Introducing New Characters Part Two
Yesterday, I talked about a recent game where I had to introduce two new characters into an existing party, and why one character melded beautifully with the group, and the other one didn’t.
There are a number of other problems that can come up with introducing a new character to the party, one of the biggest ones being referred to as the union card - the near instant inclusion of a player’s character, despite whatever circumstances they meet under.
Trust, specifically, is an issue when introducing a new character to the party. Many groups will undoubtedly have secrets, and quite possibly enemies. The worry that someone might betray them upon discovering this, or even that they were sent by their enemies, is quite realistic. This worry is even more important if the group is involved in something greater than itself, perhaps a noble quest. If this is the case, any group would be extremely leery of letting any newcomer simply join their ranks.
Clearly, these issues of trust are best dealt with if you want the best role-playing and story-telling opportunities possible. What can be done about it?
In a DnD game my wizard character would announce to the party that he was going to give them all some sort of “mental buff,” and then proceed to pretend to cast it on everyone in the party but the newcomer, who would be saved for last. He would then have Hypnotism cast on him, and since they would fore-go the saving throw the spell automatically succeeded, followed by a demand for a statement of the character’s intentions. This quickly established at least a basic level of trust.
In situations where the magical or technical means of ensuring an honest answer aren’t available, the best situation is often to have the characters sit down and talk for awhile. This can be a great opportunity for some role-playing, or you can simply skip over the conversation and come to a general consensus of what was discussed and what the results were.
Unfortunately, many times this is simply not an option due to time constraints or some other obstacle. If this is the case, the new character should have something immediate to offer the party that would gain at least their temporary trust - until they have time to further establish it. Some examples of things for the newcomer to offer:
- Money
- Information
- A contact
- Transportation
- Medical Aid/Healing
- Hiding place
- Aid in combat
It is possible to by-pass most of these concerns if the new character some former connection with the PCs, either they had met previously or share a mutual friend. It is easy to say that the characters had become friendly with someone in their neighborhood who played a minor role that never came into the spotlight - until now. The other option is for the newcomer to have a referral of sorts from someone who is trusted by the group.
The other concern characters might feel when a newcomer joins the party is that they could wind up being a liability, either because of previous enemies they’ve made, or mistakes they might make in the future - mistakes that could result in the party being killed. It is not uncommon for many veteran fighters to refuse to fight alongside someone who is unknown to them, or to rely on their preparations for a fight. Anyone with common sense would be cautious when placing their lives in someone else’s hands, which is exactly what happens when you enter combat with them.
To get over this, it’s best to simply let the newcomer demonstrate their worth. Put them in a fight that the characters can observe, either against an outside enemy or against a member of the party in order “to prove his worth.”
Remember, when you introduce a new character you are setting the stage for everything else that character will do in the game - a bad introduction can create plot holes or inter-party problems.
What other problems have you run into when introducing new characters? What do you do to ensure the process goes smoothly?
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.
Drama Moments
Drama moments are an aspect of a house rule that you’ve probably used or witnessed at least once in your gaming career, though you may not have known it.
Drama moments are those moments in a game where all the rules are thrown out or bent for a moment so that, in a moment of GM Fiat, the right thing can happen. Drama moments are often employed to match excellent role-playing, to ensure that the story continues on the right path or that the story ends on the right note and in general to ensure that the over-all enjoyment isn’t compromised.
Some examples of drama moments include:
- A character casting a spell they do not know or do not have access to
- A character taking extra actions
- A character shrugs off damage
- A character automatically accomplishes something that normally requires dice to be rolled
- A character over-comes a powerful magical effect
But why include drama moments when GM Fiat is generally considered a bad thing? Drama moments are not random or in place solely to gratify one individual - they serve the story and the communal enjoyment of the game.
If you’re not sure if a given situation is appropriate for a drama moment, ask yourself the following questions:
- If the wrong thing happens, can the game still be fun?
- Does it affect the entire group?
- Can the game/story continue if the wrong thing happens?
- Can they try again?
- If the wrong thing happens, does that prevent the right thing from happening later?
- Is the wrong thing primarily left up to chance?
If the answer to most or all of these questions is yes, then you’ve most likely encountered a drama moment where GM Fiat is acceptable.
Some things to keep in mind with drama moments:
Try not to let the player’s know it’s happening. By keeping it hidden, the players enjoy it more because it feels natural to them. If the situation would normally call for dice to be rolled, roll them behind your screen so that players cannot see them.
