{"id":21509,"date":"2017-11-28T00:56:07","date_gmt":"2017-11-27T13:56:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/?p=21509"},"modified":"2017-11-28T00:56:07","modified_gmt":"2017-11-27T13:56:07","slug":"comparative-underpinnings-of-campaign","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/comparative-underpinnings-of-campaign\/","title":{"rendered":"Comparative Underpinnings Of Campaign"},"content":{"rendered":"
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‘Blue Night Sky’ courtesy freeimages.com \/ D. Carlton<\/p><\/div>\n

\nWhile this article builds on some others that I’ve done here at Campaign Mastery, I didn’t feel it was enough of a sequel to any of them to qualify for the Blog Carnival. But I wanted to remind readers that if you’re thinking of doing so, there’s still time to submit a late entry! I’ll hold off doing the roundup until a week or so into December.\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I’ve talked a number of times about campaign themes, at least in general terms, and how to manifest them in the form of campaign plot threads and adventures.<\/p>\n

But there’s almost always something more to say when it comes to such a broad topic; anytime that I find a fresh angle on the subject, I can be reliably expected to delve into it once more.<\/p>\n

This time around, I was thinking of how I used to write Sci-Fi short stories back when that was something I was playing around with. Not the mechanics of writing, as much as those might be of interest to some of my readers; I’ve discussed that in the past, notably in the course of the two-part (abbreviated) autobiography that I published at Campaign Mastery a few years back (Dice & Life Part 1<\/a>, Dice & Life Part 2<\/a>), but about the inspiration sources that I employed, and the similarities and differences between those methodologies and those employed when I created a fantasy campaign. And that led me to consider the other genres of game that I have\/do run, and how each adopted a different approach to the problem.<\/p>\n

This might well turn out to be far too big a subject to tackle in a single article, so I’m reserving the right to subdivide it! Let’s see how I get on…<\/p>\n

Sci-Fi Short Stories<\/h3>\n

Since I mention it as part of the inspiration for this article, I figured this was the right place to start.<\/p>\n

My sci-fi stories always started from the same basic premise: take a contemporary piece of technology and think of a way that it might change and evolve in the future. I particular, was there any sort of alternative method of achieving the same end? Was there some other technology that could be integrated with it, and what would be the impact of doing so?<\/p>\n

Once I had the core technology, I looked behind the curtain to the operating principles. How was it different? Why? What were the advantages? What other technological changes could be based on the same fundamental discovery?<\/p>\n

Next, I needed a story that was built around the technology. This was always a dramatic situation (in the old sense of the word “drama”) that would proceed differently as a result of the difference in technology. Conflict, desire, relationships – at least one of them was always affected, it was just a matter of discovering the right one. On a number of times, I had multiple choices; about as frequently, only one right answer seemed to present itself.<\/p>\n

When multiple choices presented themselves, I listed them all, then used cut-and-paste to rank them in the sequence I thought most likely to give a good story, then picked the top item off the list and worked with it until either it fell apart on me or a story emerged that worked.<\/p>\n

Finally, I needed characters, one or more of whom would be the reader’s vector into the story. The combination of protagonists and overall story-line enabled me to work out a plot sequence, and an appropriate way of structuring that plot, incorporating sections to explain the changes in technology in a natural way without lecturing the reader.<\/p>\n

That was where the “everyday application” came in; it was usual (with a few exceptions) for the focus of the story to be some other consequence than the one I had initially thought of. By showing the impact of the “everyday technology” in the course of establishing the protagonists, I could explain the technology, preparing the ground for the real story.<\/p>\n

Writing the story itself followed.<\/p>\n

Okay, with all that established as a baseline, let’s start looking at the different genres of campaign and how the processes compare.<\/p>\n

Superhero<\/h3>\n

My superhero campaigns all start with an underpinning “epic” tale. I then work from the perspective of antagonists and how they would revolve around that underpinning story – what role would they play in it? Generalizing those two things gave me the campaign themes.<\/p>\n

