I've been arguing for some time that player actions should have meaningful consequences. Doing something in-game and having no meaningful consequence feels hollow and flimsy, like a cardboard cutout of a real adventure. That's why I've dedicated so much of my DMing career to providing meaningful consequences to player actions. Recently, I realized just how much of my world has changed, with no small part of that coming from my most recent campaign, Of Gods and Dragons. And the thought struck me that it may be worth considering all these changes at once to see the world at large and how (and perhaps why) these changes have happened. To do this, I'm going to review the five campaigns that have taken place in Evanoch since I started DMing in the setting more than fifteen years ago.
Campaign One: Talon Gorge
I set out to run a "twists and turns" kind of story about assassination contracts leading up the royal family, but the party didn't trust the questgiver and turned on them, resulting in a party split that led to a civil war. This meant the fall of the last monarchy in Evanoch, already a remarkable moment in the world, but the conspirator who had planned the whole thing escaped (with a player character at that). To date, I've never brought back the conspirator for more shenanigans, but it's nice to know she's out there. As a result of the fall of the monarchy, a democratic council was appointed which focused more on the needs of citizens than the old regime had.
At the time, this felt like a pretty appropriate consequence. They saw the city through the civil war, they helped install democratic leadership, they ensured that the new leaders would be more progressive--there was no reason to not grant them a newly prosperous city. I stand by this. The whole crux of the campaign had been the safety of the city and its leadership, and the party fought long and hard to achieve that (the part of the party that remained loyal to the city, anyway). Meanwhile, the rogue agents who opposed the city did succeed in killing the king and dismantling some of the royal government, and that led to the compromise that the monarchy fell but a new progressive government replaced it. So within the context of the campaign, the consequence was fitting--the party saved Talon Gorge, and so Talon Gorge thrived in its new identity.
This was the first campaign I ran in Evanoch. I had no idea the scope of running years of campaigns would mean. Looking back, Talon Gorge's reinvention as a progressive democratic city changed the balance pretty meaningfully. I had created an array of cities that represented different extremes and variations of all manner of details including government. Talon Gorge was the last monarchy, a conservative holdout amongst the major cities of the world. Talon Gorge swinging from most repressive to essentially the most progressive was a big impact. The balance shifted. Evanoch leaned toward a more progressive future and away from a traditionalist past, and I learned at this point that you can establish a world as a playground, but that means surrendering that playground to be changed by the players.
What I would soon realize was that the point of the playground was the players having fun in it. It was not about creating a perfect world and a perfect story, but giving the players a stage to tell their perfect story. Acknowledging this, I decided to move forward by striving to create situations for players but not guide them and to encourage them to change the world.
Campaign Two: Listen Check
I set my sights on something so ambitious that it's a wonder I didn't fail miserably. For my second ever for real D&D campaign, I elected to run a live broadcast D&D game as a radio show and podcast. It was called Listen Check, a pun on 3.5's skill name, and it was my baby. I chose special music every episode for each character, wrote over a hundred pages of in-game documents, illustrated an in-game children's book, wrote the opening seven chapters of an in-game novel, and more hyper-commitment to the art. And oh yeah, the party brought about a change in political leadership and killed a god.
This was something of a mistake. An unintentional outcome, anyway. I'd meticulously made a table of random events and quest hooks that were specific to the gameworld and meant to be explore as non-hierarchical--they're all equal quests. But the first one the party encountered involved a quest from a god, which they took to be the main quest, and I had to develop a campaign about the god. I never intended it to work out that way, but I'd say it went well enough. However, the tunnel vision of creating a campaign around fighting a god got the best of me, and I didn't realize that the end of the line was killing that god. I introduced a dragon character to help the party, and my dragon lore was born. Soon, the god was slain, and I had a rift in time and space as well as the implied existence of more dragons (one of the party assumed a dragon mantle as a reward for his role in defeating the god). I more or less left this untouched as a hook for later stories (and ended up using it for my most recent campaign).
