Why Open Writing Functions Better Than Closed Writing

A few themes come up again and again on this site--the value of player agency, creativity's importance in tabletop games, and how much fun it is to get to shape a world as you see fit as both player and GM are some of the most prevalent. And all of those are key components in what I want to talk about here. Open versus closed writing accomplishes all of those, while closed writing often creates impediments to them. When I say open versus closed writing, I'm talking about how open-ended the structure of a game is. A closed-writing game says "here's a situation, and here are the one or two things that can be done to resolve that situation." An open-writing game instead says, "here's a situation--use your best judgment as a GM to determine whether your players' actions resolve the situation." In a lot of gaming writing, particularly modules, the open or closed writing feature can make or break a player's experience. The advantages of closed writing are clear--you can set defined parameters on what player actions "win" a scenario and which do not "win" or even "lose" a situation, which cuts down on the hard GM work of deciding what works and what doesn't. Some closed writing works reasonably well--combat encounters either end with the enemies vanquished or the players dead, and that's fair. But when roleplaying and creative problem-solving are at play, closed writing is often frustrating and confusing--the players have to think exactly like the writer of the game, which is a lot more like video game gameplay than tabletop gameplay at its best. So I'd like to make an argument for why open writing is the superior option, whether you're writing a module or just notes to guide a homebrew session. 

What got me thinking about this was a module I played with my wife earlier today. I've been DMing a campaign with her as a character for several months--she plays Aurora in my Of Gods and Dragons campaign. And she knows that as much as I adore GMing and managing campaigns, I also get a big kick out of being a player when I can, so she offered to run a short module from a game manual she really enjoys. (I won't name the game manual since most of what I have to say about it is critical.) We'd actually been planning to play the module for several months, but life got crazy--as it does--and it kept getting pushed back. But we finally found the time today, and I was eager to jump in. The module calls for a three-person party as a minimum, and I had created a group of three adventurers I was to control throughout the module. I created an academic bard deadset on discovering a topic worth writing about to gain professorship at her academy, a shifty warlock with a criminal past trying to take advantage of helping the bard search for her work, and a stoic druid who'd escaped military life and tries to support nature while using her one nonviolent skill--being intimidating--to avoid more outright bloodshed while protecting the group. Eager to get started, we dove in. 

It was fairly fun, but again and again, my wife would listen to my choices and shake her head, staring at the module pages. "I didn't expect you to make that choice. There's nothing in here about what to do if you do that." The first time she said this, I laughed--I had gravitated towards a question to help a lonely animated figurehead of a building, and I could see where ignoring some of the weightier quests offered in the manual might be something of a wrench in the cogs. But as we kept playing and I kept hearing that my choices went beyond the module's writing, I started to get frustrated. It seemed that the module only allowed for one solution for each situation, and none of the solutions required (not suggested, but required) were very obvious to me. This was compounded by the fact that I had been told this was a roleplaying-heavy module, and I was handling every scenario by roleplaying as my excitable academic, my smooth-talking guide, and my weary druid guard. We really ran into a dead-end when my guide was fast-talking a troublesome NPC who he did get the better of, but the NPC was written to immediately wipe my memory if I did so. I was very soured on the experience immediately. 

Let's really delve into this situation. I had a charisma-based character who used his interpersonal skills to investigate one of the module's quests and who managed to figure out something notable that would advance that quest. But the module did not intend for me to resolve the situation in this way, and so it instructed my DM to undo my progress. This is to say, I came up with a way to use the game mechanics within the spirit of the mechanics themselves to advance a questline, and the module told my DM to make it as though I had never done that in the first place. I felt defeated. I was roleplaying, I was thinking strategically, I was pursuing the quest, and yet that wasn't enough for the module. I had to do it all in specifically the way that module wanted me to. That's not the tabletop game world I know and love. That's a puzzle. And a single-solution puzzle with hundreds if not thousands of decoy pieces that don't help even if they do fit the puzzle at that. I was unhappy with that particular moment, but we carried on, and I hoped to come up with a different way to solve the puzzle that would be more in line with the module's required solution. 

But again and again, we encountered moments like this one. I would encounter a situation and do what seemed obvious to me, but it would vex my DM because it violated what the module wanted. At one point, I obtained a quest item and thought that the NPC who was infatuated with the other NPC who'd lost the quest item was the obvious solution; I gave it to the infatuated NPC to give to the questgiver to make them both happy. This brought the game screeching to a halt. In fact, I had done something that invoked three different quests and resolved none of them as desired, meaning that I closed out half the module's quests in one action, bringing all three questlines to less than ideal outcomes while closing them to further actions, and one of those questlines was the overall story arc of the module, meaning I essentially failed the overall module, and all because I hadn't asked the right question of the right NPC at the right time so I could know not to do that. And I had obtained the quest item by luring the NPC who'd stolen it into a desolate cave to kill him (he had been scamming and hurting the whole setting for years, and I reasoned that killing him would prevent him from going off to do the same to some other location); it turned out he was a god in disguise, and my DM had to nerf his hit points to a third of the intended level so as not to enact a certain party wipe. (As it was, even with the reduction, I barely survived the encounter at all.) In other words, a random NPC was secretly a god, and the only way to have known this was to break into his private room, find a well-hidden journal, decode it from a secret language, compare it to another hidden text, and speak to the correct NPC about it in order to discern he couldn't be messed with and had to be revealed to the module's population, and even then, I see no reason why a god would simply admit defeat rather than push down harder on the location to maintain his position of power, making killing him the better option anyway. And what's more, the module was designated for levels six through eight, and even four eighth-level adventurers would stand no chance of killing him as written, meaning that the module had a secret condition that the NPC couldn't be defeated except for solving this elaborate and counter-intuitive puzzle. 

To zoom in again, I botched the win condition for half the module by doing something that seemed pretty clearly indicated by the writing, and I should have lost (and would have if not for my DM's quick adjustments and kind heart) because I attacked a lone NPC who was secretly a god unless I made several assumptions that didn't make sense to make. In other words, I unwitting failed the main quest and two other storylines and committed to a suicide mission despite thoroughly investigating the location and the NPCs in it because I didn't divine the exact methods I was supposed to use as determined by the module. To put it bluntly, I was dissatisfied with this adventure. I had a great time roleplaying with my wife, and she made a lot of the failures of the module less frustrating through adjustment--this is true. But the whole point of closed writing in a tabletop game is that the GM is supposed to trust that the module is well-written and well-considered and shouldn't have to make constant adjustments nor improvise hundreds of pieces of new dialogue and reactions from the world when a player does something that makes sense on paper. 

[You may be saying to yourself, but this site has a collection of one-shots. Are you claiming that all of them are one-hundred percent open writing? Not precisely--several of the one-shots I've published here do occasionally push things in concrete, sometimes binary directions that might mean a lot of improvising on the part of the GM. But all of the one-shots that do this are based on movies, and they require some adherence to the movie's plot (and my reinterpretations) to maintain a resemblance to the movie itself. I'm not saying they're perfect--all of them are as much experiments in adaptation as they are genuinely finished tabletop RPGs. But in nine cases out of ten, I'm making them open writing in the sense that anything that the GM decides works, works. The module I'm criticizing here explicitly states that there's only one way to resolve these situations, and that's the bone I'm picking--they're purely closed writing.]

So how could this module have been improved by open writing? Well, briefly put, by trusting the GM to interpret and make choices. I have, in my career as a tabletop game player and GM and game designer, bought relatively few actual TTRPGs. When I do purchase one, it generally tends to be something with a lot of open interpretation. I've never purchased, downloaded, or played a one-shot or campaign written by someone else. Too often, that content features closed writing like the module I'm talking about here. What I opt for are radically open writing games. The manuals for these games are traditionally pretty slim--there's a few pages devoted to simple rules, a few pages about ways to define your character, and a few pages on the lore that impacts the world. These kinds of manuals are traditionally heavily filled with illustrations and have less than thirty pages. It's literally just enough to define the rules and the setting and then grant the rest of the game to the GM. This is an extreme example of granting the GM trust to guide things. But there are also modules that can grant this trust, though they tend to be pretty rare. Some of D&D's earlier modules from the late 1970s and 1980s so this--"here's a situation and who's involved--figure the rest out yourself" tends to be the approach. And before Wizards of the Coast took ownership of Dungeons & Dragons, this was actually the industry standard. I'd go so far as to say that most non-D&D game materials tend towards open writing in that they are more designed to inspire GMs than prescribe to GMs. That's a generalizations which isn't universally true--some D&D materials are more open and some non-D&D materials are more closed--but the generalization is largely true in my experience. 

So what leads game materials to be written in a closed fashion? I'd argue that it's not easier to write a closed adventure--that makes considerably more time and effort than open writing where you can just tell the GM to figure it out themselves. It's also not necessarily from demand--there are countless closed writing game materials out there, and it can feel like more work to find open writing materials a lot of the time. I think the answer is that the core belief of closed writing is that the developer of the materials can come up with something more interesting, compelling, and complex than what a GM can do on their own. And I don't like this position, which I doubt regular readers will be surprised to learn. The strength of closed writing is to say, "here's a situation you won't think of and how to make it satisfying for your players." The parallel strength of open writing is to say, "here's a new way to think of gaming, and I think you should explore that on your own." What this means is, a closed module capitalizes on an established game (hence the popularity of modules for D&D), while open modules are meant to push the boundaries and promote creativity from GMs (hence the popularity of open writing in original games). But even that is a generalization, and it's not the thing that I want to take away from all this.

Open writing promises an opportunity to explore a game as you see fit as the GM; closed writing promises a way to rely on something that's finished without having to do all the work yourself. And that's the hidden secret failure of closed writing. The module I played earlier with my wife was very closed--each quest had one hidden solution with infinitely more "incorrect" approaches than the single "correct" approach, the extreme of closed writing. And if the goal is to provide something that's interesting, compelling, and complex like I mentioned above, we've failed. It's not interesting to play as a game would could just as easily be a novel. It's not compelling to be forced into one way of thinking. And it's not complex to have just one right answer. Closed writing wants you to think that it's giving you a shortcut to good GMing. But it can't do that. The only way for a closed module to be rewarding for players is to have a GM who heavily edits and improvises, and at that point, they're forcing the closed writing to be open writing by ignoring vast chunks of it to reach the players. 

