T-Prime asks:

I really like your Roll Initiative Last video, but how could you use this with the alternative initiative checks from Pathfinder?

I often get asked questions like this. Here’s another one:

D. asks:

I’ve been using your Dice of Destiny system for years. It revolutionized my Vampire game! But now I see that you’re talking about D&D a lot. How does that work?

There’s also a more hostile variety where someone will, for example, see me talking about perception-type skill checks, and snarkily denounce me for “only playing playing D&D.”

This is, of course, hilarious. Ironically the angriest folk often seem to be those who have played D&D and literally one other RPG and have concluded that any points of difference between the two represents some fundamental divide between D&D and every other RPG in existence.

But the point is, of course, that RPGs do differ from each other. There are a lot of skills and techniques – particularly at the macro-level (like scenario structures) – that you can transfer from one game to another, but there are others that can’t survive the transition. This is particularly true when you get down in the trenches and are finessing how you handle individual action resolutions to best effect. (Consider, for example, Rulings in Practice: Sanity Checks, which is obviously only relevant in systems that have sanity check mechanics.)

So, for example, how can you use Roll Initiative Last in a system like Pathfinder where the initiative check made for each encounter will vary depending on how each encounter gets started (and what individual characters are doing)?

Well… you don’t. Compared to systems where you can Roll Initiative Last, those systems are trading a certain amount of efficiency for the benefit of more accurately modeling different types of encounters (and also likely encouraging players to explore different ways of initiating encounters).

Similarly, Technoir eschews initiative entirely. Instead, during a confrontation, the only rule is that everybody must take an action before anyone is allowed to take a second action, and the order in which those actions are taken is left up to the discretion of the GM. Here, again, efficiency is sacrificed, but with the benefit of both flexibility and seamless action scene transitions.

In the Infinity RPG, on the other hand, the PCs always go first, but the GM can “steal initiative” by spending Heat points. Here the system essentially “bakes in” the benefits of Roll Initiative Last (since you can launch straight into any encounter without pausing for initiative rolls), but instead of Technoir’s completely open flexibility, it plugs the whole thing into fueling the Momentum & Heat economy that’s a core pillar of the game.

Are these trade-offs worth it? That’s ultimately up to you and your group. (And what’s right for one game won’t necessarily be right for another.)

Of course, these other systems will also have expert-level techniques that can’t be used in D&D. For example, in games like Technoir and Infinity where you need to be able to answer the question, “Who hasn’t gone yet this round?”, it’s usually a good idea to keep a list of combatants and check them off as they each take their actions. In a system that uses hot-potato initiative (where, at the end of their turn, each player decides which character is going to take their turn next), it becomes essential to figure out how to make sure everyone at the table has access to this information.

(And that’s an example of a trade-off I don’t like: The extra bookkeeping necessary to make sure everyone knows who’s going to next, plus the extra decision points, plus the analysis paralysis from not being able to plan your turn ahead of time creates a huge drag in actual play and is just not worth whatever marginal benefits the hot-potato initiative is supposedly providing.)

ADAPTING TECHNIQUES

Sometimes, though, a technique that doesn’t work in a new system can be adapted so that it does.

For example, let’s go back to Pathfinder initiative checks. You can’t pre-roll initiative at the end of each encounter because you can’t be certain which type of initiative check each character will be making.

Could you just have everyone pre-roll every type of initiative check and then just use the appropriate set of checks? Probably not. Even if you limited this to just the most common initiative checks (Perception, Stealth, etc.), the extra hassle of collecting all that info and the time spent on wasted rolls probably isn’t worth it. Plus, you’ll still need to sort those variable results into the final initiative order.

Maybe you could use secret rolling to achieve a similar effect? You’ll need to be on your toes, but if you’re good at multitasking you might be able to get all those initiative checks made when it becomes clear a fight is about to happen but before things actually kick off. The trick, of course, is that this is no longer easy to pull off, and you might run into problems with players who don’t like losing the illusory sense of “agency” that comes with rolling their own dice.

Digital tools might help, though. You could imagine one that lets you very quickly select the appropriate skill for each combatant and then click a single button that would roll and organize the entire initiative order for you.

Alternatively, you can actually tweak the mechanics to achieve a desired effect or efficiency.

As an extreme example, you could just drop the entire concept of alternative initiative checks and go back to having just one type of initiative check. (You’d do this if the trade-off of efficiency for modeling different encounter approaches wasn’t worth it to you.)

