A Mystery One Shot with Branching Paths

For this adventure, I would share something I wrote for a D&D one-shot I wrote for my family. It was my younger brother's birthday, and he had requested a mystery one-shot for his gift, so I set to work. I wanted to write a mystery adventure that wasn't really failable; something that would be exciting no matter how you played it. So I conceived of the idea of writing a branching path narrative, where different clues all led to the same result. The one-shot worked beautifully. 

A few notes about the one-shot: I wrote it for my own use, and my notes are generally pretty spare. I improvise essentially all of my narration and most of my storylines, but for one-shots, I do follow some framework. So the resulting one-shot is enough to guide an experienced DM though without issue, but some novice DMs may find they have to fill in some blanks they didn't anticipate. 

Also, in the one-shot, I had ascertained that all three of my family members were playing female characters, and I wanted a magical condition that would affect many people but not the player characters, so I made it about gender, but you could use any commonality for the thing that decides whether a character is affected by the magical condition, even if it's "adventurers" who are immune. 

I've chosen to not directly post the one-shot here because it is written in branching path style, meaning that writing it out makes it very difficult to read. Instead, I'm uploading a Word document of it, specifically because you can use the navigation pane to read the notes more easily. Look at the steps below to use Word to navigate this one-shot. 

In Word, go to the "View" tab (the right arrow), then check the box next to "Navigation Pane" (the left arrow). This will make the window on the left appear. 

Then click on the arrow of the option that the players choose (the top arrow). It will expand into the other options. Continue to click on the option the have chosen (the bottom arrow), and it will lead you to to the resulting details in each situation. 

To narrate this one-shot, describe the scene by telling the players about all three of the clues available to them at that scene. When they choose one, they progress to the next three clues. What the players choose will guide them, but you will always be headed toward a showdown with Anisha the Merciless, a powerful spellcaster who has put all men in the area (or the group of your choosing) into comas. 

Good luck, and have fun with this one-shot. And thanks for being here for this milestone. That's all for now. Coming soon: a free spell slot tracker, a time loop one-shot, and how to spend downtime in and out of game. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Deal with Mistakes

The pace of a tabletop game is often pretty fast. Big decisions are made in relatively short amounts of time, and this especially goes for the GM. Experienced GMs know that you are called upon to instantly have the answer to everything, and that means making snap decisions. But no one is perfect. Sometimes, those snap decisions were bad ideas. And that's totally okay! It happens to everyone, and there are two reliable ways to resolve it. I'll tell you how to best utilize both in this guide. 

The two methods I'll discuss--immediate retconning and writing around it--lend themselves especially well to when you notice the problem. Retconning is best when you immediately realize the mistake, and writing around it is best when you've only realized the mistake later on, especially after the session. But they both work in either situation, so consider the one that works for you. 

The first method is immediate retconning. "Retcon" is short for "retroactive continuity," meaning revising the timeline so that something matches the new understanding of the situation. It's a process that is conceptually a little vexing, but it's not terribly difficult with a bit of creative problem solving. Here's how it works: you realize your mistake. Let's use an example. 

I was running a campaign, and the party was transporting a group of NPCs. At the end of the session, we about to start combat. When we picked up the next session, we all kind of forgot about the NPCs as the players fought the enemies. When combat was over, one of the players said, "Hey, why didn't the guards in the caravan help in the attack?" Oops. It was a pretty clear mistake. That's what the guards were there for. I had to make it right for my players. 

So the first step is take a moment and consider the situation. You want to understand specifically what you need to keep about the situation and what you can change. Look at the problem and ask yourself how it could be fixed with the least changes to what you've already done. Smaller mistakes will be easier, and larger mistakes more challenging, but they're all solvable problems. In this example, I wanted to resolve the negative feeling my players had from not being supported by the guards. I could change the way combat itself went with a retcon, or I could come up with some valid reason that the guards would have not supported them. 

The next step is to find a specific change to make. Again, you're looking for as few changes as possible to make this work. Once you have a general idea, try to give it detail by imagining it fully in your mind. You will be narrating this and trying to sell your players on its validity, so you need to have a real idea in your mind of it. In my example, I had a couple of options. I could have rolled attacks for the guards, subtracting their damage from the enemies' hit points, and adding back hit points to players who lost them in the resulting extra rounds. (You might be thinking, but that kind of thing happens all the time in tabletop games. You're right. It does. But it's a little retcon nonetheless. I mention this specifically because it illustrates how fundamental to games like D&D is the retcon, so don't be afraid to use it.) My other option was to narratively deal with it: the guards had agreed that this attack didn't constitute what their contract bound them to do, so they withheld their support in the clash. Either of these situations would resolve the issue well, and give a benefit either way: reinstating lost hit points gains you the trust of your players, and creating tension with the guards makes the trip they were on more interesting. 

The final step is to actually deliver the change. In my experience, retcons only enter the equation when something is going to prevent fun from happening. And that means that your job is to tend to your players as much as it is to narrate the game. Be gentle and warm in your manner, and remember to treat them like your friend. I like to pose my proposed retcons as matters of debate: "This is my plan. Does it seem fair to everyone?" As I said, if the problem is that players aren't having fun, you want to check in and see if your action is going to help that. Otherwise, you'll need to do something else to try to help solve the situation. In my example, my players had cultivated a slightly competitive relationship with me as DM; they posed the inconsistency to me as a playful jab, and I responded in kind by surrounding them with antagonistic guards. It was more appropriate in that situation, even though that's absolutely not how I ordinarily DM. I did this without posing it as a question, just as a statement of the new direction of the game. 

The other method for dealing with a mistake is writing around it. The goal here is to change parts of the story so that there need be no retcons. The guards not supporting the player characters because of their own motivations is an example of this. To further explore this method, I'll use another example. An easy mistake to make is when an important NPC says something you didn't mean for them to say. This is a more dramatic issue than before, though: the guards not attacking is a combat issue more than a narrative issue, but this only impacts the story. So writing around it is our best bet. 

Let's consider a hypothetical that fills out our example: the players learn a crucial bit of information that advances the plot, and an NPC they're with says something that implies they know more about the situation. The players immediately notice this and demand more information. But it was a mistake, and now you have to deal with the situation. It's entirely possible, and notably very easy, to immediately retcon this: "Oops, I didn't mean to say that. That NPC never said that." But maybe, like me, you notice the thrill in the players when they think they've caught on to something big. I want to keep that going. So I go with writing around it.

The first step in writing around it is to assess what this new information (your mistake) changes about your world. What details are complicated or made impossible by this new change? We don't need to think of solutions yet--just figure out what has been affected. Let's say that in our example, the NPC who revealed they know something has never said anything that would indicate that they would have known something like they know--let's say, they are well-acquainted with a specific person working closely with the king who the message is from, and they have never revealed they're close with the king or his circle. By revealing this, I need to come up with a new past for the NPC and a reason that they would have kept this from the party. 

The second step is brainstorming possibilities. Don't stop at one idea--try to come up with a few possibilities. Your goal is to consider the different advantages of each possibility after you have a few ideas. For our example, we have some possibilities. Perhaps the NPC is a quiet or dishonest character who is keeping other things from the party as well. Perhaps the NPC felt that they would be judged for being close with royalty, or taken advantage of. Or perhaps the NPC was waiting to reveal that they actually work for the king and have been reporting back to him. The first possibility--they're shady--allows us to create tension in the party as an NPC becomes more of a villain to them. The second possibility--they're afraid of being taken advantage of--might comfortably explain the situation away while keeping the NPC relatively likable. The third option--they're working for the king--introduces its own mini-storyline, as the party will now have even more questions about the NPC. Now we have a wealth of good information to choose from. 

The last step is choosing and implementing the decision. You want to choose the possibility that maximizes what you want from your game. In the example above, let's consider it from the perspective of how much I wanted to be derailed by the mistake. If I wanted to just get back to the story, I would choose the fear of being taken advantage of option so we could get moving again. If I wanted a dash of intrigue but not a whole conversation, I would choose the shady character option and give it its moment to shine before getting back into it. If I wanted to let the players go wild with roleplaying, I would choose the working for the king option and open up a new story with them. Once I've chosen it, take just one moment more (having taken a pause to deliberate through these steps) and find the narration you specifically want, then go for it. 

These are the two most tried-and-true options for fixing a mistake in a tabletop top game, and the longer you play, the more well-versed you will become in using these methods. The great thing about pulling these techniques off right is that it doesn't even look like a mistake to the players, especially if you're writing around the situation. That's a fantastic boon to any GM, so practice these skills when you can. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: a branching path mystery one-shot, a free spell slot tracker, and a time loop one-shot. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to React When Your Players Think of Something You Didn't

You've put in all the legwork. You made a campaign idea into a campaign; you might have developed a homebrew setting; you've worked on the setting for the campaign; you've populated the world with characters. You're playing, and your story ideas are going well. And then, suddenly, it all goes awry: the players come up with something you didn't anticipate, and now everything is threatened. What do you do?

