The Zalozhniy Quartet is a mini-campaign for Night’s Black Agents, the thriller RPG where retired special ops agents discover that vampires are real and then vow to destroy the undead conspiracy once and for all.

Or, at least, that’s what I’m choosing to call it.

The Quartet bills itself as a “thriller story arc of four missions,” in which “each of the missions can be played individually, or linked into a campaign in any order.” But this doesn’t seem to hold up to close inspection.

We’ll come back to that.

SPOILER WARNING!

This review is absolutely going to ruin the twists and surprises of The Zalozhniy Quartet for you. So if you have any intention of playing in this mini-campaign at some point in the future, you should leap through the nearest window and make a daring escape. (Figuratively speaking.)

The major opposition of the Quartet is the Lisky Bratva, a Russian mafia that has figured out how to create the zalozhniy: Vampiric entities whose moment of death has been undone, transforming them into killing machines that can only be stopped if you recreate the lethal wound which has been “edited” out of their personal timeline. For an extra creep factor, this temporal meddling causes all kinds of weird, non-linear events whenever a zalozhniy is near.

In addition to the criminal machinations of the Lisky Bratva, the Quartet also features the Philby Plot, in which the historical figures of Henry St. John Philby and his son Kim Philby, both spies whom infamously betrayed the British government during the 20^th century, are revealed to have been part of an alchemical plot in which the entire Saudi royal bloodline was given a vampiric contamination. Anyone who can track down the tri-partite alchemical reagents known as the Albedo, Nigredo, and Rubedo will be able to complete St. John’s final ritual, transform the entire Saudi royal family into their vampiric thralls, and take de facto control of one of the richest nations on the planet.

… guess what the Lisky Bratva want?

Together, the zalozhniy and the Philby Plot form two fantastic pillars for The Zalozhniy Quartet to build around. The myriad individual ops are also great – varied, dynamic, and well-tuned to show off the strengths of the Night’s Black Agents system.

The basic bottom line here is that the core of the Quartet is very good. Personally, I find the concepts compelling and the raw material useful. It’s the type of adventure that you read and think, “I can’t wait to see what my players do with this!” And, as a testament to that, I’m currently halfway through running a Zalozhniy Quartet campaign.

So, obviously, I’m going to recommend The Zalozhniy Quartet. If you have any interest in Night’s Black Agents, this gives you a lot of awesome stuff to play with and great bang-for-your-buck.

But I do have some reservations.

THE FLY IN RENFIELD’S OINTMENT

Robin D. Laws often says that published adventures are valuable because they teach you what and how to prep for the game.

And that’s the problem with The Zalozhniy Quartet: This is not how you’re supposed to prep a Night’s Black Agents campaign.

A Night’s Black Agents campaign is organized around the Conspyramid, a selection of nodes — sources of blood, funding, and protection; cults, institutions, infrastructure, front companies, etc. — arranged into a pyramidal form and connected to each other, creating a model of the vampiric conspiracy which the agents will navigate.

This is not, however, what The Zalozhniy Quartet does.

Now, to be fair, the intention of the Quartet is that it can be plugged into your existing Conspyramid. For example, if you have a Russian mafia node on your Conspyramid, you can just use the Lisky Bratva! This is why the book says the adventures can be played in any order, because the idea seems to be that each adventure can be plugged in as a separate node on your Conspyramid (and the agents should be free to navigate the Conspyramid without being locked into a sequence).

This is good in theory, but the actual execution is flawed.

For example, the adventures can’t actually be played in any order. At least, not as written. There are too many continuity errors, including one instance where, if the PCs aren’t playing them in the right sequence, there’s supposed to be a phone call that basically says, “The stuff that happens in the other adventure is already over-and-done. You missed it.” Another of the missions — “The Zalozhniy Sanction” — is clearly designed to be played first.

I suspect this is because the series was originally designed to be played in sequence, and then at some point in development it was decided that they should become modular. The retrofit, however, was slapdash, and it wreaked havoc on the book.

