. Since that usually means that different pieces are delivered in different parts of an adventure, or even over multiple adventures, this type of narrative favors those campaign styles with stronger continuity.

The implication, clearly, is that this type of definition of narrative establishes a one-to-one correlation with episodic and serialized campaigns. Does that mean that narration can be ignored as a campaign characteristic? Certainly not – but it does mean that a different definition, with different distinguishing features, is necessary.

It was some months ago that my thoughts had reached this point, but for a considerable time, such a definition eluded me. After some thought, though, I came up with the following, which distinguishes between types of narrative by its purpose.

Directed Narrative

Directed Narrative is narrative with a purpose beyond the immediate imparting of information. It is narrative with a direction, a reason for being present.

Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? But, like an iceberg, there are hidden depths to this simple definition, because there is no indication of when that direction will be relevant. It might be immediate, or later in the adventure, or in a subsequent adventure – and that means that the definition of this type of narrative avoids the problem of the oen previously offered. This type of narrative can be used with either type of campaign, Episodic or Serial or points in between, and its meaning will change in subtle ways with the new context.

Undirected Narrative

The antithesis of Directed Narrative would obviously be Undirected Narrative, which of course is defined as narrative with no purpose beyond the imparting of information. Those hearing it are free to take it in any direction they choose, i.e. to interpret the meaning of the narrative as they see fit. This is clearly different to the short-span narratives of the previous definition because there is no restriction on the scale and scope of the narrative – an undirected narrative could be quite extensive and revealed in the course of many adventures. Once again, there are hidden depths to this seemingly simple definition, and the nature of the narrative can vary with the context of the type of campaign.

Intermediate Narrative

It might seem, at first glance, that these two narrative types are such polar opposites that there is no middle ground. And yet, that is not entirely true, because another variety of narrative is Narrative with a purpose beyond the imparting of information that nevertheless has no specific direction intended. This is idea-bait, concepts thrown out with absolutely no idea of how and even if they will fit into a larger scheme.

It might also seem that such narrative is a mistake on the part of the GM, and certainly it flies in the face of the advice that I have dispensed through these pages in the past, which concentrates on tying causes and effects together and being in control of where your campaign is going. But it’s important to recognize that this is not the only way to go, and the simple avoidance of railroad tracks in your plots is enough to make this type of narrative a viable choice.

Unstructured Narrative

And, there is a final type of narrative implied by this structure: Narrative without the capacity for direction. If EVERYTHING the GM tells the players is the direct answer to a question, and the GM vets those questions to answer only those that the characters have the capacity to answer. Deliberately excluding all narrative that the characters don’t have the skills to obtain – at least until they are in conversation with a character with the required expertise – is a kind of “non-narrative narrative” that deserves its own category.

Application

Okay, enough games theory; its time to take all this theory and turn it into something useful, namely, how to identify the different types of campaign that result from these combinations and how best to sandbox them. As I indicated at the start of the article, with four different types of narrative, and two types of continuity structure, there are clearly 8 different combinations to be considered. There is also a 9th ‘intermediate’ type (with multiple subtypes) to be addressed.

Why would a GM want to have this information?

  • Identifying the type of campaign and the sandboxing approach that best suits it helps the GM focus on the work that needs doing for his campaign at any given time, making game prep more efficient;
  • Focusing the Game Prep in this way permits the GM to retain only the background information that is necessary to his game at any given point;
  • Focusing the immediately-necessary knowledge makes it easier for new players and characters to join the Campaign;
  • I don’t think this type of stylistic analysis has been carried out with a view to the practical question of sandboxing the different types of campaign; and, lastly and most importantly,
  • one type of campaign can be transformed into another any time the GM considers it appropriate or useful – but knowing what you are changing from and to are necessary steps to managing the transformation process.

Episodic Campaigns with Directed Narrative

At first glance, this campaign style seems to be full of internal contradictions. How can your narrative have a purpose beyond the immediate if the campaign is episodic, with only weak or no continuity from one episode to another?

This contradiction is easily resolved when it is realized that the target of the directed narrative doesn’t have to be some over-riding megaplot, but can be the end of the current adventure. A few moments more of thought, and the perceptive GM will realize that even narrative that IS pitched at some ultimate plotline spanning multiple adventures says nothing about the participants in any one given adventure. The fact that one or more PCs will provide a continuity link between adventures by their very presence is enough vehicle for a directed narrative.