With the ambition that had led me there--a sprawling campaign with new-to-me methods that used a new technology to tell a story over years--the ending was ambitious too. Using a homebrew magic system, one player character stripped the god of its immortality, setting a dangerous precedent of how powerful the magic system was. I would offer it again to future players anyway, always turned down until my most recent campaign. But now the consequence was killing a god and becoming a dragon--taking immortality and gaining it. I recognized that I was flying very close to the sun so to speak, and I realized something conceptual about campaigns.
All campaigns either take place within a narrative vacuum or within a larger context. If the problem that the party is solving as the main campaign only exists within the world in order to be solved, that's a sign of a narrative vacuum. If the DM started with a story idea and created set dressing around it to place it in the world, that's possibly a narrative vacuum. This isn't a bad thing, but a vacuum generally limits how many consequences will reach the larger world beyond the campaign immediately. Talon Gorge began as a vacuum--kill these people, get this reward, for instance, and I designed the city so that the campaign could take place. But it became a broader thing--"how do the people in town feel about political leadership?" is not a direct consequence of "kill these people and get paid." Listen Check began as and stubbornly remained within a larger context. It was a true sandbox that the players treated as something bigger than individual quests. So I noted where things had succeeded and scaled back.
Campaign Three: The Eastweald
Except that years passed, and I forgot the lesson of ambition. I wanted to follow what I believed was at the heart of tabletop roleplaying joy--having agency. I even asked my players to suggest concepts for the campaign itself, a process I've outlined. The result was hard to work with. I had hoped to get aesthetic notes, story fragments that could be chained together or used as mid-level quests; I got a main quest idea from every player. The ambition returned and struck, perhaps lethally. I insisted I would string four main quest-level ideas into one big story. I did my best. My players say it was a success. I remain dissatisfied, wishing more of it had come together in the final sessions. But in the end, each storyline was concluded: a terrorist strike had been made against New Dalton, goliaths had arrived on Evanoch, a plague had been cured, and a traitorous deal with Vecna was made.
I'm sure my displeasure comes through here, and I think on reflection that it just felt like while I took big swings, these were all vacuum stories. I made the Eastweald, a large stretch of forest with a gorgeous map to give the player characters a sandbox, but to tend to the stories, they spend most of their time in a few bigger cities. The storylines individually were interested, but connecting them was hard because none was related to the larger world. The Eastweald had all this potential to be a huge success, but I think that I might have been a little shy of offering huge consequences. After Listen Check, killing a god and becoming a dragon was a very high threshold of consequence, and I had a player dealing with a god, and I had another player planning state violence, and another introducing a new species to my homebrew setting--the possible consequences were massive. I uncharacteristically did not provide an epilogue because I didn't really want to push further consequences of the campaign into the canon history of my world. I regret that. I wish I had done a lot differently. At the very least, I'm glad I got to run something better with the same group later on to vindicate myself.
In terms of consequences, this one remains pretty minimized. It has small ripple effects--Vecna, the god dealt with in this campaign, was largely characterized for me during the god's conversations. I treat the goliaths taking up residence in my homebrew Underdark as canon and plan to handle any future excursions to the Underdark with a full account of this campaign. I treat Woodhearth, the largest city in the Eastweald, as more important than its relatively small size would merit given the important crossroads it lies on (and sentimentality). But by and large, I gave vacuum stories and minimized consequences, and that's both why there are few marks left on the world and why I regret not doing better.
I do want to acknowledge here again, though--my players said it was a grand time. They got personalized main quests! They got multi-genre adventure! There were backstabbings! There were bombs! There were antics and dramatic moments and big fights! It was everything D&D is meant to be. But I had done radio theater for three years, telling a cohesive and beautiful and frightening and infuriating and intoxicating tale that pushed the boundaries of every format it used--I wanted more. The question now was how to bring the aspiration I had to reality despite challenges. Humbled, I went on.