For example, if the adventures can be played in any sequence, then logically each adventure should include clues pointing to all the other adventures. And this is true. Except the clues aren’t integrated into the adventures. Instead, they’re listed as separate Exit Vectors and Entry Vectors for each scenario, which also don’t match each other. (So, for example, the entry vectors for “Out of the Ashes” say that PCs in “The Boxmen” will be able to trace the owner of a safe deposit box or some business correspondence to get to “Out of the Ashes.” But if you check the Exit Vectors for “The Boxmen” these clues do not appear!)

It’s difficult to really express how intensely unfriendly this presentation is to the GM.

Similarly, the book also provides an adversary roster for the Lisky Bratva:

At first glance, this seems useful. Except:

1. There are significant continuity errors between the structure shown on the map and the structure described in the text of the book; and
2. The structure shown in the diagram doesn’t match the structure of play.

See, the function of an adversary roster in Night’s Black Agents is to guide the players’ investigation: They follow the connections from one adventure to the next.

But there’s no way to do that in The Zalozhniy Quartet as written, because, in addition to the damage wrought by the retrofit, the original structure of the scenario was clearly a linear railroad and that structure hasn’t actually been removed!

You can see this very clearly, for example, in the first adventure in the book, “The Zalozhniy Sanction.” The PCs are hired to investigate a Lisky Bratva smuggling operation, but the job is scripted to fail and the GM needs to force them to go on the run. (Oof.)

And not just on the run in general (despite the extended chase rules in Night’s Black Agents being specifically designed to empower the players to choose how and where they run to). The GM needs to force the PCs to specifically make a run to their handler’s safe house in Vienna. (Oof again.)

With the PCs forced onto this path, an effort is then made to actually invoke the extended chase rules… except that just won’t do, because on their way to Vienna, the PCs need to be dragged through a whole sequence of ops:

• Sabotaging a football team
• Infiltrating a vampire monastery
• Rescuing an investigative reporter
• Breaking up a human trafficking ring
• Disrupting a mafia meeting

So the extended chase rules are invoked in name-only, but don’t actually do anything. (Oof a third time.)

(This “just ignore the chase rules” thing happens quite a bit in the adventure. For example, there’s a thriller chase elsewhere in the adventure where if the PCs lose the chase, the target they’re chasing goes boom; but if they win the chase, then the target goes boom and so does a PC. Which is backassed adventure design.)

Plus, this whole thing doesn’t really make any sense because the Lisky Bratva’s reaction to the PCs is insanely out of proportion. For example, they stage a major terrorist incident killing hundreds of people in an effort to silence some people who… tried but failed to steal some intel?

Then, on top of all this, the Quartet’s best intentions end up biting it in the ass: It wants to be something that any Night’s Black Agents GM can plug into their campaign, which is admirable. But Night’s Black Agents notably includes a system for creating custom vampires, which means in any given campaign they could be anything from Nosferatu to psychic statues to alien space vapor.

So as you draw towards the finale of The Zalozhniy Quartet and, in particular, the Philby Plot comes into focus, the writers have a problem:

• What, exactly, did Philby do?
• What, exactly, are the albedo, rubedo, and nigredo?
• What, exactly, does the final ritual entail?

And so forth.

In a quest for genericness, the writers literally can’t answer these questions. They do, to their credit, offer you a bunch of options, but they are, perforce, vague options. They can’t actually nail anything down, which means they also can’t design concrete, playable scenarios. The inevitable result is that, as the campaign reaches its grand conclusion, it just kind of dissolves into a mushy non-entity.

CONCLUSION

That seems like a lot of problems. And it is.

But I also said that The Zalozhniy Quartet is very good and that I heartily recommend it.

So… what gives?

