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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IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Character Background: Agnarr

Today I’m posting the first entry in the campaign journal for Ptolus: In the Shadow of the Spire. It takes the form of the background for a character named Agnarr (created by David Blackmer).

The common view of character creation is often that of a solo affair: The player creates their character and then brings it to the game. But I’ve always viewed the creation of a player character as a collaborative process.

STEP 0: THE CAMPAIGN CONCEPT

Before any character is created there’s the campaign concept. This can be roughly broken down as the answer to three questions: Who are the characters? What do they do? Where do they do it?

One of the traditional advantages D&D has enjoyed over many other roleplaying games is that it comes with a flexible but clear-cut concept: 99 out of 100 D&D campaigns are about a group of adventurers exploring dungeons and slaying dragons in a Tolkienesque fantasy setting. If someone says, “Hey, you want to play D&D?” You’ve already got a pretty good idea what that campaign is going to look like.

On the other hand, if someone says, “Hey, you want to play Heavy Gear?” The only question that answers is, “Where do they do it?” (The planet Terra Nova in the seventh millennium.) It leaves completely unanswered the questions of who the characters are and what they do: They could be members of a Saragossan terrorist cell; they could be soldiers in a military strike team; they could be mercenaries in the Badlands; they could be arena gladiators; and so forth.

And, of course, if someone says, “Hey, do you want to play GURPS?” They haven’t told you anything about the campaign concept. You could be playing anything from anthropomorphic cavemen to transhuman cyber hackers.

The creation of a campaign concept can, in itself, be a collaborative process. The question, “What do you guys want to play next?” is basically the most simplistic form of that. But in addition to answering the three basic questions (Who? What? Where?), the GM can also create a discussion about specific themes and even events that the players would like to explore.

Even with D&D, it’s still a good idea to communicate a more specific campaign concept. There is a difference, for example, between the characters who will be effective in urban, rural, and subterranean environments. (And, of course, even larger differences are also possible.) You shouldn’t bring a knife to a gunfight, and your players will have more fun if they don’t bring a woodland druid loaded up with Knowledge (nature) and Survival skills to an all-urban campaign with nary a tree in sight.

In the case of In the Shadow of the Spire, the central structure of the campaign is based around a major mystery. That mystery is literally launched in the very first moment of the campaign, and I didn’t want to spoil that initial moment of surprise. This made it difficult to discuss the deeper campaign concept with the players, but I was still able to tell them the big picture:

The entire campaign will take place within the city of Ptolus — a major city-state that serves as Arathia’s only port on the Southern Sea. It’s a cosmopolitan city. There are elven enclaves from the Teeth of Light; a large dwarven population descended from the refugees of the Kingdoms of the East; a rare population of centaurs; and even that strange and enigmatic litorians. In recent years, vast subterranean complexes, laden with treasure, have been discovered beneath the streets of the city. A gold rush of sorts has erupted around the exploration and looting of these complexes.

From a more abstract point of view: In the Shadow of the Spire will be a combination of urban adventures and dungeoneering. There will be a good mix of standard dungeon-crawling, diplomatic intrigue, and complex investigation.

Now, with this campaign concept in hand, it’s time to start working on the actual characters.

Continued…

Starting tomorrow I’ll be posting campaign journals from my ongoing campaign — Ptolus: In the Shadow of the Spire. These journals are actually quite long, so I won’t be clogging up the main page with them. (EDIT: On the new website, I’ll be using “Read More” tags.)

What I will be posting to the main page, however, are original essays relating to the journal entries. Some of these will be sort of “Behind the Scenes” commentary, which may only be of interest if you enjoy reading the journals themseles. (Which I hope you will.) But others will spin-off from the journal material to talk about my DMing techniques and adventure design. (Although, let’s be honest, whether those will be any more interesting or insightful is proably open to debate.)

This particular post will probably end up being a little bit of both, as I talk a little about the origins of the campaign.

STEP 1: THE SEED OF AN IDEA

I started my first full-fledged 3rd Edition campaign in the summer of 2001. The impetus for that campaign was the desire to run John Tynes’ Three Days to Kill. I spent a couple of weeks sketching out the map of a campaign world, roughing in the history and mythology of the setting, and then developing the broad outlines of a five act campaign (starting with the events of Three Days to Kill).