Campaign Four: The Mystery Campaign
I took nothing for granted. Every step in a process that felt natural had to be analyzed--anything could be a bad habit. Too much narrative suggestion before--edit the suggestions more. The requests involved a mystery premise, the appearance of a dragon, a class divide, chaos, and other details. I hatched a plan for a murder mystery that involved a class struggle and chaos storms powered by a tortured chaos dragon. The players investigated. They formed relationships. They improved the city. They incited a rebellion. They ended the chaos storms. They solved the mystery. It was a careful process--nothing makes you more careful as a DM than any given piece of information spoiling the whole session or more, and I often had to adjust to strange and curious player actions (like starting a real band as a cover to talk to someone)--but it all paid off. The mystery campaign was satisfying to me to DM, it was a favorite for the players involved, and I would say that it fulfilled the artistic drive in me to do something special. I'll tell you: D&D is not designed for mystery storytelling, but I'm happy with how it came out. (To the readers shouting "Then play CoC/TTRPG of your choice!"--my players wanted D&D mystery, and I felt up to the challenge.)
The consequences of this campaign are not unlike those in Talon Gorge--peace and prosperity are granted, the evildoers are driven out, and all is well. But the scale here is different. The Mystery Campaign took place in the small mountain town of Yamseth. Talon Gorge was a leviathan, a powerhouse of a city; Yamseth was a town made specifically for the campaign. That does regrettably mean this is a vacuum narrative--because my players wanted the chaos storms, which do not exist in any city I had already established, I had to make something for them anyway. That just necessarily meant that what happened in Yamseth would cause less ripples, and given how far outside the canon I was working (putting a non-canon dragon in the campaign for the chaos storms because it was requested), I didn't entirely mind keeping the Mystery Campaign as kind of a contained story.
I haven't used this campaign much in terms of consequences to the larger world since it's fairly limited in scope--by far the most limited of any campaign I've run. Talon Gorge was about the overthrow of the last kingdom; Listen Check was about standing up to a god; the Eastweald was about a thousand massive things; the Mystery Campaign was about three people solving a murder. The Mystery Campaign is about this little story that has no real impact outside of Yamseth, and in a way, I think I was driven to do that by ambition too. I think I wanted to see if I could tell a small story--when so many D&D stories are so big--and still satisfy my players. I'm really proud that I did. This campaign made me unafraid to really play with the small moments, which would ironically help me in my next campaign.
The thing that strikes me now about the Mystery Campaign is that it took me out of my element. I am a mushy emotional feelings roleplayer, and I tell stories about the way people feel--and I can feel all that out in the moment. On top of that, I'm an improviser. I've been improvising in one way or another for most of my life. I can't do any of that in a mystery campaign. I have to mind the script, the details, the plot. I have to make sure the expression of feelings matches the plan. It's tight and rigid and careful, and I'm a fast and loose DM. So it was a big challenge, and I always recommend doing creative work that's hard--it stretches you, and you learn what you're missing when you engage with it.
Campaign Five: Of Gods and Dragons
Okay, this one is aaaaaaaaaalmost done, but basically wrapped up enough to discuss. I did my time being careful with the Mystery Campaign; it's time to be ambitious again. That hole in divine reality from Listen Check? We're bringing that back. All the implied dragons? Now major characters. So are the gods. The highest level I'd ever had players get to before this campaign was 12. This campaign started at level 12. I gave a powergamer access to the glyphs that made a god mortal. I let a player introduce Tanarukk into my homebrew setting. Custom classes for everyone! Utter chaos, and all because I have the final say: all the NPCs they had to deal with with gods and dragons, levels 30-80. Besides, they can only really progress by leaning into my strength--mushy emotional feelings roleplaying! This is in part in jest, but I did genuinely set out to build a campaign where roleplaying had to be the way forward, and this allowed me to connect so many dots I had been itching to connect for a long time. In the end, the party brought together all willing dragons, restored reality to stability, eliminated threatening dragons, and dealt a blow against oppression. That's where the epilogues begin. Over one hundred years, all three player characters use their powers, resources, and alliance to make the world a better place. This includes changing the governments of several major cities (Mishara, Finiel, Underhar, Torga, Ringsdale) to democratic councils as well as instituting public services including free food and medical attention (Torga, Curagon, Ringsdale, Mishara, Underhar, Talon Gorge). Other more minor but still notable achievements and justices were obtained, particularly in the realms of public safety, shared culture, and education.