Make the players feel responsible. If you’re ensuring that an unlikely turn of events plays out in the game, present the players with something they can do to “improve the odds.” By doing so and having the players do this, they will not only feel more responsible for the events, but they will be more accepting of the unlikely turn of events because they “made [the events] likely.”
Have a reason handy as to how and why things worked differently. If the player accessed an unusual level of magical abilities, a new source of magical power that was tapped and run dry during the drama moment is sufficient to explain what happened. Similarly, outside intervention, luck, favor of the gods, adrenaline are all acceptable excuses.
Remember, the worst thing that can happen from a drama moment is the players trying to futilely to re-create the circumstances or accomplish the same phenomenal task.
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?
Game Weather
Weather in RPGs is one of the most overlooked and simplest way to add flavor and attitude to a game. Because weather rarely comes into play as far as logistics goes, it often goes ignored. In the last four years, the only time I have heard players ask about the status of weather, it was because they were wondering if they could use a storm or wind based spell that required certain weather conditions.
How do you create weather in RPGs that is realistic, interesting and doesn’t come across as repetitive? Go outside on a regular basis during different times of day and write down whatever weather patterns are presenting themselves. Learn the conditions when dew turns into a misty fog in the early morning, or whatever else you can gleam. Use these descriptions to create a scene for your players to imagine in their heads.
For instance, here is a description of adventurers waking up in the woods without weather being part of the description:
The last watch shift ends at dawn, and you begin breaking down the campsite and hiding any record of your presence lest you be tracked. Calls of wild-life emanate from within the forest.
Compare this to a description of the same scene with weather included as a factor:
The last watch shift ends at dawn, and you begin breaking down the campsite and hiding any record of your presence lest you be tracked. A low fog rolls over the ground, forcing you to go up a tree in order to scout the surrounding area and get your bearings. Looking out over the forest, many patches are filled with an obscuring mist. Calls of wild-life emanate from beyond the mists, reminding you of how little you see of what’s around you.
These scenes are essentially the same as far as any mechanics go, and there may or may not be an ambush or other peril waiting for them within the fog. The image of it, however, is quite evocative and sets a mood for the players. Encouraging them to imagine the scene allows them to create an image of it in their minds, forcing them to interact with the game and become more immersed in it.
How do you create weather scenes and descriptions?
Flashbacks
One of the more difficult things to pull off when running a game is the flashback scene, especially if that scene proves vital to the story.
Why introduce a flashback into your game? They provide a great way to give players information when it is relevant - especially useful when establishing world and character backgrounds. More importantly, they allow players to get this information through self-discovery, making them more likely to be able to remember the vital details later.
Flash backs also allow for a consistent non-linear story-telling mode whereby you’re able to temporarily by-pass scenes which are boring and irrelevant initially, but might become very important hours or even sessions later. Applied in the short-term, this method can be used as a framework within sessions to preserve pacing, mood, and progress for the night.
A key thing to avoid in flashbacks is unnecessary tension. Building tension in a flashback scene is almost entirely impossible - the players most likely know what is going to happen ahead of time, who will be alive, and who won’t. Resolving tensions, or using pre-existing ones can work, so long as the tensions are not the primary focus. Tensions self-contained entirely within a flashback almost always fail.
The second key thing to avoid in flashbacks are burdens, things which are relegated to flashbacks and must be resolved, explained, and meet up with a pre-determined point in continuity. While some burdens are almost always required in flashbacks, it is important too many can stop the flashback from flowing properly.
Bad Example: A show once had an episode which was comprised primarily of flashbacks, going nearly a year back in the story. Two characters spent five minutes arguing over which one would die in a suicide mission; while normally this might be entertaining, the audience already knew for a certainty who lived and who died, by virtue of who was alive in later episodes. This is an example of failed tension in flashbacks.
Good Example: The Highlander TV series featured at least one new flashback in almost every episode, and they did a very good job of it. Each of these flashbacks added to the overall character development, provided background on new characters being introduced, and did not intrude on the story or feel burdened.
Honorable Mention: Arrested Development had an interesting and relatively unique method of handling flashbacks and similar events. The show’s narration makes this compatible with a visually oriented Narrator.
How do you handle flashbacks in your game?
