Introducing New Characters
General Site Update: Following last weeks Wordpress update, I apparently made a mistake which resulted in my last few posts not being saved or published on the site - a fact I only discovered this afternoon. It looks like the problem has been fixed, and updates should be coming once again.
Introducing new characters into an existing campaign can be very tricky. There are a number of issues that can complicate things further such as the realism of someone being in the immediate area or the existing PCs having any reason to trust the newcomers with their money and secrets, much less their lives.
Last week I ran a session of my Star Wars game, which takes place sometime after the Sith War, about 4,000 years before the movie. The existing party was made up of two young Jedi who each left the Order and were going through trials to be initiated by Sith Spirits. The requirement for their initiation was that they hunt down and kill at least one Jedi for each of them.
We explained all this to the two new players before the game. Brian chose to play a Force Adept with a strong inclination to the Dark Side, who was found by one of the Sith hopefuls and recruited. All in all, a good concept and a good match with the party.
Nevin’s character was a stark contrast. He built a Rodian Fringer, a mechanic with piloting abilities. He was Force Sensitive, but had no force abilities and no real combat ability. I had reservations in the beginning, and I voiced my concerns, but said that he “should play what [he] wanted,” as I don’t, as a rule, tell players what they should and shouldn’t play.
Looking back, this was a mistake. I should have vetoed the character and either helped Nevin’s rework the character into something viable or helped him build a new character from scratch. As it was, Nevin’s character barely fit in with the party and was barely engaged in combat when the rest of the party entered it. In fact, there were barely any opportunities for his character to shine - and the character build was only half the problem.
Mentally, the character was incongruous with the group. Everyone else had something that drew them to the Dark Side in some way or another, an anger or hatred or fear that they had. Nevin’s character did not. In addition to this, the rest of the party were, in the words of Zorg, “killers - dyed-in-the-wool killers. Cold blooded, clean, methodical and thorough.” Nevin’s character, however, was not.
All of these differences were highlighted and made more clear when their initiation began, and they were presented with a series of Force Illusions which tested their reactions to different circumstances, and were generally designed to push each character further down the path of the dark side and down the path of power. Nevin’s character went temporarily insane almost immediately.
The lesson from all of this is simple, when introducing new characters, it’s important to be willing to veto the ones that just won’t work out, and then help the person correct the problem or build an entirely new character.
Darwin’s World: A New Beginning
Joel began his game of Darwin’s World this last week. Brian played a telepath slaver, who used both his mental Domination ability and his slave collars to get assistance whenever needed or accumulate slaves for later use or sale. Brian possessed a slave who served as his bodyguard and driver. Erin played a genius autistic mechanic/electrician who was also handy with firearms in a fight. Erin also possesses chameleon abilities which allow her to blend in with her surroundings, becoming virtually invisible. I played a brute with claws and an exoskeleton, combined with a rend ability and horrendous strength. Following a recent accidental killing in an arena, my character had sworn off violence.
Brian and Erin were both orphans who had been taken in by my character’s father - who shared the same mutations as my character, and provided the training to Erin regarding her mechanical and electrical skills. When he learned of what happened, he gave us a vehicle and told us to flee town, to the place of my character’s birth - an enclosed dome-city called Hemisphere, which had been untouched by the nuclear wars. I was given a ring and a letter of introduction so that we could gain entry, along with a map guiding us to where we needed to go.
The vehicle we were given had only enough gas to get us half-way to our destination. Erin scoped out the town and found another vehicle, which she then began to siphon, with Brian and myself hiding nearby for back-up if needed. The owner of the vehicle stepped outside and saw Erin siphoning the gas, and began to protest when he was dominated by Brian. He was ordered not to interfere, and forget the incident after it was over. With the additional gas, we had plenty of supplies to get us to our destination.
The first night we set-up camp, and I took first watch. During my watch, a group of rabid rotting warthogs attacked us, outnumbering us two to one. We rolled horribly for the first three rounds, missing each time. Brian began dominating them and forcing them to engage each other in combat while Erin and I continued our assault along with the bodyguard NPC. Our luck turned, and our attacks began hitting. After another two rounds of the warthogs being attacked by both each other and us, they succumbed.
The next day, we continued on our journey to Hemisphere. After spotting a town along the way, we stopped to investigate. The town was quite dull and boring, with nothing really going on. In Joel’s words, “there’s a strong guy who everyone looks to for protection and a smart guy who everyone looks to for leadership.” He later revealed that this entire town was unplanned - something that was quite obvious to us at the time. Joel vowed to do more preparation for the next session.