The result is that episodes of the campaign resemble the issues of a comic book; each is a self-contained plot, but there can be a broader narrative shaping the background, so that the context in which adventures take place slowly changes and evolves.

Sandboxing Episodic Campaigns with Directed Narrative

The restrictions that directed narrative place on an episodic campaign can be fine lines for the GM to traverse without creating plot trains. The best solution is to ensure that the directed exposition deals only with NPC actions and intents, and does not commit the PCs to any course not of their own choosing, this danger can be avoided. There should be nothing which will prompt the PCs to set everything else aside and deal with an urgent issue arising in the narrative. In other words, the narrative may be directed – but should also be a little more indirect than can be the case with other campaign structures.

Sandboxing this type of campaign can be challenging. Open Sandboxing is the approach that most readily serves; the other approaches tend to confer, manifest, and respond to, directed intent on the part of the GM a little too readily. That is not to say that they can’t be employed, just that the other sandboxing approaches require the GM to spend some of his time second-guessing himself and ensuring that he’s maintaining the sandbox and not constructing a sandCASTLE within it.

Episodic Campaigns with Intermediate Narrative

This type of campaign structure is very difficult to maintain, and almost always devolves into one of the other types eventually. Intermediate Narrative contains, by its nature, multiple ideas and avenues that the PCs may wish to pursue; but Episodic Campaigns generally can only develop one or two of those ideas at a time. The remaining avenues of activity are, of necessity, ignored – though they may proceed and develop in the background, and so provide context to other events. Johnn may be interested to note that I would classify his Riddleport campaign within this category, based on the game reports that he posts periodically in Roleplaying Tips (a link to the most recent one) and in various articles here at Campaign Mastery.

The key to keeping this type of campaign functional is self-control and self-restraint. Just because you can think up another dozen plot seeds, don’t drop them into the mix; instead, decide the number of plotlines which you are comfortable running simultaneously and add new plot seeds only to replace those that have been consumed by the players. In order to keep your campaign dynamic and evolving and not static, you can also update existing plot seeds that have not been investigated by the players, but be careful not to explain your cleverness to them – they should learn only those things that their characters would know. Be a reporter, not an omniscient gossip!

The Mouthpiece Approach

One technique that I would employ in such a campaign is to have a mouthpiece within the game for news – some character who wanders on stage, updates the players with the latest fact and rumor, and then exits stage left. This recurring NPC would probably have his own agenda (imposing some censorship on the news that he disseminates) but would otherwise be an honest reporter of news from the perspective of the man on the street. By working within this characterization and not speaking ex-cathedra, you impose an additional buffer between your players and any tendency toward grandiosity of planning – or of showing off your own cleverness. You might miss out on some immediate self-congratulations, but your campaign will be better off in the long run.

The Vectored Information Approach

The alternative is to have many sources of information, and to categorize the information by subject. Playing to opposites can work well in this approach, as can playing to type.

For example, let’s say that you want to drop in a plot seed about strange religious practices being rumored in a nearby village. You can either vector this information by type (directing it to the attention of the Cleric within the party) or you can vector against type and have the information be reported to a character who is as secular as they come, always willing to believe the worst about the church in general. Either of these vectors puts a very different spin on the news in question.

A key to the Vectored Information Approach is for the players to spend roleplaying time actually talking to each other in character about what they’ve heard. Choosing not to relay news of an event to the group is serious, and should eventually come back to bite the reluctant reporter, though some characters may choose to dribble such information out as it becomes relevant and not in a standard ‘let’s exchange the news’ format. That’s because the self-censor is choosing not to get the PCs involved in the events on behalf of the entire party without even giving them the chance to choose for themselves. Such behavior may be tolerable in an Evil campaign, but at any other time it should be unacceptable.

Sandboxing Episodic Campaigns with Intermediate Narrative

This type of campaign is more easily sandboxed than most; indeed, it’s virtually built in, incorporated in the practice of controlling the plot hooks and seeds that the GM introduces. While any of the three techniques of Sandboxing can be utilized, the style lends itself most readily to the Arm’s Length approach, with the plot hooks that he chooses to incorporate defining the breadth of that reach. The felicity of sandboxing to this campaign style is one of its greatest benefits.

