A roleplaying game, at its heart, lies at an interstice between game and conversation: In a conversation, we informally take turns sharing information. In a game, we formally take turns using the mechanics of the game. Roleplaying games dance freely between these two turn-taking dynamics, and in that dance the GM and the players are partners.

One of the ways I find this analogy useful is thinking in terms of action and reaction: The GM takes an action, and the players react to it on their turn. But then, of course, the GM takes their turn and, playing the world, reacts to what the PCs have done.

Often this conversational handoff is unprompted: The GM talks, the players talk, the GM talks again, and so on in a seamless back-and-forth.

In some cases, however, this will be prompted. Probably the most typical example is the GM, after presenting events in the world, saying something like, “So what are y’all doing?”

There can be a lot of different reasons for using a specific prompt, but it usually boils down to clarity in the handoff (“I’m done talking, so now it’s your turn,” in a fashion somewhat akin to saying “I’m done” at the end of your turn in a board game) or an effort to refocus the table (“let’s stop talking about which flavor of Cheetos is the best and get back to fighting the bilious zombies”). It’s kind of like saying “over” when you’re using a walkie-talkie.

Open prompts like this are almost always the purview of the GM, but more specific prompts from the players aren’t exactly uncommon. For example, while roleplaying their PCs chatting about recent events around the campfire, one of the players might turn to the GM and ask, “Do I know anything about King Roderick?”

GMs can also use a targeted prompt. Instead of prompting the table as a whole, the GM instead prompts a specific player: “What is Emily doing?”

Targeted prompts will formally arise from initiative counts or similar priority mechanics. (“Emily, it’s your turn.”) Even without formal mechanics, however, they can also commonly occur as a process of elimination: Everyone else has declared their action, and so, “While that’s happening, what is Emily doing?”

A specialized technique is the inner monologue prompt. This is a targeted prompt in which the GM asks a player to share and describe the inner life of their character.

• “Emily, how does the music in the tavern make you feel?”
• “What does Alfarr think of the minister’s proposal?”
• “Roscrucia, is this is the first dragon you’ve seen since the death of your parents? How does that make you feel?”

This technique doesn’t work well for all players and, personally, I only find it appropriate for certain campaigns. But when it does work, it can have amazing results!

If we were all Hollywood screenwriters we would have both the time and the talent to expertly reveal our characters’ inner lives through expertly crafted dialogue. But we aren’t and we don’t, so the best way to bring those character dynamics into the light may be to just cut directly to the point. It can also be a way of crystallizing and making strong emotional choices that might otherwise remain undefined and unrealized.

As noted, for some players this technique will be disruptive to their creative process and their relationship to their character. That should be respected. But one reaction that can be useful to push through is a feeling that this is “fake” or “artificial.” This is true, but, frankly, if it was good enough for Shakespeare, it’s good enough for us.

We do not, of course, have to whip out a soliloquy in blank verse. But the basic function of laying bare the character’s thoughts for the audience remains dramatically valid and emotionally powerful.

In this case, of course, the audience is our fellow players.

Thanks to Seven Wonders Productions on my Youtube channel for suggesting this topic.

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Character Backgrounds by Chris Malone

FATHER GUSTAV, CLERGY

Age: 60

Gustav Rand was born in Austria in 1865, the youngest boy in a large Catholic Family.  With little opportunity to distinguish himself above his brothers and sisters, he went to Seminary more as an eventuality than as a passion.  It wasn’t until he joined the Jesuit order that he found some semblance of a calling, travelling the world as a missionary.  Helping those in need and facing dangers with strength and faith connected him more to God than any scripture or devotional did.  His diligence and fortitude recommended him for some of the most extreme places in the world, as he traveled to Ethiopia, Brazil, Guatemala, Australia, and other remote places.

As he aged and his body began to tire, he began to seek other opportunities to explore and express his faith.  Father Rand’s exposure to numerous cultures granted him a degree of prestige within his order, and he could transition out of his missionary role and began a more scholarly calling.  In 1913 Father Rand took a teaching position at Boston College, teaching archaeology and anthropology while undertaking various expeditions.

