From Reddit:

At the conclusion to this school year’s campaign, in order to pick up at the beginning of next semester, I want to have Pelor and Sehanine fight, with Pelor winning and eating Sehanine’s heart to become corrupted. However, if I just set the gods in a valley and describe what happens as they throw down, I feel like I am taking away my players agency. Advice?

My response to this is based on Part 2 of The Art of Pacing, and I thought it raised some specific points that might be of interest to others:

Right now you’re setting the agenda of the scene as, “Will Pelor eat Sehanine’s heart?” That’s an understandable impulse because it’s clearly the biggest and coolest thing happening in that particular moment. But, as you note, that agenda doesn’t mention the PCs at all and, therefore, prevents them from taking any meaningful action.

Instead of focusing on the outcome of the god-fight, you need to figure out what the PCs’ agenda will be during the fight: What is it they’re trying to accomplish and what are the obstacles they’ll need to overcome to accomplish it?

Another way to think about this would be to replace the god-fight with a similarly cataclysmic event. For example, the PCs are in Los Angeles and the Big One hits the San Andreas fault. The agenda here would not be, “Will the earthquake destroy Los Angeles?” The answer to that question is beyond the PCs’ control. The agenda will instead involve the PCs reacting to the immediate chaos and destruction around them, probably answering variations of, “Can you survive?” or “Can you save that person/place/item?”)

Or you could actually think of the god-fight as a spectator event. For example, let’s say your PCs go to a football game. There are two possibilities here: Either the event is narrated very quickly and you move on to the next interesting thing which actively involves the PCs (“The game goes to sudden death overtime, but the Vikings pull out a victory. What do you do after the game?”). Or you’re focused on an event happening at the football match which is unrelated to the game (so that the agenda is something like, “Will Carlie kiss you?”). Or the PCs are able to take actions which somehow impact the outcome of the game (by stopping the gangsters who are trying to assassinate the star wide receiver or by outfitting the home team’s shoes with Flubber or whatever).

Returning to the god-fight, you’ll find that the same techniques apply. You could spend 30 seconds describing the titanic fight in brief (but effective) detail before moving onto the next agenda that’s immediately relevant to the PCs. Or you could set agendas that:

• Deal with the collateral damage of the fight (saving themselves or others).
• Use the god-fight as the backdrop for some other conflict. (Which may have nothing to do with the god-fight; for example, as the gods begin to fight the PCs might be attacked by a group of assassins. The narration of the god-fight backdrops or thematically complements the fight against the assassins; maybe by-products from the god-fight affect the assassin fight in cool ways.)
• Allow the PCs to directly affect or influence the god-fight (maybe there are local shrines to the gods that they can imbue with energy; or they could organize mass prayers; or travel to points of sympathetic divine resonance in the region and sacrifice their divine spell slots to aid their god).
• Or the outcome of the god-fight (for example they might be able to take actions during the fight which will either aid or hinder them later while dealing with Pelor’s corruption).
• Allow the PCs to learn something from the god-fight.

If you’re struggling to come up with an appropriate agenda, don’t be afraid of letting your players set the agenda. For example:

GM: Pelor and Sehanine start to fight. What do you do?

Players: We RUN!!

Presto. The agenda is, “Can they escape?” and you should be able to run with it from there. Even if they decide there’s no possible agenda for them to pursue (like people just enjoying the football game in front of them), it’s still a useful technique:

GM: Pelor and Sehanine start to fight. What do you do?

Players: We sit in stunned silence and watch.

Now you can launch into you 60 second description of the titanic battle playing out in front of them, but you haven’t removed their agency. (They’re the ones who chose to stay and watch.)

Final tip: Break the fight into a half dozen or so distinct beats. Describing these beats succinctly is the 60 second description, but the beats also provide a flexible structure for any other agendas that might be pursued. (If they start fighting assassins, for example, each beat gets described as the backdrop to a round of combat. If they try to save people in a nearby village, some or all of the beats provide complications to that effort. And so forth.)

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #15

My personal theory on “take-backs” in tabletop games. If:

(a) There is no new information; and

(b) the game has not changed

Then a move can be changed.

In more complex games, we are also generally pretty relaxed about retconning standard maintenance tasks that get overlooked as long as they don’t impact ongoing events. (So you can’t say, “Oh, hey, I forgot to add a reinforcement to this province that’s about to be attacked.” But it’s probably okay if you say, “I forgot to grab $300 for occupying Yu-Shang.”)

The writing is really bad.

This is the biggest problem. Voyager regularly deals up truly horrendous episodes at a pace roughly equivalent to the Original Series, but it doesn’t surround those episodes with the highs of TOS (which produced some of the best episodes of television ever made).

The acting on the show is also incredibly problematic. There are several performers who are just flat-out terrible. Others are crippled by the bad writing. The cast notably lacks the stellar talents like Shatner and Stewart: The best actor on the show is Robert Picardo, but it’s really difficult to run a show out of sickbay. (Which is why most of the series’ best moments come after the Doctor gets a portable holo-emitter and Jeri Ryan joins the cast.)

Coming back to the writing, though, we can also note that the writer’s room was burned out: The same basic team had produced hundreds of episodes of Star Trek at this point and they were just running out of ideas. There’s a lot of rehashed Trek fan-fiction taking the place of original science fiction ideas. (And if you peek behind the scenes, you’ll discover a surprisingly large number of rejected scripts from other series getting dumped into Voyager.)

Finally, the show embraced ideologies that were curiously antithetical to a lot of the futurism that the franchise had previously fanfared. For example, “Measure of a Man” is one of the most celebrated episodes in all of Trek, so it was weird to see so many episodes of Voyager endorsing Janeway’s position that the Doctor (and other forms of artificial life) weren’t actually sentient beings. Voyager is also where the Prime Directive reached bat-shit insanity.

What might have saved the show would have been to embrace the long-running story arc with meaningful continuity that its premise inherently promised. But meddling from above repeatedly prevented that from happening.

Nail in the coffin: The entire series hinges on Voyager being stranded in the Delta Quadrant. The writers accomplished that by making Janeway an asshole; misinterpreting the Prime Directive; and then executing a plan that makes no sense. (Put your bombs on a timer!) The entire series got off on the wrong foot and was based, ultimately, on some really stupid writing.

I want a self-driving car so badly it hurts.

But there’s one frequent claim I often see from proponents of self-driving cars: That they’ll usher in an era of autonomous taxis which will cause the personal ownership of automobiles to drop off a cliff.

That’s possible. But I think it very unlikely. I think we’ll see a dramatic increase in the number of single-car families, but it won’t be because they’re ordering autonomous taxis (although they may from time to time). It will be because they’re able to time-share a single vehicle without needing to physically be in the same place.

The argument for autonomous taxis and the abandonment of personal vehicle ownership hinges on the appealingly simplistic vision of “cars waiting in parking lots”. Since each of us only need our cars for a narrow slice of each day, it would make more sense to essentially share vehicle time with other people. The economic logic of this will mean that using autonomous taxis will be so much cheaper than owning a vehicle that people won’t do it.

What this analysis ignores, unfortunately, is that a significant majority of vehicles are used to commute to and from work. And the majority of those commutes happen at the same time for the vast majority of people. The fleet size required to support those commuting needs will be large enough that the businesses involved won’t see any substantial economy from the communal model, which means the costs won’t be significantly lowered compared to owning your own vehicle.

If you’re looking for what the tack-on effects of autonomous vehicles will be, my prediction is the second great suburban sprawl: When commuting means napping or watching TV or reading or working or otherwise being entertained/productive, the commuting times people will be willing to accept will increase significantly. That’ll push development further out from the city centers.