“Sunset – Leobner” by Theo Crazzolara CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56777877

“A difference that makes no difference is no difference.”
— William James

“So make sure that the smallest difference makes a difference.”
— Mike’s Corollary to William James’ statement (as applied to RPG Plotting)

In Monday’s article, I looked at the first question raised by Ronald, “In fantasy settings, how can the GM and players [distinguish] factions when they are very similar?” Today, I’ll tackle the much larger second question, “How can GMs effectively make a story without being repetitive in a campaign [where groups/factions have such] strong [similarity]?”

It’s always difficult to know where to start with big questions like this. Get it wrong and you not only confuse the reader, you can get yourself lost in a jungle of backtracking. Get it almost right and you can invest a lot of hours chasing into cul-de-sacs and dead ends.

One way to avoid those problems is to play with the scale of the problem – simplify it, or only look at part of it, or ignore some of the restrictions that make it difficult. Or you can offer an answer based purely on theory that sounds good but doesn’t actually provide any tangible benefit when you try to turn theory into practice.

I’m going to attempt to evade both of those approaches by making sure that we’re all on the same page with the fundamentals before we start.

The Anatomy Of A Campaign

The image to the right is a small-scale illustration of the constituent parts of a 3-player adventure, and how they in turn combine with the adventures to either side of them in continuity to form part of a campaign.

The Blue dots are the main plotline of each adventure, and they are connected by the big blue arrow of time running down the page.

The Yellow dots represent character ‘moments’ for each of the PC; these are part of the adventure that is specifically tailored to involve interaction between the plot and a specific PC.

The Green Dots represent immediate character ambitions that are peripheral to the adventure itself but that are to be addressed within the context of the adventure.

Lastly, the red dots represent ongoing plotlines for each PC in the form of subplots, also known as character ‘loops’; because these are not intended to resolve themselves within the current adventure, but form an ongoing narrative within the campaign, they too are connected by arrows.

These distinctions are all lost on the players in the course of play; to them, one plot element within of the adventure is the same as another, and they don’t distinguish between them.

What’s more, all of these can have shockwaves and interactions with all the others. Those shockwaves are also represented surrounding each of the elements just described, but the interactions would have complicated the diagram to the point where the meaning became unclear.

In the real world, things can be even more complicated. A character’s subplot may require time to mature, so that subplot may not get mentioned in terms of ongoing plot developments; since it’s unfair to give one PC less spotlight time than others who do have subplot developments, this is usually dealt with by giving that PC an extra green or yellow dot in place of the red, and the subplot arrow would arc around the adventure to connect with the next one in which that subplot progresses.

A character’s desired actions during the adventure that don’t relate to the adventure proper – the green dots – can be inspired by their personal subplot, or can feed into that subplot, such as solving a short-term problem at the price of complicating the long-term situation.

Or the main adventure can simply alter the context surround a personal subplot, or vice-versa. Eventually, the personal subplots will need to become elements of a bigger picture, so each of those smaller arrows will end up leading to a yellow or blue dot. And if that doesn’t happen at either the end or near-end of the campaign, a new subplot will then spring up for that particular PC.

In addition, character’s subplots can sometimes interact with the subplots of another PC. Sometimes? I mean often. How often has your boss, or your neighbor, or a family member solved a problem (or partially solved one) in such a way that your life became more complicated? For example: Problem: It’s been a while since the family all got back together. Solution: Relative X is having a birthday/anniversary soon, let’s make it an unofficial family reunion. This doesn’t really address the reasons why family reunions don’t often happen – distance, other commitments, expense, health, whatever.

And, in reality, a character can have multiple subplots going on at the same time (not all of which get a mention in any given adventure), or multiple scenes in which they are furthering personal ambitions. That’s the sort of thing that makes character lives rich and fulfilling to play.

So, each adventure is composed of at least 3 constituent parts per PC and one more that binds everything together.

The number of combinations then tells us how many possible interactions there are. The formula is horrendously complex to calculate, because you can have combinations of 2, or 3, or 4, all the way up to a single combination of every constituent element. Even with the minimal structure illustrated, that’s 1,013 possible interaction modes. If a fourth PC joins the campaign, that goes up to 8,178. If you double the number of subplots or side-plots that each character becomes involved in within a single adventure, that’s 524,268 with three PCs and even more with four. (with thanks to Stat Trek for providing the online calculator used in generating these totals).

It’s not uncommon for a campaign to have five or more PCs.

The total is an absolutely horrendous number of possible combinations. A campaign with 6 PCs is roughly the same in combination-count as a 3-player campaign where each PC gets two pieces of plot interaction of each type – so the simplest 6-player campaign has roughly 524,268 ways campaign elements can interact, per adventure.

But, when you boil it all down, you are left with those same five types of elements. And while they each have characteristics that distinguish each type, in many ways, you can further simplify things down to three simpler elements: character subplots (which may or may not be fully resolved), character moments as part of the overall adventure, and the overall plotline itself.

Know/Define Your Differences

I made a big point about creating differences, however small, in the previous answer, and it should come as no surprise that this is once again a critical stage in developing faction-related plotlines. But, where the differences were primarily expression-oriented for roleplaying purposes last time, this time they should be more external in orientation, relating not only to the politics, society, and theology of the individual factions, but to the differences in their attitudes toward the world around them and the phenomena that inhabit them.

Differences come in two varieties: attitudes and sensitivities. A difference in attitude means that the faction has a relatively distinctive opinion or attitude toward something, either positive or negative; a sensitivity means that the faction is distinctively more prickly in it’s attitude towards the subject (relative to the other factions), less tolerant of any differences of opinion.

I have a long list of possible areas of distinctiveness but these are just the tip of the iceberg; don’t be afraid to throw something else into your choices.

• Religious Tolerance
• Theft & Petty Crime
• Serious Crime
• Judicial Independence
• Inheritance
• Gender Equality
• Intellectual Freedom
• Non-religious artistic endeavors
• Personal Rights
• Elves
• Dwarves
• Halflings
• Orcs
• Other neighboring races
• Outsiders
• Clerical Spellcasting
• Arcane Magic
• Magical Items
• Other valuables
• Taxation
• Sorcery
• Literacy
• Political Authority
• Days of Worship
• Theological Leadership
• Austerity
• Social Stratification
• Theological Doctrine

As I said, these are just the beginning, feel free to extend the list.

There should be one point of distinctiveness for every faction, no matter how small, minimum. But if I were populating a world such as the one described by Ronald, I would list the faction and then allocate all the points of distinctiveness, both in attitudes and sensitivities, between the factions, spreading them out reasonably evenly. And note that there is absolutely no reason why two different factions can’t be distinctive in the same area but in different ways.

Full Profiles

If you wanted to work up a full profile, in fact, you should do something like rolling d-something minus half maximum, with a score of less zero indicating a sensitivity and a score greater than zero indicating an attitude. A zero qualifies as an “indifference”. But that’s too complicated for our purposes here; it becomes difficult to see the forest for the trees.

Succinct Profiles

Instead, what we are generating are ‘succinct profiles’ that only hit the high points, the most extreme results one way or the other.

Once you have the selections made, the next step is to work out what the specifics of each point of distinction, at least in broad terms.

Make a list, and number each point of distinction.

Compatibility/Relations

Once you’ve done that, you’re ready to explore the ways in which these factions – nations, businesses, political parties, organizations of all sorts – interact.

1. Make a list of the factions, and assign each of them an alphabetic letter code. If there are five factions, use A through E, and so on.
2. Draw up a table, with one column for every faction and one row for every faction, and label them with the alphabetic codes. Put an “X” in those cells where both row and column indicate the same faction unless a point of distinctiveness for that faction can be described as internally disputed.
3. Now, we fill in the cells, so we start with the “A” row and work our way across all the columns, starting with “A”. Look at the two factions; if there is a point of agreement in attitude, put a plus in the cell and write the number of the point of distinctiveness. If one has a distinctive attitude, and the other has a sensitivity on the subject, write a – and the number of the point of distinctiveness. If the faction internally disputes something, write the number of the point of distinctiveness with a minus sign. It’s possible and even desirable that you end up with multiple entries in a single cell.
4. Points of distinctiveness that accord (the plusses) are the foundations of alliances between the two factions. Points of contrast are the foundations of rivalries and disagreement. For each faction, note which factions they have differences of opinion with, and which faction(s) they have the most in common with.
5. This starts to give you a feel for relations between the factions. But we aren’t quite finished yet. Next, you need to draw a rough map of the territories claimed by the different factions. This can be highly abstract. Label each faction’s territory with the alphabetic code of the faction and the results from analyzing that faction’s row.
6. Find the two factions that are most widely separated. If they have a common border, they have a separation of zero, if you have to go through one other faction’s territory to move from one of the two to another, they have a separation of one, and so on. You want the two factions with the highest separation.
7. The farther apart two factions are, the less opportunity they have for their points of disagreement to result in conflict. The closer two factions are, the more a faction will have its metaphoric nose rubbed in any disagreement. Add notes about the separation and attitudes toward their neighbors to your details regarding the factions.

Additional Questions To Ask Yourself

Which faction has the most wealth, and which the greatest economic need?

Which faction has the greatest military power?

Which faction has the greatest quantity of arable land, and which is the hungriest?

Which faction is the sneakiest, and which is the most trustworthy?

Which faction owes the greatest debts, and are they becoming more desperate than they were? Or more untrustworthy?

Which faction has the greatest friction with those outside the factions, and which enjoys the best relationship?

Plots

There are two basic plots: responses to stimuli and conflicts. Conflicts can be social, political, military, economic, or anything else that seems appropriate. Stimuli are outside events that affect the Faction. Every point of disagreement is the foundation for at least one plot; most points of distinctiveness are also the basis for a plotline. To get involved in one, all you need is for the PCs to be in one of the two factions or to cross the border between two factions.

Remember what I said about the combinations of plot elements within an adventure? The same math applies to the number of possible plotlines. Taking the 28 areas of possible distinctiveness or disagreement, doubling because we have both, and then determining the number of possible combinations taken N at a time (usually 2, sometimes 3) can yield astronomical numbers. 56 items taken two at a time = 1540 plotlines with zero repetition. Taken three at a time – for example, one faction stirring up trouble between two others, with the PCs caught in the middle – yields 27,720 possible combinations.

Throw in the answers to the questions raised a moment ago, and there’s plenty of depth.

It doesn’t really matter what the PCs do, it will make at least one faction like them more and at least one faction like them less. Throw in stimuli, and you literally have thousands of possible plotlines to work with. Now complicate the whole thing with personalities and factions and leaders growing senile or just old and rebellious youngsters. After all, what you have generated is a snapshot of the way things are now – but everything is subject to change!

Questions To Ask

You should have some overall plotline involved. What that is will depend on the actual choices you make as to distinctiveness within the factions, so I can’t give a lot of advice from this specific point of view – there have been lots of articles on the subject of campaign structure and plotting here at campaign mastery, consult and apply them.

The ideal solution is a domino structure in which each adventure brings about the next, regardless of the outcome of that adventure. But that can be very tricky to arrange; it’s usually easier to use a structure in which subplots turn into main plots, and leave yourself enough flexibility to cope with sequel adventures and unresolved plot threads.

The Seven Stages Of Adventure Definition

I know that if you read some of the articles that I’ve written, people can get the impression that everything is pre-planned in great detail in advance. That’s not actually the case, and this is one application of campaign planning where that impression can get you into a lot of trouble.

There are six stages of completeness when it comes to campaign planning, as illustrated above, plus a seventh that would have been almost completely empty (so I left it out of the diagram). From most-complete to least-complete, they are:

1. The current adventure is as clearly-defined as it’s possible for an adventure to get. You know what’s going on, what NPCs are doing and why, what the locations are going to be, what they look like, and how this sequence of events over here will relate to that sequence of events over there. The illustration depicts the current adventure as half-complete, by which point you should also have a fair idea of how it is likely to end (even if more than one outcome is possible).
2. The next adventure that you are going to run is almost ready to go. You still have some t’s to cross and i’s to dot, and there will be some loose ends from the current adventure to integrate (such as player decisions about what their PCs want to get up to during the ‘downtime’ between adventures), but the structure of the plot will be clear and the content mostly defined to a playable state, needing only some final polish.
3. The adventure after next is partially done. You’ll have some of the content defined – narrative, locations, NPCs; you’ll know the broad outlines of the plot structure; but there are substantial unknowns still be determined.
4. The adventure after that will be even less defined, less locked in. You will have ideas for some of the content, you’ll know parts of the plot structure, but more remains to be decided than is already known.
5. The fourth adventure after the one now being run is even less coherently defined. You will have a vague idea of the content, a vague idea of the overall plot, but it’s mostly just ideas with a little fleshing out done, at best.
6. The fifth adventure to come is probably little more than a one-paragraph summary. There may be some vague ideas about content, there may be a plot outline, but mostly it’s just hints and concepts.
7. The earliest stage of development is just a one-line bullet-point synopsis of an idea. “Count Montedevo plots against the PCs”, or something like that.

As play proceeds, you are continually getting fresh input from ongoing adventures, and player decisions, and good (or bad) die rolls, and from flashes of inspiration. Each adventure is a domino that both partially-defines and ‘knocks over’ the next, and (to a lesser extent) the one after that, and the one after that again, and so on.

My practice is (usually) to map out an entire campaign in one-line bullet point ideas (however vague), so that I have a road-map of sorts to follow. About 1/3 of any given adventure derives from past adventures, the outcome of which provides the context in which those bullet-point ideas to manifest. This often takes the shape of a number of subplots that are also outlined in bullet point summaries, one event after another, but that are subject to variation and change based on PC choices, actions, and outcomes. The remaining third comes from decisions taken in past game sessions that did not relate to the main adventure at the time – “[My PC] wants to study [insert subject here]” or “I don’t trust [name of NPC], I think he’s hiding something and want to spend some time investigating him.”

The first third are long-term planning, the second third is medium-to-short-term, and the last are short-term to immediate components of the overall plan. The plot structure defines which of these items will progress first, in player-chronological sequence (not game time). “Johnny’s going to get a hint about the Dark Cult, then Matt’s going to have his studies interrupted by the consequences of what Ray did last week, and even though the two have nothing to do with each other, Ray will put two and two together to make five, sending the PCs off in completely the wrong direction but enabling them to stumble into the main plot, which starts with….”

Don’t get too far ahead of yourself and let the adventures evolve organically – always with an eye to the ‘big picture’ of the overall campaign that only you can see.

Ultimately, every campaign is a confluence of what characters want to achieve, what they are willing to do to achieve it, and the repercussions of those actions. The players and the GM are equal contributors, collaborators in the tale of what happens to the PCs. Building plots around a number of factions with similar philosophies and members of similar capabilities within a similar environment should be no harder than doing so for any other campaign.

Hope that answers your questions, Ronald!