Next, I started listing as many different ways in which those themes might be reflected in plotlines, as well as listing as many plot ideas as I could think of.<\/p>\n

The plan in such campaigns is always to track the themes to their earliest influences on the PCs. Quite often, in order to establish the characters that I needed, I have to develop introductory plotlines; it often feels contrived to have characters arrive on the game scene in their “final form”.<\/p>\n

Splitting things up and establishing all the campaign elements in-game effectively gives every antagonist their own narrative arc, contributing to the “epic quality”. Things always start small and snowball.<\/p>\n

I usually find that the process has generated a number of characters which need to be gotten “out of the way” lest they interfere with the underlying “epic”, adding still more threads to the plotline. Sometimes I have to introduce one character to maneuver a second character into the correct status and mindset needed for the “epic” and then introduce a second character whose only function is to remove the facilitating character after he or she has done their work.<\/p>\n

Then there are all the plot threads that the PCs bring with them, which also have to be integrated with the plotline, and additional plot sequences that do nothing but help with the pacing, and additional plot sequences that are (at the big-picture level) just “noise” but are too much fun to leave out; and finally, there are plotlines that assist with the relative density of the different types of adventure; I try hard not to have too many “Cosmic” plotlines, or “Mystery” plotlines, or “Magic-oriented” plotlines, or whatever other manner of characterization you can think of, in succession.<\/p>\n

I’ve done a feature article in the past about how I sequence these, and another on how I incorporate the personal lives of the characters, so there’s no need to go into that again.<\/p>\n

The backbone of the campaign is all about the underlying epic, and the themes that it spawns, and foreshadowing, and the tactical chess-game of setting things up so that the jigsaw pieces will come together in the right way at the right time – and how to keep all that maneuvering opaque to the players until the time is right.<\/p>\n

That “epic quality” nevertheless rubs off – every major plotline quickly becomes larger than life in some respect. And that’s what I’m aiming for – these are all exceptional characters, and the plotlines need to be big enough to contain them. The other effect is also one that I desire in this type of campaign: you genuinely get the feeling that you are experiencing the semi-episodic qualities of a comic-book while you play. The design process itself imbues the resulting campaign with some of the flavor of the genre by embedding the underlying genre tropes into the campaign structure.<\/p>\n

Fantasy<\/h3>\n

The approach which I employ for Fantasy Campaigns is slightly different, and in many ways, bears a greater resemblance to that of the Sci-Fi short stories that I discussed earlier.<\/p>\n

My approach is always to ask the “big questions” (see one of my earliest articles for Campaign Mastery, A Quality Of Spirit: Big Questions in RPGs<\/a>). How does magic work? What are the Gods? That sort of thing.<\/p>\n

Always, I am looking for the answers to a couple of underlying questions – “what distinguishes this campaign world from all the others I have created?” “What impact do these differences have on the lives of ordinary people, and what differences will they make in the lives of the PCs?” – things like that. And if the answer to those questions is “none”, it’s back to the drawing board.<\/p>\n

As with the superhero campaigns, I start big and work my way down to the small. As a result, my Fantasy Campaigns all tend to be of the “high fantasy” sub-genre, a fact for which I make no apologies; those are the ones that I enjoy the most, and that I enjoy creating the most.<\/p>\n

Of course, once you have the basic underlying phenomena nailed down, and have established that they will make a tangible difference in-game, it’s time to tackle a suite of related secondary questions. “What other phenomena are there, and how are they affected by these metaphysical underpinnings?” “What’s the basic story of the Game Universe?” “What are the in-game theories of these things?” “How might an antagonist learn of the underlying truths and what could they do with that knowledge?” “What can be done with the underlying phenomena even without understanding them, discovered by trial and error or serendipity, either in historic times or in the course of the game?”<\/p>\n

It’s through these secondary questions that the ramifications of the original concepts, and the ultimate shape of the resulting campaign, begin to be formed.<\/p>\n