Well, remember those ops I mentioned above? They’re all pretty great. So are the other ops in the book:

• Extracting an enemy intelligence agent
• Performing a heist on a private Swiss bank
• Raiding a museum in Baghdad
• Tracking down the Thing Which Was Once St. John

So, yes. There are some large scale structural problems. But the actual adventure content ranges from pretty good to really good, and the core pillars of the campaign — the zalozhniy and the Philby Plot — are conceptually fantastic (even if you need to fill in a few holes).

Plus, here’s the great thing: Night’s Black Agents already has an incredibly flexible and robust campaign structure. Remember the Conspyramid? All you need to do is pull the ops out of the book, plug them into a fully functional Conspyramid, and you’re good to go. As remixes go, Night’s Black Agents makes this one really simple.

Don’t get me wrong. If The Zalozhniy Quartet wasn’t so messy, it would receive a significantly higher grade from me. It doesn’t take much imagination, in fact, to see that it might have been one of the best RPG campaigns ever written. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, and what we’re left with is a flawed masterpiece.

But even a flawed masterpiece is going to create some pretty cool experiences at your table.

Good hunting!

Grade: B-

Author: Gareth Hanrahan
Story Design: Kenneth Hite

Publisher: Pelgrane Press
Cost: $26.95
Page Count: 148

FURTHER READING
Review: Night’s Black Agents

Go to Table of Contents

The Vladaams covertly operate three curse dens in Ptolus. These dens of iniquity feature a rich drug culture mixed with strange curse magicks and gambling.

OPERATIONS

Each curse den is run by a Vladaam Mage assisted by a small team of Vladaam Guards and Advanced Guards. In general, security is light because everyone knows that the Vladaams will respond violently to anyone disrupting their operations: The Balacazars and Killravens might fight each other, but they don’t fuck with the Vladaams.

Hostesses working at the curse dens are commoners (MM p. 345) unless noted otherwise.

The curse dens are overseen by Den Master Marcus Corellius. He’s based out of the Rivergate curse den and is also responsible for crafting curse jewels as required. Notably, he’s officially the holder of the deeds on all three curse dens and also the Slave Trade Warehouse (see Part 16: Slave Trade), with the Vladaams using him to distance themselves from the properties in case anything goes wrong.

Vladaam Guards: Use guard stats, MM p. 347, with AC 17. (Equipment: breastplate, shield, longsword, longbow, arrows x20, potion of healing, Vladaam deot ring.)

Advanced Vladaam Guards: Use knight stats, MM p. 347.

Vladaam Mage: Use mage stats, MM p. 347. See Part 13: Red Company of Magi.

PRICE LIST

See Part 18: Vladaam Drug Running for descriptions.

CURSES

CURSE GLOBE
Wondrous Item, legendary

A large, crystalline sphere filled with murky, swirling shadows. When provided with a possession, garment, body part, lock of hair, or similar item, a curse globe can be used to remotely curse a chosen individual. The target gets two Wisdom saving throws (DC 18): One to negate the scry-like effect through which the curse is cast and once against the curse itself. If both saving throws are failed, the target is affected as per bestow curse.

A curse globe can be used twice per day, once at dawn and once at dusk.

The original Vladaam curse dens were build primarily around offering the curse globe service and expanded their services from there. They charge 1,000 gp for the use of the curse globe. Due to the limit on their usage, there may be a waiting period before a globe becomes available.

CURSE JEWEL
Wondrous Item, very rare

A flat-cut ruby about three inches across set into an elaborate setting of gold carved with twisted arcane runes. When placed against the bare skin of a victim, the curse jewel can inflict a curse upon them as per a bestow curse spell (DC 15 Wisdom saving throw negates). The process is deliberately painful to the victim and simultaneously creates a pleasurable reversal in the person using the curse jewel.

This reversal acts as an extremely addictive drug (Constitution DC 12, buzz 1d2 days, initial special effect, second effect darkvision 60 ft., Addiction DC 16, threshold 1 dose, Withdrawal DC 16 (exhaustion), recovery threshold 3, Compulsion DC 8). During a buzz, the drug creates a sense of intense euphoria and also reverses the effect of the curse that was afflicted. (For example, if the curse inflicted disadvantage on Strength checks, then the user of the curse jewel would gain a temporary advantage to Strength checks). The eyes of characters who gain darkvision as a secondary effect of using the curse jewel glow a dark, seething red.

Curse jewels are evil items and due to their frequent use in painful, decadent torture, 50% of them have become lightly tainted.

GAMES

The curse dens are not full-blown gambling establishments, but they feature various games of chance and skill as part of their darkly bohemian atmosphere.

BERTRANT: This exceedingly simple dice game involve the roll of three dice. The players always attempt to get higher than everyone else in the game, with special combinations on pairs and triples. Bertrant is mostly enjoyed by those who expect to be drinking heavily while playing and hence do not really need to keep their wits about them.

To resolve a Bertant bout:

1. Advantage Check: Make an opposed Intelligence (gaming set) check between all players. The winner gains advantage.
2. Elimination: When a player with advantage wins advantage again, the player (or players) with the lowest score are eliminated. All players with advantage except the winner lose advantage, all players without advantage gain disadvantage, and play continues.
3. Victory: The last player wins all of the table stakes for the bout.

To resolve an evening of play, roll 1d20:

A character proficient with gaming sets can add their base proficiency bonus to this roll.

DRAGONSCALES: See Ptolus, p. 333 and Addendum: Dragonscales.

SKULLRATTLE: The game of skullrattle features a specially modified dragon skull. A ball of red jade (referred to as the “fire”) is dropped into one of the hollowed-out horns of the skull and falls through a specially constructed pachinko-like mechanism which causes it to shoot out of one of the openings in the skull itself. The final revelation is preceded by a “deathrattle” which emanates from the skull (and is caused by the pneumatic device which propels the fire out of the randomized orifice).

Bets are placed before the fire is dropped into the horn. They are paid off according to the table below (which also shows how the result can be randomized with percentile dice). “Bottoming out” happens when the fire drops entirely through the skull without emerging through any of the orifices.

Other Bets:

• Eye — 1:1 (left or right)
• Fenestra — 4:1 (left or right)
• Maw — 8:1 (any mandible or fang)

Since the game is entirely random, you can use the “Evening of Play” rules for Bertrant, but you do not gain any bonus to the roll from proficiency with gaming sets.

STAFF

Vladaam Guards: Use guard stats, MM p. 347, with AC 17. (Equipment: breastplate, shield, longsword, longbow, arrows x20, potion of healing, Vladaam deot ring.)

Advanced Vladaam Guards: Use knight stats, MM p. 347.

Vladaam Mage: Use mage stats, MM p. 347. See Part 13: Red Company of Magi.

Hostesses/Customers: Use commoner stats, MM p. 345.

DEN MASTER CORELLIUS

Den Master Marcus Corellius: Use mage stats, MM p. 347. AC 13 (16 with mage armor). Proficient with alchemist’s tools.

• Circlet of Persuasion: Advantage on Charisma-based checks.
• ring of protection

Cantrips (at will): mage hand, mending, shocking grasp
1^st level (4 slots): charm person, mage armor, magic missile, unseen servant
2^nd level (3 slots): false life, invisibility
3^rd level (3 slots): sending, summon lesser demons (Xanathar’s),
4^th level: (3 slots): arcane eye, dimension door
5^th level (1 slot): seeming

Go to Part 8A: Curse Den – Guildsman District

Andrew Stanton is the superstar creator of WALL-E, John Carter, Finding Nemo, A Bug’s Life, Toy Story, and many more. In 2012 he gave the above TED talk collecting all the lessons he’s learned about storytelling.