We continued onwards, and encountered another town the next day, along with a large trade caravan from the regions largest trade organization. While we could acquire almost any piece of standard equipment here, our resources did not allow us to purchase anything. Daunted by the several hundred guards who were with the caravan, we resolved not to rob it, but to have Brian dominate one of the guards and telepathically order him to bring us some eqiupment. Brian did so, successfully, but another guard saw what was happened, and ordered him to put the equipment down. When he did not comply, he was shot dead. We quickly left the town and proceeded to Hemisphere.
We arrive safely at Hemisphere, and are stopped at the outer gates while several snipers take aim at us. A member of the Elder Council comes out and meets us, where he sees the ring and reads the note and grants us entry and rest - provided we lose the vehicle and cover up tracks. Brian released his slave and sent him off to cover up the tracks. Several soldiers from Hemisphere followed behind and covered other tracks.
We soon discover the town is quite xenophobic, and no one but the Elder’s know of the nuclear war. One of the Elder’s offers to tutor Brian in his telepathy if he returns later, an offer which Brian readily accepts. It is revealed that my character’s father was an Elder and left in search of medicine for my character’s mother, who became ill while giving birth and died soon after. My character is offered his seat on the Council and permanent residence in the town. He accepts, realizing that he will never have to fight again and will be shielded from the outside world.
Erin repairs a number of devices for the town, including generators and filters. As payment, they provided Brian and Erin with a water filter and a geiger counter. Brian and Erin make prepartions to leave, promising to return.
Over-all, Joel ran a very successful and engaging session. The primary problem was a lack of preparation on his part. He quite successfully, however, gave us an introduction to his version of the Twisted Earth and gave us an idea of what to expect in the way of twists, character interaction and threats that exist in the world. He also gave us an introduction to one of the most powerful organizations in the area.
Weird Gamers
A thread was recently re-opened on RPGnet, where players swapped disgusting gamer stories. Reading them, they’re sometimes hilarious, sometimes depressing, usually disgusting and always interesting. I don’t have any disgusting gamer stories of my own, but I do have a few experiences with gamers that can be described only as weird.
One such gamer, we’ll call him Hank, always existed at the periphery of my high school gaming group - he had introduced our GM to gaming, and had gamed with him for years before our group formed. Occasionally, he’d sit in for one session or come by and run a one-night game, usually of a system and setting he had himself created. Hank seemed normal enough at first, and I discounted his strangeness as awkwardness due to being around new people and under-developed social skills - neither of which I considered unusual high school gamer-geeks.
One of the things that kept Hank out of group in the long run was his involvement in several LARPs, which proved to provide ample schedule conflicts. After my experience with the Cthlhu LARP, I was open to trying new things in gaming. Hank helped me prepare my character for the Vampire: The Masquerade game, explained the different clans and breeds of vampires and the current set-up of the group. After character creation, I was feeling pretty good about my character’s build and personality, and I looked forward to the game.
I arrive at the game, quasi-dressed as my character and with whatever props I had on hand - I had no problem diving into the game, but I wasn’t about to invest money in it until I’d played it and was sure I’d be playing it regularly. Among the props I brought were a pocket watch, a metal flask and a metal cigarette case. I arrive at the game and begin mingling with people out of character, introducing myself and trying to do my best to learn everyone’s name.
Among the twenty-five people there, there were three Story Tellers present - apparently two less than normal. After some time of mingling, one of the STs comes into the room and announces to everyone that the local nursing home had been robbed and several people were shot and killed. Apparently this was the start of the game.
As the game commences, I am grouped with ten or so other players who are attacking or defending something. The details were never clear to me, but bad-guys from a specific clan were unloading from a helicopter and attacking us. Several ridiculous feats of vampire strength and several thrown cars later, the bad guys have been beaten. I am told I am to call the others on the phone and tell them what happened. I explain that I am unclear on exactly what happened, and the players and STs proceed to feed the explanation I am to deliver, as I deliver it, line-by-line.
Realizing that I am not going to be clued into what’s going on, and thus I’ll be unable to roleplay my character with any accuracy, I retreat into the corner and drain the bit of vodka that was still in my flask from it’s last outing. Eventually, I am assigned baby-sitting duty for a little girl, which occupies my time for the rest of the evening.
At the end of the night, Hank, as one of the STs, talks to me about my character and informs me that he’s been promoted to the local head of his clan. After the massive reward with no involvement and no actual gameplay, I vowed never to return.