I have faced this situation hundreds of times on a scale small to large. My favorite solution is to improvise. But it's a very specific kind of improvisation in these situations, and I want to devote a full guide to this exact situation. In order to show it in action, I'll share some times that I was foiled by players but refused to concede and kept the action going in fun ways. 

The first example is a modest one. It comes from my mystery campaign. In the very first session, my players were tasked with investigating a murder. They went to the murder scene and found the body there. Montana, a bard, immediately cast "Speak with Dead" on the body. I hadn't really anticipated this. But I had already decided that the murder victim was mute, and so I ruled that she couldn't respond because she couldn't speak. But then Montana had another idea. He cast "Speak with Plants" on a dandelion in the alleyway where the victim was found. Derek the Dandelion gave a perfect description of the murderer. It was only fair. But I improvised; testimony from a dandelion would not pass legal muster, and so they would need to get another witness. 

In this small moment, I had to juggle a few considerations. First, I had game balance to contend with. If the players solved the crime in the first scene, the whole campaign would be over before it began. I needed a way to change the situation (or our perspective of the situation) to allow the game to continue. My goal was to both reward the good idea and prevent the story from being compromised. 

But I also had to consider fairness. If a GM is unfair, the fun of the experience disappears quickly. So I needed a really good reason that things would not work exactly as intended. Holding that Derek wouldn't completely satisfy the witness requirement was lightened by the fact that the questgiver had explicitly asked for two witnesses to begin with. The important thing, though, was that my players feel that "Speak with Plants" had been a victory even if I couldn't give them the outcome they imagined would come from such a good idea. 

And finally, I needed something that was interesting. When I had decided that the dandelion tactic would work, I leaned into it. I had the dandelion be a colorful character, a young dandelion with little idea of his place in the world. The players loved him, and they named him Derek. Derek ended up being featured in our final session and epilogue as a beloved part of the campaign. 

Of course, this is the kind of speedbump that we often have to deal with as GMs. But sometimes a situation might have larger implications. Long ago now, I was running my first serious campaign as a DM. The campaign centered around the party completing various assassination contracts, eventually taking out the entire royal government including king, queen, and princess. The big twist was to be that the contracts came from the princess herself, who was committed enough to her plan to overthrow the kingdom to lose her own life in the process. As it turned out, the campaign didn't really go like that. 

My list of contracts was 20 targets. They completed one, kidnapped the second, and then turned on the questgiver before proceeding any further. The party split into pro-kingdom and anti-kingdom factions. Things got complicated, especially when one player on the anti-kingdom side broke into the palace late one night and assassinated the king. A pro-kingdom player procured a high healer, who cast "Resurrection" on the king. This created a huge issue: it placed the outcome of perhaps the entire campaign on a moment that only one player initiated. 

I solved it by thinking about the above considerations. I needed to think about balance. How would this affect the game? It either meant the anti-kingdom team had effectively won, or that their efforts to kill the king were so easily undone as to be meaningless. This is incredibly delicate. I needed something that would be a good compromise between the two extremes. 

I also had to consider fairness. The player who had assassinated the king had obtained an invisibility spell, passed dozens of armed guards, passed half a dozen stealth checks, and rolled a critical strike on the king. To deny success after all of this would be very unfair to that player. On the other hand, the player who got the cleric was using common sense to solve the problem, and of course the king would have a high healer around for just such occasions if he had already increased guard patrols. I couldn't deny any of this either. Again, I needed a compromise. 

The true solution came when I thought about the interesting angle. I needed some compromise that would be memorable and make sense. When I first realized the gravity of the situation, I asked my players for a minute to think things over. I highly recommend you do this any time you think prolonged thought would be necessary to determine a situation's outcome. In the minute or so that I took to respond, I ended up with this: "Resurrection" works, but only for a few days, and it can't be cast on the same person again. This allowed the pro-kingdom party time to stabilize new leadership under the king and to have meaningfully responded to the assassination, and it also gave the anti-kingdom group a big advantage, but one which wouldn't be complete or immediate. I asked the group if they all agreed that my ruling was fair, and they all agreed. This is another thing I recommend you do with big decisions. A simple "Does that seem fair to everyone?" goes a long way. 

But of course, these examples are specific to the situations in which they occurred. Someone with an almost identical problem could need to make entirely different calculations. I know from experience. 

About ten years after I had to deal with "Resurrection" as a surprise in the kingdom-toppling campaign, I was running the mystery campaign I referred to above. At one point, I had planned for a main character in the campaign to be murdered. This character, an inventor, would die before completing an invention which could solve a huge problem in the city and potentially solve the mystery. I had planned for the players to complete the invention themselves from puzzle-laden clues left behind by the inventor. That's not how it went, and for a familiar reason. 

Montana cast "Raise Dead" on the inventor. In my defense, most of my experience in D&D came from 3.5. In 3.5, you had to be a high level cleric if you wanted to resurrect someone. Those rules have since eased up a bit. In 5E, a 6th level bard can cast "Raise Dead." I thought I had accounted for this, but I hadn't. Once again, I had a dead NPC with a resurrection spell making narrative wrinkles. 

But this time, it was different. I wasn't dealing with a split party. This meant that the balance of the situation was measured differently. I'm okay with the party occasionally having a boon that wasn't as earned as others. I can accept letting the party, using a creative and meaningful solution to a big problem, make a step bigger than I planned without compromising the game. It is, after all, only cutting out a few puzzles. 

But there was an associated problem. In the act of finding the inventor dead, the party had encountered the one of the archvillains of the campaign: the murderer they had been seeking since session one. I had planned for the murderer to acrobatically escape the laboratory and have a real showdown later on. But the party used spells to bind the murderer in place. I rolled for her resistance, and it was pretty low. I had to either fudge the roll in the murderer's favor (which would take agency away from the players) or accept the roll and lose my dramatic showdown. For fairness' sake, I needed to lean towards accepting the roll. 

And I needed something interesting. I remember that as those moments unfolded and it became clear that Montana would raise the inventor, I was searching for something dramatic to add. Some flair that was missing from the situation. But then I remember surveying the faces of my players. They were riveted. They couldn't wait to know whether the inventor would be alright. And I realized that I didn't need to add anything. They had stopped a robbery, captured their antagonist, and found an ally dead. I didn't need to spice the situation up. Because it honored all three considerations, I had the inventor revive and complete the invention. It proved to be one of the more memorable moments in the campaign. 

So let's review the considerations and what they can do to help us come up with the best solution to unforeseen problems:

• Balance: Tabletop games are carefully calibrated for a specific distribution of powers and weaknesses to keep playing it rewarding and meaningfully predictable in terms of outcomes. When we try to resolve a situation that impacts the balance of the game, it's important to consider every consequence of a decision. This can require time to fully think about. Make use of time between sessions, and don't be afraid to ask your players for time to consider. 
• Fairness: Your players want and need to feel like there's a real fairness to the game. If things are too easy or too hard, the players suffer. Ask yourself about whether or not your decision will inordinately punish or reward a player for something, and avoid situations where players are pitted against each other. 
• Interest: The situations we're considering here tend to have a certain amount of contention around them. You are, after all, negotiating between the player's creativity and your own oversight in planning; to have them leave the situation happy, we need to include something enjoyable. But as noted above with the inventor/murderer situation, sometimes all a situation needs is already present. Strive for a satisfying feeling if you can. 

There you have it: my best advice (from experience) for dealing with the unforeseen player actions which inevitably pop up when you play for long enough. I hope that these examples serve to illustrate the ideas here, and I wish you the best of luck in responding to surprises. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: how to deal with DM mistakes, a branching-path mystery one-shot, and a free spell slot tracker. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Handle In-Game Romances

In any campaign that involves roleplaying, there is always the possibility that a player character will develop feelings for another character, be they an NPC or another player character. No matter the situation, an in-game romance can be very complicated. Romantic feelings are among the most delicate of human emotions, and they must be handled with care. Fortunately, it is possible to run the game so that characters can safely experience an in-game romance. It's a complicated situation, but with the right precautions, it can be a very positive experience. 

The first thing you need to do is recognize when a romance is developing. If a player is unusually interested in another character, it's important to start watching for things heading in that direction. Lots of personal questions, light-hearted jokes, and intense interest are all signs that a character may be interested in another character. The biggest indication is sustained interest in a character. Most interactions in tabletop games will be over in a minute or two, but beyond that, you may have a romance developing. 

What do you do once it seems like things are headed that way? Discuss it with the player(s) in question. My advice is generally to play things by ear until it is pretty clear that a player has romantic intentions. If you need to act now and can't delay things until you would have a chance to speak with the player directly, consider how the characters involved would act. This is where we need to start breaking things down. 