As a less extreme example, you might learn that your group is overwhelmingly likely to make initiative checks of a particular type. (Probably Perception-based initiative.) So now you can have everyone Roll Initiative Last with that check type, but rule that if an alternative approach is taken (Stealth, for example), then a new roll will be made and supersede the pre-roll.

Would that work? Maybe. But in some groups you might discover that this creates some weird metagaming. (“I’d sneak up on them, but then I’d lose that great Perception initiative check I made!”) You could combat that with secret checks (but now with easier bookkeeping!).

Or you could lean into it by instead ruling that the new initiative check will only supersede the original check if it’s better than the original check. This would, in turn, encourage players to always find an alternative approach to initiating encounters than whatever the default approach is. Is that desirable? That’s a question only you and your group can answer.

FINESSE TECHNIQUES

Taking a slightly broader view here, a lot of what we’re talking about here are finesse techniques: These are the subtle little differences in how we use, interpret, present, implement, and execute the mechanics of an RPG. (And also non-mechanical interactions!)

These techniques can have a huge impact on the quality of a game session, but a surprisingly small amount of GMing advice talks about this stuff. Perhaps this is because such techniques can be so situational in their use. Whatever the case may be, I think you can reap huge rewards by making a point of really thinking not just about the rules you’re using, but how you’re using them.

For another example of finesse techniques, check out Random GM Tips: The Numbers That We Say.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #21

David M. asks:

How do you marry scenes (framing, agenda, bangs, etc.) with scenarios/game structures? Do you prepare scene ideas within your scenario “tool bag”, or do they typically pop up in your games organically through your scenario prep?

I ask because scenarios, which I view as more freeform, amorphous, and/or a “bag of tools”, don’t seem to lead directly into scene-framing; however, prepping scenes seem anathema to the flexibility of nodes, scenarios, etc. 

The answer to this question is going to make a lot more sense if you’re familiar with The Art of Pacing, so if you haven’t read that series, you may want to pop over and take a peek. In brief, though, a scene has:

• An agenda, which is what the scene is about. It can be thought of as the question the scene is asking. (For example: Can the PCs escape the kobolds? Can Baron von Stauffen trick the PCs into revealing the identity of their patron? Can they steal the Ruby of Omarrat?)
• A bang, which is the inciting incident that kicks off the scene.
• A location and characters.
• An ending, which may or may not resolve the original agenda of the scene.

The quick answer to your question is that I generally don’t prep full scenes. There are exceptions, but in situation-based scenarios you’re far more likely to be prepping parts of scenes — agendas, bangs, locations, characters, etc. — and then combining and framing those parts into fully realized scenes in reaction to what the players are doing.

For example, my campaign status document is often stocked with a timeline of bangs, many of which are generated by things that have previously happened during play. For example, maybe the PCs have angered the Domingo cartel, so the cartel sends an assassin to kill them.

You could, in fact, prep this as a full scene: The assassin will attack the PCs when they go to a specific place and in a specific way. (For example, when the PCs go to the 1029 Bar, their favorite hangout, the assassin will try to poison their drinks.) And there are many cases when that’s exactly what you should do.

In practice, though, I’m far more likely to just put the assassin in my campaign status document. The actual scene I frame will be the result of combining that scene fragment with the events of actual play. For example, maybe the PCs decide to hole up in a motel outside of town. What might happen next? Well, I can look at my timeline of bangs, pull the assassin, combine it with the given circumstances, and frame up a scene where the assassin attacks them at the motel.

Similarly, if I’ve running a mystery scenario, my adventure notes will likely be filled with locations and characters for the PCs to investigate. But those aren’t necessarily scenes. They’re just parts of scenes, and the actual scenes that get framed up will depend on where the PCs go, what they do, and how events play out.

To take a simple example, the PCs might identify a suspect. When they decide to investigate the suspect, what scene(s) will you frame up? Well, that depends. Are they going to interrogate them? Put them under surveillance? Hack their phone? Try to seduce them under false pretenses? Each of those would be completely different scenes, often playing out at different locations, with different bangs, and with very different agendas.

As this suggests, scenario structures are going to give you guidance on what scene elements to prep and how to use them. In many cases, the structure tell you how to frame your scenes: What scenes to frame, what questions are important to answer, and what to fill those scenes with. It’ll also often tell you a lot about empty time — the unimportant stuff you can and should be framing past to the next scene.

For example, consider a dungeon scenario: You prep individual rooms filled with threats, secrets, and treasures. The structure naturally leads you to frame each room as a scene, with common agendas focused on the content keyed to the room like:

• Can the PCs defeat the monsters?
• Can the PCs find the treasure?
• Can the PCs solve the puzzle?