At this point, Hank is only a bad gamer and not a weird person. Years go by before I see him again, and I learn that despite being in his late twenties, he now dates high school girls on a regular basis and still lives in his parents basement. He listens to only German metal music, and works at a book store exclusively for the discounts provided on geek supplies.
On one trip to the book store, I was unlucky enough to be cornered by Hank and roped into a conversation about the new games he’s building. The newest one that he was most excited about was “like a cross between Magic and poker, but there are event cards like in Monopoly.” The following twenty minutes of the conversation always remind me of something Captain Picard once said, “He kept talking in one long incredibly unbroken sentence, moving from topic to topic so that no one had a chance to interrupt.” Unfortunately, the conversation never left his new card game.
Hank doesn’t approach J.C. in weirdness. J.C. was a Convention Troll, going to every convention he could find in hopes of meeting new people and getting to play in games. If you go to any of his conventions, you probably know him - he looks like Malcolm McDowell in Star Trek Generations, if he were twenty years older and suffering from Alzheimer’s. J.C.’s approach was enough to scatter a table of people in the middle of the game. I once found out why, when he managed to strike up a conversation with me.
J.C. : “Do you wanna play in my game later on? It’s a cross of Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, Blade Runner, Battlestar Galactica, the original and the remake, Dune, Terminator, and Doctor Who.”
Me: “Uhhhhhhhhhhh”
J.C. : “It’s all perfectly legal! I did it using GURPs!”
Me: “Yeah, no thanks man.”
Later at the same convention, I would walk up to a gather game table and nodded at the hex map on the table.
Me: “Third edition DnD?”
J.C. (previously unseen): “No. We’re playing three point five.”
I took the opportunity to scurry away.
Honorable Mention to the M’Ladies Man, the West Point Orc, and The Judge.
Got any good weird gamer stories?
Ending a Campaign
Just before the holidays, I was finally able to draw a three year campaign to a close. This was a challenge to both me and my players, as this was the first campaign of mine to reach a close. Here are two things I learned from running the session.
Prepare a quick ending. When we started the session, the general understanding was that we had two or three more sessions in which to conclude the game, and the pacing of the game was set up to mirror this. Unfortunately, this was only the result of poor communication, as one player could not return after this session due to an imminent relocation to another state. This coupled with a player’s significant other having severe car trouble, and we were left with two hours in which to conclude a three year campaign which I had planned on spending another two nights on.
As a result of all this, the game was most certainly rushed, scenes were skipped and some mysteries went unsolved during the game. Worst yet, there were two prophecies hanging over the game, one much more recent and naming a lot more events and entities, albeit very vaguely. This second prophecy gave me another five or six events which I had to pull to a close quickly. For each of these events, if I had prepared an alternate event which could have taken its place, my job would have been much easier.
It’s important to have a quick ending prepared not only in case the schedule suddenly shifts, but in case the game itself does. For many experienced game masters, it isn’t a terrible problem when a campaign takes a strange turn, as there is always time left in the future to get things back on track or adjust for the sudden shift. With the end of the game approaching, however, this is not always the case.
The key question to determining if something needs a quick way to end it is “Will the game be worse off if this isn’t resolved before it ends?” If the answer is yes, then be sure to prepare something. If the answer is no, then there is no harm in sweeping it under the rug (or behind the screen for that matter.)
Prepare an alternate ending.
There was a point prior to the end of the campaign where the party (thanks to a Deck of Many Things) was nearly wiped out. If not for a remarkable stroke of luck, the party would have been dead and the campaign over with no even remotely reasonable way out of it. If a situation like this crops up and you are unprepared, it can be devastating. With proper preparation, it can be made into a great plot hook and even a new campaign.
For instance, let us say the goal of a campaign is to stop a demon overlord from coming through a portal and beginning the apocalypse, and the players, for some reason or another, fail at this. The demon overlord comes through the portal and triggers the apocalypse, as well as several options for a follow-up campaign. Perhaps the next campaign will take place in this post-apocalyptic world, or perhaps it will continue the fight on the other side of the portal, rebelling against the demon overlord. Perhaps fighting the apocalypse is useless, and the next campaign is focused around trying to survive during the apocalypse itself.
Being prepared for the campaign to end differently allows you to not only set the stage properly for these events, but make the failure something more: a tragedy.
Get positive feedback. Ending a campaign is very draining and tiring, as well as the culmination of a lot of work. While it might not normally be your practice to make your players offer feedback, now is an appropriate time to do so. After the session is over, grab some limelight for yourself and enjoy it as your players tell you about how they enjoyed the game.
How do you end a campaign?