Episodic Campaigns with Undirected Narrative

Some GMs have no capacity for large, sprawling plotlines that enmesh themselves in multiple adventures. Others find them second nature, and have to actively reign in their propensities to maintain an episodic nature to the campaign. I have to admit that I’m a member of the latter group. There are times when that’s an advantage, and times when it’s a liability.

This combination of campaign characteristics definitely suits the first group far more than the second. Ensuring that each adventure is treated as a mini-campaign which runs to a definite conclusion is the key to success with this style.

Sandboxing Episodic Campaigns with Undirected Narrative

The more control over the plotline that the GM gives up, the more difficult sandboxing becomes. The only way that I can conceive of successfully doing so is to rigidly focus on limiting the content of each “mini-campaign” to those elements that are immediately relevant to the current adventure.

There will be a constant conflict between the needs of this campaign style and the perpetuation of continuity of PCs, as each will bring with it the legacies of past explorations beyond those immediate relevancies; the longer this campaign style is maintained, the more unstable it will become. Only the completeness of the resolution of each plotline combats this instability, and even that is hard to maintain in the face of character continuity.

Open sandboxing commends itself most obviously as the most suitable approach to the needs of this campaign type, but any of the techniques can be made to work provided that the need to maintain the campaign style itself is properly prioritized. Doing so, however, introduces a new type of instability to the campaign, forcing the GM to spend perpetually more time on holding actions that do nothing but service the campaign style and do not contribute to its enjoyability, scope, or capacity for inclusion of new material. Eventually, all this work for no real return will sap the GMs enthusiasm for the campaign, and it will either shut down – or the GM will become sloppy or overwhelmed, and the campaign style will change quite radically. It’s my experience that the first will result at least 3 times in 4 – and that this type of ending is generally unsatisfactory for all concerned.

Even worse, one of the easiest solutions to these problems that the GM can implement is railroading – which brings more problems with it than it solves. Even the activities needed to maintain the campaign style can be misperceived by the players as railroading their plots – a sure sign that the campaign as it then stands is doomed, and radical change in style is needed in order for it to survive.

Making Episodic Campaigns with Undirected Narrative work

The only exceptions that I have seen to these patterns are those where the combination of Open Sandboxing and this campaign style have been employed at the commencement of a campaign with a deliberate shift to a different campaign style once those fundamentals have been established. One GM that I know set a hard limit on the amount of time he was willing to expend on non-productive campaign admin, and used that as his trigger for the transition in style. Another simply chooses to reboot his entire campaign when the needs of the campaign style become excessive.

These are both drastic solutions, but the need for drastic solutions comes with this style. Knowing and preparing for that is vital to the long-term success of campaigns that employ it.

Episodic Campaigns without Narrative Structure

In many ways, these are the simplest campaigns to run. Each adventure is complete unto itself, with no connection to those that come before or after it except continuity of characters, and perhaps not even that. Adventures can be as isolated as an episode of Law And Order or The Twilight Zone.

The strength of this style of campaign is that there is no continuity – so there is no need to do anything more than is needed for the adventure at hand, and any mistakes can be left behind. The shortcoming of this style of campaign is that there is no continuity – so resources, research, and creativity cannot accumulate and stockpile, and you have to start from scratch each time.

This style of “campaign” generally serves one of two purposes: Convention play, and campaign trials – the equivalent of pilot episodes. In the first, the style is self-contained because the gaming environment is self-contained; in the second, if the campaign proves successful, it will almost certainly transition to a different style immediately.

Having said that, I have met a couple of GMs who excelled at on-the-spur-of-the-moment creativity, who were completely comfortable with the concept of “one adventure, one campaign, brand new every time” – so it is possible. Personally, I have always found participating in such campaigns to be frustrating; there was always a sense of “there could be so much more,” or “this doesn’t go far enough”, whenever I did so. Others, especially those who could not participate regularly in more ongoing campaigns, indicated a marked preference for them, and I can understand their point of view. Individual tastes, as always, vary.

