The Alexandrian

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 12C: To the Aid of Goblins

Final Fantasy VII - Allies

“The rest will be needed here. To hold the bridge,” Itarek said. “And they would not last long against the horrors that we have seen.”

Here’s something that I wish I was better at as a GM: Running NPC allies accompanying the PCs.

The internet is filled with horror stories of the dreaded “GMPC” – where the GM essentially tries to be a player in their own campaign by running a character indistinguishable from being another PC in the party. Although technically possible (and you can find a few success stories here and there), what usually happens is that the GMPC becomes the unabashed star / spotlight hog of the entire campaign and/or is used to forcibly railroad the players.

Because, frankly, the GM already controls the entire world, which should be power and participation enough for anyone. So 99 times out of 100, for a GMPC to exist there has to be some other shitty agenda motivating it in the first place.

The idea of running a GMPC isn’t just an obvious anathema to my whole ethos as an RPG gamer, I’m pretty sure it’s something I’m actually incapable of doing.

When circumstances, like those in the current campaign journal, dictate that NPCs will be allying with the PCs and traveling with them for some length of time, what generally happens is a simple, three-step process:

  1. I make an effort to make sure those NPCs are contributing and present in the group.
  2. I get distracted.
  3. “Oh, crap. Right. Robert is here. Uh… I guess he was standing in the back this whole time?”

Itarek and the other goblins in the current sessions actually work out pretty well because so much of their time onscreen is spent in raid-type or combat situations, which means that I’ve got an initiative list which constantly pushes them back into the center of my attention.

It’s odd, really, because I can successfully run incredibly complex social interactions featuring dozens of characters without a hitch. But as soon as an NPC gets firmly aligned with the PCs, it feels almost inevitable that they’re going to turn invisible.

I think there’s probably a couple of factors at play here.

First, to pat myself on the back a little bit, I am usually pushing myself to the limits of my mental gymnastics when it comes to running a game. I’m a pretty big believer in the idea that there’s always another element you could be adding to improve your game, it’s just a question of whether or not you can. So if something seems non-essential, it’s easy for it to get replaced by a different ball and fade away unnoticed.

Second, I think I have a strong, instinctual predilection towards viewing NPC allies as non-essential. One of my primary pleasures as a GM is seeing how player-driven decisions interact with the situations I’ve created in the game world. NPC allies, who should logically and naturally become part of the group’s decision-making process, aren’t just superfluous to that creative agenda, they’re actually kind of innately hostile to it.

GMPCs being anathema to my values as a gamer? I meant that pretty literally.

So whenever things heat up in the campaign, NPC allies are just naturally the first thing to get dropped in favor of almost literally anything else.

When you have a weakness like this, there’s generally three things you can do about it. First, you can steer away from it. And you will, in fact, notice that it’s a rather rare day when you’ll see me deliberately pushing scenarios in which NPCs will naturally ally with the PCs. (When allies do crop up, it’s far more likely to be because the PCs are seeking them out.)

Second, you can focus on improving it. In the case of losing focus on NPC allies, part of that is just literally focusing, of course. But you can also try other methods of keeping the NPC in the forefront of your brain. Giving them a unique miniature, for example, can help. (Although in some of the chaotic battlefields I run, they can still get lost.) An idea that just occurred to me as I was writing this: Clip a picture of the NPC ally to the inside of my GM screen so that the NPC is literally looking me in the eye. (Not sure why something so obvious has never occurred to me before.)

Third, find alternative techniques to achieve the same ends. For example, I’ll often kick an NPC ally to one of the players and ask them to run them as a secondary character if at all possible. (Often it isn’t, unfortunately, because the NPC has an independent agenda that can’t be assumed by the players, for reasons rather similar, actually, to why GMs shouldn’t be running GMPCs.) For NPC allies that are sticking around for awhile, I’ve even been known to invite in temporary players to assume the role. Having a co-GM who can focus on the areas where you’re weak can also be effective.

When you can have successes in the areas where you’re weak, of course, you’ll enjoy a real sense of accomplishment. That turned out to be the case with Itarek and his goblins, who came – as you’ll begin to see in Session 13 – to assume a very special place in the campaign.