Obvious takeaway to start--massive and plentiful consequences. At the beginning of my DMing character, I was humbled by the weight of one major city being changed. Here, in the space of the epilogue, practically every major city was transformed into a happier, healthier, safer, more prosperous place. I want to really bear down on this point. Remember at the beginning, when I was discussing Talon Gorge and its shifting government throwing off the balance? At this point, Curagon (anarchists without a government), Kruush (too small to merit a meaningful government), and New Dalton (ideologically opposed to progressive values) are not democratic councils; the other seven all are. More than half the world's major cities have socialized medicine. Taken with the other achievements, this represents a golden age for Evanoch which is unmatched in its history. This is not only a very important consequence, this is a massive shift in the course of humanoid history. A few individuals with benevolent agendas managed to change the world they live in so thoroughly that I can't just run my next campaign in the world that resulted like any other campaign.
We've spoken of narrative vacuums. Of Gods and Dragons is as much the opposite of a vacuum as can be. Evanoch was a place that had been designed and then refined for over a decade and a half. No place in the campaign aside from backstory homes for player characters, had to be created for the campaign. And the problem doesn't exist outside of or apart from the world--it is all over the world. Of Gods and Dragons feels like, by far, the biggest success I've ever had as a DM. And I think that's because I was ambitious with a plan, because I learned from my mistakes, because I took inspiration from my successes, and because I handed over the reins to my world entirely. It was scary! I backed off giving lots of control to players after Listen Check, and it took me a decade to take that risk again. But I'm glad I did. I gave them control, and they made the world a better place.
Which presents DM problems. In a world were there is struggle, stories are everywhere. But in a world where everything is perfect, what drives the players on adventure? There are obviously fixes--some great evil rises, corruption rots the peace from within, etc. But that feels cheap. I have this world I had players fixing and helping in small ways for years. I took the people who knew my world most, cared about it the most, and gave them control of the world only to see a golden age fostered. To say it just leaks away dishonors my players. I will need something truly special to really pay my players the respect they deserve. But that is a tomorrow problem. I still have a finale session to lead, and I'm not discounting dramatic happenings.
So what changes have happened? When I've restricted my players to narrative vacuums, they have dealt cleanly with those problems with gusto. When I've allowed my players to meaningfully impact the world, they have improved it. They ousted corrupt governments across campaigns spanning almost twenty years. The more power they had, the more good they did. When granted epilogues, my parties' characters became benefactors, mentors, protectors. They used wealth to make material improvements for the public. They fought for good. I feel foolish to realize it now. I resisted my players changing my world for years only to see I'd been afraid of them helping the little NPC people I'd made for them.
I will say, I wouldn't trust every party this way. I wouldn't strive to make every campaign transform your whole world. This is a special case scenario, one I'm only striving at because I'm compelling to try and because I have willing friends. I fully intended to shift to a more conventional D&D story if the experiment failed. It was a gamble, but it worked, and I do think that with most good groups, the same potential for trust and the drive to improve the world exists. Trust your judgment, but be open to considering if you might give your players free rein to take big actions that will affect the world.
I think at the end of the day, I'd estimate that Evanoch as a whole has been changed more by my players than the average DM would be able to say. I'll acknowledge that Of Gods and Dragons skews things, but city topplings, god and dragon antics, city hopping, terrorist striking, and mystery solving are not neglible contributions from the other campaigns. And now that I've seen how it can go when I trust my players to shape the world, I think my future campaigns will trend in that direction.
That's all for now. Coming soon: a pirate D&D one-shot, how to work well with other players, and a guide to the planes. Until next time, happy gaming!