Sandboxing Episodic Campaigns without Narrative Structure

In some respects, these campaigns are the hardest to sandbox. It’s hard enough wringing coherence from an assortment of ideas generated on the spot without further encumbering them with self-containment. As a result, this type of campaign always has loose ends, as implied in the preceding paragraphs, and it is very easy for the PCs to escape the sandbox in pursuit of something that seems interesting or relevant.

The only form of sandboxing that has any hope of success is the “Arm’s Length” technique, and even using this approach, the GM will have to be adept at molding the directions in which the PCs “arms” point so that they perpetually lead back to the main plot. The best tool that I can think of for achieving this is to incorporate the concept of “relevance” to the information the PCs are given through the unstructured narratives the GM uses to provide answers to the characters.

Incorporating “Relevance” simply means that success in a skill check or die roll does not only give an answer to the question being posed by the character making the roll, it also gives an estimate of the relative relevance of that answer.

  • “It doesn’t seem relevant to recent events, but…”
  • “It seems a little afield from the main topic, but…”
  • “You think you’re on to something when you realize…”
  • “Quite obviously…” (the absence of any editorial comment regarding the relevance implies that the answer isrelevant).

By providing an estimate of the value of the information, the GM is defining the limits of the Sandbox. Of course, this technique requires the PCs to trust the GM to be completely honest in these communications, and that can pose its own problems – but it’s better for the PCs to penetrate straight to the heart of a problem or puzzle than it is for them to get sidetracked.

Serial Campaigns with Directed Narrative

This is perhaps the style of campaign with which I am most familiar, with the “Intermediate Narrative” version (below) a close second. Continuity-rich campaigns with overarching plotlines present the GM with the broadest possible canvas on which to present adventures for the enjoyment and participation of the players. Much of the advice here at Campaign Mastery is directed at achieving this type of campaign, dealing with the problems and complications of the style, and so on. Campaigns of this style most closely resemble a series of “24” or mini-series, or an old-fashioned movie serial.

Sandboxing Serial Campaigns with Directed Narrative

This can appear a daunting task at times, since the real power of this type of campaign is the sheer scope that can be possible within it, but any of the three techniques will work perfectly acceptably, and have all been used by me with this style of campaign. It’s been my experience that the “Arm’s Length” and “Open Sandbox” approaches work best early in a campaign’s life, while the “Closed Sandbox” becomes progressively more useful during the middle and higher levels of a campaign.

Serial Campaigns with Intermediate Narrative

This is the style that I intend to utilize with the latest iteration of my Superhero campaign when it restarts later this year (the old campaign used Directed Narrative). I have a lot of smaller plot arcs that will be overlapping with each other, and a lot of standalone scenarios that will occupy the foreground when those plot arcs aren’t supposed to take centre stage, but there is no Grand Plan connecting everything together. With ten years worth of adventures without such a Grand Plan, it’s not really necessary.

Sandboxing Serial Campaigns with Intermediate Narrative

This actually poses something of a challenge to me when it comes to Sandboxing the campaign. I’ve thought extensively on the subject, and the only approach that seems like it might work at all (aside from “No Sandboxing”, of course), is the Open Sandbox. However, there are going to be two distinct types of adventure – those taking place in the dimension for which the Heroes are responsible, and those taking place in the team’s Native Dimension, and I am still contemplating the question of whether or not to employ different sandboxing techniques for each.

The major problem is that each plot arc will have its own ‘sandbox’, and while these will sometimes overlap or be contiguous with those of the primary plot, a lot of the time they won’t. It follows that subplots will automatically, and regularly, take the PCs “off the reservation”. And if your sandbox only constrains some of the time, it might as well not constrain at all – and that is the province of an Open Sandbox.

The minor problem is that I would much prefer to employ either Closed Sandboxing or the Arm’s-Length approaches, because they cut down on the amount of campaign prep – and finding the time to finish that prep is a major and ongoing problem for me. So the logistics are saying one thing, and the campaign style is saying another – and just how things will come out in the wash, I don’t know.

Serial Campaigns with Undirected Narrative

Just as was the case with the more directed narrative types and episodic campaigns, we are now increasingly headed into territory where the narrative type is in apparent conflict with the nature of the campaign. In this case, we have a serial campaign, with strong continuity, but with undirected narrative, the risk is that the campaign will simply tread water and go nowhere for long periods of time.