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 12C: TO THE AID OF GOBLINS

December 2nd, 2007
The 1st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

In the carriage on their way back to the Ghostly Minstrel the group discussed its plans. A consensus was reached that they should return to the aid of the Clan of the Torn Ear.

And so it was, early the next morning, that they found themselves working their way back through the increasingly familiar tunnels beneath Greyson House. Passing through the vaulted passages of Ghul’s Labyrinth they made their way into the caverns of the goblins.

As they came to the cave of stalactites and stalagmites where they had first met Itarek, Tee was hailed by a goblin they did not know.

He knew them, however, and welcomed them back to the caverns of the clan. Only two of the clan were on duty here now. The true danger lay elsewhere, but the clan had an ancestral duty to guard this passage.

The goblin dispatched his fellow guard to escort them to the chieftess. Crashekka greeted them in her great hall. Few goblins were to be found there now, and she explained that nearly all of the clan had been placed as a guard upon the stone bridge.

“Have you been attacked again?” Tee asked.

“Not yet,” Crashekka told her. “But we live in fear of an assault. I am glad to see you again. Without you I fear we would be lost.”

Crashekka personally led them to the stone bridge, and there they met with Itarek. He reported to them that there had been no sign of movement within the noisome caves beyond, but no further attempt to breach them, either.

Itarek gathered to him his three finest warriors.

“Is that all that can come?” Elestra asked, with Tee translating.

“The rest will be needed here. To hold the bridge,” Itarek said. “And they would not last long against the horrors that we have seen.”

Tee nodded her understanding, and then saw to distributing the cindershards they had purchased. Each of the six companions had one strapped to their body in one way or another, and a seventh was given to Itarek.

Ten of them crossed the bridge – six from the surface world and four of the clan. Read more »

Go to Part 1

Panopticon - Eclipse Phase

Due to their ubiquity, and the multiple types of information conveyed through them, I personally don’t think there’s a “one true way” technique for handling passive perception tests. Partly because everything is a trade-off. Partly because the “one true way” is what allows the players to reliably reverse engineer from the information they have to the problematic metagame knowledge we’re trying to avoid. What I have instead is a cluster of techniques that I’ve found work well when you use them collectively – but not necessarily simultaneously – over the long-term. The techniques sort of weave together to form a tapestry that’s greater than the sum of its parts.

EXTRANEOUS TESTS: First, obfuscate the meaningful perception tests by calling for perception tests regardless of whether or not there’s anything interesting to be spotted.

Although these tests are, in some sense, “meaningless,” that doesn’t mean that they can’t be used for effect. The most obvious such effect, of course, is paranoia: “But I rolled a 28! What do you mean I don’t see anything?!” So call for these checks when things get a little spooky and it feels as if the PCs should be on edge. You’re performing a kind of judo here, turning the metagame knowledge on its head and using it to good effect.

Eventually, of course, players will figure out that you’re frequently “crying wolf” with these checks. At that point you can go for second order effects, using the checks to create false complacency: “I rolled a 28 and got nothing? Eh. GM must have been bluffing us.” And then the ninjas stab them.

If you pull that off a couple of times, the paranoia will start rolling back in. As a basic technique, you can get pretty far just riding this oscillation back and forth.

What Not to Do: I’ve seen some GMs who attempt to simply integrate passive perception tests into a regular routine. For example, they might have the group roll a perception test every time they enter a new room in the dungeon. My experience is that, compared to integrating extraneous checks for effect, this doesn’t work very well: Perception tests do chew up time and they do pull people out of the game world to some extent so that they can fidget with their dice. Furthermore, when they’re made routine, they’re often inserted habitually at the point where the PCs are encountering something new… which is the exact point where you want to maximize player engagement, not disengage for a mechanical interaction. (This is the same reason that I roll initiative checks at the end of combat.) If you want to pursue a “perception as regular routine” approach, I recommend embracing a very liberal let it ride technique to minimize the frequency of these checks. (Although, unfortunately, this will begin to reintroduce metagame knowledge issues, with the group getting an uncanny sense of how aware they’re going to be for a particular delve or run.)