Plot Opportunities
Last night, I had the opportunity to watch the movie Battlestar Galactica: Razor*. As a fan of both the re-imagining and the original series, I went in with high expectations that were fueled by the slew of previews shown during Flash Gordon. And indeed, the movie did have an excellent concept and over-all plot, but it ran into serious problems due to some tricky aspects of story-telling.
*Note: This is not a review. This does not contain spoilers. You may read-on without without fear of either, and need no familiarity with the show.
The way I look at plot development, there are two ways to lay it out: Plot Devices, and Plot Opportunity.
Plot devices are characters, objects, or events which are introduced into a story to send the plot in a particular direction. Most often, plot devices are encountered at the beginning a story in order to “get the ball rolling.”
Plot opportunities are characters, objects, or events which are introduced into a story to provide potential directions for the story to expand in.
I universally prefer plot opportunities to plot devices, which are overly linear and I am convinced must run on railroad tracks. The worst example of a plot device is a MacGuffin, a plot device which is completely irrelevant to the story - these feel particularly linear and contrived.
How do you create plot opportunities? By placing the characters near a lot of action, however that is defined in the story. By placing them close enough to the action to interact with it, there is a great deal of potential for the characters to explore, and like ripples in a bond, whatever direction the characters proceed in, they will encounter more action.
Placing plot opportunities in a story is a good way to let it grow organically, by creating potential and letting it develop in a process that is more natural and less contrived than one directed and processed by plot devices.
Fan Service in RPGs
There is an aspect of gaming that has receieved little attention, yet I believe it can be found in the history any RPG group that has been together for any length of time. Fan service has appeared in almost every medium in one form or another, whether it was called an “easter egg,” “outside reference,” or whatever else. RPGs are no exception.
In fantasy RPGs, perhaps the most commonly encountered (and certainly the most infamous) fan services are something relating to LotR, or Monty Python. Another famous example of fan service which has cropped up more recently are the Sword-Chucks (I believe another reference was made in one of the bigger card games, but I cannot find it.)
My first personal experience with a fan service in an RPG was in a DnD game, where our party had landed on a island occupied by vampires with a striking similarity to those in the Blood Omen series. As we explored, we began meeting several characters who were obviously based on primary characters from that same series. This did nothing to enhance the story by itself, but it made everyone at the table who had any experience with that series to suddenly find the game more enjoyable, if just because of those outside ties.
When including a fan service in your game, becareful that you are not accidentally falling prey to GMPC or the Pet NPC problems - and that your players don’t think that is what’s happening either.
How have you taken advantage of fan services in your game? When’ve you seen it done well, and what pitfalls have you seen attached to it?
Inspiration From Old Bad Ideas
Recently, I picked up a copy of Quantum Leap, Too Close For Comfort, which has turned out to be a marvelous read with some surprising gems inside.
Those of you familiar with Quantum Leap will remember the premise: Sam Beckett (not the writer) stepped into the Quantum Accelerator, hoping to travel through time to observe events which had occurred in the past. Instead, he was thrown back in time and possessed a stranger’s body. Sam finds out the only way for him to go home is fix something which went wrong in the past. Only when he does so, he doesn’t go home, but Leaps into a new body, with a new task.
In the show, they were unable to explain how this happened. WHY did Sam Leap right after making things right? Why not before? The show offered the only explanation they could: May-be God’s doing it. (They actually worked this into a number of good story-lines later, but it never made much sense.)
In the book, another theory is expressed: Sam’s leaping around in time has caused fractures in the time space continuum. He leaps around after fixing one crack, which often creates cracks elsewhere. If he ever fixes them all, he gets to Leap home. This theory provides some interesting concepts to use as story premises, and satisfies the logical part of my mind enough for me to suspend my disbelief and enjoy the story.
More things in the books were explained far better than in the show: The reason Sam is able to see the holographic Al, and the other way around, is because the computer which links their minds was built using nerve cells from each of their brains. In the show, the best explanation was that their brainwaves were “compatible.” But here, now, we know why!
After realizing this was the case with the Quantum Leap novel, I thought back and was surprised to realize that this was actually very often the case. Star Trek novels from the Original Series era often provided new insights and explanations for things which were glossed over or simply ignored in the show - and they all provided ideas and inspirations for stories.
There’s no scientific way to find these tidbits directly, but I would not be surprised if picking up some old science fiction or fantasy novel would yield a good number of ideas and concepts which not only provide peace of mind for the more retentive readers, but also plenty of ideas to apply in stories or games.