If the character that the player is interested in is another player character, your job is to make sure everyone is comfortable. Pay close attention to how comfortable both players are. If either one, especially the object of affection, seems at all uncomfortable, address it out of game. "Are you okay with things going in this direction?" is a pretty simple and direct way to address this. If you think that the player you're asking might be uncomfortable saying "no" in front of the other player, ask them privately or via writing/text so that they can be honest. If they're okay with it, proceed and continue to monitor for discomfort. If they're not, diplomatically tell the other player to back off a bit. Something like, "Let's focus our attention on something that we're all a part of" could be a relatively easy way to get back on track. 

If the character the player is interested in is an NPC, however, you need to approach things differently. For one, you need to gauge whether you are comfortable with playing out a romantic interaction. It's important to decide this early, because romantic interactions tend to beget more romantic interactions, so search your feelings and act accordingly. If you're comfortable playing a romantic storyline, proceed, but I advise against advancing the relationship beyond the player character's established pace until you've really developed the relationship. If you are not comfortable with it, gently let the player know that that's outside of your zone of comfort. A simple, "I'm not really comfortable roleplaying a romantic relationship" is plenty. Most any player will be able to accept this and move on. 

Once you've committed to romantic interactions, it's time to develop them. Again, I recommend letting the player decide the pace of this; when they advance things, match them, and when they keep things as they are, stick with that level of intensity. Just as we add more of the things that players are interested in, we will match the players when it comes to these relationships. When a player interacts with their romantic interest, give them equivalent attention or less. Here is where it's especially important to talk to the player about what they want and expect from the relationship. Do they want someone to flirt with? Someone to commit to? Someone to genuinely talk to and open up to? Someone to be playful and humorous with? Asking these questions will tell you how to respond when the game is in session. 

It's also important to regularly check in with the player or players with the romantic relationships. "Is this still going the way you want it to?" or "What's the next thing you'd like to see happen?" are good gauges for this. It's also worth checking in with the rest of the party about this, since they'll be watching this relationship as it unfolds. If it makes anyone uncomfortable to witness, it's time to curtail the romantic roleplay rather than make someone sit through something they aren't okay with. 

This is especially a delicate issue if (as is often the case) members of the party are themselves in a real-world relationship. It should go without saying that if a player who is dating another player is in-game romancing an NPC, this could be very awkward for the person that player is dating. I bring this up in part because it happened in a game I ran, and I was very anxious about handling it. More on that later. 

At a certain point, the romantic relationship between player character and NPC will face a situation that either destroys or escalates it. This may be your own dramatic manipulation or a natural consequence of something that happens in game. This is a delicate moment. As before, I generally recommend matching the player character. If the player character asks the NPC to take the relationship to the next level, the NPC should probably agree. The only circumstances under which I would recommend taking a step backward (or even ending the relationship) would be the player character in question has seriously offended the NPC in a predictable way or that the player character has seriously trivialized the relationship. Do not under any circumstances end the relationship because it would be dramatic. We are playing with delicate emotions here, and it would be irresponsible and unkind to hurt a player in that way without very good reason. 

There is also the matter of romantic relationships progressing to a certain point. It is already asking a lot of the rest of the party to stand by while a specific player has the spotlight with their relationship; asking more of them can be asking too much. Getting into the sexual details of a relationship will almost always be asking too much. People have complicated and sensitive feelings about relationships and especially about sex--actually playing out a sexual encounter is an almost guaranteed way to make other players (or yourself) very uncomfortable. Unless literally every player at the table specifically requests to see such a scene played out (and you are very okay with it), there are essentially zero reasons to take things that far. Even if you assume your players would be okay with it, explicitly ask first in a way that allows players to respond privately to avoid pressuring people into it. 

One final rule to keep in mind: if playing out a scene ever feels awkward, immediately address it. "Hey, that felt kinda weird for me" may be difficult to say if everyone else seems to be having fun, but relationships continue and progress, so it's only going to get worse if you don't address it. Tabletop games are most often team affairs, and everyone involved deserves the right to feel comfortable and safe. This also goes if you recognize that someone is feeling uncomfortable but not saying something. I'm comfortable claiming to be a bit uncomfortable myself (even if I'm fine) if I notice someone isn't speaking up for themselves. 

I want to provide an example from my time as a GM that might cast some light on the advice I've given above. When I was DMing the podcast Listen Check, one player (who played Soren the ranger) began to grow interested in an NPC, Spurla the fighter. Soren began by first taking a specific interest in Spurla, then talking to her individually. After a session of very delicate interactions, Soren began to push things further. Soon, he was flirting with Spurla in a very clumsy way. By the end of the campaign, they were in a committed relationship, and the epilogue of the campaign included their setting out to explore the world together and start a family of their own. 

Now, I made some decisions in this situation fairly well, and I made some decisions I regret. Because we were both podcasting our game and live-broadcasting it via the radio, I had reservations about asking direct questions about player comfort. This was a mistake. As I mentioned above, I have DMed a situation in which a player who is dating another player but romanced an NPC. This was the situation; my brother played Dewey the monk, and his partner played Soren. This meant that for much of the campaign, my brother had to quietly sit there as his partner flirted with an NPC I had made. I never talked to him about it. I was afraid to directly addressing the situation would cause more awkwardness. I regret this a lot. I should have talked with both my brother and his partner about the situation as soon as it became clear. 

I also broke a rule I set out above: not advancing the relationship past the point of the player character's involvement. As Soren and Spurla's relationship became more serious, I observed that Spurla was more impulsive, whereas Soren was a very cautious person. I thought it would be interesting to see how Soren reacted if Spurla became more invested than he was. This proved to work out alright in the campaign--it created an interesting dramatic moment for roleplaying--but I also remember Soren's player being very emotionally affected by this. I am still concerned that I may have overwhelmed them. If I had it to do over again, I would have allowed Soren to be more the guide of the relationship like I advised above. 

One last regret was that I didn't really stop to consider how comfortable I was with the situation. For the reason that I was roleplaying a romance with my future sister-in-law, I remember having trepidation. I also hadn't really had players who were interested in romantic relationships in-game before, so I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. I think that if I were to go through the situation again, I might be more willing to assert my own boundaries and not go down that road. I would be willing to GM a romantic relationship now with more experience and emotional peace than I had, but back then, I was in something of a grey area as far as comfort goes. 

I am happy with some things, however. I had entered the campaign with no real consideration for a romantic relationship developing, but I had to admit that it added a really nice emotional angle to the show. I had cooked up a pretty dark and overwhelming set of storylines for the show, and the bright spot that was Soren and Spurla really lightened the tone of the show at important points. This pleasant surprise was an excellent addition to the story we told together. 

I also enjoyed the way that a romantic relationship revealed new dimensions of the characters in the story. We learned the Soren was quite the sappy romantic, but I also got to see Spurla's more emotional side, which I had largely hidden as part of her largely private nature. Even though the romantic relationship was a delicate thing that needed to be nurtured and guarded, it made the game more complex and interesting. 

My final word on the matter is that romantic relationships in-game are not just a matter of skill or a natural side-effect of playing; rather, they are delicate balances that we strike only when everyone involved is comfortable with them. I hope that it goes without saying that you should never start a romantic relationship as an NPC with a player--only respond to them. The success of any game depends on everyone being as comfortable and happy as possible, and navigating such delicate matters as romantic relationships deserves genuine care and attention. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: how to react when players think of something you missed, how to deal with making a mistake, and a branching narrative mystery one-shot. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Find the Right Group and Stick with It

Tabletop games are one of my very favorite things, if not my favorite things. It's been that way ever since I discovered the game in high school, and today, I have more thoughts and opinion about gaming that I ever knew I would be able to have. (That's probably apparent, given that this is my 196th article on this site.) But that hasn't been a product of simply playing the game for a given amount of time. I've had to carefully consider things at every turn and change how I've played. The following is both a chronicle of how I learned to play and how to to find the right group to play with (and stick with that group). 

As I said, I first played D&D when I was in high school. Though I didn't know it then (because I lacked the experience to know about different DMing styles), my DM was a pretty rules-crunchy gamer who used modules for essentially everything. But I didn't have a frame of reference to know this. All I knew was that pretending to be Algar, my elven monk, was a lot of fun, and I got a big kick out of getting to inhabit him for the adventure. 

Under that DM, I learned how to play according to the book. I memorized most of the 3.5 Players Handbook (and I still can refer to specific page numbers from the book if called upon). I learned about combat, from attack modifiers to attacks of opportunity. I turned Algar into the most effective character I could. But that campaign died and was replaced by an evil campaign. Good-hearted Algar needed to go. I created the evil wizard Loki and experienced all sorts of new things: capturing an abandoned castle, escaping an inevitable, becoming an urban legend. I had come to know and love D&D as a combat simulator. 