REFOCUSING THE TABLE: As I mentioned in The Art of Rulings, extraneous perception tests are also the single most effective way to refocus the table’s attention on the game world when metagame distractions and chitchat have derailed the players. (You’d think that just saying, “Okay, let’s focus,” would be equally effective, but I’ve found that it isn’t. If you ask people to focus, they start up a sort of general “focusing process” that often includes apologizing, further dithering, and otherwise not focusing. Ask them to do something specific and concrete, on the other hand, and they become immediately focused.)

Of course, sometimes you can refocus the table by calling for a perception test to notice the incoming bad guys heading their way. So sometimes the meaningless “let’s refocus, guys!” test will, in fact, turn out to be quite meaningful.

INNOCUOUS INTEREST: Which brings us to the next thread of the tapestry, in which the “meaningless” extraneous perception tests are actually being triggered by more casual elements of the game world: There are claw marks in the ceiling, or the base of the idol has been rubbed to a bright sheen, or you think that you can detect the smell of a cooking fire from somewhere down the left hand corridor, or you take note of a particularly interesting historical detail in the painting on the wall.

Now there is no “bluff” at all. It’s just that when the PCs miss a perception test, the players have no way of knowing whether it was for an ambush or for noticing the local style of pottery.

A WORLD OF (NEAR) INFINITE INTEREST: Of course, now that we’ve convinced the players that there is no bluff, that’s exactly what we’ll do. A good check will always result in them noticing something, even if it wasn’t the primary thing that triggered the test. You rolled a 45 but you needed a 47 to notice the assassin hiding behind the arras? I’m still going to tell you about the claw marks, the idol’s sheen, the smell of cooking, and/or the historical detail in the painting on the wall.

So now, even if they appear to have succeeded on the test, the players can’t be certain that it wasn’t actually a failure in some broader sense.

Improvising these details is also just a really great way to develop the depth of the game world. But this is also a great opportunity to expand the dynamic scope of the environment: Sound and scent can be perceived without a direct line of sight, allowing you to hint at things nearby. Active elements of the area can also have affected the immediate surroundings of the NPCs (i.e., who or what has passed through here?). If you’re in a dungeon, check your key for nearby areas, look at your adversary roster, or roll on you random encounter table for inspiration.

OVERLAP OF PASSIVE & ACTIVE TESTS: Another technique is to overlap the demesne of passive and active perception tests. In other words, if your passive perception test is good enough, you’ll notice stuff that would normally require you to actively search the room.

The distinction here can be very clear in systems which use different skills for active vs. passive perception. For example, in 3rd Edition D&D I allow Spot checks to effectively function as Search checks with a -20 penalty. (So if you roll 40 on your Spot check, you’ll notice traps, secret doors, and other hidden stuff that would normally require a DC 20 Search check.)

I find this is a great way to reward players for their areas of specialization, while emphasizing how awesome their higher level characters really are. It’s also a good technique to use if you’ve called for an extraneous passive perception test and someone gets a really amazing result: Check your notes and see if there’s an active search check (or even just something that you’d assumed would require specific observation) to notice.

(If you’re using the system described in The Art of the Key, I’m basically saying “check your bullet points.” If you’re struggling to figure out how certain items could be discovered through passive perception, check Matryoshka Search Techniques.)

SPLIT GROUPS: As a minor technique, when the group is split up, you can also ask for a passive perception test from everyone. Now they don’t even know which group (if either) actually had the triggering condition! And sometimes it’ll be both! (You can use thematic crossover techniques to unify the disparate action. You can see a humorous example of this in my Ptolus campaign journal.)

THE ULTIMATE EFFECT: So sometimes you make a perception test, and you don’t notice anything because it was a “fake” check, but sometimes it was because you failed it. And sometimes you notice something, but it was actually still a failure. And sometimes you notice the same sort of thing, but it will be because you succeeded on the test.

What the GM has done is obfuscate the true meaning of the test, and then obfuscated the obfuscation with an interwoven labyrinth of techniques. (And, importantly, most of these techniques are adding additional layers of value above and beyond simply obfuscating the purpose of your perception tests.) The result won’t completely obliterate every trace of metagame knowledge contained in the call for a perception test, but it doesn’t have to: It just has to introduce enough noise that the players’ won’t be able to reliably pick out the signal.

One particularly memorable group, for example, thought that they’d identified a “fake test” that I was using “just for effect”. Nope. They’d actually just missed their NPC “ally” pick-pocketing the magical artifact they were supposed to be guarding. When they realized what had happened, that was their breaking point and they gave up on that kind of metagame thinking.

The truth is most players aren’t actually interested in the metagame knowledge. But if the information is just lying there in plain sight, they can’t help noticing it… and then obsessing over it. It becomes this whole thing. In my experience, if you hide the information just a little bit and make it unreliable even when they do look at it, you’ll quickly break the instinct. (In a sense, you’re just trying to crank the DC for their passive perception test high enough that it would require an active perception test to notice the metagame knowledge.)

WHY BOTHER?

You may have noticed that we’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room: Why bother with all this? If the GM simply rolls all the checks, that’s a perfect solution for the metagame knowledge problem. So why are we not just doing that?

First, because, as I noted before, it doesn’t always work. Any limited resource that would impact the passive perception test (whether a meta-mechanic or otherwise) or player-faced mechanics in general prevents the “GM rolls” solution from being used.

Second, because I’m faux lazy. As a general rule, I try to push as much bookkeeping off my plate as the GM and onto the players as possible, because everything I keep on my plate is, in fact, a trade-off. I’ve found that there’s always room for more stuff that I could be tracking behind the screen to enhance the game. This also, as previously mentioned, tends to increase the accuracy of the result.

Third, as an experienced GM you learn how to take advantage of the momentary pause as people roll their dice: You multitask. You call for a check and you do this other thing while people get their results and then you grab the results. Passive perception tests, unsurprisingly, tend to occur just as you’re setting up for something new, and using that momentary pause to get your notes lined up for whatever that is turns out to be incredibly useful in keeping the game flowing forward. At a certain point, not only losing that crucial moment of prep but adding to it the time necessary to resolve all those passive perception tests yourself just starts feeling kludgy as hell.

Fourth, the refocusing thing works really well. You can take that technique away from me when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Fifth, I’ve found that this approach tends to have positive effects in general. Players who learn to stop trying to glean metagame knowledge from perception-type resolutions often also stop engaging in that behavior in other situations, too, either because they’ve learned that it’s not worth the effort or (more often) because they never really wanted to be burdened with the metagame knowledge in the first place. You win the battle in one place and you break the wider, often subconscious, habit across the board.

Go to Part 3: Divided Perception

Subculture - Andrey Kiselev

With the possible exception of combat-related tests, I suspect that perception-type tests are the most common skill tests in RPGs: What do the characters see and when do they see it?

Despite their ubiquity – or perhaps because of it – perception-type tests are surprisingly challenging for many GMs, and the art of their use can be surprisingly contentious, with those choosing to resolve them in one fashion often feeling that those who resolve them using different techniques are heretics who are ruining their campaigns. (No joke.)

Let’s take a moment to further refine our field of study. Perception-type tests, broadly speaking, can be broken down into two categories: Active perception tests (determining what the character notices when they are consciously making an effort to observe) and passive perception tests (determining what a character notices reactively and/or while engaged in other activities).

Of the two, active perception tests tend to pose little challenge or oddity: The player states their intention and method, and then the action is resolved. There may be some fiddling about with hidden vs. open stakes and difficulty numbers, but these tests are fundamentally resolved like most other tasks.

When it comes to passive perception tests, however, things get more complicated, primarily because such checks inherently create significant metagame knowledge (i.e., knowledge that the player possesses which their character does not): The test, after all, is being made to determine whether or not the character is aware of something. But the mere fact that the test is being made in the first place reveals to the player that there is something the character is (at least potentially) unaware of.

This is problematic because:

  • Even if the check is successful, the argument can be made that the significant bifurcation of the player’s experience from the character’s experience is non-optimal.
  • It deadens the sense of surprise. (A jump scare is less effective if you know it’s coming.)
  • It lets players to abuse their metagame knowledge, allowing them to take actions based on the fact that the test was made.
  • Even if the player attempts to avoid such abuse, the mere presence of the knowledge can complicate the decision-making process, filling it with an extra burden of doubt and self-analysis. (For example, maybe you would have been extra cautious about that door up ahead even if you weren’t aware that the GM called for a perception test as soon as you saw it… but are you sure? And even if you’re sure, what will your fellow players think of your choices?)

In order to avoid this cluster of problems created by the metagame knowledge of the passive perception test’s existence, GMs have adopted a variety of special procedures for such tests. Let’s take a moment to briefly discuss the major approaches.

THE PLAYER ROLLS

The first approach, of course, is to just resolve passive perception tests by having the player roll them.

PROS: This is usually the way that other skill tests are resolved, so you’re simply being consistent with your methodology.

CONS: The metagame knowledge we just discussed.

THE GM ROLLS

Okay, simple solution: The GM rolls the test in secret.

PROS: The player doesn’t know the test is being made, so there is no metagame knowledge being imparted.

CONS: The GM has to track the pertinent skill ratings for the PCs. This can be difficult to do accurately, particularly if the system features a lot of different perception-type skills or has lots of buffs, equipment, and/or transient character abilities that cause the perception-type skill bonuses to shift around. In many systems it can actually be impossible to do this, as the players will have optional resources or limited use abilities that could affect the outcome of the check.

Kite Cyborg - Eclipse PhaseAnd even if the GM does execute the checks without error, players tend to have a greater confidence in checks they rolled themselves. “Whaddya mean we got ambushed? Don’t I get a Spot check? Did you remember that I get a +3 versus spotting cyborgs?”

There is also an inherent time cost (one guy making five checks generally takes longer than five people each making a single test) and a potential pacing problem (players actively resolving something are engaged; players waiting for the GM to finish rolling dice behind their screen are not engaged).

VS. STATIC VALUE

Instead of rolling passive perception tests, the PCs’ passive perception is boiled down to a static score which is compared, without a randomizer, to the difficulty of the test.

PROS: This eliminates some of the problems with the GM rolling. Instead of a time cost, this method can actually result in a time savings, which also means that the pacing problems generally don’t crop up.

CONS: Many of the problems, however, remain (such as keeping track of the PCs’ skill ratings).

More importantly, in practice this method effectively turns passive perception tests into pure GM fiat: The GM will obviously quickly learn what the highest passive perception score is in their group, and when they set the target number for a passive perception test they are ultimately just deciding whether it’s higher or lower than the party’s score. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the spectrum of GM fiat, per se, but what you end up with here is this sort of fake mechanic and a bunch of extra bookkeeping which seems to have no real purpose except to camouflage the fiat. If this is the approach you want to take, it seems to me that you’d be better off skipping all the hassle and just embracing the fiat directly.

UNCERTAIN TASKS

As discussed in The Art of Rulings, you could also adopt the uncertain task method described in Traveller 2300. In this method, both the GM and player resolve the test separately, and the combination of those outcomes results in either no truth, some truth, or total truth.

PROS: The method obscures some of the metagame knowledge imparted when the player makes the roll (i.e., they can’t intuit reliably based off their knowledge of what their die roll was). The GM also doesn’t need to track the PCs’ perception scores, because they can just ask for that information as the check happens.

CONS: This resolution method is more time consuming, particularly when you’re dealing with a scenario where everyone in the group is making the passive perception test. Muddling out five different test result comparisons can be laborsome by itself, but the spectrum of potential results can also create a great deal of confusion when different characters getting different results simultaneously. (Maybe you could have everyone roll and then only resolve the uncertain task comparison check with the character who rolled best to determine what the group actually observes?)

Go to Part 2: The Perception Tapestry

 IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 12B: A Party at Castle Shard

Ptolus - Castle Shard Invitation

It was not the evening that any of them had expected – it had been both more and less than that. But it was an evening that none of them would ever forget.

I’ve had a couple of people mention, when they realized what the heart of Session 12 was going to be, that they were interested in seeing what the Party Planning game structure I wrote up awhile back would look like in actual play. Unfortunately, this is one of those occasions where the nature of writing up a campaign journal entry creates something of a distortion field.

Everything that’s described in the campaign journal actually happened at the table, of course, but events have been both rearranged and heavily condensed. My goal was not, in fact, to provide a transcript of the session, but rather an effective summary that could serve as both entertainment and reference document as the campaign moved forward.

Perhaps the most significant “deception” to be found here, for example, is the degree to which the campaign journal fails to represent how much cutting back and forth there was between scenes: When the party split up and went to talk to a bunch of different people, I would engage in conversation for a couple of minutes and then swap to another group and then again and then again. These interactions have not only been boiled down to their key highlights, they’ve also generally been grouped together into complete conversations.

With this limitations in mind, however, let’s take a closer look at how the Party at Castle Shard worked in actual play.

SETTING IT UP

To start, let’s consider what the function of the party was. This was several fold, actually:

  • It was a reward for their hard work. In Getting the Players to Care I talk about how one of the methods of doing that is to make it treasure. This is a somewhat unusual variant on that principle, but by making this party clearly part of the lavish pay-off for the hard work (and near death experiences) they had put in for Lord Zavere, the players became deeply invested in the party and were anticipating it for months in the real world.
  • It was a signal that the PCs had risen to a new level in the world. This inherently meant closing one “chapter” of the campaign and beginning the next.
  • It was an opportunity to introduce a bunch of new characters, drastically expanding the supporting cast of the campaign and setting up relationships that would drive the campaign forward into Act II (which is still a little ways down the road at this point, but which was definitely on my horizon).

It was also, of course, intended to be an entertaining evening of gaming.

THE GUEST LIST

Ptolus - Lord Zavere and Lady Rill

Let’s take a moment to look at the new characters I was introducing here. There were a total of eighteen guests at the party (not including the PCs), of which five were previously known to the PCs.

Familiar Faces: The familiar faces were quite intentional. First, because it would provide islands of familiarity for the PCs to fall back upon (and around which social interactions with the new NPCs could coalesce). Second, because the PCs had been compartmentalizing the various aspects of their lives and I knew that bringing some of these aspects together (and most likely overlapping with each other) would create dramatic tension.

New Faces: Nonetheless, throwing more than a dozen new NPCs at the players all at once may seem like a lot at first glance. But the party planning structure is designed to break them up into smaller groups, and introduce them in manageable chunks.

More importantly, I’ve found that it can be quite effective to introduce a bunch of new characters in a cluster (whether all at once in a party like this or just rapidly over the course of a few sessions) and then have spans where only established characters are being reintroduced. If I was going to theorize about why this works, I would say it’s partly because some NPCs will “click” with players and some won’t, and when you introduce them in clusters your focus will naturally be drawn towards the NPCs who are resonating. (You’ll notice that this echoes, at a macro-level, something I talk about in Party Planning at a micro-level.)

But it’s also because having all of these new characters interact with and collide with each other is a great way of revealing character; and also a great way of drawing the PCs into their drama.

Stacking Interesting NPCs: The other way I think about this technique is that I’m “stacking” interesting NPCs. It’s like I’m laying in a supply. Each NPC is a tool, but you can often let the PCs figure out how they’ll actually end up getting “used” down the line.

For example, look at how the PCs pursue selling the orrery they found in Ghul’s Labyrinth here, creating a plot thread that will run for several more sessions. You’ll also want to pay attention to how the PCs’ relationship with Aoska develops in the future.

Of course, in some cases I’m planting NPCs in order to very specifically set things up in the future. The great thing is that, if you do your job right, the players won’t be able to figure out which is which. Honestly, if you do it right, then down the line you’ll probably have difficulty looking back and remembering which was which.

BANG, BANG

“Ah, Mistress Tee!” Zavere’s deep baritone called out to her. “Perhaps you could help me talk some sense into Leytha Doraedian.”

With something of a sick feeling in her stomach, Tee turned. It was true. Doraedian was standing there with Lord Zavere. He had a look of absolute surprise on his face.

Which touches on a wider design ethos: Your party has a location, a guest list, a main event sequence, and topics of conversation. If you want to create a truly kick-ass party, your primary design goal is to liberally seed all of these elements with moments of dramatic potential.

Note that I didn’t say dramatic moments. I said moments of dramatic potential. The actual dramatic moments will arise out of that potential during actual play. What you’ll find even more surprising is how these varied moments of dramatic potential will begin interacting with each in ways you never anticipated.

For example, when it came to Tee’s mentor, Leytha Doraedian, I had only a single note:

Surprised to see Tee at Castle Shard.