A good story, says Stanton, makes a promise. That promise might be as simple as, “Once upon a time…,” but the crucial thing is that the audience believes that this will be a story worth hearing. The promise, therefore, invites the audience to engage with the story. It’s like a foot in the door. It’s incredibly important because, without that initial engagement (and the trust that comes with it), the storyteller has nothing to build on or with.

The nature of the promise also means that “stories are inevitable if they’re good, but they’re not predictable.” A statement which, I think, can be interpreted in many ways: That we may know where a story is going, but not the path which is taken. Or that we may know the direction of Fate, but not necessarily the specific form it will take. Or that when we look back at the story, it seems as if everything is perfectly aligned and could have gone no other way than it did, but we could not have foreseen it.

In other words, the story must faithfully keep its promise, but it should still surprise and delight the audience.

(For more on how you can achieve this effect in an RPG, check out Random GM Tip: Three Point Plotting.)

The promise also creates a window of opportunity for the storyteller, and they have to capitalize on that by making the audience care about the story.

There are many ways a storyteller can do this — character, theme, craft, etc. — but one particular lesson he talked about leapt out to me as a Game Master:

THE UNIFYING THEORY OF 2+2

The absolute best way to get the audience to care about the story is to get them involved with the story; to get them actively thinking about the story. And the best way to do that is to make them work for the story.

In other words, don’t show your audience FOUR. Show them 2 + 2 and make them do the math.

Note that 2 + 2 isn’t difficult. The point isn’t necessarily to challenge the audience. (Although it can be: There’s a reason why the mystery genre is popular. A properly placed insoluble problem can actually be even more effective, which his why everyone remembers the end of Inception.)

The point is that even the simplest act of connecting the dots engages the audience. It makes them, on a primal level, a part of the story. They are thinking about the story and they have opinions about it. Once you’re part of something, you care about it. As Stanton says, “A well-organized absence of information pulls us in.” We have a desperate need to complete an unfinished sentence.

Take Citizen Kane, for example. (Spoilers ahoy!) Imagine how much less effective would that movie be if, at the end of the movie, Orson Welles had Joseph Cotton’s character say, “Rosebud was his childhood sled. Despite the poverty and the hardship of his youth, he must have always missed the simple, uncomplicated joys of his youth and the unconditional love of his mother.” The beauty of Citizen Kane as a movie is, in fact, the immense artistry Welles employs so that, rather than spoonfeeding that moral to the audience, he has prepared the audience so that all the nuance and emotional complexity of that idea becomes as simple as 2+2 when he shows them the image of the sled.

(I’ll note that this can actually create paradoxes in storytelling, where sometimes the more effort you spend explicitly and plainly explaining something to the audience can actually result in the audience understanding it less, because the lack of engagement causes them to mentally skim past it.)

And it’s a “unifying theory” because it can apply to almost everything in a film: Characters, plot points, exposition, etc.

The trick, of course, is that the audience wants to work for their meal, but they usually don’t want to know that they’re doing that. So it’s also the storyteller’s job to hide the audience’s work from the audience.

To use our Citizen Kane example again, when you see the sled at the end of the movie, you don’t consciously think, “Oh! A tricky problem! Let me think this through!” Ideally, the storyteller has set you up so that you simply see 2+2 and reflexively think, “Four.”

(Again, there are exceptions, like the central conundrum of most mystery stories.)

IN YOUR GAME

Stanton, of course, is talking about animation and filmmaking, and we know that we can’t just take the same storytelling techniques that we see on screen and use them in our RPG games. RPGs are a different medium; one in which the players have an unprecedented freedom and for which plots should not be prepped.

But the Unifying Theory of 2+2 still works!

All you need to do is give your players the equation and then left them take the final step.

In fact, the interactivity of a roleplaying game can actually enhance the technique because the players can actively investigate. In a film, the audience has to passively receive the equation, but in an RPG, the players can go looking for the twos. Or maybe they have the twos, and they need to experiment to figure out the correct mathematical operator.

(I think I’ve broken the metaphor.)