That was the origin of a setting I refer to as the Western Lands. Since that time, the Western Lands have served as the setting for most of my D&D games.

My desire to run a Ptolus campaign actually dates all the way back to 2002. That was the year that Monte Cook released The Banewarrens mega-adventure. I knew as soon as I read The Banewarrens that this was a campaign I wanted to run — it combined an evocative mythology; a unique setting; and a flexible, open-ended design. I actually started laying down the groundwork immediately: The PCs in that first Western Lands campaign traveled through Ptolus, allowing me to establish both the city and the distinctive Spire.

One thing led to another, however, I ended up running several other campaigns before my attention returned once more to The Banewarrens. And then I hit one more delay because I heard that Monte Cook was developing the most ambitious city supplement ever published, describing the city of Ptolus in exuberant detail.

STEP 2: THE BACKBONE

By 2007, Monte Cook had published over 1000 pages of material for Ptolus (including the deluxe 660 page sourcebook). Improperly done, that much material could have acted as a straitjacket — choking any life or spontaneity from the setting. But, impressively, Cook designed the material to maximize its usefulness at the game table. The richness of the setting really excited me.

The other thing that excited me was the adventure material. In addition to The Banewarrens, I also had the sample adventures from the Ptolus sourcebook and the Night of Dissolution mega-adventure.

This material, with a fair degree of restructuring, became the backbone for the first two acts of a five-act campaign structure focused around a fusion of Ptolus mythology and the mythology of the Western Lands.

STEP 3: PUBLISHED ADVENTURES

Opinions on using published adventures tend to vary quite a bit: Some people are for them as time-savers; others criticize them for lacking creativity.

I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of this debate. For me, a well-designed adventure module is like a well-written play. Part of the entertainment value is in taking someone else’s creative material and interpreting it. There’s also something I really relish in the concept of a common experience shared disparately among many different gamers.

We tend to think of creativity as something that begins with a blank canvas and disparage anything that “rips off” something else. But the reality is that lots of valuable creative work doesn’t start with a blank canvas, and this type of creative interpretation is widely recognized in many artforms: Thousands of actors interpret the words of Shakespeare every year. T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, and elements of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman have all drawn from mythology. John Howe and Alan Lee interpret the works of J.R.R. Tolkien in their paintings.

On the flip-side, while I will strategically use published adventures in my campaigns, they seldom define my campaigns. For example, in the case of In the Shadow of the Spire, Monte Cook’s material forms the backbone of the first three acts of the campaign… but only about 25% of the adventure material I’m using is pre-published (and only some of the material is Cook’s).

(Although working in Ptolus has been interesting because so much of the original material I’m generating is still, quite naturally, being heavily influenced by the unique mythology and history of the city.)

Perhaps one of the reasons I have success with published modules is because my use is governed by desire instead of need. For example, I didn’t decide to run The Banewarrens because I was looking for a mini-campaign that would take the PCs from 6th to 10th level. I decided to run The Banewarrens because I thought it was a pretty awesome adventure.

And that’s pretty typical of how I use published adventures in general. On my shelf I’ve got a couple dozen or so published adventures for a variety of RPGs that I think are pretty nifty (for one reason or another). A few of those will serve as the impetus for an entire campaign that will grow up around them, like an oak growing out of an acorn. But most of them will see use for the opposite reason: I’ll be designing a campaign and I’ll see a place where I can slot them in.

For example, Act II of In the Spire of the Shadow revolves in part around pursuing a network of cults. It just makes sense to go out and grab a couple of the cult-oriented adventures I’ve got hanging around and seeing if I can make them work within the larger structure of this section of the campaign.

STEP 4: THE PLAYERS

In the Shadow of the Spire actually started as an online game. My primary motivation for this was David Blackmer. David had been one of my players in the original Western Lands campaign, and that campaign had actually come to an end when he moved to Indiana. David is an amazing roleplayer, and I had missed playing with him ever since he left.

So I put together a suite of tools including ScreenMonkey and Skype so that David and I could play together. When all was said and done, I’d also picked up players in Arizona and Iowa. Adding a couple of locals to the mix gave me a group with five players.

STEP 5: GETTING STARTED

Which is where we’ll pick up tomorrow…