Something I’ve noticed for years is that serialized narratives with a lot of complexity and moving parts have a tendency to bloat up: You look at the first season of a TV series or the first two dozen issues of a comic book and there’s a ton of stuff happening and a lot of progress seems to be getting made… and then a couple years later it seems like the pace of everything has slowed to a crawl and it takes three or four or five times longer for anything to happen.

Sometimes, of course, this is just because the writing has gotten sloppy: You cut some corners to make a deadline and release something that’s not as tight as you would like. You realize that nobody seems to have really cared about the sloppiness of what you released and so you give yourself permission to be a little more sloppy in the future.

But I’ve just realized that there’s something else going on here and it can be explicitly quantified.

Imagine that a given multi-episode plot thread in a TV series takes 40 minutes to resolve. Assume each episode of the series devotes 75% of its time (30 minutes) to the primary plot of the episode and 25% (10 minutes) to developing these multi-thread plots. Assume a new multi-episode plot thread gets introduced every 3 episodes and equal time is given to each one. What happens?

• EPISODE 1: Plot A +10 minutes.
• EPISODE 2: Plot A +10 minutes (20 minutes total)
• EPISODE 3: Plot A +5 minutes (25 minutes total). Plot B +5 minutes (5 minutes total).
• EPISODE 4: Plot A +5 minutes (30 minutes total). Plot B +5 minutes (10 minutes total).
• EPISODE 5: Plot A +5 minutes (35 minutes total). Plot B +5 minutes (15 minutes total).
• EPISODE 6: Plot A +5 minutes (concluded). Plot B +3 minutes (18 minutes total). Plot C +2 minutes (2 minutes total).
• EPISODE 7: Plot B +5 minutes (23 minutes total). Plot C +5 minutes (7 minutes total).
• EPISODE 8: Plot B +5 minutes (28 minutes total). Plot C +5 minutes (12 minutes total).
• EPISODE 9: Plot B +4 minutes (32 minutes total). Plot C +3 minutes (15 minutes total). Plot D +3 minutes (3 minutes total)
• EPISODE 10: Plot B +4 minutes (36 minutes total). Plot C +3 minutes (18 minutes total). Plot D +3 minutes (6 minutes total).
• EPISODE 11: Plot B +4 minutes (concluded). Plot C +3 minutes (21 minutes total). Plot D +3 minutes (9 minutes total).

In actual practice, obviously, some of these plots would be ignored for several episodes and then given more screen time when they come back. And the actual amount of time devoted to each plot would vary. But you can see what happens: Early on there’s a limited number of focal points and they rapidly accumulate the time required to resolve them. But because you’re introducing these arc-plots at a rate slightly faster than they can be resolved, the number you’re juggling gradually increases over time (which further reduces the rate at which they’re resolved).

The key thing to understand here is that the bloat isn’t the result of the writing on a series changing: The bloat was there the entire time. It just took awhile before the symptoms of the disease became noticeable.

One TV series that seemed to largely avoid this problem while also enjoying the benefits of arc-plotting was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The technique they used seems relatively straight-forward: They limited the number of arc-plots they introduced in each season and made sure that most or all of them were resolved by the end of the season. As a result, when they launched season 6, for example, they didn’t have any more balls in the air than they did when they were launching season 3.

A few days ago my Ptolus campaign had a 100 Session Review to reorient the group as we get ready to launch into the next hundred sessions. In reviewing our campaign journals for the first hundred sessions, however, I noticed once again how much the PCs seemed to accomplish in the first dozen or so sessions of the campaign and how everything seems to take much longer in the more recent sessions. But when I drill down and actually look at any given session, it’s not that there’s less stuff happening: It’s just that there’s more balls in the air.

I don’t know if I would necessarily change anything in the current campaign. But the example set by Buffy in controlling the pace at which new arc-plots are introduced in the campaign is something I’ll be keeping in mind for the future.

Even if you’re already familiar with the Fermi Paradox, you might find it worthwhile to check out this excellent treatment of the subject. What makes it particularly worthy of attention is the comprehensive totality of the coverage, offering detailed breakdowns on more than a dozen different Fermi-related scenarios.

The Fermi Paradox is very relevant to both Eclipse Phase and The Strange, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

This is just a naked plea for assistance: I need additional space in my Dropbox account and I can get it if 30 people who don’t currently use Dropbox to follow this referral link, set up a Dropbox account, and install their app (if you don’t install the app, I don’t get the credit):

https://db.tt/iIjfJ7NQ

Once you’ve done that, you can delete the app if you’d like.