An unwritten ‘rule’ is that every PC character class (in a D&D\/Pathfinder campaign) and Race must be impacted in some way. I never want any of these to be “exactly” what’s written in the books; there must always be some point of distinction, something for a player to explore in the course of the game. If there are any classes or races for which this isn’t true, there are but two solutions: ban them, or add still another ‘underlying truth’ to address the gap.<\/p>\n

My fantasy campaigns are always explorations of the PCs and their lives, and how those affect and are affected by, the world around them. This is a strongly “low fantasy” approach to the “high fantasy” genre, and it enables the premises of the campaign to have an impact from low character levels all the way through the game.<\/p>\n

I’ve discussed the Fumanor campaigns at length, and how their derivation was ultimately an expression of the conflict between order and chaos, and how “good” and “evil” could be secondary consequences of that conflict and how you reacted to it.<\/p>\n

In the “Tree Of Life” campaign, which was designed to play-test what is now known as 5e D&D in a campaign setting and in which the rules (and hence the underlying reality was malleable to some extent), the core principle was a life-cycle for souls and how booming
\n population rates could throw that out of kilter and unbalance reality.<\/p>\n

The “Rings Of Time” campaign was a little different; called upon to create a campaign without warning, I simply threw a lot of rejected ideas from the Fumanor Campaign at the wall and invented new material to reconcile the discrepancies. It was never intended to last more than one adventure, but the players enjoyed it so much that they insisted I continue. What emerged was a concept of stratified reality in which the upper levels reflected the realities of the lower ones, but in a way not readily apparent to those inhabiting the more mundane reality, and the occasional need for exceptional members of the lower levels to be elevated to the upper in order to do the dirty work of those who abided there, and the consequences of being so ‘ascended’ (Hint: for every advantage so obtained, there were two downsides). These “Ascended’, colored by myth and legend, were the foundations for the ‘Gods’ worshiped by the normal inhabitants of the lower realms, subordinates of the True Gods. Ultimately, this was building to the revelation that at least one of those True Gods was corrupt, “fallen” if you will, and suicidal, but who needed top change “the rules of the game” in order to create a force (the PCs) capable of doing the deed. Helping as much as he hindered, and causing at least half their problems to spur them on, it would have been a great campaign to play out, but was ended prematurely upon the death of one of the two players.<\/p>\n

Shards Of Divinity was built around the premise of Fathers betrayed by Sons seeking independence, and how that played out from an All-father who sacrificed his existence to create the tools (his children) to create the game universe.<\/p>\n

Each of these campaigns was very distinctive, as a result of embedding these different fundamental concepts at the heart of each campaign. Doing this so early in the process enables you to focus on exploring the differences that result from the distinctive fundamental concepts in the course of the campaign. Distinctiveness of concept begets distinctiveness of campaign begets distinctiveness of adventures.<\/p>\n

For more information and actual examples on how races were customized for the Fumanor Campaign, consult the first half-dozen parts of the Orcs & Elves<\/a> series. For more information on the Shards Of Divinity campaign, again with specific content, consult the On Alien Languages<\/a> series.<\/p>\n

Pulp<\/h3>\n

In the Adventurer’s Club, the central premise is the singular adventure, threaded together by the personal lives of the membership (the PCs). There is continuity, but as a general rule of thumb, individual adventures stand alone. My Co-GM and I have created a list of adventures – everything that came to mind over a six-to-twelve month period in which we were focused on doing so – that we have sequenced in a way that shares the spotlight around, creating a series of revolving “Star Vehicles” (refer Ensemble or Star Vehicle<\/a> for more on the concept).<\/p>\n

One of our primary considerations is always to sandbox the content of one adventure so that it doesn’t impact the greater world outside that adventure excessively. The last couple of planned adventures are ones in which that can’t happen, because they progress the campaign out of the Pulp Era, and so are natural “Big Finishes” for the campaign – if it gets that far!<\/p>\n

There are a couple of underlying threads. The main one is generational supplanting – the PCs started out as novices, but the generation above them are aging, and the ones who came before them<\/em> are now at the point of being forced into retirement, adopting managerial positions and deferring those events that would once have seen them spring into action to the PCs.<\/p>\n

Another is that time moves at the speed of plot – the campaign is defined as taking place in 1930-x, usually abbreviated “193x”. X started out being 1934, progressed through to 1936, and has reset back to 1934 again, and will continue to do so until the campaign comes to a close, getting incrementally closer to 1939 and the start of WWII. At the same time, we are completely happy to extemporize events, relocating something from 1938 or 1932 or whatever into the ‘contemporary now’ of the campaign, which is never explicitly defined in-adventure. This is a golden age which is slowly meandering towards its sunset – but which will only reach that point when the campaign itself ends.<\/p>\n

Once again, this approach embeds fundamental aspects of the genre and its tropes into the campaign structure, so that you don’t have to think too much about it when writing or running adventures and can simply concentrate on delivering the maximum fun that you can generate.<\/p>\n

For more information on running a Pulp campaign, consult the Reinventing Pulp For Roleplaying<\/a> series.<\/p>\n

TORG<\/h3>\n

My TORG campaign – which I would resurrect in a heartbeat if the players were interested in getting the band back together – was built around the connectedness of worlds. It added additional metaphysics to resolve some inherent contradictions and incompleteness of details in the early supplements, but in the process rapidly lost all continuity with further game supplements – there are no Inca Space Aliens in the campaign; I found explanations for events that didn’t require them.<\/p>\n

A secondary key concept was “strength through diversity” – the more diverse a group was, the greater their potential for getting to the truth and reshaping the world to their liking. That was why the Gaunt Man had assembled his alliance of Worlds, and why that alliance had succeeded in capturing Earth (and it’s massive Possibility Potential) where any one of them would have been overwhelmed in short order. The PCs, defined as the “good guys”, want to create a world in which they can all live in peace – and that means overcoming and overthrowing the Gaunt Man and co. But the “Bad Guys” have much more expertise and experience at this sort of thing, so it is also a “David Vs Goliath” narrative.<\/p>\n

The tertiary and final concept was the rivalry and politics of the High Lords, the shifting alliances and betrayals and subterfuges. Theirs was an unnatural alliance, and one that was continually coming apart at the seams and being rewoven into different patterns. This was to provide the opportunities for the PCs to achieve their goals, in the long run.<\/p>\n

The initial campaign was a sort of ‘grand tour’ of the different realities. It folded because the players found the top-down reworking of Orrorsh, the Horror Realm, to be “too scary”. The master plot said that they needed to go there, the players didn’t want to – and ultimately, they bailed rather than trusting themselves to get through it, in what was supposed to be the starting point for the general plotline spelt out above.<\/p>\n

But, with the passing away of Stephen Tunnicliff, who was one of the driving forces behind the campaign, I doubt that the mooted resurrection of this campaign will ever occur – which is why I’m happy to spill the secrets above, which the players (and the PCs) never found out, having bailed just one adventure short of the revelations that would have kick-started the “real” campaign.<\/p>\n

Space Opera I<\/h3>\n

I’ve only ever run one Space Opera campaign, and that wasn’t one that I planned – it was a matter of “What are we going to do today?” “I dunno, what have you got?” “Well, you’re a GM, come up with something.” “Okay, well I could do something around the idea of Asteroid Mining…” “Sounds good…”<\/p>\n

This was a standalone adventure with the potential to grow into a longer campaign, sort of a cross between “Space: 1999” and the “X-files” with a heavy slug of “Aliens” thrown in for good measure. We played two sessions of what was expected to be a three-to-four session story, but the whole thing ended prematurely when one of the PCs detonated the ship’s nuclear drive rather than let the Aliens get to Earth, not realizing that they were already in place there.<\/p>\n

Because of the unique circumstances, I can’t say that I formulated a “standard technique” for approaching the Space Opera genre, at least not as a GM. One day…<\/p>\n

Space Opera II<\/h3>\n

As a player in Ian Mackinder’s Traveller campaigns, however, it was a different story. A late joiner in both of these campaigns, both times I was brought in to play Alien characters, and my immediate focus was to get under the skin of that race, expanding on the concepts provided in the source material, and then wrap an individual’s personality around those concepts, and then wrap the current state of the campaign when I joined it around that.<\/p>\n

The first time, I was playing a Newt, a slightly paranoid slightly bookwormish salamander-like species (referring to the real Lizard species and not what was done under that name in various forms of D&D), who were natural clerks and bookkeepers. At the time, the crew of the ship were slightly paranoid themselves about double-agents within the crew, and so that played into and amplified the character’s own paranoia. His approach was typical of his species, starting by analyzing the various logs and reports submitted by the crew and producing reports “For the captain’s eyes only”, looking for patterns of suspicious behavior. Helped by discovering some discrepancies in the ship’s accounts, which might have been innocent but which could only be interpreted through the paranoia filter, that persuaded the Captain to grant increased access to personal logs to aid the character’s data-mining efforts. Ultimately, he was able to rank each member of the crew with a percentage likelihood of being an agent of this faction or that, with campaign history to back these claims up<\/em>, he built up a complete set of conspiracy theories and sold them to the Captain. What was never made public was that “The Newt’s” notion of “suspicious behavior” included things like being behind in paperwork, editing reports to put yourself in a better light, and similar behaviors. So completely did the Newt take over the campaign that the GM decided that he’d lost control of the situation and closed the campaign before it got completely out of hand, before this revelation came to light. He also perpetually banned me from running any other Newts in his campaigns!<\/p>\n

Some time later, I was invited to run a Hyver (Hiver? I don’t remember the exact spelling) in his followup campaign. Hyvers are secretive and manipulative, but there wasn’t a great deal of information provided for them, so I essentially wrote my own game supplement on the race and then used that as the basis of the character – with the GM’s full approval. (If I still had a copy, I’d publish it here at Campaign Mastery; I don’t. What follows are high points, from memory). Hyvers are starfish-type creatures, with advanced tech, and the first thing I decided was that they had been operating in space for so long that gravity was regarded as an inconvenience to be manipulated as necessary. It followed that they naturally oriented in whatever direction was convenient at the time, and regarded those species which were bilaterally symmetric with firm notions of up and down as primitives and inferiors. Their entire society was oriented around making the race “the power behind every throne”, a giant conspiracy in which every member of the race was a participant. At the same time, each was trying to “out-spy” the others to elevate their own family group above the next in the social pecking order (the species propagated by budding and grafting, as I recall; they were monosexual but still required mated pairs for reproduction). Hyvers accumulate secrets and leverage over others in exactly the same manner for which J. Edgar Hoover was notorious. The character started by investing some of his external leverage to get some much-needed repairs and upgrades for the ship, making himself indispensable to the Captain in the process, and then set about analyzing, cross-referencing, and gathering handles on each of the other crew members, building up a spy network within the ship with himself as the Moriarty-in-command. It was when the Captain was reduced to a figurehead with the Hyver calling the shots and then persuading the Captain that the changes in his orders were justified that the GM again decided that his campaign was getting out of hand, shut it down, and added a second race to the list of those which I was perpetually banned from playing!<\/p>\n

Ultimately, and in retrospect, I did exactly the same thing in both cases – I got my head more deeply into the race than any of the other players, and was then able to convey that intensity. You could say that I was playing harder than they were – I put in lots of time in between game sessions, and drew on all my professional expertise in a variety of different fields, while the norm amongst the other players was to put no time except at the game table. You could say that I invested time in seeking out the uniqueness of each character and used that to make each of the campaigns a unique experience.<\/p>\n

Certainly, if I were to undertake a Space Opera campaign as a GM, that would be my approach. It’s the races that populate the universe and the way that they relate to each other that would make the setting unique, and the adventures would be derived from that. Babylon-5 would be my bible, not in terms of any specific content, but in the way that J Michael Strazinski approached his task. Get the races right, particularly in terms of the dynamics that exist between them, and ensure that there is scope for individuality within those racial profiles, and then throw situations at the characters that get them in “trouble” because of the racial profiles and back out because of who they are as individuals, enabling them to learn to transcend their natural limitations over time.<\/p>\n

Dr Who<\/h3>\n

The Doctor Who campaign is a strange beast to write about at this time, because one of the central themes is about<\/em> to become known by the sole PC. If I hadn’t been ill last week (as I write this), that would already have happened, and I’d be a lot freer to talk specifics. What I can say is that the central campaign is philosophy-oriented, in particular filtering some aspects of Eastern theology\/philosophy to the Dr Who concepts of time and time travel. There is a secondary imperative to touch on each of the iconic races and many of the iconic characters early on in the campaign – so we’ve had a typical Monster-of-the-week, Daleks, UNIT, and Captain Jack Harkness (pre-Torchwood) and are currently dealing with Cybermen. These are deliberately happening early in the campaign so that they are “out of the way”, leaving the rest of the campaign that little bit more unpredictable.<\/p>\n

This was actually conceived as one epic plotline in ten parts, about the same length as a typical Dr Who season by the time you factor in a couple of “two-part” episodes, like Dalek one. I have one more of those “iconic” episodes still to come, and then all bets are off!<\/p>\n

I’m also at pains to extend the backstory of these iconic encounters, plugging plot holes from different seasons of the TV series .along the way. That two-part Dalek adventure, for example, established the relationship between the two Movies (starring the late Peter Cushing) and the main series continuity, resolved three major contradictions between different adventures set in the era, expanded on the physics of time travel, and added to Canon surrounding the Dalek strategy during the Time War – all the good things that great episodes of the TV series achieve.<\/p>\n

And that’s the stylistic goal for this campaign – Dr Who is a genre unto itself, with a style that’s all it’s own, and the ambition is to translate that into an RPG format. I think I’ve succeeded so far and so does the player, also a Dr Who fan, and that’s all I can really ask for!<\/p>\n

The Bigger Picture<\/h3>\n

When you look at a range of campaigns like this, a fundamental truth emerges. In every case, I have tried to identify traits and characteristics that are unique to the genre, and tailored the campaign construction process to reflect, incorporate and integrate those traits and characteristics into the campaign. That in turn builds them into the bedrock foundations of each adventure, underpinning everything that is then erected on that fundamental.<\/p>\n

You don’t need to construct your campaigns in the exact same way that I do. But if you take the general principle of finding an element of the genre that you want to focus on and building the campaign around it, your campaign will have a major advantage over those who don’t. It’s the difference between paying lip service to that genre element, tacking it on as a superficial afterthought, or immersing the campaign in it. Depth of genre is the result.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

While this article builds on some others that I’ve done here at Campaign Mastery, I didn’t feel it was enough of a sequel to any of them to qualify for the Blog Carnival. But I wanted to remind readers that if you’re thinking of doing so, there’s still time to submit a late entry! I’ll […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[65,67,265,158,159,70,32,74,12,91,77,78,94,95,97,96,81],"tags":[106,107,108,116,127,172,282,136,138,283,141,165,232],"series":[],"class_list":["post-21509","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-campaign-creation","category-dnd","category-dr-who-lovecrafts-legacies","category-one-faith","category-seeds-of-empire","category-gm-ing","category-game-philosophy","category-mike","category-pcs","category-plans-and-prep","category-shards-of-divinity","category-adventurers-club","category-ideas-and-inspiration","category-tools","category-world-design","category-write","category-zenith3","tag-campaign-background","tag-campaign-setting","tag-campaigns","tag-game-mastery","tag-inspiration","tag-npcs","tag-pcs","tag-philosophy","tag-play","tag-players","tag-races","tag-tools-techniques","tag-writing"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1toiD-5AV","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21509"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21509"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21509\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21516,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21509\/revisions\/21516"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21509"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21509"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21509"},{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.campaignmastery.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/series?post=21509"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}