But then I graduated high school, and I headed off for college. I couldn't find a game, so I decided to try my hand at DMing. I gathered some friends and started a fairly improv-heavy campaign that was (because of my players' tastes) more about silly antics than combat (though that was still a big part of it--that was what I knew). Before the end of my freshman year, I had taught nearly 50 people to play D&D, and I had run countless hours of highly goofy campaigns. 

Something changed in me then. I don't know what it was, but I think I sensed that tabletop games could be something more. I began to develop a homebrew setting. The document for this setting, which stretched to nearly 30 pages of single-spaced information about the world. Sensing that this world was more serious, I set out to create my first real campaign that would be more than oddball shenanigans. The result was a campaign that lives on in my memory as the point at which my career as a DM truly began. 

In the sprawling campaign I'm describing, I ended up having a total of nine players at various points, all of whom either set out to defend a city's royals from assassins or to assassinate the royals themselves. In the end, the party split pretty much evenly, and the final battle pitted these warring factions against one another. Importantly, this campaign had silly moments, but it was mostly centered around a serious story about power, leadership, and government. This party was the one that allowed me to begin to see the real potential of tabletop games. 

When this campaign ended, I got very ambitious. I was working at a radio station at the time, and I proposed a show which would end up being perhaps the first serious D&D podcast of all time. The show, Listen Check, placed two players from the above campaign and one new player into a city filled with criminals fighting to survive. We ran the show for nearly three years, ending up recording 180 hours of gametime. It remains some of my proudest work as a GM, and I still stand by the work we did those years ago. 

Then I got to play as a player for the first time in over five years. I played as Amund "Zig" Zigor, a troubled cleric. One of the players from the radio show was the DM, and the other two players from the radio show were also players in this campaign (as well as a few other folks). I began to use the game as a way to process my own feelings of guilt and shame. My engagement with the game on this level was a product of the brilliant DMing that my friend provided, and I got to see from the player's perspective what a roleplaying-centric campaign looked like. 

Then I moved across the country. It took some time to meet the right people, but I began to run a smattering of campaigns. There was a brief attempt at a campaign that was ended when every romantic relationship in the party ended, causing us all to go our separate ways. But then I began to run another serious roleplaying campaign: the Eastweald. This involved a whole new group of players, three friends I had met at my first job after moving. Most of the group was new to tabletop games, and no one had played a deep roleplaying campaign before. 

As this campaign wrapped up, I returned to the world of silly campaigns with a group of friends from another job and from my time in college. This campaign, set on the desert island of Ramsey, which was essentially a "Wild West meets fantasy" setting, was a return to my earlier days of DMing. One thing that struck me as I ran this campaign in the wake of the Eastweald campaign was that the difference between a humorous campaign and a serious campaign were much greater than I had realized initially. I hadn't recognized the difference because my changes between styles had taken place over a relatively long period of time (several years), but since I was running the Eastweald and Ramsey at the same time at some points, I really noticed the difference. 

After the Eastweald wrapped up, I began a new campaign with the same exact group of players. This new campaign was based on requests from the players for a mystery, and so the mystery campaign was born. Like the Eastweald, the mystery campaign was a more serious campaign (although certainly with plenty of laughs). But unlike the Eastweald, which had been a mixture of roleplaying, combat, and shenanigans, the mystery campaign was a more pure roleplaying challenge. Readers of that campaign know that only two combats happened in the whole twenty-session campaign, and one of them was a friendly boxing match. It was a big step away from what I had started out as. 

Most recently, I have been running some shenanigans campaigns: one at the school where I teach as a part of D&D Club (12-year-olds love shenanigans) and one with a few of the players from Ramsey and a few new friends (all of whom love shenanigans). Both of these campaigns have required me to return to my origins as a DM, which has admittedly been difficult. I have written before about why giving players the fun they want is the most important part of the game, but I also have to acknowledge that my perspective on the give diverges from this idea; I've also written about how roleplaying is, in my opinion, the height of tabletop games. So it's been a complicated process navigating these ideas. 

But then there is my current foray into being a player: my dear con artist Asp. The game in which Asp plays is run by the player from my campaigns who played Carric (Eastweald) and Beor (mystery campaign), and he has decided to run a pretty serious roleplaying-centric campaign. This is perfect for Asp, who is not exactly a combat titan but does have lots of skills in interacting with people. Getting to be a player again after so long has allowed me to continue to refine my work as a DM. 

I've also managed to play and GM other systems, including but not limited to Don't Rest Your Head, Exalted, Call of Cthulhu, and several others. I highly recommend playing other systems occasionally to see the breadth of possibilities; doing so has allowed me to make changes to my homebrew rules that have really improved player experiences.  

So now that I've given you my history in groups, it's time to address how to find the right group. You'll notice from the above section that I've played in a fair number of groups. My high school group, my early college groups, my early roleplaying campaigns, my recent roleplaying campaigns, and my recent shenanigans campaigns have all been different iterations, even with shared people. I would estimate I've played D&D with over 100 people at this point, counting the public one-shots I've run in gaming stores as well. This is not intended as a brag or a reach for nerd cred--I'm simply saying that I've deliberately gamed with lots of people. And that's the first piece of advice: get out there are try new games, new parties, new game styles, and so on. You won't love all of them, but the only way to find out what you like to to try different things. 

This has a twofold benefit. You will get to know more about your opinions of different games and styles of playing by being in the game in the first place. But you'll also find out who you enjoy playing with. I'll be the first to admit that some of my predictions about what I like and don't like have been wrong. I tried playing with an ultra-serious Adventurer's League group and hated it. Turns out, it's not the seriousness I like, but the focus on roleplaying over combat. I've played games with people I like only to find out that they and I do not mix well in-game, and vice versa, have had a great time playing with people I wasn't a huge fan of. Really, truly, you don't know until you try. 

This was especially the case with my D&D Club games. Keep in mind, I mostly run the game for middle schoolers. I have taught several of the D&D Club kids as students and struggled to enjoy being around them, but found them to be absolute delights at the table. Conversely, I've looked forward to a student's contributions to the game only to discover that they only want to kill everything. On a similar note, a few of my closest friends have been in campaigns I've run, and I've found it exhausting to play with them. Again, you don't know until you give it a chance. 

Another detail that you may notice from this history is the fact that I've stuck with various members of certain groups. This is the benefit of playing with many people in action. When the Ramsey campaign ended, the group more or less fell apart. So later on, when I wanted to start a new campaign, I reached out to the players whose style had most matched mine and invited them to help me build a new party. This allowed me to not have to start from scratch and enjoy gametime with people I already knew I enjoyed playing with. 

This was even more the case with the Eastweald/mystery campaign group. Building a good party is a delicate art, and I am incredibly proud that I hit the mark so well with this group. A moment of bragging: the three players who began and finished these campaigns did not really know each other before I put them in a party together. Last week, I was able to hang out with a member of that party at another member's wedding--that's how close we have become. With a group like this, you hold onto it. I assembled them for the Eastweald campaign, kept them for the mystery campaign, and we have even switched DMs but kept the same group for the campaign where I play Asp. When you find a good group, you latch onto it. 

But how do you go about such a thing? People grow and change and drift apart. It's hard to get everyone on the same page even after years. There are a number of things I recommend. For starters, keep up communication with players and GMs you want to stick with. Tabletop games are incredibly social, and that bond goes a far way. It's also important that you keep the game fresh. The Eastweald and mystery campaigns were extremely different, and the campaign I'm playing in now is also very distinct from either of these. But the good news is this: if a party really works on all levels, everyone involved will want to stick around, so just maintaining a positive game goes a long way towards longevity. 

Another note about keeping a good party together: it used to be that having a player move away from the rest of the group was effectively the end of that player's involvement. But now, with online chat programs being the way they are, it's relatively easy to keep a group together. In both the shenanigans campaign I'm currently running and the roleplaying campaign in which I'm currently playing are entirely online, and we have players in different states in both campaigns. There is a certain magic to being around a table together, but it is often worth sacrificing that in order to keep a good group. 

I also want to call to attention the fact that I never would have realized how much I enjoy the roleplaying aspect of the game if I hadn't branched out. I started as a crunchy combat player--Algar and Loki were built to be interesting and fun presences in combat (though Loki certainly pushed me in the direction of roleplaying, however slightly). This gave me a solid foundation in how the game actually works. I moved to shenanigans and found that some good humor can really improve a game. I tried roleplaying and discovered that I really enjoyed the depth of being a real part of a world, and I saw that same excitement in my players as a GM. I quite literally would not be the gamer I am now if I had stuck to only what I knew to start. 

It's also worth noting that I learned things as both as GM and a player. It is probably no surprise coming from a GM like myself who has written so much in order to make GMing more approachable for beginners and intermediate GMs, but I really stress the importance of trying to run a game at least once. The perspective you will be granted by stepping outside your role as a player will help you to understand so many things that would otherwise seem insignificant. GMing has taught me about storytelling, public speaking, improvising, social connection, and what being a player really means in the scope of the game. I'm a better player for GMing, and a better GM for playing. 