Matryoshka techniques like matryoshka searches and matryoshka hexes are built around this idea that “completing the equation” will mean taking action as a character, and that doing so can give the player both ownership and control over the answer we find.

For other techniques you can use to help make your players care about your campaign, check out Random GM Tips: Getting Your Players to Care.

Let’s say that you want to skip over a large chunk of time in your campaign.

Actually, let’s back up for a moment. It’s possible that the idea of skipping time has never occurred to you. Much like dungeon scenarios can condition us to resolve everything one action at a time (much to the detriment of sequences run outside of the dungeon), so, too, can other scenario structures and situations trap us in a pattern of resolving every single day as if they were all of equal importance and focus.

When combined with the XP systems in D&D, for example, this can easily create a hyper-compressed narrative where the PCs are getting out-wrassled by giant rats one day and slaying Zeus a couple weeks later. But even without those kinds of advancement mechanics, getting stuck in a cycle where every day is jam-packed with adventure can be very limiting in the kinds of adventures you run and the scope that your campaigns are capable of.

(Conversely, some campaign structures and concepts can make it completely appropriate to remain laser-focused on the problem at hand. That’s just fine. I’m just pointing out that there are other options.)

It should also be noted that players are often motivated, for any number of reasons (including their own rote habits), to fill every day to the brim with stuff they want to do. So if you want to decompress the campaign a bit, you may need to push back against that impulse and/or incentivize taking realistic breaks from the breakneck action.

For example:

• Leveling up in D&D might require more than just XP. You could introduce a rule that in order to gain a level, PCs must spend a period of time training. (This period could be set to almost anything and you could justify it: A fortnight. One week times the character’s new level. A cycle of the moon. One full season. A year and a day. Whatever.)
• Mysterious dames with suspiciously missing husbands don’t show up on the doorstep of the detective agency every single day. Once the PCs wrap up their current case, there’ll be a fallow period of humdrum work until the next exciting adventure lands on their doorstep.
• The vampires are hunting them and the only way to get the Heat off them is to lay low for a while… maybe a long while.
• Yes, they’re adventure archaeologists: But now that the Spear of Destiny has vanished into vaults beneath the British Museum, there’s a lot of research to be done before they can identify their next expedition. And you can’t rush research!
• In Ars Magica, the projects and research performed by the wizards take one or more seasons to complete. The cycle of play, therefore, is broken down into season-long turns, and the wizards can generally only undertake a single adventure during each season as well.

On the flip side, it’s quite possible that the players will, without any kind of structure or prompting, want some downtime for their characters for any number of reasons.

Which ultimately brings us back to: Let’s say that you want to skip over a large chunk of time in your campaign…

SKIPPING TIME

First, determine how much time is passing before the next scenario is triggered (or whatever will signal the end of the skipped time). The amount of time may be obvious given the reason you’re skipping time in the first place, or it might just be an arbitrary decision on your part. (Or maybe you randomly determine it; e.g., 1d6 months.)

Regardless, frame things up by simple stating the period of elapsed time: “Three months pass.”

Next, go around the table and ask each player what their character did during that time. When it gets to your turn, as the GM, you inject event(s) that you want them to react to and/or develop the actions they’ve described.

In practice, the players will build off each other’s actions and the events you provide, weaving an interconnected narrative. You may also find it useful to:

• Play out short roleplaying vignettes.
• Use simple skill checks or similar mechanics to determine specific outcomes.
• Allow the PCs to use other mechanics (like downtime, research, or project mechanics) to advance their interests (or set things up for the next adventure).

But this isn’t strictly necessary. In any case, you want to make sure you don’t get too bogged down. You’re looking for a relatively high level of abstraction possibly coupled to a highlight reel. Don’t get sucked back into day-to-day logistics.

You can do just one pass around the table, but I find it’s often better to split the time up into three chunks. (Or, if you’ve got a certain number of events for them to respond to, an equal number of chunks.) Each additional pass gives the players more opportunities to weave their stories together and develop their own characters.