In 1919 he traveled with several students and faculty on one such expedition to Libya and the ancient city of Cyrene near modern Bengazi.  It was here that Rand had his first encounter with obvious supernatural evil, as the unearthing of an ancient chamber resulted in release of an obviously violent entity that caused members of the dig to become violent and blasphemous.  Only with the assistance of Maggie Pearson, a prodigal student, and the strength of will were you able to successfully perform an ancient rite uncovered in scrolls at the site and banish the foul creature.  While many might have found these events a challenge to the faith, Rand found them affirming; he had always known supernatural evil exists.  What ended up shaking his faith was the response of his Order.  Upon filing a report and wishing to further examine the site and document the event, The Jesuit Order terminated the expedition and commanded Rand to destroy all evidence of what had happened, and commanded him to remain silent.

Rand did mostly as ordered, only retaining private notes and few of the scrolls that helped him bind and banish the creature.  Shortly thereafter Father Rand left the Jesuit Order and petitioned to become a diocese priest.  The Archdiocese of St. Paul had recently suffered significant attrition, and so he was assigned there.  Father Rand quickly insinuated himself into several philosophical circles and serves as an occasional guest lecturer at local colleges.  To his surprise, Maggie Pearson arrived in the Twin Cities several years after he did.

Through his connections to Max Bruener, a recent friend and lay student, Rand has found himself the most curious assistant in a private investigation firm run by Jake Connor.  Several years ago you were approached by Max to help parse out some writings that were found at the scene of several disappearances.  You helped identify the texts and continued with the case, surprised to find yourself again in the company of Maggie Pearson, who happened to be Jake’s cousin.  The case was most unusual; two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  Now the local police come to Jake and company with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Jake’s a veteran and a private investigator.  Father Rand finds Jake’s passion and energy refreshing, but sometimes finds himself frustrated with Jake’s lack of introspection and philosophical inquiry.  Regardless, Rand knows that Jake is courageous and respects his strength.

Maxwell Bruenner — Max is a wealthy young man in charge of a manufacturing business left to him by his father.  Max came to Father Rand during a spiritual crisis, seeking answers to the things he saw during the War and trying to understand his place in a seemingly cruel world.  Father Rand has helped to guide Max’s inquiry, encouraging exploration of the spiritual and the unseen, as opposed to coercing or suggesting that he become a Catholic.  This has formed a strong bond between the two.  The only real point of contention is Max’s vocal agreement and support of Prohibition, a point which you two disagree upon, but you feel much less passionate about.  You took on vows of poverty and celibacy, not sobriety.

Maggie Pearson — You first met Maggie in 1917 when she was a student in your Early Religions course at BC.  An apt student with energy and passion, you quickly became fond of the young girl distinguishing herself in a place that only just started allowing women to attend.  On the Libya expedition, she handled herself smartly, helping you eradicate the entity before it could cause serious harm.  Since your reintroduction to her in St. Paul you see her regularly, either when working cases with her cousin or on your regular Wednesday luncheons.

MARGARET “MAGGIE” PEARSON, SCIENTIST

Age:  26

Maggie grew up in Boston, the eldest of four daughters, in a middle-class family, her father a dentist with her mother at home.  Showing a strong mind with an aptitude for critical thought and quick wits, she claimed a place among the first class of female students at Boston College.  Despite the hostile environment, oppressive curfews, and constant scrutiny from the administration, Maggie thrived in an environment that rewarded her intellect and provided her new experiences.  Virtually all her professors were inimical towards her, save for one notable exception.

Her freshman year met Father Gustav Rand, a Jesuit who was teaching archaeology and anthropology.  He treated her fairly and with praise and encouragement, showing her respect and deference that few others would.  Even when not studying under Father Rand, Maggie would regularly meet with Father Rand and discuss her studies.