Dropbox accounts are pretty nifty, though, if you use multiple devices. I use mine to maintain a library of RPG reference material and prep material so that I can access the rulebooks and scenario materials for my current campaign regardless of whether I’m on my computer, my tablet, or my phone. I need the extra space because some limited term promotional space I got from my cellphone manufacturer came to an end over the weekend.

Among those looking to denigrate video games (the newest of artistic mediums), a favored tactic is to compare it to other forms of art and point out its various inadequacies. Those interested in defending video games as a new art form will often point out that video games are still in their infancy and comparing its output to mature forms of art is unfair and misrepresentative.

The common rejoinder at this point is that other forms of art don’t really show a lot of growth or development. Literature, for example, has been producing timeless and classic work for thousands of years and there’s really no strong indication that works produced in, say, 1800 were inferior to works being produced in 2000. If other forms of art don’t improve over time, why would we expect video games to improve over time?

Literature, however, is a bad example for comparison because the history of literature is literally prehistoric. At best we might be able to take a peek at Gilgamesh, but even that is clearly the pinnacle of a long storytelling tradition.

If you’re looking to compare the current evolution of video games as a medium to other mediums, then you need to look at other mediums that we actually have some ability to analyze.

WESTERN THEATER

The earliest antecedents of theater are lost, but we actually do have access to some really early stuff. Based on oral histories we know that the earliest Greek plays emerged when individual characters stepped out of the choruses that were used to recite narrative stories.

In the works of the earliest extant playwright, Aeschylus, we can still see the technological limitations of his artform. (For example, he was only able to use three characters at a time, which severely limited the dramatic situations he was capable of constructing.) Tracking from Aeschylus to Euripides to the Roman playwrights who followed we can see that there was a rapid development of the artform over its first century or so: Dialogue becomes more natural. The transitions between scenes become more complicated and, simultaneously, elegant. The evolving stagecraft allowed for the presentation of more dynamic and varied sequences of action. And so forth.

FILM

An even better example, however, awaits us in film because our historical records of its development are so much more comprehensive.

Film is invented in the late 1880s. As an entertainment industry, it’s generally agreed that 1895 is the starting line.

1895 – The Derby: This was released in the first year commercial motion pictures became a reality. It’s basically the film equivalent of Pong.

1902 – Voyage to the Moon: This is cutting edge stuff from 1902. Compared to video games, that’s basically Pac-Man. (It comes 7 years after the first commercial films; Pac-Man is 8 years after Pong.)

1922 – Nosferatu: Twenty years after Voyage to the Moon, you can see that the art of film has developed significantly. In gaming, this is the equivalent of Final Fantasy VII. (If you need to, take a moment to compare Pac-Man to Final Fantasy VII.)

1941 – Citizen Kane: Twenty years after Nosferatu, this is widely considered the landmark at which the modern art of film came of age and pioneered a lot of what are now considered basic film techniques. (If you’d prefer to go with the golden year of 1939, more power to you. It’s about a 20 year gap either way.)

What’s the video game equivalent to Citizen Kane? Well, from a purely temporal standpoint we’re talking about a game that will be released in 2019 or 2020 or thereabouts.

CONCLUSIONS

You can see the same sort of progression in, for example, operas.

What are we seeing here? Well, I think it actually boils down to something quite simple: You have a technological breakthrough that creates a new medium. Neophytes converge on the new medium in great excitement at its potential, but their use of the medium is still primitive and borrows heavily from existing media. (Early Greek theater is choral storytelling plus characters. A lot of early film is basically a filmed stage play with a couple of flourishes.) This stuff appeals to a relatively small group of really dedicated fans.

About twenty years later, those fans grow up and start really experimenting with the new medium. They test its limits and push the envelope. Their stuff is still pretty primitive, but it’s good enough that it finds a mainstream audience.

About twenty years after that, you’ve got an entire generation who grew up on the new medium. Not only are the creators from this generation ready to polish and hone and perfect the techniques the pioneers of the previous generation were experimenting with, but the audience has also matured to the point where they’re capable of really appreciating the new medium.

Sound familiar?

The next 20-30 years are going to be very exciting for interactive entertainment.

If the Time Lords return, what brand new villain would you create to oppose them?

Anything posing a credible threat to the Time Lords would need a really solid season arc behind it. Any commitment of narrative force less than that and it’s going to be almost impossible to justify something that can stand up to the former/current masters of time and space.

