IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

PRELUDE 1A: THE LOST VAULTS

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IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Prelude 1A: The Lost Vaults

Now we get to the start of the actual campaign journal — the chronicling of what actually happened at the (virtual) game table.

Writing the campaign journal is actually the most time-consuming part of running a game for me. I spend more time maintaining the campaign journal than I do prepping the adventures or running them. So why do I bother?

(1) The campaign journal is an invaluble reference tool for both me and the players while the campaign is actually running. In the Shadow of the Spire, for example, started in February 2007. Events that happened in those very first sessions continue to be relevant a year and a half later. So being able to quickly reference those events is important.

(2) I have a finely tuned sense of nostalgia. Any RPG session results in a unique story created by the GM and the players. These stories don’t function particularly well as narrative constructs, but when viewed as a chronicle of events I think they can actually be quite fascinating. I have many fond memories from the gaming table and, when a campaign is all said and done, I enjoy going back to read the campaign journals and having those memories refreshed. The campaign journal may take a lot of time in its own right, but it also greatly extends the long-term enjoyment to be gleaned from the campaign.

The desire for a reference tool and the concept that a campaign journal is a chronicle of events have come to shape the format I use for my journals. Most notably, I use bullet-pointed paragraphs. This evolved out of my earlier campaign journals (which were literally just bullet-point lists of events that would read something like “Talbar went to the temple” without any kind of supporting detail; the journals were more like cheat sheets for the session designed to jog our faulty memories). But I’ve also found it to be a useful psychological trick: If I’m writing in standard paragraphs, I tend to slip into trying to structure events into a narrative. This is more difficult and time-consuming. It also tends to distort events.

(For example, when Shakespeare wrote Henry V he didn’t try to record what Henry did every day. Instead he distilled those events into a compelling narrative structure. When I’m writing a campaign journal, on the other hand, I am trying to record what the PCs did every day.)

Which brings us to the next question: How accurate is this recounting of events?

Lots of campaign journals will try to polish or jazz up what actually took place at the gaming table. Events will end up being just a little bit more dramatic; dialogue will be a little more eloquent; and everything will come off just a little bit cooler.

For the most part, I try to avoid that temptation. Partly, again, because I’m shooting for an accurate reference tool. But also because I like to humor myself into thinking that we’re plenty awesome without needing to revise the historical record.

Which isn’t to say that there isn’t an editorial process: Routine shopping trips will frequently hit the cutting room floor. Lengthy conversations will be summarized or edited down to the salient points. But virtually all of this takes the form of deciding what not to write about, rather than altering anything. Basically, if you read it in the journal than that actually happened at my gaming table.

(And even with the editorial process I’ll err on the side of conservation. If I had a nickel for every time the PCs suddenly decided to make contact with the scribe they hired 10 sessions ago… Well, I’d have a nickel. But you get the point.)

SPOILERS: It should go without saying that the journal will contain various spoilers for the Ptolus sourcebook. However, other chunks of the campaign are drawn from various published modules. When that happens, a spoiler warning identifying the source will be affixed to the top of the relevant journal entry.

PICTURES: Pictures featured in the campaign journal are almost always pillaged from other sources. Whenever possible, these pictures are hyperlinked to the original source. For example, the map of Stonemarten Village in today’s journal entry was pulled from Grailquest 2: Den of Dragons.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

CHARACTER BACKGROUND: TEE

Character Background: Tithenmamiwen

Today I’m posting the character background for the elven maid Tithenmamiwen, the second main character from In the Shadow of the Spire. I’m also continuing my discussion of the collaborative process of character creation.

STEP 1: THE PLAYER’S CONCEPT

Once the players know what the campaign concept is, I generally turn them loose to create whatever they want to create.

In some cases the strictures of the campaign concept will tightly curtail their options. For example, if the campaign is about a group of teenagers who have manifested psychic abilities and been drafted into a government secret-ops team… well, then I’m expecting to get back characters who are teenagers with psychic abilties.

In the case of In the Shadow of the Spire, the players were pretty much given carte blanche with their character concepts. There were basically only two instructions: First, I wanted the characters to be newcomers to Ptolus. Second, I didn’t want the players to try to explain why they had come to Ptolus (that would be handled at the beginning of the campaign).

Once I get a character concept back from my players, the next step is integrating that concept into the campaign. There are actually two parts to this process, which I’ll refer to as public and private.