I didn’t know how (or even when) that surprise would manifest, exactly, but I think the dramatic potential in it is clear.

In my Topics of Conversation, I had listed:

Argument between Doraedian, Zavere, and Moynath about the Commissar’s weak attitude towards the Balacazars.

It was only as the events of the party actually played out that Tee became the character who approached this debate in progress and these two moments joined together to create the very memorable scene you see in the campaign journal. (Nor had I anticipated the way in which Tee’s earlier interactions with the Commissar would increase her own tension and confusion over this topic.)

Many of these dramatic moments can be thought of as bangs around which scenes (or mini-scenes) can be framed during the party. But others are just angles of tension (old relationships, new debates, hidden agendas), and the bang will be discovered during play as these elements interact with each other.

And some of your bangs may not ignite. For example, the Graven One has a bad history with the Inverted Pyramid and I wrote, “His cold indifference with the Inverted Pyramid will manifest itself if he interacts with Jevicca Nor.” But in the organic ebb and flow of the party, that never happened. (Which is, of course, just fine.)

In other cases, of course, the PCs will aggressively pursue agendas and create bangs (either directly or indirectly) that you had no way of anticipating. Make sure you don’t miss those moments! Pursue them aggressively!

A STRONG START

“Master Ranthir!” The Iron Mage cried, crossing the room towards him and resuming his scan of the room. “Mistress Tee! Agnarr, Elestra, and Dominic! Master Tor! To my side! I have an errand for you!”

All of this talk about discovering things during play aside, there’s no reason to be afraid of having some strong, pre-designed moments. The sudden appearance of the Iron Mage is one such Ptolus - The Iron Mageexample of this: It’s a very strong bang that demands a response from the PCs.

In many ways, this is the primary function of the Main Event Sequence: You let things play out organically, but if you feel like the current pool of dramatic tension is being exhausted, trigger the next event, which will usually be some strong, dramatic moment – perhaps accompanied by a specific bang the PCs need to react to – which will cause all the pieces of the party to suddenly move in new directions and begin a fresh set of collisions.

One place where you’ll want to make a point of stocking these ready-to-go moments is at the very beginning of the party: You want a good, strong start to set things in motion. Once you’ve got some momentum built up, the action will generally begin driving itself. But you’ve got to get that momentum going.

You can see this in the Party at Castle Shard with the opening sequence of events, which, in my notes, I actually separated out as a separate event track labeled “Arrival – Events”:

  • Arrival (Kadmus greets them and leads them to Zavere’s private office; they’re eyed by other guests who are being taken directly upstairs)
  • Meeting with Zavere (chance to spot the writing on the map; Zavere tells them Linech’s burrow has been destroyed; he personally escorts them to the ballroom)
  • Rehobath and the Commissar (Kadmus barring their entry; a loud argument; Zavere smooths things over)
  • Guests of Special Honor (Zavere introduces them as “guests deserving of much honor, for their recent service to both myself and to the interests of the City of Ptolus” in order to needle the Commissar)

This sequence introduces them to a handful of characters; gives everyone a chance to start warming up to social interactions; and gives the PCs two BIG bangs. I don’t know what their reaction to those bangs will be, but they’re pretty much guaranteed to color how the rest of the party progresses.

You can also see how I used these first moments to establish, in brief, several key pieces of exposition which would be major hubs for the rest of the party:

  • Conflict between Zavere and the Commissar.
  • Destruction of Linech Cran’s burrow (which could have also been learned before the party if the PCs had been seeking information, but they were stuck underground).
  • The other guests are intrigued by the PCs being included on the guest list.

And, really, that’s all it takes to get the ball rolling.


JUSTIN ALEXANDER About - Bibliography
Acting Resume

ROLEPLAYING GAMES Gamemastery 101
RPG Scenarios
RPG Cheat Sheets
RPG Miscellaneous
Dungeons & Dragons
Ptolus: Shadow of the Spire

Alexandrian Auxiliary
Check These Out
Essays
Other Games
Reviews
Shakespeare Sunday
Thoughts of the Day
Videos

Patrons
Open Game License

BlueskyMastodonTwitter

Archives

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Copyright © The Alexandrian. All rights reserved.