In 1919 Rand invited Maggie on an expedition to Libya.  With much cajoling, pleading, and threatening Maggie convinced her father to allow her to go, and it was there that she faced a life-changing event.  During the dig at Cyrene, near modern Bengazi, strange things began to happen.  Workers and other students acted violently, and several people became hurt.  After a horrifying experience where she felt the alien presence of some foul thing pressing into her mind, Maggie convinced Father Rand that a supernatural threat was present.  Working together, Maggie and Rand used some ancient scrolls and a bit of alchemical knowledge to destroy the entity.  Maggie returned to BC shaken, but confident in her strength and ability.

Shortly afterward, Father Rand left the Jesuit Order and Boston College.  While upsetting, this event only spurred Maggie on to finish her bachelor’s degree and leave that place.  Following her graduation from BC, she managed to land a graduate position at the University of Minnesota, where she teaches and studies today in pursuit of her doctorate in the Sciences.  Her decision to move to Minnesota was partly prompted by the fact that her father refused to let her go somewhere without family, especially without a strong male presence to guide her to make sure she remains virtuous.  To this end, her cousin Jake Connor serves as a chaperone and confidant.  A larger part of her decision was informed by her correspondences with Father Rand, and her desire to reconnect with him.

About two years ago Maggie began helping her cousin Jake with the private investigation business that he owns and runs.  During an odd case involving the disappearance of a couple of seemingly unconnected people, Maggie identified a rare sedative used on both victims, and used her resources to find the supplier (and purchaser) of that sedative.  The case turned strange, as the two people who disappeared were involved with an inner sect of the Freemasons, which turned out to be pursuing occult ritual and human sacrifice.  You and the others were able to disrupt the ritual and stop them, but only after one of the kidnapped victims were killed.  Since then you have been learning how to handle yourself in a fight and have helped Jake from time to time.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Your cousin Jake is a veteran of the War and a private eye.  He is protective of you and at times seems to regret his decision to involve you in his line of work.  You love him, but he can sometimes frustrate you with his superficial thinking.  His vehement anti-Prohibition rhetoric can sometimes get tiresome as well, as you find that the need to drink is a silly diversion from rationality.

Maxwell Bruener — Max is Jake’s friend and helps on cases sometimes.  While he seems kind and gentle, you have seen his strength and courage during the Freemason case when he charged into a room full of cultists and fought them off with his bare hands.  His philosophical inquiries are engaging, and overall you find him a pleasant enough fellow to spend time with.

Father Rand — Father Rand is more than a mentor or a professor to you, he is your confidant and guide.  At times you have wondered if you might have more than a reasonable amount of affection towards him, but you quickly squash these thoughts with study and diversion.

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There are a bunch of different ways you could categorize dungeons (function, geography, denizens, etc.), but what I’m specifically interested in taking a look at today are structural differences that affect the fundamental design and running of the dungeon.

Most of these categories end up correlating with the size of the dungeon, and so, as you’ll see, we’ll be using size-based labels for clarity and ease of use. But don’t let that distract you from the far more important structural distinctions.

Broadly speaking, these categories also aren’t limited strictly to “dungeons” (i.e., underground warrens), but rather apply to any location-crawl scenario: Abandoned malls in zombie RPGs. Haunted mansions. Ruined Transylvanian castles. That sort of thing.

EXPEDITION-BASED PLAY

To fully appreciate the different dungeon dynamics, we first need to understand the expedition-based play which lies at the heart of the classic dungeoncrawling experience.

Here’s an excerpt from So You Want To Be a Game Master describing expedition-based play:

The basic dynamic of expedition-based play is that the party gathers a set of resources and then goes forth to pursue a goal. (In other words, they plan the expedition and then go on the expedition.) This goal might be something generic (e.g., “Get as much gold as possible”) or it might be something terribly specific (e.g., “Get revenge by slaying Orok the Minotaur”).

Some of the resources gathered for the expedition will be mechanical in nature (e.g., hit points, spell slots, etc.), but it’s likely that the PCs will also gather other resources (e.g., magic potions, rations, ammunition, etc.). Either way, the PCs will expend these resources over the course of the expedition until they run out of resources, at which point they will have to withdraw to some form of base camp at which they can replenish their resources in preparation for their next expedition.