STEP 2: PUBLIC INTEGRATION

The public integration is a collaborative process where I try to work the character more deeply into the cultural and historical aspects of the campaign world. There are two reasons for doing this: First, I find that the collaboration tends to encourage more deeply imagined characters. Second, my players rarely know as much about the campaign setting as I do (even if it’s a published campaign setting). So this collaboration is both a way to take advantage of the deeply detailed settings I like to use and a way of introducing the player to the setting.

The actual process of collaboration will vary quite a bit.

In the case of Agnarr, for example, the player gave me a 1st-level barbarian and a very simple character concept: “A northern barbarian / fighter.” A nice, clear-cut archetype. I asked several qualifying questions, and eventually wrote up a complete character background (which also included the hook for the beginning of the campaign). Because the player was mostly interested in that clear-cut archetype, the final result just hints at some cultural content that could be used to play up that archetype.

In the case of Tithenmamiwen (Tee), on the other hand, the player had a very specific concept of the character as a young elf girl with dead-or-missing parents; a desire to find her own identity; a rebellious streak; and a deep desire to unravel secrets. The player was very interested in the cultural details I was giving her, and so the final character background was rich with those details.

In terms of process, there’s no right or wrong here. And it’s not about me, as the GM, trying to impose my concept of the character. Rather, I have two goals:

First, I want to realize the player’s character within the context of the game world. Basically, I try to assume a permissive stance. If the player comes to me with a concept, my primary goal is to find some way of making that concept work.

Second, I want to find ways to use the depth of the game world to enrich the character concept. This may sound complex or overtly literary, but it’s really just a matter of figuring out how to link the character into the world. In fact, you’re probably doing it already. When the player says, “I want to play the priest of a god of war.” You say, “The god of war is Itor.”

Of course, you can also make it more than that. You can add details about how the church of Itor operates; what the history of the church is; what the religious uniforms of the church are; what the holy symbol of the god is; and so forth.

I also like to take this integration process as an invitation to become creative myself. When a player comes to me wanting to play a knight, for example, I might take that opportunity to write up a couple of pages describing the philosophy of the Order of the Holy Sword.

One the flip-side, you shouldn’t think of this as a one-sided process. If the player wants to develop a knightly order for their character to belong to, I think it’s foolish not to take advantage of that creative work. (The collaboration now becomes a matter of how that knightly order can be integrated into the wider campaign world.)

Similarly, I always try to leave the final say with the player. (Because, again, it’s about developing their original character concept — not changing it.) For example, if they come to me with a knight and I send them back a couple pages describing the philosophy of the Order of the Holy Sword, I’ll try to make a point of asking, “Does that sound right?”

If it isn’t, we’ll try to figure out where I misinterpreted the character concept and try to find a solution that works. And maybe that means that they’re a member of some other knightly order.

STEP 3: PRIVATE INTEGRATION

For all intents and purposes, the character is now ready to go. But as a GM, I’m not finished. At this point, I’ll start figuring out how to hook the character into the larger structure of the campaign.

Is there a major villain in the second act? Make it the long-lost brother of one of the PCs.

Is there a kidnap victim in the third adventure? Make it the mentor of one of the PCs.

Was I planning to have a corrupt order of wizards? Give one of the PCs a chance to join it.

And so forth. It’s about figuring out how to make the campaign about the characters instead of just involving the characters.

STEP 4: MAKING THE PARTY

Technically this isn’t a separate step. It’s something that should be taken under consideration throughout the entire character creation process.

What binds these disparate characters together?

I like to consider myself as being fairly skilled at handling situations where the PCs split up, but even I don’t think it’s a good idea to run a campaign where the PCs don’t have some sort of cohesion.

D&D, again, has a traditional advantage in that it provides a baseline answer to that problem: We’re here for the loot. But it’s usually a good idea to figure out a better explanation for how the group came together and why they’ll stay together. Either providing a common, meaningful goal or having them all part of the same organization are usually the best way to accomplish that.

This is probably an opportune time to point out that the collaborative process of character creation doesn’t have to be limited to a conversation between the GM and the player — it can involve the entire table. It can often be a good idea to have a special session for character creation. It can allow for open discussion of what the game should be; who the characters should be; and how they’re interconnected. That didn’t happen as much with In the Shadow of the Spire because it was being run online, but it’s a valuable technique.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

CHARACTER BACKGROUND: AGNARR

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