Starting An Adventure: Part Three
In my last two articles, I discussed gathering the group and preparation time before an adventure. Today, I’ll conclude with getting the players involved.
One of the best games I’ve run, as far as role-playing encounters are concerned, was a game in which the party was returning to a town which happened to be the home town of one of the wizard. The wizard’s father, also a wizard, still lived in town, in a sizable house. Needing both a place to rest and eat as well as information, the party went to visit the wizard’s father, seeking both.
I never told them the encounter was going to be role-playing heavy, but from the moment they entered the house I only spoke as the father or the GM directed actions, describing environments, etc. When the players tried to jump ahead of the father’s questioning and being caught up, he would interrupt them firmly but nicely and continue along with what he wanted to talk about. This forced the players to role-play with him a bit.
This encounter wound up lasting nearly two hours, for the duration of it everyone being in character nearly a hundred percent of the time, simply focusing on dialogue and characterization. There was more character development in that session, and more fun role-playing all squeezed into those two hours than I could have possibly expected before the start of the session. (This encounter also had the added bonus of added impact when the father was later assassinated.)
The lesson I took from this session was that to get players involved, it must be made clear to them, either implicitly or explicitly, that it is in their interest to get involved and participate. As soon as players begin to respond and get involved, it is important to reward that behavior immediately, at least at first, to help cement that it is the proper thing to do and it will make the game more enjoyable for everyone.
Another simple way to get your group involved is to ask them directly what they and their characters want. If you are lucky enough to get usable responses, design the adventure/campaign with these responses in mind. If your players were honest and intelligible, you’ve probably built in an irresistable hook.
How do you get players involved?
When Dice Role-play
One of my favorite events from running a game came during my first time running DnD 3.5. My players played a group of gnolls running from Neogi who were attempting to kidnap them and use them as slaves. After escaping the Neogi themselves, a Dominated Umberhulk was released to track them down and capture them. While the players attempted to run, the Umberhulk used its Confusion ability to force one of them into melee. The gnoll did not survive the second attack, which was a critical hit.
Another player played the gnoll’s twin brother, and on seeing his sibling fall he turned around and charged the Umberhulk. His attack was a natural twenty, and the critical would be confirmed five times consecutively, dealing more than enough damage to down the Umberhulk.
The scenario we decided had just played out went along the lines that the brother had struck out in rage, and tapped into a resevoir of power and strength he did not normally have access to. This is the sort of thing that could never be planned, but has an inescapable magical quality, as though the actions truly were destiny, and not just a roll of the dice or plot twist invented by the narrator.
Has anyone else had a similar kind fo experience?
Picking Up On Player Cues and Expectations
My first attempt to run a persistent game was at college in Texas. I ran Second Edition Dungeons and Dragons for a group of students I had met during orientation, and three sessions into the campaign, they led a contingent of Dwarfs against an invading force of Orcs, Goblins, Ogres, and Trolls. This battle would mark the fruition of the efforts of the PCs thus far, and the opening battle of what would become a large scale war.
One of the fighters from the PCs party charged forward, attacking the front line of goblins. The fighter slashed his way through, downing two goblins in process, with the Dwarfs closing in immediately behind him, each downing another goblin. When I announced:
“Okay, the fighter downed two goblins, and the Dwarfs each took another, for a total of NINE dead goblins. Good first round, guys.” the players barely reacted, and I was baffled. This continued until half-way through the battle when one of the players called a time out.
“Listen, our old Dungeon Master always gave us kill descriptions. Whenever something died, he would pause combat long enough to explain exactly how, and if anyone was reacting to it. I think we’ll enjoy the game a lot more if you could do that for us.” This was the best thing he could have said: He explained what I could do to help them enjoy the game more, and he did so in a constructive and positive way.
Armed with this knowledge, I began describing deaths in new ways I knew would give my players the reward they asked for. I would now describe an orc being killed by a critical hit on a charge attack with something like, “He raises his axe to meet you on your charge, but a last second burst of speed on your part takes him by surprise as you drive your sword into his heart, a look of disbelief and anger fading from his eyes as his body goes limp.”
The change on the part of my players? They were now standing around the table, too excited to remain in their seats. They cheered and groaned as the battle turned. Having told me what kinds of descriptions they wanted, they were able to cue me more easily with what they wanted to happen. They described their actions in more detail, describing the look and feel their character gave off as they did it. My descriptions and interpretations of events were able to change to build on theirs.
Unfortunately, player cues and expectations aren’t always expressed as clearly and directly as they were for me that night. While direct communication with players about this sort of thing is always good, it isn’t always appropriate, especially in the middle of a session. What can you do if you find yourself in the middle of a session, but unsure what it is your players want?
Get excited. When you get excited and put that kind of energy into the game, your players will mimic it. Excited players are more animated and more involved, which means they’ll have many more opportunities to cue you, consciously or unconsciously, about what they want.
Put the ball in their court. Whether it is in a combat situation, or a role-playing encounter, forcing your players to not only take action, but react to something, will give you a strong idea of what they want. Make sure that they have several choices, and that they’re aware of what they are in general, but be careful not to limit what they can do or how they can react here.
Have an NPC ask them. A trusted NPC works best in this situation, or at least one trusted enough that the players will talk to whoever you choose. Simply having a bartender ask the PCs what they think about the events going on around them can yield useful information.
Have the players provide descriptions. A PC manages to get a kill, or successfully use a skill in a significant way, and they deserve to see their vision of it played out. After the general results and circumstances have been established around an event, have a player provide the actual description for the results. This also provides you an opportunity to learn how they see things in general, and look for patterns which you can use.
Does anyone else know of methods to elicit and pick up on player cues?
LARP: A Tale of Two Games
The following is a comparison between two experiences I had with two different LARPs, and an analysis of the small crucial differences between how the two games are run and feel when played.
At the end of 2005, I had been playing RPGs for nearly ten years, yet I still had not played a LARP, a Live Action Role Playing Game. This type of game was not nearly as popular in my area as the Table Top variant, and was in fact looked down upon by many gamers - those who played in LARPs were seen to be even more geeky and nerdy, to a level that was perceived as strange, if not scary. This idea was enforced by several of the more prominent LARPers in the area who happened to fit an archetype, that of the 28 year old man, paler than a corpse, living in his parent’s basement and working at a store soley for the employee discounts it would bring him on Magic cards, video games, and books. Despite the description, I would get to know several of these people years later, only to discover they were fairly normal.
In December of 2005, however, I was planning to attend PhilCon and saw on the program schedule that a game of Cthulhu Live (a LARP based on Call of Cthulhu) was going to be run on the second night. Unable to resist, I promptly signed up and filled out a questionaire about what kind of player I was and what kind of character I would be willing to play. The anticipation built for a month.
When I inquired for more details at the Convention itself, I discovered that the game was being run by representatives from Skirmisher Publishing, and would be using the third edition of the game, which had not yet been released. The game was to last four hours, with all the players using pre-generated characters. They explained the rules, which took less than five minutes and were very simple and sensible:
Everything but combat proceeded in real time, players could call a GM over at any time to ask questions or attempt something by using one of their characters skills. If combat was declared, time was slowed and players declared their actions using a tick-based initiative system. If you were proficient with a weapon which you had use of at the time and were within range of your target, you were assumed to hit and deal a set amount of damage unless your target had managed to shield themselves.
To put it mildly, I had never had more fun playing a game. To be fair, there were some problems with it, all of which were imposed by the fact that it was a four hour session for a one shot game at a convention. If you have ever played a Call of Cthulhu game, you’re probably well aware that it is impossible to complete in four hours, except by all the players dying.
In the two years following, I received several invitations to join a LARP game of Vampire: The Masquerade from friends and acquantainces I had gamed with in the past. Remembering the fun I had playing Cthulhu Live, I accepted the first offer I could schedule into my plans. Before the night of the game, I poured over several books for the game and designed a character with the help of one of the older players. Satisfied with the result, I eagerly waited for my first night in this new game.
The reality of the game shattered the polished look on the surface of the system and the enticing environment it provided to play in, both of which I had been so enamored with. Execution of the rules seemed to grind the game to a halt, which had the unfortunate side effect of shattering the immersion of the game - which for me, is the best part of playing a LARP.
Every time there was a conflict or someone had to use a skill, role playing would cease for a moment while players and Story Tellers stopped to play Rock-Paper-Scissors, often several games consecutively. This one aspect of the game literally stopped me from enjoying it, despite everything else that was great about the game, because it destroyed any sense of immersion that I had, it wrecked my Suspension of Disbelief.
This was the fundamental difference between my experiences with the two games. Vampire had a resolution system which interferred with immersion, while Cthulhu Live side-stepped the problem entirely by adopting a Diceless resolution system. Other LARP systems have adopted a different Diceless system, wherein combat is played out by the players, using a physical representation of combat instead of a symbolic one based on stats or a randomizer.
Has anyone else seen a game that was ruined by a relatively small part of the game, or found that a game’s system looked good on paper, but felt impossible to execute properly?