But ultimately, this is about finding and keeping the right group. So what makes the right group? It may not be the things you assume are most important. You want a group that is fun to be around--social interaction should be rewarding and easy. You want a group that agrees with you on how the game should be played. And you want a group that you can depend on--a great group is good, but not if you can't ever get everybody together to play. When you find people who match this, keep them. 

Are other factors important? Sure. Having people agree on the theme of a main quest can matter (though this is something players can negotiate about). Having people who know each other can matter (though they will get to know each other through playing). Having people who know how to play can be nice (though they can learn to play as you go). Your needs for your party will be distinct depending on your group and your campaign. 

The bottom line, though, is this: tabletop games are an experience. That means that in order to understand how you really feel about something, you will have to experience it yourself. A good game is not all roleplaying or all combat or all comedy, but a mixture of them, and you can't determine the right mixture without experimenting a bit first. So if you want to know your style and to get the right group for you, keep trying until something fits just right. You'll be better for having experienced things. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: how to handle in-game romances, what to do when the players think of something you didn't, and what to do when you regret a decision as GM. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Give Alternate Rewards to Loot

A classic adventure ends, and the players are due their reward for completing a quest. They discover a collection of treasure: items, coins, and other helpful gear. But this formula can grow old, especially if you're running a roleplaying-centric campaign--getting new items can have diminishing returns at a certain point. But you need to reward your players for their actions, so what do you do? 

My solution is simple: give them other things. There are a great many rewards that players can be given that actually advance the story and give players new opportunities to express themselves. All it takes is trying to figure out what will serve you game best. Read on for the full guide to alternate loot and how to implement it. 

The first suggestion I will make for alternate loot is very simple, but it can have big effects for the players. I find that having the players complete a quest for a moderately powerful NPC can be very enjoyable for the players when it ends with the bestowing of some sort of title. Perhaps the party completes a quest for an important NPC with political power; when the party completes the quest, the questgiver says something like, "Your deeds have served the realm well. To thank you, I am bestowing on you the title of 'Defender of the Realm.' People across the region will know you for your heroics." 

The title itself is one thing--a nice honorific that can constantly remind players of their past actions--but the changes it will make to the campaign can be huge. If the players encounter an important NPC from the same region, that NPC (who would have been very difficult to work with, and may have been in the past) will now be more willing to respect and work with the party. So the title not only honors the players and their actions, but also acts as a story advancement. With proper planning, you might even make completing this quest and getting the title a necessary step towards completing a larger overall story. 

But even beyond practical realities like advancing quests, this can really develop roleplaying moments. The same NPC is likely to speak to an adventurer and a titled hero differently, so almost any story you are trying to telling is going to end up quite different. There may even be small displays of the power of the players' new reputations--a shopkeeper grants a discounted rate for a local hero, a stranger buys a round of drinks for the party for their deeds, or a child NPC acts out being the heroic player characters. 

So as you can see, the benefits of a granted title can be quite broad. A small spoken action on the part of one NPC can drastically alter the campaign and allow players new options. Once they figure out that their titles can open doors, it's only a matter of time before they begin to try to leverage that reputation, creating new problems for them to solve: will my title impress this specific person? can I lay low with my new reputation? will there be negative consequences from being more recognizable? All of these new problems can be developed into meaningful and interesting story moments. And all of this was possible by rewarding the players with less loot and instead giving them a more intangible reward. 

Another alternative to loot which I highly suggest is the granting of property. This strategy works with players of all kinds--roleplaying, combat-focused, antics-focused, and more. The thing that makes it so potent is that it requires the GM to give up very little, and it gives the players so much to work with. Implementing it is simple: players complete a quest, and the questgiver (someone with a fair amount of property themselves) bestows the players with a parcel of land somewhere. 

The details of the land are up to you, and you should decide what to give the players based on what you think they would enjoy the most. I suggest using a range of possibilities, from a fairly well-preserved mansion on a nice estate which can be redesigned according to the players' wishes to an empty piece of land that they players can completely design and build up themselves. This is a difficult matter to gauge by trying to read the players' thoughts and intentions, so I recommend simply asking out-of-game what the party would be most interested in: a developed place, a blank canvas, or somewhere in between. Their answer will allow you to give them exactly what they want. 

There are almost no limits to what a group of players can do with a piece of property. Not only does it give the party an established home and base of operations, it creates instant narrative stakes. Threats to the property are something that the players will be incredibly sensitive to, so that opens some narrative possibilities. The development of and changes to the property will become projects that you can complicate with narrative moments (for instance, the party wants archery targets for their property, so they go to raid a bandit camp outfitted with dozens of archery targets). You may focus as much or as little as you want on the property, but rest assured: the players will deeply care about their home, so you will be able to use that to your advantage. 

A final note about rewarding players with property: having an established "home" for your players' characters is a bigger emotional draw than many GMs realize. As a beginning player, I spent sessions planning for and executing a massive attack on a castle held by bandits and monsters; I never got to see any of the long-term rewards of owning a castle that controlled a trade route and which had a gem mine (the campaign ended because I headed off for college), but I have to say that the pull for really having a place of my own in the game was truly its own reward. The feeling I had playing that character remains one of the most empowered moments I've experienced as a player, and you can pass it on to your players with relatively little effort--certainly something to consider. 

A similar but importantly distinct idea for alternate loot is in granting the party a business. I have written before about the finer points of developing a business for a player character to run; here, I will focus on the why of it rather than the how. The basics, however, would be similar to the property-granting--an important NPC who might have access to repossessed businesses or even just storefronts could give it to the party as a reward. You might have this NPC say something along the lines of, "You have done this city a great service. Our funds are spread thin now, but we recently seized a business which was being illegally operated--smuggled goods, mostly--and I can reward you with control of this business for your deeds." 

The exact nature of the business matters--not just any business will do for any given set of players. The business should ideally sell something that would matter to the players. In a combat-heavy party, a blacksmith is a strong option, as the smithy would be able to provide weapons and armor to the party. A business which sells healing potions could be helpful to most parties. Other strong business options for rewards include magic item shops, general stores, and taverns. Obviously, taverns are appealing to players for different reasons than the other more practical shops, but taverns are also broadly appealing, as essentially every adventure ends up in a tavern at some point or another. As I advised with what kind of property a party would enjoy, I recommend here asking what the players would be interested in owning. It may be hard to get a consensus, but the only way to find out where your players stand is to talk to them about it. 

Owning a business in-game is similar to owning a property with the exception that businesses are less static, meaning that there are more possible issues that can arise from businesses than from bases of operation. Here is a brief list of things that can come up for players with businesses: supply issues, changing public opinion of a shop, needing to improve the quality of goods/services, unruly customers, or new governmental orders that affect shops can all be things that business owners need to attend to. It's worth noting here that these complications can be matters of narrative importance (a main quest involves a government raising money for a new war effort, leading to increased taxes) or simply complications that arise from owning a business (supply lines have been cut off due to bandit attacks). The inherent pride of owning a business can allow for a great many complications, all of which will emotionally engage your players. 

One last thing to consider about bestowing a business is the increased money that will accumulate from the business. You'll need to account for your players having more money, for one, but you can counteract that by having complications from the business cost money (increased taxes, investments to improve the business, needing to pay people for services to support the business). It really just comes down to how much you want the business to change things for the party. If you want them to make marginal gains, counteract the new income with complications, but if you want them to experience significant gains, you can allow the business to really progress the party financially. 

One final alternative to loot is actually just a step in between the players and proper loot. What I mean is, allow players not direct loot, but tokens for loot. Imagine that the party completes a quest for an important NPC; the NPC themselves lacks a store of significant loot, but they do have a network of allies and acquaintances who can help the party. So they give the player characters official tokens, something that bears the official emblem of the questgiver, which can be exchanged for powerful loot. But two things separate this reward from being classic loot: 1, the player gets choice in the matter of what the loot ends up being, and 2, there is an important step between the reward and actually getting the reward. Both of these are valuable things. 

The first benefit (getting a choice of loot) has some obvious boons. Let me share a brief moment from a campaign I ran years ago: my players entered a shop looking for improved gear. I decided to handle in-game shopping by having the shopkeeper introduce a number of items that I thought would be interesting and valuable to the players. From their ho-hum reactions, I quickly figured out that they weren't really interested in what the shop had to offer. So I whisked them off to a shop where the shopkeeper offered customized gear, and the result was much different; they had clear ideas of what they wanted and were not afraid to ask. This was just a shopping trip, so the stakes were not exactly high, but we're talking about quest rewards, and those need to match the effort put forth. That's why I think a loot token allows the players to get more for their effort. 

The second benefit is less obvious, but at least as important. With a step in between the reward and actually getting the reward, you as GM have increased your control of the situation. Maybe the players walked through the quest for the reward quite easily, and you want to accommodate for that disparity in difficulty. So now that the player has the loot token, they still need to make it to someone who they can redeem the token with. This means you can place any complication in the way of the party to make up for the difficulty issue. Or perhaps the story of the quest for the reward was not completely wrapped up by the quest itself, and now you have an opportunity to dramatically finish that story. The strength of the loot token is that it allows the GM to continue to finesse the story and keep making the world more connected and complete. 

Some final considerations for loot tokens mostly involve how you choose to implement it. The loot token can be used as a clean transaction: the token is exchanged for an item. It can also be like currency: the token can be traded for a more valuable item than it is worth if the player character adds some currency to the deal. The tokens themselves can be objects of interest; the designs on the tokens may characterize the questgiver or their city, or they may be made of precious metals, or they may be kept as evidence of the players' allegiance to the questgiver. The most important thing to keep in mind with look tokens is that you are not just lengthening a story, but giving yourself and your players room to continue developing it, all the while giving more control to both yourself and your players. 

These alternate rewards have all the benefits described above, but I think that they also make the game feel more realistic. Which seems more likely: the mayor of a city has a massive collection of magic items just sitting around to bestow on traveling adventurers, or they know people they can call upon to produce magic items for adventurers who help the city? Personally, I find the latter option far more realistic, interesting, and enjoyable. So give these alternatives to loot a try, and I think that you'll find that your campaign is more open to your players to create the experiences that they want. 

There you have it. Four alternatives to traditional loot, all of which allow you the opportunity to enrich your game for yourself and your party. I think that giving yourself room to experiment with these may be intimidating--messing with any of the calibrated balances between GM and players can be complicated. But I think that most parties will really benefit from having more options when it comes to rewards, especially when these alternatives are more mentally and emotionally appealing than simple treasure. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: why you should play with different groups to see what you like, how to handle in-game romances, and what to do when your players think of something you missed. Until next time, happy gaming!

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Diplomatic Situations of Cities in My Homebrew Setting

One of my favorite types of stories to tell in tabletop games are stories about diplomacy. Diplomatic stories have the capacity to feature lots of roleplaying, loads of rich storytelling, and plenty of room for players to define the story by their actions. But diplomatic relations are complex, and understanding your whole gameworld can be even more complicated. That's why I'm building a profile on the major diplomatic issues facing each city in my homebrew setting; I want to be able to draw on any and all of my major cities for potential campaigns. 

To work on these ideas, I will be drawing from my previous work. My earlier profile on politics in each major city will give me a better sense of diplomacy. This is one of the many benefits of doing homebrew work; it continues to enrich the work you do in the future. Read on for information on each of the ten major cities with diplomatic efforts. 

Mishara:

The elven capital's diplomatic relations are marked by attempts at continent-wide leadership--current elven diplomat Giriel Lassikin serves as an elder whose main work is to help other governments develop systems of government similar to the elves'. The closest relationship with another government is with Finiel, which is largely elven and half-elven, and Finiel's people are also the closest geographically to Mishara. Because elves prefer a more hands-off style of government, much of Lassikin's work centers on creating minimal public structures and trusting that society will work most things out. This mindset has translated into a continent-wide taste for minimal government intervention. 

Most recently, Lassikin was involved in mediating a dispute between New Dalton and Vestry, a disagreement over ownership of a parcel of land between the two major cities. Lassikin surprised most people by siding with New Dalton, a move that went against most opinions on Evanoch and one which many say reflects the elves' lack of concern about Daltoners and their imperial aims. As a result of Lassikin's involvement, the small settlement of Cloud's Landing has transferred control of the lumber industry from the gnomes to the Daltoners. 

The current goals of Lassikin as diplomat include: keeping trade and immigration open, as Mishara's rarely-changing population needs constant refreshing to keep the economy moving; spreading elven arts and crafts across the continent, as elves consider a cultural dominance the most important kind; and preventing the orcs from establishing a true foundation as one of the most prominent groups in Evanoch, a reflection of their embattled past. 

Kruush: 

The diplomatic situation of the orcs is quite strange by Evanine standards. Orcs traditionally have not used diplomats; conflicts of state were usually decided by combat. However, in recent years, an unofficial team of orcish diplomats has come about. This team is led by Wriren Rurt, a wise woman from a small community who sensed the importance of larger communities after encountering diverse communities outside of the orcish lands. Rurt leads a team of eight other diplomats who cycle through the other major cities as is necessary to keep the other diplomats happy. Rurt's main goal is to establish a way for orcs to answer the cultural presence of the elves, their mortal enemies. 

Most recently, Rurt has sent a team of orcish craftspeople to small, struggling communities across Evanoch; the goal has been to help develop more efficient methods of tending to basic needs, increasing the amount of free time available to people in those communities. Rurt considers this improvement of general quality of life to be a vital effort which is even more important than establishing some manner of dominance over the other cultures. Of note in these efforts are the introduction of easy-to-grow nutritional crops, lower-heat smithing, and a method of building fires which sustains heat and light for longer. Notably, none of Rurt's team remains in Kruush, all choosing instead to work outside the city. 

The current goals of Rurt include demonstrating that orcish communities have grown past combat-driven ways of life, an effort to make the orcs more a part of modern life; an attempt to spread traditional orcish healing efforts (which are among the most effective of all chemical healing); and trying to counter the narrative about orcs that elves have pushed for generations, claiming the orcs have been misrepresented and misunderstood for centuries if not millennia. 

Underhar: 

The dwarven capital's diplomat, Gordon Ironhands, is perhaps the most famous diplomat in Evanoch, mostly because he rose to prominence at a young age and has remained in the public eye as a force for multicultural assimilation. This is perhaps ironic, as Ironhands' work in Underhar has been organized around efforts to keep traditional dwarven practices alive even as he argues that other cultures should be inspired by the rest. Ironhands' most famous ideals come in the form of championing efforts from history which were not popular in their time, but which have become more timely in recent years; the best example of this is the dwarven rehabilitation of small community organization over more centralized governance. 

Most recently, Ironhands has agitated in the conflict between nearby cities Torga and New Dalton--New Dalton has claimed ownership of the former human settlement near Torga, but Torgans have argued that because Fieldsburg (the deserted Daltoner settlement) was an origin for the modern city, it is rightfully theirs. Ironhands has risked destabilizing a consistent relationship with New Dalton to advocate for Torga, a city which has been strengthening its relationship with Underhar in recent generations. Under Ironhands' watch, Torga has been able to transition between leaders without interference from New Dalton. 

The current goals of Ironhands include spreading knowledge of dwarven history, which he claims holds answers to essentially every modern problem; advocating for the existence of democratic governments abroad even as he supports limited voting in Underhar; and supporting the goals of the city of Vestry, as gnomes and dwarves have one of the strongest inter-cultural relationships of any two groups. 

Vestry: 

The gnomish capital of Vestry's diplomatic team is relatively small, but it is carefully organized in such a way that they are able to canvass the entire continent of Evanoch. Led by Leonara Bidibidin, a former tinker, the gnomish diplomats consider their work on a much broader scale than most diplomats. Bidibidin is especially respected for her close attention to detail--meetings with gnomish diplomats are said to last hours and hours as the diplomat carefully lists dozens and dozens of issues to discuss. Gnomes take special interest in advancing socially progressive ideas in the general public, particularly the measures believed to make Vestry the success it is today. 

Most recently, Bidibidin personally trained her fellow gnomish diplomats in the art of reasoned debate, a form of argumentation which most people consider a joint invention of elves and gnomes; as a result, gnomish diplomats are able to engage in deeply logical arguments about the future of Evanoch, and this training has already yielded results as mid- to small-sized settlements have increasingly converted to gnomish policies in an effort to replicate Vestry's success. 

The current goals of Bidibidin include spreading formal education to all corners of the continent, especially among the increasingly industrialized world of today; maintaining peaceful relationships with other cities, including mediating in response to conflicts that do not involve gnomes; and working to popularize the socialist form of government, which has positioned gnomes as the economic powerhouse of the continent as well as a sanctuary of political freedom. 

Curagon: 

Although the halfling capital has no official government, the halfling population has created much of what is considered the art of diplomacy. The Academy of Diplomatic Arts and Sciences in Curagon is the site where future diplomats from all over Evanoch assemble to learn the finer points of mediating between powers. There is no official leader of the Academy or Curagon's efforts; instead, individual diplomats determine their goals independently and seek them on their own or through loose affiliations with other diplomats. Halfling diplomats have overseen all of Evanoch's major conflicts and advances in the last 700 years, beginning of the Treaty of Caspian Ardor.  

Most recently, halfling diplomat Joan Axle negotiated a dispute between Ringsdale and Talon Gorge; Ringsdale's government was moving to take advantage of Talon Gorge during its recent instability, and Axle quickly identified the issue and stepped in while Talon Gorge's diplomatic team was indisposed. Thanks to Axle's work, Ringsdale went from attempting to pillage the city to investing in rebuilding it--Axle's argument that having a powerful trade partner would outweigh the short-term benefits proved highly successful with Ringsdale's leadership. Talon Gorge has since appointed new interim diplomats to serve until a new team can be trained at Curagon's Academy. 

The current goals of halfling diplomats are diverse: Hillis Puddle's efforts to incentivize the sharing of private information for public use via publicly-funded rewards, which has already increased understanding of many of the sciences; Xena Rosebud's efforts to ease tensions between elves and orcs, including building a multicultural center which houses displays of things that elves and orcs have in common--word of mouth has spread quickly, saying the experience is too intense to describe; and Brent Quill's efforts to organize regular conferences to which delegates from all major cities are able to address issues--attendance at early events was small, but has grown considerably and now has delegates from 7 of the 10 settlements on this list (New Dalton, Ringsdale, and Mishara not granting attendance). 

New Dalton: 

The capital of humans from the island of Dalton is known in the diplomatic world for its cantankerous attitude and its refusal to participate in most diplomatic efforts. The one official diplomat of the city, Ethbert Connagan, has gotten involved in the issues that directly impact the city's interests, mainly in the form of working with other governments to advance trade. To this end, Connagan has been responsible for a good deal of the city's recent prosperity, but relations with other cities is at a low not seen since Dalton was still actively attacking Evanoch. Of particular note is the gradual loss of control over Torga in recent generations to Underhar's; many blame Connagan's lack of attention to Torgan matters. 

Most recently, Connagan has turned his attention to smaller settlements which had previously escaped his notice, investing in the towns to grow them and then claim massive profits when the towns become larger, more profitable settlements. These settlements' growth is accentuated by the fact that most all of the invested-in settlements are quite close to New Dalton, and mapmakers have struggled to keep up with the rapidly-changing landscape of the area around the city. Leaders of the towns that Connagan invested in tend to feel strong-armed into unfavorable terms on their deals. 

The current goals of New Dalton diplomatic efforts include weakening the political and economic strength of neighboring cities to ease the agenda of acquiring small towns; continuing relations with the government remaining on the island of Dalton, often noting what to send back to the homeland; and generating goodwill with nearby bandit camps rather than eliminating them to reduce spending on guards outside of the city. 

Finiel: 

Finiel holds the great honor of having the most peaceful history in the history of any of the major cities in Evanoch, and many attribute this to its symbiotic relationship with Mishara. Mishara has always loomed over Finiel, and no army has been bold enough to threaten retribution from Mishara's trained warriors. Finiel has a small team of diplomats: a permanent diplomat stationed in Finiel, one to Mishara and one to Talon Gorge across the Empira Sea, as well as diplomats which serve pairs of cities and territories (Curagon and Kruush, Underhar and Torga, New Dalton and Ringsdale, and Vestry and the northeast). Together, these diplomats have kept Finiel in the good graces of essentially every major city.

Most recently, Finiel home diplomat Xirsen Ingersoll hosted an event in which all cities of the northern half of Evanoch (Mishara, Talon Gorge, and Vestry) met to discuss issues facing the region. The meeting had noteworthy results, including a pact to reduce houselessness in their cities and to strengthen efforts to trade together at lower taxed rates to increase trade. Already, a flood of new goods have spread across the north, and Ingersoll is already organizing a similar meeting for all diplomats in the western half of Evanoch (Mishara, Talon Gorge, Curagon, and Kruush) to address similar issues. 

The current goals of Finiel are to educate foreign diplomats on peace talk methods and how to convince even hostile governments to discuss matters civilly; to stimulate trade and diplomatic relationships with the distant island of Fanin, which has been largely ignored by other governments; and to publicly advocate for more culturally inclusive societies, especially in view of the increased movement between cities in recent generations--Finiel diplomats seek to create more open spaces with diverse temples and neighborhoods.

Torga: 

Torga's past (being a conglomeration of three distinct settlements that joined hundreds of years ago) has always made is sensitive to the governments that gave the city its foundation. Kruush's distance has meant that orcish sensibilities have fallen from grace, and so the struggle exists largely between the humans from nearby New Dalton and the dwarves from nearby Underhar. However, recent trends have leaned towards a dominance of dwarven ideas, and a very recent change in government has seen Torga take a more independent step away from the larger governments. New Torgan politics have emphasized loosening the reins of a strict government and increasing trade with smaller settlements around the southeast coast. 

Most recently, Torga's traveling diplomat, Joshua Steelbeam, pioneered a program of bringing the leaders of smaller settlements that have significant problems to the leaders of major cities. This effort was originally intended to give a voice to often-overlooked towns, but Steelbeam quickly realized that small-town problems could be easily solved by larger towns so long as their was a reason to get involved. As a result, Steelbeam has become something of an advocate for smaller settlements in the southeast and has needed to sustain good standing with the nearby governments he works with, namely Underhar, New Dalton, Curagon, and Ringsdale. 

The current goals of Torgan diplomacy are split between traveling diplomat Steelbeam and home diplomat Peter Sullivan, and their efforts include: Sullivan's talks with labor unions and company heads to negotiate issues that had formerly led to violent strikes, and which are still underway with many waiting eagerly for a result; Steelbeam's work with Underhar to develop an alternate land route between the cities, as shipping on the Decax River that links them becomes impossible during flooding seasons; and Sullivan's efforts to open trade with new, developing cities by paying trading vessels to make extra stops--this model has also returned some modest profits to the city. 

Talon Gorge: 

Talon Gorge was, until recently, a city marked by being the last real monarchy remaining in Evanoch, but recent events have turned it into a democratically-elected council. One of the first moves of that council was to completely revise the kingdom's position on diplomacy; former King Trombull was a leader who focused entirely on his own domain and ignored others. New leadership has appointed a number of new, unconventional diplomats who are more interested in having clear understandings of other diplomats' positions than diplomacy's flowery language often allows. The council says that by year's end, there will be a full-time diplomat appointed to every major city. 

Most recently, Torga's home diplomat, Rilg Wrent, has been involved in the selection of his fellow diplomats. Wrent has controversially chosen diplomats with a variety of political leanings and diverse backgrounds, perhaps most famously former lutist Henrietta Werner. Despite the public discussion concerning Wrent's methods, the diplomats of nearby cities have already begun to take Talon Gorge delegation much more seriously, and governments in Finiel and Vestry have been important in the city's continued rebuilding efforts. 

The current goals of Talon Gorge diplomats are still being developed, but they largely consist of: working as a team to come up with a common strategy and common vision for Talon Gorge diplomacy, a process that involves a great deal of discussion and finessing; reaching out to governments like Vestry and Ringsdale to make amends after generations of nonexistent relations; and brainstorming what strategy might convince the New Dalton diplomatic team to accept a visit from the Talon Gorge team--they want to revisit a trade relationship that once exist but has fallen to the wayside in recent generations. 

Ringsdale: 

Ringsdale's diplomatic situation is informal at best; the industrial city's government poses no laws, but instead allows citizens to bring situations in front of judges, all of whom have been voted the most important minds on the issues they govern. (A matter of business law is determined by a business lawyer of high regard, moral issues are brought before a professor of ethics, and so on.) Because the government is so functionally-oriented, the head judge in Ringsdale (Edmund Yorke, the head of the Ringsdale Labor Union) does not have real power to appoint a diplomat--the duty is simply not within his duties, at least unless a citizen brings diplomacy to a judge. As a result, Ringsdale does not have official diplomats. However, one concerned citizen, a former judge of justice named Annabel Freeman, has taken it upon herself to represent the city to other leaders when appropriate, but she has been unable to make significant gains without proper support from the government in terms of financing and information. 

Most recently, Freeman managed to broker a truce between two neighboring cities, Chldlph and Tronz--Freeman managed to convince the two cities to retreat from escalating tensions and reconvene later. In this later meeting, Freeman appealed to the leaders of the cities and managed a peace agreement. People in Ringsdale have been incredibly appreciative of this, as it is widely believed that armed conflict would have robbed Ringsdale of the resources they get from Chldlph and Tronz (stone and livestock, respectively). This led Yorke to announce publicly that he would certainly appoint Freeman if ever someone brought the matter to him, suggesting that he would create a diplomatic post if given the chance. 

The current goals of Ringsdalian diplomacy include Freeman's intention to create a relationship with Underhar to the south and Vestry to the north--the only fledgling relationship currently existing is New Dalton's attempt to control Ringsdale; Yorke's stated interest in making trade from small surrounding towns easier by introducing legal decrees that would govern negotiations; and the general public's repeated cries for representation for the lower classes in government, which has led to a proposed plan for working with other governments to do the same. 

There you have it. While my politics profile previously gave me a great idea what the major issues in each city are, these diplomatic issues have allowed me to zoom in and deal with the really granular issues are when it comes to relationships between cities are. Not only have I developed my world in more detail, there are a few dozen beginnings for campaigns in this information. An in-depth diplomatic campaign could draw on all matter of the ideas presented here, and now I can easily run that kind of campaign with just a bit more preparation. As always, building my world's detail has given me considerable benefits. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: alternative rewards to loot, how to find the right group for you, and how to handle romances in-game. Until next time, happy gaming!

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The Languages in My Homebrew Setting

I have always been fascinated by language. It's a large part of why I'm an English teacher today--I just enjoy passing on a love of language. And so I have wanted for years to develop full languages for each of my homebrew world's groups. It's a daunting task, though, generating enough words to really get a feel for entire languages. I couldn't really find a free site that would take my custom words and create more like them, so I just took a sample list of words that would be used to create a language and created words as a representation. I used Roll for Fantasy's Language Generator to come up with words and phrases to translate with because they're a good broad representation of common language. That means each language will have 67 words and phrases as reference points. I'm going to share the input I gave the generator to develop a baseline for the world's languages. Read on for the results. 

Humans (Daltoners and Faninites): 

Humans speak common, the fantasy equivalent of English for English-speaking players. The phonemes and words are the same as the ones we use, and common is functionally just the language that the game happens in. It's worth noting that a variety of the words in common are derived from other languages: some of the words in common are borrowed from the other tongues, just as English is a mashup of the many languages it's interacted with. Many have speculated on the strange odds that both Daltoners and Faninites would speak a common language despite the distance between them; the foremost theory on this matter is that the two human groups are likely to have developed their language family together and then split into two geographically distinct peoples. 

One notable distinction of common is that it greatly simplifies the system of verb conjugations that every other language uses. Also worth noting is the fact that the other races settled on common as a shared language after the introduction of humans to the continent for a few reasons, most importantly the ease of learning common and cultural feelings about language--most races regard a racial language as a tool for privacy, but the human races have a more difficult time contending with new languages and assert their own instead.

Elves:

The elven language is very distinct in terms of sound: the letters L, S, and W are major components, and vowel sounds tend to be softer. Most of these words are relatively short, and few of them seem to have linguistic relationships to each other--every word is derived not by linguistic structure, but from ancient speech patterns kept alive by the elves' long lifespans. As a result of this, elven sounds very much older and more proper than other languages, which have changed more over time. Notable details are common's use of "bliss" for happiness and the similar meaning of "young" and "liddle" (little), suggesting that the word "little" comes from this elven word. 

Half-Elves: 

Half-elves tend to stick with common when they can, but around elves and half-elves, they often slip elven words and phrases into their communication. This is most especially true when speaking of elven cultural ideas and when communicating via adages and common sayings; the elven language is rich in figurative language and wisdom for most situations. It is considered to be a faux pas to use elven phrases with non-elves without at least translating them. 

Orcs:

The orcish language is dominated by short, sharp sounds, particularly using the letters R, G, and T. Most all of these words are monosyllabic and have diphthongs (multiple sounds combined to create more complex sounds). Orcish speakers are known for speaking relatively quickly and having dense conversations with relatively few spoken syllables. Of note are a few words which reveal cultural ideas: the common word for "elf" is taken from the orcish word for "hate," a reminder of the animosity between those groups; the same word is used for both "happy" and "courage," revealing the orcish value of courage; similarly, the same word is used for both "fear" and "shame," again underscoring the cultural value; and finally, the word for "beauty" is the word used for "platinum," the prized natural resource of the orcs.

Dwarves:

The dwarven language is characterized by a high incidence of consonants, especially D, T, and R, and most every word has at least two syllables. This means that dwarven speech takes longer and tends to sound harsher to non-dwarven listeners. There are essentially no linguistic relationships between words, suggesting that dwarven developed as a language which uniquely named ideas rather than building on previously existing words. Notable words include the close relation of all words related to exchanging things (sell/buy/trade/steal are kron/krin/kran/takrin); the adaptation of dwarven words "harminy" (from "friend") becoming "harmony" and "trayter" (from "enemy) becoming "traitor"; and the combination of "morad" (good) with "erebin" (strong) to create the dwarven god Moradin.

Gnomes:

The gnomish language is fairly irregular, having little in the way of favored letters or sounds, and the words range from single syllables to longer words. Gnomes are known for constantly creating words to name new inventions and ideas, so the breadth of linguistic profile contributes to the gnomish language's unique characteristics. Of particular note in this language is the way that pronouns and verbs conjugate, with very clear patterns of pluralizing subjects and a generalized tense for all third-person and second-person plural subjects; the fact that there are no gender distinctions in gnomish (he/she are the same, mother/father are the same, brother/sister and son/daughter are the same); and the adoption in common of gnomish words ("speak" from "speke" for "say," "moral"/"immoral" for "good"/"bad").

Halflings: 

I made the halfling language somewhat similar to common, with words that are either very phonetically similar (is/no for yes/no) or synonyms (pilfer for steal), suggesting that these words were the basis for common and were adopted early on in the language's development. There are also many compound words, such as no (no) + ret (see) = noret (goodbye), and further, silb (have) makes noretsilb (take, but literally "goodbye have"). Halfling speech is characterized by quick speech, a variety of word lengths, and similar structure for words with similar meanings.

Draconic: 

I've traditionally run a gameworld based on a 3.5 setting, but I have been lately trying to incorporate dragonborn and tieflings into my world more. To that end, I am including draconic here and developing it more for my setting. This D&D lore site shows some words used in the list I'm using, so I've borrowed or adapted from there. The rest, I have extrapolated from the patterns already established for draconic there. 

*In the above image, my entry for "he/she is" was too long to appear in the box; it reads "grenyz/kynin dyhon." 

Draconic is a language of difficult sounds and unique diphthongs paired with multisyllabic words, which are challenging to unfamiliar ears. It is marked by by Xs, Ys, and Zs and relatively frequent vowel pairs. Because of the density of complex sounds, draconic is typically spoken slowly. To most people in my homebrew setting, draconic is either the language that a spellcaster uses in invocations or the language that the very rare dragonborn. This language is notable for its differentiation of the why "why" from other question words in terms of structure; the lack of borrowed words in common due to the more obscure nature of the language, and the out-of-game knowledge that several of the words I filled in came from inspiration--Arthax is the name of a character that my friend and current DM (also the player who created Beor in the mystery campaign and Carric in the Eastweald campaign) created for the campaign I'm in, and he is described as especially wise and knowledgeable, so I made him name mean "clever"; this kind of inspiration makes things easier and more fun while also giving deeper significance to parts of the world. I also recognized that many of the draconic names kind of sound like prescription names and hid a few real prescription names spelled like draconic would do it. 

Infernal:

Because tieflings have largely not been a part of my gameworld, I decided to use a sampling of an established infernal language. I ran the first two blocks of the words and phrases in my list (yes / no -> no problem and how -> when) through this translator, and then, because I did want to have some hand in developing the language, I created the rest from there using it as inspiration. It's important that I be very familiar with how these words are generally formed so that I can improvise the language later.

Like draconic, infernal is full of letters and sounds which are rare in common, notably Q, Y, and Z. Also like draconic, its words are mostly multisyllabic, even for simple words. To those who haven't spent a lot of time with tielflings, this language is likely to strike fear into most people, as it sounds very exotic and would only otherwise be encountered with full demons. And also like draconic, there are no words which have been borrowed by common due to its lack of public speech in Evanoch's history. But the two languages do have distinct sounds and usages; where draconic is spoken slowly and deliberately, infernal speakers tend to speak quickly and allow their words to blend together, requiring the listener to be familiar with the language to be able to separate individual words. And infernal's grammar is also quite distinct from the other languages of the region, all of which adopt a subject - predicate structure; infernal places the verb first and then follows with the subject. A notable feature of infernal from this list is the fact that the word for hatred (wyjiqar) is the basis for the word for happy (wyjiqarry), a reminder that infernal's system of linguistic meanings is based on the culture of demons. 

There you have it: a guide to seven unique languages and how they are spoken in my homebrew setting. This is quite a deep detail to decide to develop for my world, but I can now use these languages in my games. When an NPC speaks another language, I don't have to say, "They say 'good morning' in elven"--I can instead have my NPC simply say, "Plintan," and then translate the short message to my players whose characters speak elven. If I were feeling really adventurous, I might even improvise a whole sentence or two using the general sounds to make something that could be one of these languages, following it with a translation. I could be a huge step for immersion, and it certainly makes me feel more in touch with the world I play in and continue to build. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: the diplomatic situations of the cities in my homebrew setting,  alternate rewards to traditional loot, and how to find and stick with the right group. Until next time, happy gaming!

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