So why not just go with open writing to begin with? I find again and again that players of tabletop games would be great GMs if they tried, even when they're unwilling to make the leap and try it out. The skills are basically the same--creativity, improvisation, imagination. I argue that the difference between an intermediate tabletop game player and a good novice GM is the willingness to try it out. And the difference between a novice GM and a strong intermediate GM is just experience. So, basically, an intermediate player and an intermediate GM is basically just some moxie and a few game sessions apart. 

One of the refrains of this site is the value of homebrew. I preach the extreme of it--craft a world and NPCs and missions and everything else. But I also advocate for a piecemeal approach--take the established things you like, add your own ideas, and go wild. My first games as a DM were in nameless, faceless places with undeveloped NPCs and only a vague idea for quests. What I was good at was responding to the players. And if you can bring an interesting idea--more than I brought to my early games--and bounce off your players, you'll be figuring it out and almost certainly bringing some joy to your players. The worst that can happen is you realize you don't like GMing, at which point--at least you tried and you know now. But the potential rewards are enormous--you could be well on your way to a point where open writing is a welcome invitation to your own creativity and closed writing is something you can adjust and fix with ease. 

That's all for now.

That's all for now. Coming soon: general mapmaking tips and guides to clans amongst the Faninites and dwarves. Until next time, happy gaming!

Of Gods and Dragons: Session Nine

Last time, the party recovered after Aurora's encounter with Hromar, the man from her past, and her realization that she needed to destroy her hometown; as the group rebounded, they headed to meet with Tasselman, the strange academic about his research and his knowledge of Boccob. Brokk prayed to Boccob and heard a reply: now is not the time, but we will speak soon. The party returned to Aurora's mom's shop and met with Aurix, who suggested that a larger thing than the prophecy united the party and teleported the group to Kallett City to speak with Rupert, the copper dragon. After some searching and running into Moira, the talented smith who made Brokk's battleaxe in Talon Gorge, they found Rupert drinking alone on the mountainside outside of town. They had a roundabout conversation with him about morality, and when they brought up their quest to repair the rift, Rupert suggested instead destroying the veil between worlds, killing the dragons, and killing the gods so that normal people could live normal lives.

This time, we picked up in the middle of that conversation. Brokk argued that the greater good required more than destroying everything, and when that didn't work, Aurora reasoned that Rupert's thinking was flawed and that destroying everything wouldn't really solve the problem either. But Rupert refused to concede to their arguments. The party grew frustrated, and on the belief that they could get by without Rupert, they decided to simply leave him alone. As they left, Lethanin told Rupert that he needed to simply love himself enough to do the right thing. Rupert became confused but was intrigued--what did Lethanin mean by this? Lethanin explained that if Rupert chose to take action and choose what matters, that was the only real way to do something about the problem--not giving up and destroying everything. Rupert said that he felt he was always making situations worse and agreed to hear the plan out of curiosity. Brokk explained that free will is the most important thing, and the leaking magic from the divine realm was impairing free will. Rupert puzzled out that his recent extreme chaoticness could be because of the leaking magic--since becoming a dragon, he'd felt especially uncontrollable, and he had no dragonhood before the rift to compare that to. Ultimately, Rupert tentatively agreed to help the party with at least fighting Thomas. Aurora and Rupert spoke for a moment about the ability to strip gods of their immortality with glyphs, which Rupert had done, and with nothing further to discuss at that moment, Rupert teleported away to experiment with spells to combat Thomas. Brokk commended Lethanin on getting Rupert to listen, and Lethanin expressed deep surprise that the strategy had actually worked. 

Out of game, this was a really delicate moment to DM. Rupert was, very intentionally, a difficult person to talk to. As I've noted previously, Rupert was a player character in my D&D podcast, Listen Check, and Rupert as a character was often a subject of contention. Rupert's player insisted that he was chaotic neutral or even chaotic good; I felt that Rupert's actions were often chaotic evil, as Rupert frequently took joy in threatening or hurting people. One core belief of mine is that fighting an evil person does not necessarily make you good--taking joy in helping people makes you good. Rupert never really did that. He relished a contentious fight and often sought to "punish" people he disapproved of, sometimes psychologically torturing them (which was his main complaint about the archvillain of the campaign). So in playing Rupert for this campaign, I wanted to preserve both halves of that--Rupert is vengeful and spiteful and somewhat nihilistic but also feels he has good intentions about the whole thing. And above all, Rupert was hard-headed--he rarely changed his mind and was hard to dissuade once he made his mind up. So I had to make some very calculated decisions. 

Initially, Rupert was approached by the party with a moral argument. But Rupert's belief that he was moral and the fact that he saw things differently from them (paired with his stubbornness) meant that he wouldn't really listen. So at first, in last session and the beginning of this one, those arguments were met with ridicule and opposition. This was true to the character, and it also presented Rupert as a kind of exception to the rule with the good dragons so far--he wasn't swayed by simple morality and wanted something that affected him personally. So when Lethanin suggested that Rupert needed to love himself, we had a new idea to consider. Rupert was always a character who was deeply sure of himself, but he also had lived a life full of mistakes that deeply hurt him, so suggesting that he himself had some deep flaw that might have caused that pain was effective where moral arguments were not. And Rupert, in his own way, is worried about free will too--he fought a god in order to regain the ability to do as he pleases. So discovering that he was being restricted by the leaking magic would even more deeply affect him. Still, Rupert was stubborn, so he didn't exactly jump onboard the plan wholeheartedly--he merely said he'd be willing to consider and try to help, which is the most the party would reasonably get out of him. 

Compared to the other dragons, Rupert was a high-stress character for me to play. The others are creations by me--I've been loosely working on them for twelve years and closely working on them for two years. Aurix was actually pretty well defined for all of that time since he was a central character in Listen Check. But Rupert is not mine in the same way--he's a player character who was and is massively important to my world. I had never played him before these last two sessions, and I wanted to do him justice. Even then, I know that I played him somewhat differently than his old player would have--Rupert would have been likely less combative, less depressed, and more prone to moral arguments. Probably, anyway--it's impossible to know for sure. But there was also the matter of what dragonhood under the leaking magic would do to him. My understanding of Rupert would be that he became almost impossibly powerful at the same time that the leaking magic would impair his decision-making, and that would make him irritable (or more irritable, more accurately) and fairly disillusioned. So this whole thing was a very complicated dance, and while I have doubts that my performance as Rupert would make his old player entirely satisfied, I think I did what I needed to do to respect my understanding of the character, have Rupert play an important and interesting role in this campaign, and advance the story without dishonoring Listen Check, and that's something I'm proud of. Now back to the session. 

Content for the time being with Rupert's agreement, the party decided to call it a night. They initially considered finding an inn room in Kallett City, but Aurora requested they teleport to Drumchapel for the night so they could rest not far from Finiel, where they meant to find the brass dragon, Hriskin, the next day, and also because her mother, Heather, was already staying in Drumchapel. They all agreed, and while Aurora developed a spell to teleport the group to Drumchapel, Brokk searched for an found Moira watching over the festival, which was still quite lively. Brokk and Moira stood at the edge of the crowd and people-watched, discussing the merits of simply being a spectator and about the value of the greater good even when it brings pain on the one fighting for it--they agreed that the right thing to do is the right thing to do even if it requires a little sacrifice. Brokk returned to the group, and Aurora opened a portal to Brokk's house, where they all rested in various ways until the following morning. 

Brokk gathered a very Drumchapel kind of breakfast for the group just before they rose--pear pastries, coffee, and pear cider--and they sat on the dock behind Brokk's house to discuss plans. Brokk and Aurora talked about their progress in the novels they'd been reading, Aurora and Lethanin thanked Brokk for breakfast, and they all began a conversation about the proper ordering of their plans--do they target Thomas before heading to the gods' realm out of fear he oppose them in that aim, or do they tend to the Boccob conversation and deal with Thomas when they return. They did not achieve a completely solid resolution, instead agreeing to play the situation by ear and see what Thomas throws at them. They also noted that Boccob speaking directly to Brokk was a very good sign--Boccob was said to have never spoken directly to a mortal, so their words to Brokk seemed to be a good omen. Heather awoke and joined them on the dock, making small talk about their days before heading out into the woods to forage for local insects as alchemical ingredients. Brokk suggested she look for his friend Curtran, a priestess of Ehlonna who might help Heather to find what she was looking for. Once Heather was gone, the group discussed Aurora's "all or nothing" approach to magic, and Aurora acknowledged that she had sacrificed the knowledge of basically her whole life in order to gain that magic. They decided to set out for Finiel to find Hriskin. 

The road to Finiel was not long--really only a couple of miles, which the group covered quickly. The road was fairly busy, and a traveler named Cori, an elven woman with a large spear, walked alongside them for a time, making conversation. She asked what each of them was like and made observations about their appearances; when asked, she said she was a ferry boat captain who was on vacation to Finiel to see a play by her favorite playwright, whose newest play was supposed to be about a moral conundrum--do you go with the known but flawed situation and work to make it better, or do you forge a new path to the unknown and try to improve things that way instead? She posed this question to the group, and everyone offered vague, guarded answers that indicated that all of them would in fact opt for "the devil you know." Cori expressed satisfaction in knowing that there are people like them in the world, telling them to keep making good choices to continue a legacy of good via the known option. Aurora asked to speak to Cori after the play was over, and they agreed to meet at a tavern called The Empty Stage across the street from the theater. After Cori hurried onward to catch the play, the group discussed the likelihood that Cori was a god. Lethanin said she almost certainly was; Brokk was skeptical of the idea that everyone they meet must be a god; Aurora argued that she was likely Corellon Larethian and looked up the eleven god in her book about deities. Upon reading that Corellon Larethian is a spear-wielding elf with strong chaotic good leanings and a love for the arts, even Brokk admitted that Cori was likely Corellon Larethian. 

Out of game, Cori was in fact Corellon Larethian. In these session recaps, I've been slow to admit directly to you, the reader, which NPCs are in fact gods. But let's get explicit here. Ollie is Olidammara, the goddess of rogues and revelery, as the players suspect. Rhodes is Fharlangh, the god of travelers, as they suspect. Cori is Corellon Larethian, the goddess of the elves, as they suspect. The only god they haven't directly diagnosed is Moira, who they do believe to be a god but don't have a direct belief about the identity of--she's Moradin, the goddess of the dwarves. Each deity they've encountered has been pretty obviously divine, and that's been intentional. The gods have been sequestered away from humanity for millennia and have little sense of human subtlety, so their behavior is a bit unsubtle. Further, the players know for a fact that gods are involved in life on Evanoch, so their hackles are up, and they know to suspect that gods are in the mix. This is something that I didn't directly anticipate. I figured that the gods would pass as normal people more often, but that didn't really happen. But I'm okay with that. The actual way it's all played out is even better, as far as I'm concerned. 

Meeting with these gods has been tense each time because the players are paranoid about being contacted by gods. Brokk even said that he doubted Cori was Corellon Larethian because being paranoid about stuff makes you see problems where they don't exist. But Cori really is the goddess of the elves, and the party is not being paranoid, but they do feel like they're being paranoid. I've been careful to add NPCs presented in similar ways to keep them guessing, but they still have been accurate every time. I don't think that's bad DMing--I'm not exactly trying to keep the gods a secret. If I were, I wouldn't have been so upfront about gods coming to the mundane world. So the result, mostly unintended, is that the players are really freaked out about simple interactions. The players actually discussed directly asking Cori is she was a goddess next time they see her, and that's an interaction that will be utterly wild, especially since my version of Corellon Larethian would absolutely just say "yes" without a second thought. It might even lead to something really supernatural happening. So really, the fact that the players are really sure she's Corellon Larethian means that the story is ramping up, heightening, and driving towards the next phase of the story--dealing directly with the gods. And I'm very pleased with that. Just as they're on the way to meet with the last dragon they intend to speak to, the gods storyline is coming to the forefront, which means that the campaign is shifting in that direction pretty organically. I'm excited--I think a direct conversation with Cori will be a great opportunity to start looking ahead now that the dragon storyline is settling down. 

Speaking of the dragons, the players were still searching for Hriskin in Finiel. They arrived in town and went directly to the arena since they knew that Hriskin was a former arena champion. This threw me--I hadn't really considered what at the arena might point them in the right direction and was erring on the side of having an arena superfan give some information pointing in the right direction. But Brokk gave me a better alternative--he looked for a "Hall of Fame" in the arena. This was a great moment to remember that players will often give you better ideas than you have yourself. So I said that yes, there is a Hall of Fame, and the players went to investigate it. After doing some searching, they found a massive portrait of Hriskin, the "Champion of Champions" who always took her opponents down non-lethally and never lost a fight no matter the odds, winning match after match for forty years and then disappearing. This benefited me a lot, since I had decided Hriskin was an arena champion but never really thought about her fighting style or what made her so legendary--in this moment, I could lovingly embellish her legacy and make her fighting style match her personality (principled, stubbornly good, remarkable, and humble) in a really colorful way without having to have someone talk about her. The worst case scenario would have been asking Hriskin directly about her time in the arena--her humility would dictate that she not sing her own praises, so Brokk's Hall of Fame idea let me build her up so I could show her to be humble later on and be clear about her characterization. 

But the party of course found no direction towards Hriskin in the Hall of Fame. So Lethanin once again played a song to find her, a rousing and dramatic song on the violin that stirred the party and revealed that a dragon was off to the south outside of town near a river. For a magical reason, Lethanin felt compelled to end the song on a very melancholy note, and the party set off out of Finiel to find her. Once outside of town, Aurora cast a spell to find Hriskin, and a magical trail appeared leading them down the road toward a major river, then off into the woods and well away from civilization. After a long walk, they found a large cottage by the river, and the cottage was overgrown with ivy and mosses, appearing totally abandoned. Brokk knocked at the door, and for a long time, there was no answer. Lethanin scouted the cottage for signs of life but couldn't find anything definitive. Eventually, Brokk fired an Eldritch Blast into the air, and the crackling boom that resounded did get Hriskin to barely crack the door open. She asked in a tired voice what the group wanted, and the party asked for a few minutes of her time, identifying her by name. She shrugged and allowed them inside, and her appearance was different from what they'd seen in the Hall of Fame portrait--her hair was long and unkempt, her clothes dirty and disheveled, and her expression defeated. 

And that's where we ended. Again, our session time indicated the end--we'd reached the point where we would customarily call it a night, and finding the final dragon of the group's plan and being granted an audience with her seemed a fitting point to stop. It will also be an interesting start to next session. A while ago, Wing told the party that Hriskin had gone silent after the death of her husband and was likely deeply depressed. The real scope of that will become evident next session. The truth is that Hriskin has spent about four hundred years so depressed that she's barely alive and functional. She doesn't see a point in life, really, and she's gone to extreme ends to test how truly immortal she is. That conversation will share some things with Rupert's conversation--she will be harder to convince to help than the other dragons--but will also take another direction--Rupert was bent on destroying everything, whereas Hriskin will be more inclined to simply give up and take no action at all. Seeing how the party deals with Hriskin will be interesting, but I really don't know how they'll have to work with her to convince her to help. 

With the conversation with Rupert, I didn't set down some magic words that would shake him from his gloom and anger. I really just went from a point of characterization--what would he say in return to any given argument. In the moment, it was clear to me that moral arguments wouldn't work; Rupert believes himself to be moral and simply disagreed with the party's morality. But Lethanin's tactic of questioning Rupert's identity shook him. Rupert's identity had radically changed in recent times and was very much up to questioning, and Rupert responded to the idea that he may be suffering from something outside of his control rather than the assertion that everything was within his control. That's all consistent with his character. Similarly, I don't have magic words that will "fix" Hriskin. There's no one thing I'm waiting for the players to say to her. But I do know that arguments about duty and obligation won't work--she sees no purpose in her life and will actively argue that dragonhood shouldn't exist because of the misery it's brought on her. That means that the party will need to come up with something that does appeal to her, and I don't know what that will be yet. 

I think that in general, tabletop games are not the kind of thing were a single answer is ever appropriate. The point of TTRPGs is that we can imagine and do anything--anything at all. Deciding that there's one right answer flies in the face of the very concept of a TTRPG. So I'm not going to say that there's a right answer or even a few right answers for how to deal with Hriskin. I'm just going to listen to the players and judge how convinced she'd be by them. It's an arguably harder strategy to use as a DM, but with a good understanding of what a character is like, it's certainly possible. And I think that having a conversation be resolved by a genuine appeal to what makes a distinct character tick is satisfying for the players and for me. Think about this: if there was some specific sentence that could convince all of the dragons to cooperate, would it feel satisfying to say again and again? No. Aurix needed to see beyond black and white. Jarvia needed to know that free will would allow her to live as she chooses, as did Niela. Wing needed to know the greater good was being served. Rupert had to question his own shortsightedness to see clearly. Hriskin will need to see that life is worth living. But all of those distinct needs can be resolved in many ways--the players just need to speak to the dragons for long enough and get enough of a sense of who they are to understand those needs and reach out to them. That's ultimately the mechanism that this campaign hinges on--how do you understand an NPC and convince them to work with you even when they have their own goals and perspective? It's how they've worked with the dragons, and it's how they'll work with the gods, and it's how they'll ultimately address Boccob in the end. Roleplaying is about being in character and responding to the gameworld like it's real, and this mechanic really pushes that roleplaying into focus. So I'm very eager to see how the dragons, who are still real people, are convinced to help, and how that differs from the how the gods, who are not exactly real people, are convinced to help. 

That's the big picture. For next time, we'll be seeing how Hriskin plays into things, how the conversation with Cori goes, and what the party plans to do once they've gotten all the dragon business in order. Keep in mind, reader, there are twice as many gods as there are dragons, so what will follow will likely be far more complicated. And one thing I have yet to acknowledge is that unlike the dragons, who have all been pretty isolated and on their own, the gods have formed alliances along the lines of their goals, which is sure to complicate things further. We have all these things to look forward to in our next session. I look forward to it and to telling you all about it. 

That's all for now. Until next time, happy gaming!

Of Gods and Dragons: Session Eight

Last time, the party headed towards Torga, stopped on their way by highwaymen who they intimidated, immobilized, and frightened without any harm or incident. They headed into town, leaving the leader of the highwaymen with the guards, and went to the Mortar and Pestle, the shop Aurora's mother Heather owns and operates. Brokk and Lethanin made introductions with Heather, and as Aurora made a nice dinner for everyone, the party discussed their notions of what family is and should/could be--Aurora was positive and upbeat about her relationship with Heather, Lethanin was dubious of any beneficial familial relationship in light of his relationship with his parents, and Brokk was confused by any understanding of family, having his background as a constructed war machine without proper family. Brokk suggested that upon killing Thomas, the red dragon who they suspected was plotting against them, that he be instated as the new red dragon in order to fill the position of power rather than allow someone evil to take Thomas's place. Meanwhile, downstairs, a man named Hromar asked to speak to Aurora, saying he knew her in the past and wanted to speak about her forgotten memories. Aurora and the others assembled in the backyard and heard Hromar out--he said he had worked with Aurora in the camps of Pelor's Mercy, where they had kept troublemakers in line and punished those who dared test them; he also said that Aurora was not some confused girl deep down. This enraged Aurora, and in the combat that followed (despite Lethanin's attempt to cool the situation), Aurora disintegrated Hromar. In a moment, she saw memories she had locked away, seeing herself working with Hromar as he said and beating chained prisoners. Rocked by the realization that she had been one of the community now tracking her, she asked Brokk and Lethanin's help in destroying the town as the faerie who had granted her a new life asked her to. They agreed, and they sent Heather to stay in Drumchapel (Brokk's home) until things were safer. 

This time, the session began on a strange note. Aurora was still distraught after her revelation about her old identity, and she looked on the statue of herself and Heather that had been broken in the fight with Hromar, saying it was best left destroyed. But Brokk questioned this, asking why that would be the case. Aurora changed her mind and fixed the statue. Brokk insisted that Aurora take a few moments to relax and calm down after the tension of the encounter, which she did after apologizing that Brokk and Lethanin had to see her kill Hromar. Lethanin was understanding, saying, "Sometimes you have to disintegrate a dude." Aurora mourned the fact that she couldn't seem to escape from her past, something that everyone agreed was troubling to them too. 

After the tension of the fight subsided, they agreed to go to the bookshop called Library of the Ages, where Lethanin had ventured during his intro session, in order to speak to Tasselman, the curious academic who lives there, on the grounds that he had strange knowledge and theories about the world and that he had mentioned being blessed by Boccob. At the shop, they met with Tasselman and began to question him about Boccob and the strange jeweled globe he had. Tasselman was incredibly apologetic about the fact that he had very little concrete information to share. He explained that Boccob as a deity was very removed from the affairs of people, and that part of what marveled him about the globe is that he had never heard of Boccob answering a prayer before. He offered to perform research on Boccob, which would take a few days, and suggested praying to Boccob for guidance as he had, specifically by appealing to Boccob's sense of identity--a focus on knowledge and meaning. Tasselman also mentioned his genealogical work, which claims that all races in the known world are fundamentally related; he told Brokk that as an elf and an orc, they were basically siblings, and knowledge of this might have prevented the War of Kraal that Brokk was born to fight in. Brokk acknowledged this and gave respect to Tasselman, then excused himself downstairs. 

Brokk went to the center of the bookstore, which Tasselman had claimed was one of the largest repositories of knowledge anywhere, and knelt to pray. Brokk asked Boccob, addressing the deity as the "Keeper of Knowledge," to grant the group a chance to prove the purpose of humanoid life unimpeded by the interference of gods, asking for the restoration of the barrier between mundane and divine worlds for the sake of freedom of choice and the safety of millions of lives, asking too for guidance and promising to pursue seeing Boccob regardless of the outcome of the prayer. In response, Brokk felt the air in his lungs grow brisk and cold, then saw a spinning flame of all colors, and then heard Boccob's voice explain that now was not yet the time, but that Boccob understood what Brokk was saying, and promised that they would indeed speak when the time was right. Content with the answer, the group perused the bookstore, purchasing a number of romance novels that Priggin, the shopkeeper, suggested based on various requests (the bestselling book, the most recommended book, and the most awful but nonetheless enjoyable book). With their new information and their novels, the group returned to the Mortar and Pestle. 

It's worth noting here that this session was one I didn't prepare anything for, largely due to the fact that I couldn't. Now that the campaign is really in the thick of exploring and trying plans, I don't want to railroad at all, and that motivated me to leave things open. But at the same time, the players gave me very little to plan for. I knew they intended to go to the bookstore to see Tasselman, but I didn't know what they would ask about. In previous sessions, I've come to the table with a few vague notes and suggested events that might occur, but this session had absolutely nothing in the way of ideas like that. And by that note, this encounter at the bookstore was very impossible to anticipate. Tasselman is a fairly well-defined character--he was a notable NPC in Listen Check, my old D&D podcast--so I was able to basically just play him like I used to, although that was now nearly fifteen years ago, and my exact memory of him was a little fuzzy. But the information about Boccob was different. I've always played the game such that Boccob is so removed from reality that no one really knows anything about them, so I had to improvise. That's a big theme on this site and in this session in particular, especially when you consider that I had to have a ten-minute conversation about fictional books that I hadn't prepared for and had to come up with titles and plot descriptions and literary analyses for on the spot. 

So let's talk about improvisation in a new way. There's a moment later in this session that will drive this point home again, but let's talk about something valuable here and now. Whether you're running combat, hijinks, or roleplaying, you need to be able to improvise. If you're homebrewing rather than running a module, and even then at times, you have to be able to respond to your players in a meaningful way. After all, the players are improvising, and responding in kind is vital. But how do you get good at improvising? As with most all things, it's practice. You can practice by running TTRPGs or playing them, and this is a good route for most of us. But there's something else you can do to double down on improving at improvising. Learning improv, be it comedy or drama, though most available training for improv is for comedy. I am by no means an expert-level improviser; if you put me on stage and asked me to act out a complex story or make people laugh, I would be good enough to get some reactions, but I'm also not about to be cast in an improv troupe or tapped for Saturday Night Live. (My players often tell me I'm very good at improvising, though, so factor some humility into the calculation.) However, I am very familiar with improv via my time working in radio. 

I started my radio career doing a simple "morning show"-style program where I would chat and joke with some friends. Once I was confident and comfortable with this, I started a storytelling show with a friend, and we would trade long-form stories back and forth. And then I started a true improv comedy show in which me and a friend would pretend to be characters and just try to make each other (and hopefully, the audience) laugh. I had spent hundreds of hours on the air filling time with nothing but improvised commentary and humor by the time I started Listen Check, an almost entirely improvised show (just a bit of planning big character moments between episodes). I convey all of this to say that I practiced improv pretty heavily for several years in order to get comfortable with it. 

My ultimate point here is not to go out and get a radio job and intensely condition yourself to the point of being able to fill two-hour slots with improv comedy. What I'm saying is that improv helps you to be a better improviser (as you would imagine), and that in and of itself is actually attainable. Most bigger cities will have a theater or recreation center that offers improv classes. They are traditionally very affordable. The basis of the classes is teaching a few methods for improvising and giving lots of practice for honing your developing skills. By all means, if you want to practice improv via TTRPGs, please do. But if you're looking for a way to provide compelling plots and interesting titles and insightful-sounding analyses of a handful of books that only exist because you're currently talking about them and have your players say that they wish those books existed so they could actually read them and do all of that without missing a beat--practicing improv is a good way to bolster your skills so that you can pull that off. Truly, pick the approach that feels most comfortable--improv classes and practice are not the only way to improve--but know that one way to get there is practicing improv, and it's done wonders for my ability to DM in a way that's polished and satisfying to me and my players.

Anyway, when the party returned to the Mortar and Pestle, they encountered Aurix in his human form waiting for them. He spoke urgently of getting to business, so the group stepped inside and began to prepare to leave Torga. Aurora locked the shop up, looking over the house sentimentally as she went (fearing she would never see it again), and cast a spell that called on Yondalla, the goddess of halflings who her mother worships, to protect the shop while everyone was gone. Meanwhile, Brokk told Aurix that he was happy to see them, which caused Aurix to suspect that Brokk was playing a joke; Brokk insisted that he meant it, which confounded Aurix, who still believed that they were too bad with people to get that reaction from someone. With the group reassembled, Brokk shared what Boccob had said, which they concluded meant that they had time to pursue reuniting the dragons and were likely on the right path--they should keep doing what they were doing. Lethanin spoke of following "the Song," leading Aurix to speculate that Aurora manipulates reality through her magic, Lethanin hears reality via "the Song," and Brokk is (as a half-demon) of a different reality, suggesting that perhaps there is something special about the group that makes them inclined to be designated by the prophecy about the rift. Unable to make further progress by discussing things, the group agreed to go to Kallett City where the copper dragon was suspected to be, and Aurix teleported them to outside the city gates. 

Arriving in Kallett City, the group found a festival in full swing. They obtained drinks for a catered table, and Lethanin suggested heading to a rowdy bar to ask after Rupert, who Aurix said was the copper dragon. They headed to just such a bar (which I named "The Complete Works of Montgomery Ward" as a jokey name only to find out that the name "Montgomery Ward" is a real life retail store--it was a silly accident, but it got a laugh). Inside, Lethanin gravitated towards a stage where a trio of musicians played a medley of folk tunes; Aurora set up to people-watch, trying to spot drunken old human men (the description they'd gotten of Rupert), and Brokk unexpectedly cast Eldritch Blast into the ceiling to get everyone's attention. It worked. He asked if anyone knew Rupert, and the bar patrons all said that Rupert was the mayor. Brokk paid for the next round to apologize for his commotion, and the group headed outside to find the mayor. Brokk flagged down the first person who he saw, which happened to be Moira, the dwarven smith he'd bought an ax from earlier in Talon Gorge. Spooked by her appearance again (he had already been disturbed by her upon first meeting), he listened as she said she was on a vacation inspired by their last conversation, gave some details about the festival (a celebration of the anniversary of the founding of the town), said the mayor would be giving a speech soon, and heartily wishing that Brokk do whatever the right thing for him would be as they had discussed. Brokk was even more perturbed by the conversation with Moira, and the group discussed the likelihood that she was in fact a god of some sort. 

Meanwhile, the mayor, a young halfling named Rupert Millhoe took the stage to speak to the festival-goers. He spoke about the legacy of Kallett City and toasted to its future. Out of game, I spoke as Mayor Rupert for about three to five minutes about Kallett City. This is worth noting because I had literally zero information about Kallett City planned or written anywhere. I had improvised that the mayor was named Rupert as something of a misdirect to keep the party from immediately finding the copper dragon, so I also had no sense of who Mayor Rupert was. The festival was also an improvised touch to make the city a little more interesting and colorful and add some chaos to the group's arrival. What I'm saying is, I had nothing to go on for Rupert's speech in any way, shape, or form. But I just started talking about Kallett City as though it were a real place and let whatever I said last guide the next thing I said. I described the urging not to build a city on the spine of a mountain; I talked about the sense of work ethic and community among the people who lived there; I talked about Mayor Rupert's pride in leading the city and how this was his first time as mayor during the celebration since his inauguration; I offered a toast to the past, present, and future of the city; I said that the festival was technically over with his speech delivered but suggested that there was no problem with the celebration continuing. All of this came out of my mouth as I said it. I do not hesitate to say that such a speech (which was later complimented by the players, some of whom were surprised it was all improvised) would not have been possible as a purely improvised product had I not had a healthy background in improvisation. Again, reader, practicing improv is a very vital thing in TTRPGs, and you'll be surprised at how confident a GM it makes you to be able to just start talking and have coherent, even interesting, things come out of your mouth. 

The group was confounded. Mayor Rupert was a young halfling who'd been serving as mayor for nearly a year--there was basically no way that he could be the copper dragon they'd been searching for. So Lethanin cast a spell to detect creatures to try to find the copper dragon. After sorting past the various wildlife living on the mountain, Lethanin saw a human-shaped target which the spell designated as a creature outside of town and up the mountainside. Aurora jumped on this opportunity and cast a spell to follow the dragon's location out of town and up the mountain. After some navigation and climbing, the group found a human man who appeared to be about thirty years old sitting with a keg of ale and drinking quite furiously. The group tried to talk with him, but he insisted that he was here to drink alone, mournfully and silently. For a while, no matter what the group said, he argued that they were violating the alone, mournful, and silent elements of his plan. Eventually, he said his name was Eric and asked them to leave him alone. 

At this point, Brokk leapt into action. He asked the others for some time to talk to Eric and asked Eric what his thoughts on free will were. Eric sourly said that free will does not exist. He told a story about his "friend," Rupert. Eric said that Rupert was a farmer whose life was destroyed by things outside his control. So Rupert learned magic and went to Torga, and one day, he went to a ghostly town and encountered a talking statue which was actually an incarnation of Gruumsh. Gruumsh told Rupert to kill a few people as payback for a massacre of orcs hundreds of years before. But Rupert felt that punishing people who had nothing to do with the massacre was unjust and refused. Enraged, Gruumsh tortured Rupert with nightmares and opposition until Rupert began to cooperate. Looking for a way out, Rupert sought to kill Gruumsh, which he managed to do with help from a few friends. But Rupert was rewarded with dragonhood, making him more alone than ever, functionally immortal, and absolutely without choices because of the divine magic. Eric said free will could not exist if choices only make things worse in ways we cannot predict.

Brokk nodded along and told his own story about a "friend" who was created for war, who changed his mind and became a force of good and peace. Brokk argued that free will does exist because his "friend" managed to make meaningful choices that changed things. Eric said that if things are said to exist for other people but don't exist to you, then they are not truly real to you. They debated back and forth for a while, and eventually, Brokk broke through to Eric, who admitted that he was in fact Rupert, and he had only posed as Eric because he was on the run from the law in Torga. Brokk explained the prophecy (Rupert, subject of his own prophecy, was sympathetic to Brokk's frustrations) and the group's goals: repairing the rift and killing Thomas to set things right. Rupert chuckled. He said he had a counter-proposal. The problem, Rupert said, was that the dragons and gods hold too much power over common people. Repairing the rift would not solve that problem. What would solve the problem, suggested Rupert, was removing the powerful beings altogether, and he said that destroying the rift to kill both the dragons and gods would allow true balance for everyday people. 

It was at this pivotal moment that we stopped. Our normal time for gaming had run out, and I felt that stopping at such a shocking moment would be exciting. My players agreed--Brokk's player was flabbergasted by Rupert's proposal, Lethanin's player was only able to say "What a cliffhanger," and Aurora's player was silent and wide-eyed. It was more impactful than I had imagined, which is always nice as a DM. But ending here also served a tactical purpose. The only other dragon to suggest destroying the veil was Thomas, who was incredibly evil. Rupert was a metallic dragon, one who the group more or less needs to have on their side in order to fight Thomas. Convincing Rupert to repair the rift will take a lot, and I thought it was kind to the players to allow them the customary two weeks between our sessions to plan how to approach the rest of the conversation. With Jarvia, Wing, and Niela, the party agreed--talking about plans just meant collaborating. Working with Aurix to adopt the repairing plan meant talking about how to understand similar ideals and was more a philosophical difference of opinion than outright opposition. But Rupert, who again is vital to their plan, has radically different ideas. To get through to him, they'll need something big to convince him of their perspective. So ending there allows the players to plan out of game, and that gives them a chance to really consider what to do in terms of moving forward. 

Looking ahead, I again have little to go on. Next session will once again be largely (if not entirely) improvised. But this campaign has really helped me to cement a theory that I have about campaign design. There are largely three phases to a campaign: the beginning (or exposition), the middle (or development), and the end (or wrap-up). Each phase calls for different levels of preparation. The beginning is something that benefits from a fair (but not excessively) amount of planning. Having a good idea of what will kick off the adventure and give most of the required information to understand the stakes is good. In this campaign, the first session where Thomas and Aurix give information about the prophesy and the rift was important so that the players could know what they were doing, and having Jarvia explain further stakes later on was also important, especially since that's what the players have settled on as their goal. In these early sessions, I really leaned on a healthy amount of prepared ideas (what they would learn, but not how they learn it) to get them up to speed. 

Then we transitioned in the middle, where things develop. We've been in this phase for several sessions now. Starting with talking to Wing and moving into talking with Niela, we transitioned from basic information to the group taking a more active role. Faithful readers will note that my prep work started to drop off in these sessions, and we're now at a point where I've had either a few bullet points or literally nothing prepared for the last three sessions, which is appropriate for how the party is handling things. They're taking the reins and making choices, and I want that to be the focus--the middle of the story is where the players should be guiding basically everything. 

We're not exactly near the ending, but things will shift again as we get there. The basic chart of a story would look like a loosening and then tightening spiral. It starts out tight (the beginning where I need to get certain information dispensed), then loosens (the middle where they can do pretty much anything), then tightens again (the ending where there are only so many things that will bring about a real resolution). As the story wraps up, I'll be preparing a little more again. It will be time to decide what kinds of things the gods do after the party had made contact with them and what Boccob may do in response to the players' actions. It will be time to start thinking about how to offer a satisfying ending to the player characters. It will be time to draw the focus back towards the main story about the rift, and that will mean I can plan some things without interfering with the players' free will (a centerpiece of this campaign) and give endings that are more carefully considered than improvised. 

But that's looking ahead. Right now, we're in the middle of things. It's time for the players to have free reign. Talking to Rupert will be a huge challenge unlike anything they've encountered, and they could handle it in any number of ways. I have to leave it to them. Whether they try to reason with Rupert, force him into compliance, or abandon his support altogether--or likely some other fourth thing that I could never anticipate--it's their story, and I'm here for them to tell it. That's the real strength of improvising, by the way: it's cool to make up a little speech for a scene, but it's even more important to actually let your players guide the story, and you can only do that by improvising. I don't have any idea what will happen next time, but I'm eager to find out. 

That's all for now. Until next time, happy gaming!

Of Gods and Dragons: Session Seven

Last time, the party took an easy morning with Jarvia to get started. While Aurora went to town to get alchemical supplies and some food for breakfast, Brokk and Jarvia chatted over coffee, and Lethanin slept in before starting on some hashbrowns. Aurora returned with supplies to help her gender transition, and Jarvia offered to magically complete Aurora's biological transition; Aurora was hesitant but eventually agreed, and Jarvia played a song to transform Aurora. The party gathered for breakfast and discussed next steps, agreeing to seek out the copper dragon in the mountains, but before they could leave, Wing sent communication that Aurix wasn't entirely convinced of the rightness of repairing the rift, so the party agreed to speak to Aurix first. Aurora teleported them to Aurix's home, and Aurix came to speak with them. Aurix was initially uncomfortable with the idea of closing the rift on the grounds that the world is broken and the leaking magic would make it less broken, but they were convinced by the notion that change must come from within and agreed to help with both the rift and killing Thomas. The party agreed to spend some time in Torga and meet with Aurix again that evening to be sent to the mountains to find the copper dragon, who Aurix explained was a man named Rupert who they had helped fight an incarnation of Gruumsh. The party appeared just outside of Torga's gates. 

This time, I went in with a simple plan. First, following Aurora's player's suggestion, I decided to throw some basic low-level enemies at the party in the form of some highwaymen on the way into town. I also knew that since the party was in Torga, where Aurora was based before the campaign began, I could send a mercenary from her original home in Pelor's Mercy to further the plotline that people from that place were still looking for her. With that in mind, this session began with five highwaymen interposing themselves between the party and Torga on the road. Brokk intimidated the highwaymen, and a few of them were so fearful that they started to back down, but one brave highwayman emboldened the others by insisting he would fight Brokk personally. At this, Aurora cast the same spell on the highwaymen that she cast on Hyrum the bounty hunter in her intro session, leaving three of them writhing helplessly on the ground. Lethanin played a song played a disturbing song to unnerve the remaining two highwaymen, who ran off into the woods. Brokk grabbed the leader of the highwaymen and dragged him to the city gates to leave him with the guards posted there; the guards anxiously agreed to collect the other two downed highwaymen. Aurora pretended that Brokk was a noble of sorts, calling him "Lord Muscles" and pretending to be a courtier of his, and Lethanin played minstrel music as they entered town. 

It may seem like this encounter was quite a breeze in terms of difficulty. The highwaymen never got off a an attack, and they all fell or fled very quickly. But that was actually the aim. Last time, I wrote this: 

I was chatting about the campaign with Aurora's player, and I asked if she felt like things were going well, if she was having fun. And she said that yes, she is having fun, but also, Aurora is level 13 and yet feels very underpowered. Dealing with dragons who are more than twice Aurora's level and gods who are even more advanced makes Aurora feel somewhat weak. And this was not my intention as the DM. I wanted to make combat solutions to dragon problems difficult and complicated to encourage roleplaying, but I never wanted the party to feel useless. So I asked Aurora's player what might help. She said that a combat encounter with average people (who would of course be well below the party's level) would be really interesting as a way to flex the party's abilities and remind them that they're actually quite powerful.

The goal was actually to remind the players that they are powerful even if they're surrounded by people more powerful than them. In this encounter, Brokk got to scare the pants off several of the highwaymen, Aurora got to show her spellcasting prowess (something she had only done outside of combat up to this point, since this was the whole campaign's first glimpse of combat), and Lethanin got to show off his spellcasting in a fun way. In the space of a five-minute encounter, the party was quickly and firmly reminded that they were all powerful beings and do a little good by making the road safer. This was accomplished without a slog through dense combat that lasted half the session, and it accomplished what a player specifically asked for. Each of the players got to shine in their respective ways, and we got to preserve our most roleplaying style. In fact, I would argue that the players got chances to roleplay through the combat given that all of them chose unique ways to non-lethally dispatch the highwaymen. I wouldn't have done this on my own, so the suggestion from Aurora's player was really invaluable, and listening to it made this moment possible. 

Once in town, Aurora led the party to the Mortar and Pestle, the alchemy shop where her adoptive mother Heather works. Heather and Aurora had an emotional reunion, and Aurora introduced her to Brokk and Lethanin as friends. Aurora decided to get to making dinner for the party and Heather, and on the way upstairs to the kitchen, Brokk and Lethanin spotted the backyard of the shop/home through a window at the top of the stairs. In the backyard, they saw a highly realistic statue of Aurora and Heather hugging. Lethanin was, in a phrase, weirded out, saying that families tend not to be so close that they memorialize their relationships. Brokk was more confused than anything; since he didn't have a traditional family, the idea of such a close relationship was odd to him--he only knew family dynamics through the many books he read. Lethanin pointed out that something seemed off given that Heather was a halfling and Aurora a human, meaning that it was unlikely Aurora was Heather's offspring. 

This moment was really beautiful to me. I think it really reveals the potential for roleplaying as a style of gaming. Aurora gets to reunite with her mother, which is emotional and sweet, and then we get to see Lethanin struggle with his own complicated family relationships and see Brokk in a new light--not the hardened wisdom we're used to, but pure and genuine lostness in the face of not understanding something very simple and almost universal. It was a showcase for everyone to get to display a part of their character that hadn't really been addressed yet, and everyone was different and profound in their own way. Aurora's close relationship with Heather shows part of why Aurora is so hopeful and sweet; Lethanin's distance and occasional bitterness is spoken to as informed by his distance from his own family; and Brokk's lack of understanding of the situation shows that his pain is not just from being forced to fight in a gruesome war--he also lacked even the opportunity to be meaningfully loved in his childhood. This is what I live for as a DM, and you'll notice that I had essentially no part in it--this was just the players expressing their characters in a way that felt true to them. This is the beauty of a quiet moment in the game. You never know what character moments will come out of it. 

While Aurora cooked, Brokk asked about her family, and he was confused by what the notion of adoption really meant. Aurora tried to explain, and Lethanin poked around in the home as Aurora said that Heather was there for her when she was lost and confused, which made more sense to Brokk. The discussion of adoption led to a discussion of how Aurora's magic works--the adoption papers had been drawn up through Aurora's glyphs, and Aurora explained the sort of grammar required to make a spell make sense; to illustrate, she cast a spell that made a mug frosty on the condition that Brokk picked it up. Brokk was surprised and somewhat pleased when the spell worked as intended, and he discussed the family in his life--the demon "father" he was born of as a combination of an orc and a demon, though he didn't exactly know his father in any meaningful sense. Brokk also described the man who raised him, who Brokk said treated him as more a tool than a child. 

Aurora explained that a Daltoner called Hyrum had come looking for her after she found a life with Heather, and that upon being confronted by Hyrum, she had peered into his memories to determine how he knew her. [This was covered in Aurora's intro session.] This caused Brokk to realize suddenly that Hyrum had known Aurora before her memories disappeared, before she had any knowledge of who she was and had to start over. As a DM, this moment was hard to read. Brokk and even his player were very reserved about this, but I detected a kind of discomfort, as though it was really hitting Brokk that Aurora had lived a whole life before she became who she was now. This suggested that Brokk and perhaps also Lethanin were unsure of what to do with Aurora, this young person who had only a vague idea of what came before her memories. But Aurora seemed oblivious to this and described her knowledge of where she believed she had come from, a place to a river diverged into two. She summoned a map of Evanoch and looked for places this occurred, specifically looking for Daltoner territory--she found three likely candidates and two other outside chances. Lethanin mentioned the globe he'd witnessed during his intro session, which very much vexed the others, though they all voiced interest in visiting the owner of the globe for more information. 

They all sat down to dinner, and Brokk suggested a plan: after killing Thomas, he wanted Aurix to bestow the red dragonhood on Brokk, who would then remove himself from society and keep a more evil person from taking the mantle. He reasoned that he could make up for the wrong he did during the War of Kraal and prevent more evil from happening. Neither Aurora nor Lethanin was enthusiastic about this plan. Lethanin didn't disagree, calling it "not the stupidest plan I've ever heard," but he also wouldn't offer more support than that. Aurora said it was a good plan but found it very sacrificial, saying Brokk deserved better than sentencing himself to immortal exile. Brokk accepted their tentative agreements and said he wanted to speak to Niela again since she likely had more insight on how to go about the plan. Brokk also noted that he was uncomfortable with Niela having dragonhood--she was not distinctly evil but also certainly not good; at the same time, he highly respected the care and perspective she had as someone willing to vulnerably restrain herself to protect them, which a truly evil person would not do. 

Just then, Heather called from downstairs that a stranger said he had business with Aurora. This caused the party, especially Aurora, to grow very tense. Brokk crept halfway downstairs and asked what business the man, a haggard bearded human in fine armor who called himself Hromar, had with Aurora. Hromar said he specifically wanted to talk with Aurora about business related to her past. A very intense exchange ensued: Aurora wanted to know his business before coming to speak to him; Hromar suggested that Heather accompany them for the conversation; Brokk grew uneasy and forcefully suggested Hromar come clean; Aurora said to talk in the garden out back without Heather. Eventually, Hromar and the party assembled outside, and Aurora insisted that Heather lock herself inside until they were done talking. 

When pressed, Hromar said he had come from Pelor's Mercy to bring Aurora home. He said that before she'd lost her memory, they had been friends who worked together in the "north camp." He said Aurora had helped to keep "misbehavers" in line. Aurora panicked and launched into combat, starting the first real fight of the campaign. Brokk acted first, striking Hromar with eldritch blasts that shot through Hromar's armor and knocked him back into the state of Aurora and Heather with so much force that it split the statue in two. (This was a fun symbolic moment--Aurora's dangerous past coming to Heather's doorstep literally put some separation between them.) Lethanin acted next, playing a song to calm Hromar and Aurora, and the spell did give them pause even if it didn't stop combat entirely. Hromar tried one more time to plead his case as he poised to throw his sword at Aurora, saying he and Hyrum had worked with Aurora, that they'd shared old days together and spit on nonbelievers, that he knew Aurora wasn't a confused girl and that somewhere deep down, she remembered her past. At the notion that Aurora was not "a confused girl," she grew enraged and cast a spell at him. A rippling blast of blackish purple light tore into Hromar, disintegrating his armor and furs and turning his entire body into a pile of ash and dust. While Lethanin and Brokk marveled and were repulsed by Aurora's spell, Aurora began to panic knowing that the people in her past knew where Heather was. Brokk said that his home in Drumchapel was far, far away, and that Heather could hide out there until the coast was clear. Aurora agreed but then was suddenly gripped by new visions. 

In Aurora's mind, she saw herself hanging out with Hromar and Hyrum, patrolling prison camps and menacing prisoners. She saw Hromar and Hyrum beating prisoners, and then to her horror, she saw herself beating prisoners too. Suddenly, she saw where the bloodstains on her wooden sword had come from--a victim who she'd beaten badly enough to draw blood. She struggled to breathe and panicked more before seeing the mysterious man with the crimson sun pendant calling to her with a name she couldn't comprehend. The visions ended, and she panted and heaved on the ground, horrified by what she had seen. As she tried to collect herself, she heard ABC's voice in her mind: "I told you you would want to do me a favor. Destroy Pelor's Mercy." 

Aurora continued to panic, saying she was a member of the Daltoner cult and that she had done terrible, terrible things. Brokk tried to calm her, telling her she was a good person now and that she could leave that past behind. At Aurora's asking, Brokk and Lethanin agreed to help destroy Pelor's Mercy and save the prisoners there, saying that once the rift had been closed, they would begin preparing to destroy the camps and town. Aurora left her wooden sword at the broken statue and went to speak with Heather, struggling to confront that fact that her mother had seen her disintegrate a man from the window above and asking her to go to safety in Drumchapel. Heather agreed and packed some clothes, books, and holy items of Yondalla. Meanwhile, outside, Lethanin and Brokk expressed shock that Aurora was capable of such things given her apparent sweetness and the implications of what Hromar and Aurora had said. Lethanin remarked that Brokk was surprisingly good with the "touchy-feely stuff"--Brokk shrugged and said he'd merely told Aurora what he needed to hear himself. Heather came outside, and while Aurora summoned a portal to Brokk's house, her wooden sword again at her hip, Heather thanked Brokk for his help. She gave Aurora one more hug and told her nothing had changed--she would always love Aurora, who would always be sweet and kind--then stepped through the portal into Brokk's home, where she petted Brokk's dog, Dog. The group agreed to go to investigate the globe Lethanin mentioned and decided to rest for a moment. 

That's where we ended this session. When this moment wrapped up, we had half an hour of remaining time before the time we normally wrapped up, but given the heaviness of the session's second half and the general low energy of the players, I asked if we wanted to call it a night early or do just a bit more, tackling the globe. They all responded they'd rather call it a night for a collection of reasons: out of game, we were all a bit demoralized by real-life situations (check the date of this session's notes), we were worn out by the weight of Aurora's situation in-game, and we know that a short moment often becomes a long one given how we roleplay. I recommend checking with your players in situations like this rather than making an executive decision without consulting them. As always, treat the game like a collaboration rather than a DM-led project. 

Looking ahead, I once again have very little to project. I know they'll be going to talk to Tasselman about his globe (this was a thing from Listen Check, my D&D podcast, that got revisited in Lethanin's intro session), but I don't really know what they mean to learn or do there. I generally suspect that they'll afterwards rejoin with Aurix and head to find the copper dragon, but of course a million things could happen before they get there--a simple dinner at Heather's ended up very dramatic and took up about two hours of the session. So once again, I don't have much to plan with at all. And that's a good thing! If I had a plan every session, it would mean I was taking the reins instead of letting the players guide it. Having no plan means the players are completely in charge of the story, which is what I want. So huzzah for having no plan!

One thing that I want to draw into focus here is how Aurora's very focused story in this session actually didn't dominate the other players or characters. Brokk and Lethanin as characters were not nearly as fleshed out as Aurora going into the campaign--Brokk was a tired old war veteran trying to live a quiet life, and Lethanin was a mischievous musician who loved to travel. Beyond that, only some basic attitudes existed for them, and their pasts were not entirely defined. This was not a problem, though. The emphasis of this campaign has been on moving forward, so those outlines were enough to go on. Aurora, on the other hand, was pretty detailed before even her intro session. Aurora's player knows how to guide her in almost any given situation from references to her past. In some situations, especially selfish roleplaying, that could monopolize the game. 

But in this case, it doesn't. Aurora's carefully-defined backstory and personality isn't pushed into center stage repeatedly by either me or Aurora's player. And as we saw with this session, Brokk and Lethanin came more into focus with the prompting of Aurora's. Think about the family conversations. Brokk never really talked about family before this session. Lethanin exhibited discomfort around his mother, but didn't say anything about family beyond that interaction. But when Aurora and Heather were shown being emotionally close, it prompted Brokk to confront his issues and Lethanin to discuss family beyond his own troubled relationships. This means that now, we all know Brokk is more isolated and alone than he'd admitted, and Lethanin doesn't just struggle with his family but also doubts the closeness of any family. That's huge! Brokk and Lethanin became more defined because they had Aurora's experience to bounce off of, and that's not a reflection for better or worse on any of the players--it's a way that the collaboration benefits everyone. Aurora has more complete party mates to talk to, Brokk and Lethanin are more fleshed out, and I as DM have more to work with in terms of how people feel and interact in the game. This is the spirit of collaboration--any one contribution can become more and more and more as long as we all add to it. So kudos to all three players for adding something very cool to the game. 

Next time, I don't know what will happen. We play with two weeks between sessions, and all kinds of ideas and brainstorming can happen in those two weeks that might bring up a new plan or player/character interest. It's impossible to say what next session might hold. What I know for sure is that things are changing. The party has spoken to all the dragons who are likely to agree with them, they need to start looking to the gods (which will be quite a different task), Aurora's backstory is pretty much entirely restored to her (meaning Aurora's player will be relatively off-script for the rest of the campaign, which will be a new challenge for her), Brokk and Lethanin are getting more complex every session, and they all have broad and far-reaching plans to prepare for and execute. The context-building phase has been fading away in favor of the meat of the campaign, and I think from here out, there's not going to be really anything in the way of establishing a foundation--it's full steam ahead from here out. With that in mind, I'm eager to see what happens as my players decide how to navigate the many big tasks ahead. 

Until next time, happy gaming!

Of Gods and Dragons: Session Six

Last time, the group moved through the swamps to the west of Mishara toward the observatory where they believed the black dragon Vuthiejir to be hiding. On the way, they encountered a traveler with pet fox who offered to guide them along the strange roads to the observatory, which they agreed to. Brokk spotted a dead orc off the road, recognizing that they had been killed because of the feud between the orcs and elves but did not take action; the traveler, Rhodes, discussed his perspective on life, which is to gain experience and wisdom and trust that that experience will serve you; Aurora was approached by a faerie who made her remember more of her past, once again seeing a violent prison camp and the people who run it; and Lethanin was contacted by a messenger who conveyed that his mother, Dodira, suspected he was up to something. They arrived at the observatory and spoke with an elven woman who admitted she was Vuthiejir. Vuthiejir had the party lock her in an enormous cage to protect them in case she was forced by the leaking divine magic to become aggressive, and they all talked for a while. Vuthiejir explained that she wanted the rift repaired so that she could regain her choices in things, gave information on the other dragons and the gods, offered help in killing Thomas (who she said has extorted her for her help), and suggested approaching potentially helpful gods to see if they would assist the party in reaching Boccob. Finishing their conversation with Vuthiejir, who said her real name was Niela, they returned to Jarvia's estate to process things. Brokk struggled with his identity as an orcish weapon of war, Aurora wrote a letter to her adopted mother, and Lethanin told his mother that he was turning to religion. 

This time, I had a major difference in moving forward. In session one, I knew going in that Thomas and Aurix would speak to the party, providing different perspectives on what to do about the rift. For session two, I knew that the party would be seeking the silver dragon and exploring Talon Gorge; I also knew this was an opportunity to introduce a god to the mix. In session three, I knew that they would have a conversation with Jarvia and that she'd introduce the third major argument about the rift. Session four also had a clear major focus: speaking with Wing and hearing her ideas, which would back up Jarvia's even if for different reasons. And as stated above, session five would clearly center on talking to Vuthiejir, the party's first chromatic dragon after the quick conversation with Thomas (and obviously, Vuthiejir and Thomas have wildly different personalities, ideas, and goals). But for this session, things were very different. Previous sessions have all ended with clear directions for what's next--either the party explicitly stated a plan or had them about to complete a plan. This session had no such situation. Session five ended with a kind of resolution--the party had completed the goal of finding and talking to Vuthiejir, and they needed to recover before planning something new. That meant that this session would be our first entirely improvised session. As you may see below, I think it went well. Last time, I wrote about the conscious decision to allow the party some time and space to rest and process things, so I did make a deliberate effort to slow down and provide them that, but what the party threw at me was a collection of things I did not and could not anticipate. Here's what happened:

The party was at Jarvia's estate. Brokk does not require sleep, so he had spent the night sitting on the back porch and reading one of his romance novels. Lethanin's player said that Lethanin would sleep in, so we waited a bit to get to him. But Aurora rose fairly early and approached Jarvia on the front porch, where she was making an effort to give Brokk some privacy. Aurora asked Jarvia for help finding some alchemical ingredients, specifically butterfly wings, mountain flowers, and mare urine. Aurora's player messaged me at this time in a private channel (the discord server where we play has a private channel for each player so I can have discreet conversations with each of them) to explain that the mare urine was a very specific item. We established in Aurora's character building phases that Aurora is a transwoman who has been alchemically treating herself with a medieval kind of hormone therapy. Aurora's player explained in the private channel that in the real world, early hormone therapy did in fact use mare urine, specifically from a pregnant or recent mother mare, because of the abundance of estrogen in the urine. As was only hinted at in previous sessions, Jarvia is also a transwoman, and Aurora's player thought it was important that I am DM knew that Jarvia would recognize the request for mare urine as a pretty big hint that Aurora was a transwoman as well. I took note of this and decided to work Jarvia's reaction into the session later, but that Jarvia recognized Aurora's discomfort and allowed her to avoid a direct discussion. (Oftentimes, an immediate big moment after a very personal character moment is less impactful than one that comes later on.) So Jarvia gave Aurora directions around town to find a good stable and alchemist's shop and left it that--for now. Aurora asked Jarvia to say she'd gone to get breakfast foods and set off for town. 

In town, Aurora found the stable that Jarvia had indicated and paid the stablehand, a young gnome named Grigor, to collect the required mare urine. Grigor was confused and slightly resistant--he didn't understand the purpose of the task and argued it would be hard to do--but he agreed to do it after Aurora offered him a platinum piece. We switched back to the estate, where Brokk and Jarvia drank coffee together; they discussed their reading habits and tastes, their perspectives on what makes them who they are, and what it means to be able to make meaningful choices. Sensing that Brokk was taking the weight of the latter conversation heavily, she switched to small talk, at which point Lethanin rose and joined them before deciding to whip up some hashbrowns for breakfast. We switched back to Aurora, now at the alchemist's shop where she purchased the butterfly wings and mountain flowers as well as a few find, otla needles, which come from a special type of fir tree in the area around Talon Gorge--the shopkeep explained that these needles can help to extend the duration of an alchemical product by a substantial amount, and Aurora purchased some of these as well. She also made a quick stop at a butcher shop and purchased some sausages to rationalize her trip to the city. Back at the estate, Lethanin raided Jarvia's pantry to improve the hashbrowns, and Brokk sat and simply thought, not quite reading the book before him, and he thought hard about conversations he may need to have in the near future. We switched again to Aurora, who picked up the samples of mare urine she'd requested and bade farewell to Grigor before hurrying back to the estate. Upon arriving there, she summoned a magical servant to cook the sausages and prepare biscuits, and the servant alarmed Lethanin when it appeared in the kitchen. 

As a somewhat brief but important aside, I highly recommend using as short of segments as possible when switching between members of a split party. A long segment that covers all the time apart between split party members may seem appealing, but there are a few reasons to stick with shorter segments no longer than five minutes. Firstly, sitting quietly and doing nothing for up to half an hour or more is boring for your players. Several short bursts keeps them engaged with the game. I would also argue that we don't ever really know when the party is reconvening, especially if we're trying to avoid railroading, so your long segments may not even be the end of things. And thirdly, there's a kind of energy that builds in a group when you switch quickly between characters, a kind of one-upmanship  where the players try to make the most of their time and keep the pacing faster, which helps to remind them that their turns are coming again soon. In this last paragraph, I described a shopping trip with no real complications, sitting and chatting, and making hashbrowns, but the mood in the group was high and energetic when we played because the quick segments kept us moving. I would also argue that the faster pace allowed me to subtly indicate that getting the group back together was a priority, which helped us bring everyone back together. 

Before Aurora went into the house, Jarvia quietly mentioned that she could help her not need the mare urine anymore if Aurora wanted. This was an indirect way of saying that Jarvia was offering to magically transform Aurora's body so that she no longer required alchemical means to become more biologically female. Aurora resisted this, making excuses about handling it herself and making the best of what she had; Jarvia continually said, "It doesn't have to hard" and "You don't have to work this much." Out of game, Aurora's player, who is a transwoman, was pretty emotionally hit hard by this. We've discussed the idea of a "magic button" that makes you just have the body you want, and it's something that really appeals to her. So I thought I would offer Aurora that same idea in-game, and it really affected Aurora's player and Aurora alike. Eventually, Aurora agreed, and Jarvia, whose magic comes through bardic performance, played a song on the fiddle to cast the transformation. The song began with a mournful sound which then became determined, then hopeful, and finally joyful. The magic transformed Aurora, and overcome with emotion, she simply sat down and cried. Jarvia sat with her and comforted her, then left her with some privacy to process things and helped with breakfast. While Brokk and Lethanin were able to hear Jarvia's song, every other detail of this scene played out with only Jarvia and Aurora. 

I want to make a note here. What I did by offering this moment to Aurora and her player was a big risk, one I wouldn't recommend in almost all situations. What made it work in this instance is that (1) Aurora's player and I are remarkably close--we are, in fact, getting married today. I knew that Aurora's player would be touched by this in a very positive way because we're emotionally intimate and she's told me how she would feel about it. (2) I am also a transwoman, so my understanding on a deep and personal level of what a spell like Jarvia's would mean to someone in Aurora's situation. Had a different person with different experiences offered what Jarvia did, it's likely that they would mishandle some of the delicate parts of the scene, and it would come off as pandering or insincere. And (3) the entire session went by without an explicit mention of Aurora's gender. When the spell happened, I sent a message in the private channel to explain the effects explicitly, but Brokk, Brokk's player, Lethanin, and Lethanin's player never had any real hint as to what was happening. This was a massively personal and emotional moment, and having it take place in any public way would have been inappropriate, and had Brokk or Lethanin entered the scene, Jarvia would have immediately stopped to protect Aurora's privacy. Had I botched a single one of these factors, the scene would not have worked and would actually have done more harm than good. Be responsible with your players' emotions and their characters' emotions--D&D may be a game, but a person's feelings are not.

The group came together for breakfast. Jarvia asked about their plans, and they discussed going to contact another metallic dragon, saying that the new copper dragon seemed the best next step. Aurora discussed emergency plans like teleporting to safety should things get dicey; Lethanin said that things had gone well so far and he intended to keep "trusting the song"; Brokk argued that luck seemed to be on their side in things and hoped it would carry them further. Brokk went further to say that he was willing to accept whatever happened as a result of the prophecy when Jarvia mentioned being unsure of what came after the rift, but Lethanin voiced a distinct interest in staying alive and doing more. The party decided to travel to Kallett City, a small mountain town where Vuthiejir had told them the copper dragon was waiting, but before they could leave, Wing contacted them to say that she had spoken with Aurix about repairing the rift but that he'd seemed unconvinced. The party agreed that they would wait to talk to the copper dragon and would instead go to see Aurix and shore up his support for the plan. They also asked Wing about Hriskin, the brass dragon, and Wing explained that Hriskin had been a lively and passionate arena fighter, but after her immortality as a dragon meant that she had to watch her husband grow old and die, she'd become deeply depressed and scarcely left her bed, choosing not to speak to anyone if she could. Content that they had a direction (Aurix, then the copper dragon, then Hriskin), Aurora transported the party to Aurix's chambers under the city of Torga. 

A minute after their appearance in his home, Aurix came to join the party. The group immediately set to discussing the plan and the need to have Aurix's support. Initially, Aurix uncomfortably but calmly restated and expanded on their position that the good need to be empowered to do their best, and the group solidly argued that choice was more important. The party said that Wing, Jarvia, and Vuthiejir all supported repairing the rift, as did they, and Aurix grew more animated, arguing that the world was fundamentally broken, that good people stand by while evil people do as they wish, and that this meant evil prevailed--good people needed to be held to their convictions. The party countered this with the idea that good and evil do not truly exist; instead, there is a spectrum of morality where most things fall in the middle somewhere. Aurix grew increasingly upset, explaining the largest population centers in Evanoch were watched over by evil dragons and that they personally were cut off from the other good dragons, surrounded by threats--Lethanin asked if Aurix was pitying themself. Aurix grew desperate, saying that good rules protect people, and there is not better rule than one that makes people act on good. But Lethanin argued that there is no such thing as a good rule--instead, Brokk said, change must come from within, not without. At this, Aurix grew quiet. Aurix said that growing up as a kobold, they were disgusted by the violence and mindless cruelty they were surrounded by and had tried to make the other kobolds see their perspective--it had never worked. 

Seeing things the party's way, Aurix acknowledged that they had made a mistake, and choosing good is in the fact the most important part of being good. Brokk told Aurix that their example as a principled and passionate advocate of good had convinced him not to walk away from the prophecy and its responsibilities, instead choosing the right thing. Aurix apologized for not being able to close the rift; Brokk politely told Aurix to "shut the fuck up" and that Aurix had done the best they could with what they knew. The party asked Aurix about the copper dragon, and Aurix explained that they had met a man named Rupert who was tormented by a twisted incarnation of Gruumsh, and Aurix had recently discovered the means to reinstate the copper dragon title, deciding to award it to someone powerful, principled, and fundamentally good like Rupert. The party explained their plans, and Aurix offered to brainstorm ideas about how to attack Thomas, and then later Horton, the blue dragon. Brokk insisted that Aurix be clear when speaking with Jarvia that the attacks on chromatic dragons were not a first priority--closing the rift was priority number one. Aurora hugged Aurix, telling them, "it doesn't have to be hard." Aurix agreed to meet with the party again later that day so that Aurora could go to see her mother, Heather, and Aurix teleported the group to outside the gates into Torga, not far from Aurora's statue to ABC. 

That's where we wrapped up for this session. As I noted above, this session was entirely improvised--I had a few small notes: have Wing update the group on talking to Aurix, and I hadn't actually decided which way that would go and made the choice in the moment to say Aurix was unconvinced; have a return letter to Aurora from Heather, but Aurora never sent her letter, so this return letter could not happen; and remember time and space to process for the party, which I encouraged by leaving most of the session (more than two hours of our three hour session) spent relaxing and accomplishing individual goals at Jarvia's. I didn't throw anything big but Jarvia's spell at the players, and that really only happened because knowing who Jarvia is, there was no way she'd say or do nothing when Aurora came back to make her hormone therapy treatment. Brokk spent essentially one half of the session sitting and thinking, Lethanin mostly made hashbrowns, and Aurora had intended to simply do a shopping trip. I mean this genuinely--I was a little sad to see the party decide to pursue more conversations with dragons towards the end. Seeking out the copper dragon and speaking with Aurix were things I gave them because they sought them out, but I would have been more than happy to just have them spend more time getting themselves centered. In fact, I have three very brief notes for next session, and one of them is a reminder to let the players know out of game that they don't have to hurry through the adventure or even listen to what the dragons say. I feel like the dragons have pushed the party to rush, which is in character for them--they see this as an emergency--but I as the DM don't need or even want that. So next session will start with an explicit statement that they can relax a bit more and make things a little less frantic. I want the players to have fun, and if that means an out of game direction, that's what I'll give them. 

My other two notes are in-game notes, one of which was actually requested by Aurora's player. I find, as a DM, it's incredibly useful to check in with your players. Questions like, "are you having fun?" and "what would be rewarding for your character?" and "what's missing?" and "are you getting enough time and space in-game" and even just "how are you feeling?" are all massively important. Last night, after our session, I was chatting about the campaign with Aurora's player (in between conversations about our wedding today, of course), and I asked if she felt like things were going well, if she was having fun. And she said that yes, she is having fun, but also, Aurora is level 13 and yet feels very underpowered. Dealing with dragons who are more than twice Aurora's level and gods who are even more advanced makes Aurora feel somewhat weak. And this was not my intention as the DM. I wanted to make combat solutions to dragon problems difficult and complicated to encourage roleplaying, but I never wanted the party to feel useless. So I asked Aurora's player what might help. She said that a combat encounter with average people (who would of course be well below the party's level) would be really interesting as a way to flex the party's abilities and remind them that they're actually quite powerful. This led to my second note for next session: on the march into Torga from the countryside beyond, I'm going to throw a very normal group of bandits or highwaymen at the party. This will be a fairly unpredictable situation. Brokk is immensely strong and literally built for combat, but has strong feelings about violence and death. Aurora's array of powers are massive and varied, and she could deal with the opposition in basically infinite ways, but she too is not necessarily comfortable with violence and might have complicated feelings about combating some thugs. And Lethanin has proven himself to be capable but not very violent either; in his intro session and our first six sessions of play, Lethanin hasn't even shown a hint of aggression. Putting them in a situation like being robbed will push all three members of the party in an interesting direction that I can't predict, and I would reckon that the players couldn't predict it either. (You might be asking how gratifying a bandit attack will be for Aurora's player given that she suggested/requested it--that's why I'm going to spend the two weeks before our next session brainstorming ways to complicate it, spice it up, and make it surprising. Giving a player what they want is a good idea even when it eliminates complete surprise if you can tweak some details of it to make it more than what they asked for.)

My final bullet point for next session is more devious. Aurora is being tracked and hunted by people in her past--we know this from the appearance of Hyrum in her intro session. They knew she was a sailor onboard the ship she lived on, and of course that would mean they also know where that ship is based out of. That ship is based out of Torga, the city the party is currently in. It's been months since Aurora dispatched Hyrum, and I think it makes perfect narrative sense for them to send someone else after her to the city where the ship is stationed, so the next session will be a perfect opportunity to pull a little bit more at Aurora's backstory via the appearance of a second person coming to find her. This leads me to another important idea--Brokk and Lethanin don't necessarily have Aurora's depth of background, at least in terms of built-in conflict. I'm planning to put some spotlight on Aurora's backstory next session, so I also plan to ask Brokk and Lethanin's players to consider developing their characters a bit more so that I can give them similar spotlight moments. It's entirely up to them to do so or not do so--I'm not assigning homework or requiring them to delve into it. But I do want to invite them to engage with the game the way Aurora's player is and at least let them know I don't mean to make the campaign about Aurora and not them. Again, explicit out of game communication is very important, and I promise that it doesn't take the magic out of the game if it's meant to improve everybody's time in game. 

Next time, the party will be in Torga and checking out whatever they choose to investigate--I am pretty certain that we'll pay a visit to Heather, but beyond that, it's all up in the air. I'm looking forward to finding out what's going to happen and to continuing to refine and improve the experiences I'm offering to the players. 

Until next time, happy gaming!