Your first instinct might be to have all the chunks be of the same length (e.g., we’re skipping three months and we’re doing three passes, so each pass will be one month long), but I often find it more effective to make each chunk progressively longer:

• “One week has passed. What has Charlotte been doing?” (go around the table)
• “Another month has passed. Where are you now?”
• “Now it’s July. What did you spend the last two months doing?”

The advantage of this progressive sequencing is that it allows the players to be fairly precise in their immediate reaction and follow-up to the dramatic events of the most recent scenario, and then slowly transitions them to thinking in the longer term.

You may or may not want to frame the final pass along the lines of, “In December, you all meet again in London. Tell me how you get there and where you meet.” (In other words, prompt the players to pull it all together and position them for the next scenario.)

EPILOGUES

The Eternal Lies campaign for Trail of Cthulhu by Will Hindmarch, Jeff Tidball, and Jeremy Keller uses a similar technique to provide a satisfying epilogue to the campaign.

If you’re wrapping up a dedicated campaign, it’s likely something that you’ve spent weeks, months, or even years playing these characters. A big, satisfying conclusion to the campaign is great (and a topic for another time), but even after the conclusion, you want to give space for loose threads to be wrapped up and for the players to say goodbye to their beloved characters.

There are many ways to handle this, but one powerful and flexible method is to cue up a time skip… just without returning to game play on the other side.

• Where are you one week after the campaign ended?
• One month after the campaign ended?
• One year after the campaign ended?

The exact periods of time you choose for each pass will depend on any number of factors — the characters, the nature of the campaign, whether you’re planning to run another campaign in the same setting, how big the fallout from the campaign’s conclusion is likely to be, etc.

This technique can be particularly cool in historical campaigns, because you can relate the time skips to the passage of real world events. For example, if you were running a Fall of Delta Green campaign in the ‘60s, you could skip forward all the way to 2023 and discover where the characters would be today.

In some cases, you might want to drive all the way forward to the characters’ deaths. But that usually won’t be the case: To live is an awfully big adventure, and there are many forms of closure far more satisfying than the Grim Reaper’s icy grip.

ADVANCED EPILOGUES

As you’re prepping to run your epilogue (whether using the skipped time method or not), you should look back at the totality of the campaign and think about:

Unfinished Threads. It would be great if every single loose thread in a campaign was neatly tied off, but that’s usually not what happens. Real life can be messy, and so can the lives of our characters. Particularly in the big drive to the campaign finale, it’s likely stuff will get left unresolved.

For example, in my Dragon Heist campaign, one of the characters had a driving motivation to figure out what had happened to her mother. For one reason and another, however, it had never been prioritized during the campaign. (Neither by me, her player, nor the character herself.) This made it a perfect target for the epilogue.

Themes. What were the major themes of the campaign? These may have been planned. They may have emerged through play. (Quite probably both.) Either way, try to pull these themes into the epilogue. In some cases, themes may even have a resolution.

Characters. What members of the supporting cast were particularly memorable or important? Make sure to pull these characters into the epilogue and give them a sense of closure, too.

This will likely include mostly allies, but it’s not unusual for an enemy or two to still be hanging about. What happens to them? What’s their legacy?

Rewards & Consequences. The PCs fought hard to achieve things. (Or maybe they strived and failed.) Along the way, there were probably prices that had to be paid. Cementing those costs and payoffs and consequences in the epilogue is a way to invest the events of the campaign with even greater meaning.

It’s one thing to save a village. It’s another to see all the children growing up who would never have lived if you hadn’t.

Whether your TTRPG campaign is D&D, GURPS, Blades in the Dark, Infinity, or Call of Cthulhu, you’re going to be playing these characters for weeks, months, or possibly even years. Shouldn’t you take the time to get it right? ENnie Award-winning RPG designer Justin Alexander shows you how he gets all of his campaigns off on the right foot.

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