A serial campaign needs to get direction from somewhere, and if the GM isn’t going to provide it, something or someone else has to do so. In theory, the players are that something, but they need a certain amount of background information before they can make educated decisions – and the production of that information violates the fundamental precepts of sandboxing and undermines the value of the practice.

Sandboxing Serial Campaigns with Undirected Narrative

That makes Sandboxing this style of campaign a special challenge; it was in deliberate response to that challenge that I developed the open sandboxing style. A half-page summary of the society and politics of a nation is ample detail for an initial briefing, and a further page or two is enough to fully brief players whose characters have a special interest in that background element. More can be provided when it becomes necessary.

Another way of thinking about the Open Sandbox technique is “arm’s-length sandboxing with half-page summaries in advance,” but I prefer to think of the summaries as crib notes. Nor do I feel especially constrained to keep those summaries 100% accurate – there is always a gap between common knowledge and reality.

Serial Campaigns without Narrative Structure

This article is at last beginning the downhill stretch; this is the last of the major styles that need to be examined. It’s also the most soap-opera of the styles, both from a metagame perspective and in terms of its internal construction. In fact, the best description of this style of campaign that I have ever found comes from an episode of The Simpsons: “It’s just a bunch of stuff that happened.”

The PCs in this style of campaign are travelers through a world that is continually evolving and changing around them. Individual characters may have master plans – which may or may not be pursued to completion – but the GM doesn’t.

Sandboxing Serial Campaigns without Narrative Structure

Picture the overall “plotline” as being composed of plot hooks written on a series of index cards. At the beginning of each game session, the PCs can get involved in two or three of those index cards. At the commencement of the next session, though, they have all been updated – some in response to PC actions, some because the PCs weren’t there to interfere, and some in reflection of a conflict between NPCs. Which bait the PCs choose to investigate is up to them – but they will have to live and interact with not only the consequences of their actions but the consequences of their inactivity.

Of course, you don’t have to actually use index cards in this way, but the general principles remain. Everything is an ongoing story, and the PCs will be able to involve themselves in only some of these stories. This seems tailor-made for the “closed sandboxing” approach, or even the “arm’s length” technique.

Compound Campaigns

It’s also worth mentioning that it is very rare for a single campaign to have the same style consistently, all the time. It’s far more common for the style to shift around a bit – some standalone stories may be strongly episodic while the campaign ‘standard’ is serial in nature. You can even have different styles for the subplots as compared to the main plots.

However, the narrative style – which reflects how the GM interacts with the Players as much as it does the way in which the characters interact with the campaign – will usually be consistent throughout a campaign.

Sandboxing techniques may also change from adventure to adventure, but will also generally be consistent, even if the style of campaign temporarily deviates from the established norm for the campaign.

In other words, every campaign is really a compound of several different, related, campaign types and techniques.

There are two ways to handle this compounding of campaign types: blindly, or deliberately. The first is all too common, the second is rare. While there are far too many combinations of circumstance for me to dispense comprehensive advice in this area, it is always better to make a deliberate choice, in advance. At least then, the GM can prepare solutions to the particular problems and difficulties that may arise.

Changing Campaign Styles

The final discussion point that I wish to raise in concluding this article is to invite GMs to consider the effect of deliberately violating the rule of thumb given in the preceding section regarding consistency of narrative style.

A serial campaign can survive a single excursion into episodic behavior with a completely different narrative style, or vice-versa; all you have to do is ensure that the narrative style is appropriate to the adventure in question, emphasizing its unique aspects and flavor. Before that becomes possible, of course, it is necessary for the GM to understand the different combinations of style and narrative approach, and how they will work with the established sandboxing techniques available.

That’s the ultimate purpose of this article: giving GMs the knowledge to make deliberate choices about the style of their campaign, and to vary it with passing adventure-type needs. This is not just Game Theory – it is a practical tool for the enhancement of your campaigns and adventures.

Stop and think about your current campaign for a moment. Does it have a consistent style, or is it a hodgepodge compound? Are there things that you have been doing without realizing it that this article has brought to your attention – and are they beneficial, or a hindrance? Is there something in your approach that could be changed for the better – now that you recognize the pattern? Or do you have additional light to shed on one of the subjects that have been touched on? We’d love to hear from you!

Comments (8)