Similarly, in a node-based scenario one of your nodes might be an NPC with key information (that will lead the PCs to other nodes and/or reveal deeper truths about the conspiracy). The structure here is going to naturally lead you to frame scenes that have some specific variation of, “Can the PCs find the leads they need to continue their investigation?” as the agenda.

Of course, you’re not limited to these basic, structurally suggested scenes. Your scenarios will be enriched if you can find — or follow your players’ lead in finding — agendas that are more unique, personal, and tailored to the context of the campaign. But the fundamental guidance of the structure will nevertheless be helpful.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #20: Transferable Techniques

SPOILERS FOR DRAGON HEIST

Anne asks:

I want to run Dragon Heist for my group. Everyone is exited and we’ve already created characters, but I’ve just discovered that two of my players already know the Cassalanters’ secret. It’s not their fault, but I’m really frustrated. Is there anything I can do?

This is a really tough position to be put in, and it’s definitely something you have to think about when running a published campaign. Particularly when it comes to Wizards of the Coast’s official D&D adventures, a lot of this stuff just kind of leaks into the meme-sphere. Your players may not even realize they’ve been spoiled until they’re actually playing the adventure. For example, the secret identity of the big bad guy in Storm King’s Thunder is spoiled in a Magic the Gathering expansion. I’m currently facing similar concerns for running Descent Into Avernus, which are further complicated because (a) the title of the adventure is a spoiler in itself and (b) there are questions about how much Baldur’s Gate 3 spoils things.

Assuming that you don’t want to swap adventures or drop the players who are spoiled, there are, broadly speaking, three approaches to handling this.

First, talk to the spoiled player and ask them to be discrete and not spoil the experience for others. If you’ve got a really good player who’s willing to be responsible about this, particularly if they tend to play from the Author stance (and, therefore, immersion in their character’s POV is of less importance to them), this can work.

In my experience, though, this is still a diminished experience. It’s like working together to solve a crossword puzzle with someone who’s already solved it: At best, they can sit back and not participate in those elements of the campaign. (Which, in some cases, can be a tell in its own right and still ruin the experience for the other players!)

Second, change the spoiled element or give it a twist to surprise the player. For example:

• Change the Cassalanters’ name (and perhaps a few other pertinent details) so the PCs don’t recognize them.
• The Cassalanters are innocent! The story they tell (i.e., diabolists have cursed their children and they’re trying to lift the curse) is true. Take all the Asmodean elements and shift them to a different noble family. (Maybe the Gralhunds?)
• Since the twist won’t work, simply don’t have the Cassalanters approach the PCs as potential allies. They’ll be open villains when they appear, no different than Xanathar and his minions, and therefore the players’ knowing that they’re diabolists won’t be a problem.

(Can you think of other options for working around a Cassalanter spoiler?)

Making these changes will often mean choosing tradeoffs. For example, making the Cassalanters innocent victims means losing the “It was the parents!” twist. Obviously, you should try to choose tradeoffs that you can live with, and you should also look for ways to not only mitigate the damage, but also create cool new opportunities. (If you’d still like a big twist reveal for the cultists’ identity, for example, maybe it’s Renaer who’s the Asmodean cult leader?)

Something to consider here is whether or not the player knows that they’re spoiled. For example, they might know that the Cassalanters are diabolists because they’ve encountered them in a different adventure, but they might simultaneously have no idea that the Cassalanters are part of the Dragon Heist campaign. If that’s the case, then you might be able to get away with just quietly changing the Cassalanters’ names.

If a player knows that they’re spoiled, on the other hand, and you’re completely altering or removing the spoiled element, then it may be a good idea to tell the player what you’re doing (so that they don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about it). If you’re twisting their expectations, on the other hand, that twist will likely be at least partly based on subverting the players’ meta-knowledge, so you wouldn’t want to double the spoiler by warning them that it’s coming.

Either way, though, you’ll likely want to combine this with Option #1, warning them not to discuss the spoilers with the other players, even if they’re no longer true for the current campaign.

The third option, however, is to turn the spoiled players into co-conspirators. Since the players know the spoilers, frame things so that their CHARACTERS also know the spoiler, but have a reason not to share it with the other PCs. (At least, not immediately.)

In this case, for example, what if the spoiled players’ characters were actually members of the Asmodean cult, sworn to secrecy? When the Cassalanters approach the group and ask for help (still under false pretenses), it’s at least in part because the cult members are part of the group and can vouch for them. (Note that, depending on how much the spoiled players know, you might still be able to keep some surprises – e.g., the true nature of the ritual the Cassalanters are planning – in reserve, or create new twists that are uniquely possible with the new framing.)