With that in mind…

THE DAWNING CREST

The Doctor takes an action which abruptly triggers the rise of new Lords of Time. No, not the Time Lords of Gallifrey. But the emergence of a new pan-galactic society which fills the same niche that Time Lords once filled before the Time War happened: A species that went back to the dawn of time, reshaped it, and took undisputed control of it.

What would this action be? At the moment, I’d probably hypothesize either something with his daughter (Jenny) or a regenerated River bearing his child. Further afield, we could visit Susan and his great-grandkids… who, it turns out, are hyper-susceptible to the TARDIS radiation when he takes them on a joyride.

Whatever the action is, the point is that it’s a moment of impetus. The Time Lords referred to this as a “dawning crest”: It sets in motion a chain of events which inevitably gives rise to the Temporal Masters. And as soon as that happens, the Temporal Masters exist everywhere and everywhen as the change cascades throughout time.

Unfortunately, something went wrong with the cultural development of the Temporal Masters: The Time Lords could always be a little dick-ish, but the Temporal Masters are positively fascist. They ruthlessly crush any resistance to their preferred timeline (which they refer to as the “pure” timeline). In the new balance of power / balance of existence that the Doctor finds himself in, there are only two major powers resisting the Temporal Masters: The Daleks and the Great and Bountiful Human Empire. Both of these powers are engaged in a Cold Time War fiercely protecting their own prior timelines from being wiped out.

KEY EPISODES

THE DOCTOR’S GRANDDAUGHTER: In which the Doctor makes the choice which results in the Temporal Masters arising. (This, by the way, means that the Doctor is the ultimate genetic progenitor of all the Temporal Masters.) The key moment revealing the passing of the dawning crest is when the Andromeda Galaxy abruptly vanishes from the sky. (Might be interesting to set this episode during the collision between Andromeda and the Milky Way four billion years in the future.)

DAWN OF THE TEMPORAL MASTERS: The immediate sequel in which the Doctor tries to figure out what’s happened to time. We also introduce the Tri-Galactic Time Enforcers (the agency which works endlessly up and down the timestream to ensure that the timeline of the Great and Bountiful Human Empire is not disrupted). Establishing scale here is really important: The Human Empire controls three galaxies, but it nevertheless feels like the United States has been backed up into defending Maryland and nothing else.

ALLIANCE OF THE DALEKS: The Doctor proves instrumental in forging an alliance between the Human and Dalek Empires because only by mutually protecting each other can they resist the Temporal Masters.

THE GENESIS EXTERMINATION: The Doctor is forced to protect the timeline of the Daleks… and fails. If you’re feeling really ambitious, you could pull a “Trials and Tribble-lations” using the classic “Genesis of the Daleks” episode. (So that the Doctor and the Temporal Master agents are running around in the background of the original 4th Doctor/Davros drama.) The Doctor ultimately fails to protect the Dalek timeline: The Thals win the war. The Human Empire now stands alone.

THE MASTER PLAN: Revealing that the Master insinuated himself into the early history of the Temporal Masters, providing a crucial lynchpin for the creation of their modern ideology and their hegemony over time and space. (Does the Master revel in completely corrupting and co-opting the Doctor’s entire legacy? Yes. Yes, he does.)

ANDROMEDA BURNS: The Temporal Masters literally destroy the entire galaxy of Andromeda in order to destabilize the Human Empire’s future timeline. (This is why Andromeda was missing from the sky during “The Doctor’s Granddaughter”.)

TIME LORDS ASCENDANT: In a last, desperate effort to avert the Temporal Masters’ complete ascendancy the Doctor locates and forces open one of the cracks left by the explosion of the TARDIS. (Maybe we put the crack at the heart of the Temporal Masters’ homeworld, serving a role similar to that of the Eye of Harmony in Gallifreyan technology. That way the Doctor has to infiltrate the greatest stronghold of the Temporal Masters.) Gallifrey and the Time Lords return… and now there are two great powers waging the Second Great Time War.

BEYOND THE SPINE

Somewhere in all of this I also have the image of the Doctor’s TARDIS becoming a refugee vessel: The only place where temporal refugees whose timelines have been wiped out can safely continue their canceled existence.

Between and around these episodes, the Doctor can also have a bunch of normal adventures. Because the Human Empire is protecting its own timeline, for example, human history as we know it still exists. And there’s potentially something interesting about the Doctor truly exploring an unknown universe where he doesn’t instantly know everything (because everything has been changed from the reality he knows).

Doctor Who: Temporal Masters – The RPG Campaign