What makes expedition-based play interesting is that the players are trying to maximize the return on their investment. In other words, they want to achieve as much as possible—to get the most gold, to clear out the maximum number of Orok’s minions, to achieve as many milestones on the way to their goal—with the resources that they have. This creates a crucible in which their strategic and tactical decisions become extremely meaningful and, therefore, extremely interesting.

To make expedition-based play really work, you want a cost associated with abandoning the current expedition and starting a new one. This is often the money spent on new supplies, but it can also be the difficulty in getting back to the point where they left off (which can be achieved in dungeon scenarios with random encounters and restocking, as discussed later in this book).

Although expedition-based play can be baked into specific roleplaying game (like D&D), it’s a more fundamental dynamic that can — and will! — transcend any particular set of game mechanics unless you take specific action to negate it. The core dynamic of “gather resources and then try to use those resources to maximum effect” is basically just how reality works. In order to prevent that from happening, special effort must be made to negate it, such as:

• Preventing resources from being beneficial.
• Handwaving the acquisition and/or depletion of resources.
• Allowing one expedition to pick up exactly where the previous expedition left off without cost.
• Creating all encounters to have a standardized difficulty/cost, so that strategic decisions become irrelevant.
• Enforcing that standardized cost (e.g., by fudging the results until the “appropriate” number of hit points have been lost).

And if you do so, of course, the playing experience of your dungeons will be greatly flattened. It’s not just that this will strip the strategic element of play, it’s that stripping the strategic element of play will also greatly reduce the variety and stakes of your tactical encounters.

DUNGEON TYPES

I generally think of dungeons as belonging to one of four categories:

• micro-dungeons
• mid-range dungeons (or session dungeons)
• large dungeons
• megadungeons

Micro-dungeons have just one or two featured rooms. These are rooms which have a significant interaction, like a combat encounter or in-depth investigation. Micro-dungeons will likely have additional scenic rooms, in which there is only one minor interaction (e.g., “look at this cool mural on the wall”), but likely only a few of them. Most micro-dungeons won’t have more than five rooms in total.

A micro-dungeon should generally take less than one session to play through. This means that they will not feature expedition-based play or significant strategic decisions by the PCs, but it does mean that they can be easily incorporated as a single scene or node in a larger adventure (even adventures that are designed to be resolved in a single session).

Of course, a micro-dungeon can also be a complete scenario in its own right (with a scenario hook, rapid resolution, and payoff). One interesting mode of play (or change of pace) is to resolve multiple such quests in a single session, creating a huge sense of momentum and accomplishment for the players.

Mid-range dungeons or session dungeons, as the latter name suggests, can be played from beginning to end in a single session. In practical terms, this means at least five featured rooms and an equal number of scenic rooms. In other words, you’d expect a mid-range dungeon to have a total of 10-20 rooms.

In terms of design, these dungeons are now large enough that you can start employing basic xandering techniques.

Assuming typical play, a mid-range dungeon will usually be resolved in a single expedition (i.e., the PCs will not need to leave the dungeon and then come back). In terms of 5^th Edition D&D, however, I would expect that managing short rests would begin to be part of play, as opposed to a micro-dungeon where it’s likely the PCs will clear the whole dungeon before needing to rest. (See Resting in the Dungeon.)

Large dungeons are roughly three times larger than a mid-range dungeon. They’re going to feature 30+ rooms and will require multiple expeditions and several sessions of play. At this scale you’re going to be able to employ more elaborate xandering techniques and you’ll also begin introducing expedition-based play along with the management of long rests in 5^th Edition.

This, of course, also means that you’ll likely start using restocking techniques, and so large dungeons will also change and shift during the course of play, becoming dynamic environments for exploration and strategic play. This is the point where simplistic “kick down the door” play is no longer sufficient… which is good, because that style of play can easily become monotonous and boring in a large dungeon.

Megadungeons, of course, are even larger. There are three key distinctions between a megadungeon and a very large dungeon:

• The megadungeon must have enough concept to support a full campaign. (This doesn’t necessarily mean a full 1^st to 20^th level campaign. For D&D 5^th Edition, we might say that it has to be able to support two full tiers of play.)
• The megadungeon cannot be cleared (because it is too large and filled with too much content for that to happen). This means that “clear the dungeon,” which so often serves as a default goal for dungeon-based scenarios, cannot be a goal in the megadungeon. This will require the megadungeon to support alternative goals.
• This also means that the megadungeon must, in some way, contain multiple “scenarios.” It’s not unusual for each level of the megadungeon, for example, to have a particular theme or faction. At this level — pun intended — you can actually reintroduce “clear (this specific part of) the dungeon” as a goal, but the key thing is that the megadungeon is home to multiple distinct goals that can be independently, or semi-independently, pursued by the PCs. (The complexity and rich depth — pun once again intended — of the megadungeon also makes it likely that the players will begin setting bespoke goals for themselves.)

A megadungeon is, therefore, also sometimes known as a campaign dungeon, although there’s no reason that a campaign featuring a megadungeon can’t also include other scenarios.

LAIR vs. BALKANIZED DUNGEONS

A tangential categorization of dungeons that I find useful is the distinction between lairs and balkanized dungeons.

Lairs feature a single faction or type of monster. Everybody in the dungeon is playing for the same team, so to speak.

Balkanized dungeons, on the other hand, feature multiple factions. These factions may be openly hostile to each other or exist in some form of détente, but the key thing is that they’re not working together. (At least, not at first.)

This is significant because the balkanized dungeon, obviously, makes faction-based play significant in the scenario. In its most complex forms, this might involve the PCs navigating a web of unstable alliances in order to turn factions against each other, create places of safe respite within the dungeon, do quests for unexpected allies, and so forth. But even in its most simplistic form, it means that the PCs can defeat the dungeon in detail rather than tackling the entire compound all at once.

The balkanized nature of the dungeon will also inform the design of the dungeon, with defenses, no man’s lands between the factions, and the like.

The larger a dungeon gets, of course, the more likely it is to be balkanized. A micro-dungeon, after all, doesn’t exactly have the space for multiple factions. (Although you could imagine a couple factions-of-one.) But there’s no direct correlation: You can have multiple factions in a session dungeon and you can have large dungeons that are mono-faction hypercorp installations, goblin fortresses, or the like.

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The noir detective, stymied in his investigation, returns to the scene of the crime. He paces slowly, lost in his thoughts. He must have missed something here. Some vital clue. But what could it be?

The PCs have been eating at Norma’s Diner every day since they came to the sleepy town of Everglade, gathering there every evening to compare their notes and brainstorm what their next steps should be. But then they discover evidence that corpses are being shipped from the county hospital to the basement of the diner. What exactly has Norma been cooking up this whole time?

This dynamic is a staple of the mystery genre. Another common variant is when a spy publicly approaches a target during daylight hours, socializes with the bad guys (or their staff) for a bit, and then comes back later after everybody has gone home to conduct a more thorough investigation. (James Bond does this in almost every film, for example.)

Structurally, at the game table, we’re talking about a situation where the PCs go to a node — a person, place, organization, event, etc. — and fail to find all (or possibly any) of the clues. Then, later, they return and discover what they missed.

This might occur for purely practical reasons: The PCs’ investigation has stalled out and they need more info, so they have no choice but to double back and try to figure out what they missed.

But it can also be played for dramatic effect: What seemed innocent is revealed to be sinister. The twist villain reveals themselves. The irony of discovering that you were standing on top of Captain Adachi’s treasure the whole time.

If you’re using node-based scenario design in concert with the Three Clue Rule, this will often occur organically: The PCs don’t realize that a clue means they need to look UNDER the apartment building, so they stake it out for a bit, come up empty, and decide to pursue other leads. Then, later, they find a new clue, realize their mistake, and rush back to the apartment building for some clandestine excavation.

In this sense, it’s kind of like red herrings: You don’t need to prep this dynamic; it will just emerge during play. It’s just a natural consequence of missing or misinterpreting clues, and we know the PCs will do that (which is why we’re using the Three Clue Rule in the first place).

But you can also prep some variants of this dynamic deliberately.

For an easy example, the PCs may visit a location for reasons that aren’t investigatory — their friend invites them; they have a seemingly unrelated appointment; etc. — and then later clues point them back to the earlier location with investigation on their minds.

More complex versions may have one set of clues which point the PCs to a node and then another set of clues that they’ll likely encounter later in the scenario that will point them to a completely different aspect of the node. For example, they find clues suggesting that they need to talk to Miles Duverney, who lives in the penthouse of Central Park Tower. They question him there and then continue their investigation… only later discovering the clues that reveal a secret satanic temple was built beneath the building.

In either case, you need to be mentally prepared for a clever or insightful party to make an intuitive leap that uncovers the “hidden” aspect of the node they first time they explore it. (“Wait a minute… Why did Duverney help design Central Park Tower? I’m going to go check out the architectural plans on file with the Department of Buildings.”)

JUST ONE MORE THING…

This is a dynamic that the GUMSHOE system, used in RPGs like Trail of Cthulhu and Esoterrorists, actually struggles with because the PCs in that system are supposed to automatically find every clue in every scene. As a result, it can’t emerge organically and instead has to be arbitrarily forced by the GM.

GUMSHOE recognizes it has a problem, however, and attempts to rectify it through another structure which can be conceptually useful in a wide variety of investigation games: leveraged clues.

A very common form of the “revisit a node and learn new information” dynamic is questioning suspects: It’s bog standard for a detective to talk to a suspect (or witness) early in their investigation and then question them again later and gain new information.

But in GUMSHOE, this doesn’t work because you’re supposed to get all the information an NPC has when you talk to them! Rather than having all of the social dynamics of a mystery story flatten out, therefore, GUMSHOE patches over the issue with the leveraged clue: In order to get certain clues from an NPC, you first need to obtain a different clue — the prerequisite or leverage clue — and then invoke it while talking to the NPC.

Columbo, for example, is basically this conceit injected with steroids and then turned into a procedural formula where every episode is just him repeatedly re-engaging with the same NPC node, but with new leveraged clues each time.

And, as Columbo demonstrates, this concept can be quite useful for organizing dynamic NPC interactions that evolve over the course of a scenario.

FAILING SCENARIOS

In some cases, however, the PCs revisiting nodes they’ve already investigated can be a sign that the scenario has gone awry: They’ve missed enough clues that they don’t know what to do next, and so they’re being forced to retrace their steps and try to dig up clues

Most of the time, though, this is still just fine: The players have already identified the problem and are taking action that will likely solve it. (Unless, of course, they’re still missing all the clues for the same reason they missed them the first time through — e.g., they just aren’t thinking to check the cult members’ computers and that’s where all the information they need is.)

What’s more problematic is when the players have become stuck and aren’t going back to find the clues they missed.

When this happens, one technique described in Three Clue Rule for getting the scenario back on track is to use a proactive node to give the PCs a new clue. This might be a clue directly pointing them to a revelation they need, but it could also be a clue pointing them back to a node where they’ve been but missed a clue at.

Note that it’s not enough to just point them back at the node. (This can be too easily dismissed with, “Well, we’ve already been there and didn’t find anything.”) Instead, the new clue must specifically indicate how they’re supposed to investigate the node in order to find the clue they missed (e.g., “the note in his pocket is written on Linustech stationary and appears to be the user name and password for System 42” or they get a phone call from an informant who tells them to “follow the money”).

WHILE YOU WERE GONE

Another variant of this technique is when the PCs return to a former node and discover that it has changed in the interim: The apartment has been ransacked. The NPC has been murdered. The laundromat has burned down.

This can create all-new clues for the PCs to find, or make the clues they previously missed more obvious.

Personally, I wouldn’t spend a lot of time prepping this type of thing ahead of time unless there’s a separate set of clues specifically indicating that the PCs should revisit a location. (Or if there’s some other structural reason for them to do so.) But if a mystery scenario has derailed, the players are feeling lost, and they double back to a location they’ve already been, improvising such changes in order to get them back on track is a solid option.

Next: Enigma

Thanks to the members of the Alexandrian Discord, particularly bobamk and Alberek, for suggesting and inspiring this article.