The great thing about this approach is that it once again unifies the player and character experiences, so that the player can enjoy the immersive experience of their character’s POV; the puzzle-solving aspects of game play; and the dramatic satisfaction of surprise and payoff.

In this particular case, of course, it’s also creating potential inter-party antagonism between the PCs, which can be problematic. (And some groups may be uncomfortable with any hidden knowledge, even if the knowledge isn’t inimical to the other PCs’ interests.) A full breakdown of how to handle these concerns is a discussion for another time, but a few things I would think about for this specific scenario are:

• Noting that it doesn’t immediately make the PCs antagonistic with each other. Even when the Cassalanters approach the group, the group’s interests can still remained aligned.
• If/when conflict does arise, making sure it remains clear that the diabolist PCs always have the choice to swap their allegiance. (This would be another strong reason to keep the true nature of the ritual hidden from them, in my opinion.)
• Set up replacement characters in the supporting cast that the diabolist players can easily step into if a rift in the party forces the diabolist characters out. (And making sure the players of the diabolist characters are aware that this is a possible outcome.)

Generally speaking, I’ve found that it’s usually possible to set up this sort of dynamic in a way that’s fun and thrilling for everyone. But it’s also useful to remember that there are other ways to set up motivated hidden knowledge that doesn’t create party strife. For example, I ran a campaign where one of the PCs had access to secret lore through their clan… but the clan’s beliefs also meant that they were honor-bound to keep it a secret. When circumstances and trust resulted in them finally entrusting their fellow PCs with the secrets, it was just a cool moment; nobody felt betrayed or at odds.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #19

suffering asks:

What considerations are there for structuring a scenario so that the PCs are forced to choose between options that are mutually exclusive?

For example, the PCs are investigating a smuggling operation. A ship they suspect is being used for smuggling has docked. The PCs can investigate the ship or stake out the crew, but they don’t have time for both. By the time they’re done on the ship, the crew will have finished their dealings; if they follow the crew, the ship will have been cleaned out of most of the incriminating evidence.

Whichever way they go, they’ll have enough information to proceed, but won’t have the full picture.

The simple answer is: No reason to avoid it!

Framing scenarios or scenes so that they have tough choices in them is actually a great idea! For example, I have a video about dilemma scenario hooks, another example of dilemma-based scenario, that discusses some of the really cool dynamics you can get from designing scenarios this way.

If you want to explore the more advanced answer to this question, though, there are three things I would think about.

First, dilemma-based design can create a lot of wasted prep, as described in the Smart Prep series (among other places). If the PCs can do X or they can do Y, but not both, then your prep for one of those things will end up not being used. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s something I would think about a try to mitigate. (For example, if the situation allows for it, maybe you don’t fully prep X or Y until the PCs have made the choice about which path they’re going to follow.)

This seems like less of a concern for the specific scenario you’re describing: The two sequences are pretty short, and the prep for either probably still circles back into the scenario later on. (For example, the stat blocks and write-ups for the crew members the PCs could follow will still be relevant later even if the PCs stay and search the ship.) But it’s probably worth keeping in mind.

Second, when thinking in terms of framing dilemmas, it’s really easy to fall into the trap of contingency-base prep: “If the PCs do X, then… but if they do Y, then…” But it’s going to be more useful (and probably also waste less prep) if — even while you’re aware of the potential dilemma — you keep your eye on situation-based prep.

In other words, think less about what the PCs might do and more about what’s happening. There’s a practical difference between prepping “the PCs can follow the crew or investigate the ship” and “this is what the crew of the ship are doing… I wonder what the PCs will do?”

For example, maybe the PCs spit up and do both. Or maybe they decide to ambush the crew and kill them. Or they wait for one crew member to become isolated, grab ‘em, and interrogate them. Or they set the ship on fire. Or they stage a fake crime so that they can call the cops and have them investigate the ship. Any or all of this could come from “half the crew goes into town on business; the other half stays on the ship and offloads the cargo.”

To read more about contingency-based prep, check out Prep Tools, Not Contingencies.

Finally, what effect does dilemma-based design have on node-based design and the Three Clue Rule?

To some extent, we can simplify this question by ignoring the dilemma aspect and instead focusing on time-limited nodes. For example, there are clues that the PCs can only get by following the smuggler crew while they’re doing their business in town. (Or only at the dark ritual or only at Lord Dalton’s party or only by observing the fall of the blue meteor or whatever.)

This can be even further generalized to “the PCs missed a node” — e.g., they never actually to Danner’s Meats for whatever reason. And even more generalized to “they missed some clues” (because they didn’t find them, couldn’t figure them out, etc.).

The good news is that the core function of the Inverted Three Clue Rule is to solve the problem of “they missed a clue.” So as long as you haven’t put all your eggs in one basket, you probably don’t need to worry about it.

With that being said, if your have a strongly-framed dilemma (such that the PCs can definitely only do A or B, but not both), it probably wouldn’t hurt to toss a few more redundant clues into the scenario and/or prep a proactive element to act as a backup.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #18

RCC asks:

I just ran my first game and got into a sticky situation: The NPC quest giver asked the party to clear the dungeon, but the PCs stopped after the first room and came back because the entrance to the second room was blocked. I ended up just having the quest giver pay them because I couldn’t figure out what to do. What should I have done?

It sounds like your players thought they’d accomplished their goal, but hadn’t. You can also run into this sort of situation if the PCs are deliberately trying to con their employer, of course, and the way you can handle it is largely identical.

It basically boils down to a broader GMing principle: Figure out the consequences of the PCs’ actions, then look for how those consequences can be vectored back to and intersect with the PCs’.

In this case, those consequences and that intersection is probably obvious and, in a long-term campaign, pretty easy to bring into play. For example, let’s say that the PCs were hired to clear out a mine infested with rust monsters. They told the person that hired them that the rust monsters were all gone, but they weren’t. What happens when the person who hired them discovers that?

An angry customer demanding that they finish the job might actually be the least of their problems! If the mine owner sent workers back into the mine believing that the dangerous creatures were no longer present, innocent people might have been killed. Has the mine owner been imprisoned due to endangerment? Are bounty hunters trying to round up the PCs to come testify? Does the brother of a slain miner try to track them down for a little vengeance?

Or flip it around and look at the consequences of the mine remaining closed: Does the local economy collapse? Was the silver flowing from the mine an essential income for a local duke, whose political power is damaged as a result of its loss?

Also: Where did those rust monsters come from? What consequences might there be from a herd of (breeding?) rust monsters having longer access to such a prolific feeding ground?

Your most immediate goal might just be to prompt the PCs to go back and finish the adventure, but often the splash back to their reputation and the ancillary fallout from their failures (or con jobs) can be just as interesting or even more interesting.

For a discussion of similar techniques, also check out Running the Campaign: Aftermath of Adventure.

ONE-SHOTS

If this scenario was being run as a one-shot, on the other hand, the real-world time pressure would obviously make it more difficult to explore all of these possibilities. So if I ran into this “whoops, they ditched the scenario” situation while running a one-shot, there are a couple things I’d look at.

First, did we already fill a goodly portion of our time and did everyone seem to have a good time? If so, it can be just fine to shrug and say, “Great adventure!”

On the other hand, if we have a whole bunch of time left in our slot and/or the experience seems unsatisfying, then I’d probably try to figure out how to let them know that they missed the adventure.

If you can figure out how to do that diegetically, great! For example, as the PCs — standing in the first room of the dungeon — conclude that the job was a lot easier than they thought it would be and make preparations to leave, that might be a great moment to have some hungry rust monsters, drawn by the smell of all the succulent metal the PCs are wearing, burst through whatever is blocking the entrance to the second room of the dungeon and attack!

But if you ultimately just need to say to the players out of character, “Hey, folks. The rest of the dungeon is on the other side of the boarded up passage with the signs saying, ‘KEEP OUT!’,” that’s not necessarily the end of the world.

Another way to do this, though, is to look at some of the long-term options you might use in a campaign and to the same thing, but at a faster pace!

For example, the PCs go back to town. They get paid. And then — BAM! — you skip a bunch of empty time and jump straight to, “We fast forward two weeks and the mine owner is in your face! ‘What game are y’all trying to play?! You only cleared out the first room!”

Then take a five minute break and use the time to sketch in a few new details to the dungeon suggesting the passage of time:

• The blockade has been removed by returning miners.
• Signs of fresh violence where the miners were surprised to encounter the rust monsters they were told had been cleared out.
• A creche or two of baby rust monsters that had time to be born because the PCs didn’t get the job done immediately, potentially complicating the situation in any number of ways.

And just like that, you’ve turned frustration into a fun and memorable scenario that’s made even more special because it came not only from you, but from the choices of your players!

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #17