How to Connect to Your Characters

Most of what I discuss here on this site revolves around how to be a successful Dungeon Master, but I also think that playing the game is an important thing to address. A while back, I wrote about how to go about creating a player character, which serves as a guide for developing the base ideas that help create the foundation of a character. But that's not the end of the process. Once you have the basics of your character, there is still more work to be done if you want to get everything possible out of your gaming experience. With that in mind, the following is a guide on connecting with your characters. 

In order to illustrate the steps I suggest for connecting with your character, I'm going to use my most recent character, who also happens to be the character I have developed the most (and also the one I feel most attached to). So to start, let's talk about the foundation I created before taking this step--connecting with the character. 

Many years ago, I developed an idea for a character who was a Charisma-based rogue: a con artist with a stubborn streak and the skills to back it up. It was a long time before I had the right campaign to put her in, so I spent a lot of that time imagining who she was and what she was like. Eventually, I had solidified this character into a young woman who had fallen in with a gang but chafed under the unequal weight she pulled compared to her colleagues. My character sheet's space for backstory included this as well as the detail that she had left the gang amid turbulence in order to start over on her own. I liked this idea and thought it was pretty complete even though I hadn't taken all of the steps I suggest in the article linked above. 

I was wrong. 

As soon as we started playing, I realized a few things about my character. 1: Without a more detailed backstory, I had little conception of what motivated my character--Asp, named for the snake whose bite is so pleasurable that the serpents were once used as a form of "humane" execution--beyond greed and ego. 2: Asp's independent streak made it hard for her to work with the party in the campaign; in an early session, she bothered everyone else in the group by pulling a quick con for essentially no reason. 3: An extension of this was that our mission was a good-aligned one, and Asp's independence and Neutral alignment complicated this. And finally, 4: I wasn't getting the experience I had created Asp for--getting to con people; our main quest involves diplomacy, but diplomacy among elves who don't trust halflings like Asp. All of these issues meant I needed to readjust. I needed to connect with Asp (and quickly) or risk messing up the campaign for everyone. (This is part of collaborative storytelling: you need to compromise with the rest of the group.)

So I set about connecting with Asp. The first thing I did, and the first thing I think most any player should do with a new character, is imagine what they look like. If you're artistic and want to draw them, you absolutely should. But many of us are not artistically inclined, nor do we have disposable income to pay an artist to draw our characters. Fortunately, there are ways around this. I personally recommend the site Hero Forge, where you can design custom miniatures and potentially pay for them to be manufactured. I used the miniature-making software to create distinct appearances for Asp--each of the personas she uses while running cons. You can see each of these images on this short profile on her. Because I developed such an attachment to Asp over the course of trying to connect with her, I ended up buying a mini for each of her personas (it's really cool to see all her identities side by side on my gaming bookcase), but even just having images to share with your party is the most important thing. In fact, after I shared my images of Asp's identities with my group, our DM requested that everyone do the same for their characters. It's helpful for having a picture in your mind and sharing that with your group. 

But it's not just about having an image. Designing every detail of your character's appearance gives you time and space to consider who they really are. One such example: the Hero Forge system gives you the ability to add various items to spots on the character's body--for instance, what will you character place at their sides or on their back? You can place weapons and other items in those places. The value of this is that you are essentially being asked, "What kinds of things would this character find useful/regularly important?" This helped me imagine how she portrays her various identities: her reporter character carries writing tools and hides her hair in a cap; her diplomat character wears fancy jewelry to appear more upper class and highlights her long hair; her inventor character has practical tools and tied-up hair that makes her look male. I had imagined the personas before along the lines of what role they served (each persona has different benefits and drawbacks), but I hadn't really thought about how she would differentiate these appearances to keep from being caught. Making these character portraits allowed me to really get into the practical reality of her life in a way that I hadn't considered until I put thought into it. You never know what you'll learn about your character when you add details to them, and appearances are no different. 

I treat appearances as the first step because it's usually one of the more basic parts of a character. Having a good, accurate image of your character is a great start. But it won't give you everything you need to really connect with your character. For that, you'll need to get into their head. I'm going to address two ways of going about this--they're more complementary than interchangeable, but you should do whatever will work for you. These two methods are writing about your character and imagining hypothetical scenarios for your character. Writing is more intensive and requires patience, but it gives you more tangible and helpful results; imagining hypotheticals is easier and less intense, and it helps you stay on top of your character as they continue to develop. I recommend beginning with writing (you need a solid understanding to get started in the game) and staying fresh by imagining hypotheticals. Here's why:

Writing is labor-intensive and can be intimidating to a lot of people. But here's the thing: it doesn't have to be good. It's really just for you (unless you want to share it like I do). Try to forget any anxiety you have about writing. If you have that anxiety, it's probably because the circumstances in which you've written before were forced and about something you didn't care about. (I say this as an English teacher.) This won't be like that. Here's my challenge to you: write one short story about your character. It doesn't have to be good. But it will allow you this huge benefit: session one won't be about figuring out who your character really is--it will be about sinking into the world, the campaign, and the group. That's a huge advantage. 

Before I address how you can start writing about your character, I want to show how writing about Asp helped me solve all four of the problems I mentioned above. Problem 1: I didn't know what motivated Asp. After writing about her, I had an incredibly clear picture of what motivates her. I wouldn't have known it until writing about her, but her stubbornness comes from a combination of insecurity and having to live completely on her own for a long time. This in turn allowed me to play up the wavering between recklessly bold and anxiously insecure moments, and it also helped me understand how she would fit in with a group. I discovered as I wrote that her old gang were people she also struggled to fit in with at first, and that helped me to figure out how to connect to the party. 

Problem 2: Asp was too independent to work well in a group. After I had written about her, it became clear that she actually was very good at working in a group, but only when she understood the expectations of the group. In her old gang, she became one of the most beloved parts of the outfit after some initial growing pains. She also struggled with the leader of the gang--she didn't always listen to the consensus, but learned to over time. This helped me to make her more inclined to work with the party. After the moment where she pulled a con unnecessarily, she apologized for disrupting and upsetting the group and vowed to not act criminally as long as they were together. In the party, she was cast as group leader, meaning that she suddenly had a new perspective on working as a team. These ideas allowed me to help Asp become a key element of the party rather than repeating her previous mistakes (which wouldn't have really existed had I not written about her). 

Problem 3: Asp was true Neutral in a good-aligned campaign. This was a really key problem to fix. Our mission in the campaign is to defuse a mounting war between the elves and orcs of my DM's homebrew setting is an important action which requires constant and pure motivation to do the right thing, no matter the cost. Given the character backstory I initially imagined, this would give Asp little incentive to participate in the main quest. Her independence and amorality were not good fits for the story. So I adjusted. As you know if you read the above-linked profile on Asp, I ended up writing two novels' worth of material about her life leading up to the campaign. At the beginning of the novel that leads into the campaign, Asp really is a true Neutral person whose only interest is herself and her (few) loved ones. But as she worked with the gang, she began to learn to appreciate and trust people. She had a meaningful romantic relationship. She began to enjoy the warmth of positive interactions and began to feel guided to do good things. After some very rocky times at the end of the novel, she gets to the land of the elves and orcs and quickly gets cast as a diplomatic savior of the orcs. She went back to the independence and amorality for a while on her own, but getting placed in the group quickly strengthened all her desire to be a better person. She is now the most outspoken force for goodness in the group and has even become a Cleric of Light. This wasn't the goal I had in mind when I developed Asp, but both my imagining of her life and the campaign itself demanded that she become more good-hearted. And beyond the mechanical necessities of her being less amoral, it's also been a lovely experience as a player to watch my broken little liar become someone who primarily cares about the wellbeing of those around her. 

Problem 4: I wasn't getting to con people like I wanted. This was difficult for me at first. I had so badly wanted to use the D&D system to run various cons on NPCs--I've always been fascinated by con artists, and I brought my desire to portray one to the early sessions. After the first job she pulled with the group, she recognized the offense to the party and promised to not do it anymore. But I still had the itch to see her pulling the wool over peoples' eyes. So in writing about her, I scratched that itch. The novels and short stories I've written about Asp are largely developments of relationships she's had with NPCs (a much more important detail than many players recognize since those relationships inform the ones formed in-game) or about her pulling off incredible cons. In one such story, she plays both parts of a two-person con in order to prove a point. This was so much fun to write, which is its own reward, but I also got to get the con artist stuff out of my system. The campaign we're in clearly has no room for a self-interested criminal, so I cut the cons from the game. I wrote about them instead, and now my imagined version of Asp is rich with a history of diverse and exciting cons. This is a problem I really couldn't have solved without writing about her. 

So writing helps us in a variety of ways--but how do you start? With Asp, I started with a conflict. I knew that she had broken off relations with her family and that her stubborn streak meant she'd probably be slow to join a gang like her backstory called for. So I made one conflict lead to the other: her mother sold her out to the guards, and she had to run to a gang that could help me stay safe. So I wrote a short story (only about three pages) that depicted her clashing with her mom, pulling a con, getting sold out, and meeting the head of the gang. That might sound a little crazy--covering all of that in just a few pages means lots of action in a small space. But it's really all you have to do to get great results. From that short story, I learned so many things about her. 

One such discovery was that Asp was a lot more vulnerable than I thought. I envisioned her as being someone who was very closed off in general, but writing about her changed that. In that first short story alone (which ended up becoming the first chapter of a novel), I realized that Asp cared deeply about her cat, who she loses in that chapter. She had enough of a tie to her mother that her mother could threaten her safety. As much as she wanted to do everything on her own, she needed a gang to help her start over after getting burned. I very suddenly realized that I had been thinking of her being a con artist as a powerful strength, but it's also a weakness--she's susceptible to all kinds of threats. I wouldn't have figured this out without writing about her, or at least, I wouldn't have figured it out until I'd been playing her for a while, and that's too late to know in my opinion. 

Another discovery was that the cons are actually difficult to write about. In order for things to be exciting, there has to be risk and tension. That means that at least some of her cons have to just barely work in order to be engaging. That meant having to find the sweet spot between being in control of the situation and dealing with realistic dangers. Finding this delicate place between these ideas was difficult at first. The con Asp pulls in the first chapter goes off entirely without a hitch, which I used to establish her skill as a con artist, but I had to add complications to later cons to keep them exciting. And this meant realizing that Asp is something of an adrenaline junkie. In one passage later in the novel, I wrote about the way she thinks about this danger inherent in conning people: she both dreads the uncertainty of it and revels in the thrill of it. She's wary of getting caught, but lying to a person's face and being believed is pure excitement. This revealed a new element of her behavior. Now, when I play Asp, I make her a bit more reckless than I originally imagined her. This makes the game more exciting, obviously, but also serves just who she is as a person. 

The short story is a great way to get your head around the big pictures. Continuing to write is where you get even more out of the situation. When I finished that first story, I was overwhelmed with how much I had learned about Asp. So I kept going. I wanted to know what life was like with her gang. It turned out to be very rocky. But I knew that she would become one of the crew before too long, so I wrote more. Soon, she was beloved in the gang and operating like a real member of a team. I needed this dynamic worked out in my head so I could know how she works with the party. And with all that momentum picked up, I pushed into how she ended up leaving the gang. It ended up being a complete revision of my initial backstory. She ended up not leaving the gang because she thought she was above the rest of the gang, but instead because she was (due to complicated circumstances) forced out of the gang and had to move on. This was--and I can't stress this enough--a vital realization. Knowing that she was coming into the campaign with a feeling of loss changed everything. It informed the decisions she made and the relationships she formed. 

Now, obviously the writing I'm talking about is more work than most folks will put into this process. That's okay. I know that I got fairly carried away with myself--you don't need 1,100 pages of writing to understand your character. In the "creating a character" article I linked above, I suggested writing general notes about character history (I again went overboard with the amount of this writing, but the point still stands). If you are 100% opposed to trying to write short fiction, I recommend the notes method. Good questions to ask yourself include:

• What important and defining events have occurred in the character's life? 
• How did they feel about these experiences? 
• What are common experiences that the character has often? 
• How do they feel when they experience those things? 
• What are things they enjoy doing? 
• Why do they enjoy these things? 
• What kinds of relationships (good and bad) has your character had? 
• How have these relationships affected them? 
• What does your character want? 
• How does your character plan to go about realizing these goals? 

Don't just think about the surface level things or the life-changing events--think about your character's internal world. What they think and feel is just as (if not more) important as the events themselves. Once you have answered these questions, revisit the idea of writing a bit of short fiction. Putting these ideas into an actual scene will undoubtedly show you dimensions you hadn't considered. 

Whatever writing you decide to do, you will have given yourself an advantage in knowing who your character is at the beginning of a campaign. But the campaign continues long after that. To stay on top of your character as they grow and change (or even to just stay in touch with your character), begin to imagine hypothetical scenarios involving your character. Many players do this unconsciously--it's fun to imagine what your character would do in various situations. But it goes beyond fun; you can also learn things about your character. Let's talk about what kinds of situations to think about, and then I'll illustrate some of the benefits using hypotheticals that I have used with Asp. 

A good place to start is by looking ahead in your campaign. What sorts of moments are likely to occur? How do you envision the conflicts ahead happening? What do you want to happen? These situations shouldn't just be considered in a descriptive way--you should try to imagine them as though you're really playing the game and your imagination is the DM. As you imagine the scene, roleplay it like you would a moment in the game--what comes naturally? Pay attention to what you feel about how it's happening. This is actually how I realized that I needed to make Asp stop conning people. I ran one small job in front of the party, and they voiced their displeasure at it. I kept daydreaming about the con element of her character, though. I would try to imagine situations where she could use her skills, but I always felt bad about it because I knew it would rub the group the wrong way. That's where I got the idea to write about her doing those things instead. So it can be a really productive place to begin imagining your character in hypotheticals. 

From there, you can branch out into less campaign-based thinking. Unless you've chosen to play someone with literally no attachments, there will be people in your character's life who evoke strong feelings from them. Family and friends are great for this, as are respected competitors. Try to imagine what your character would say to them if they ran into them. What kinds of feelings would meeting again bring up? Does your character have any new desires or plans after meeting with them? Does anything change about your character's feelings about this person? These are all deep mines of inspiration and discovery. With Asp, so many big ideas have come from imagining scenes like this--not to mention genuine enjoyment. As I wrote more and more about her story, she formed a lot of complicated relationships, especially the one with her partner. I have spent a lot of time thinking about what she would say to her ex if she got to see her again, and it all started with my DM dropping a character from her backstory into the campaign for just a moment. I thought, naturally, that Asp would ask about her ex. Learning where she was now was something I noted but didn't think much of at the time. But later, as I imagined their next meeting, I noticed how much affection Asp still had for her ex. As I kept imagining what she had to say, I began to see that she truly intends to track down her ex and talk things over, and that's put a completely different perspective on how Asp feels in the campaign. Her mindset is now, "I have to do this important and dangerous thing, and then I'm getting out of the game." It's added something tangible for me, and it came from just thinking about Asp talking to people. 

One last recommendation I'll make for hypotheticals is consciously seeking out a particular thing you find interesting, meaningful, or just confusing about your character. This is also especially helpful as a tool when you feel like something isn't working completely at the table; this exercise will help you diagnose the problem. What I mean by thinking about this particular detail of your character is to try to describe what this detail is. It might be something like, "I feel like I'm not expressing my character correctly," or "I really like how my character wants to stand up to people." These are big picture issues that many of us face. So devise a situation that would challenge or stress that detail. For the player who's afraid they're not expressing their character right, imagining a similar scenario to one that challenged them can be a great way to reevaluate what's going on. It also gives you the chance to think about these things in advance and come to the table more familiar with their character. Or for the player whose character is so willing to stand up to people, flip the tables on them: how would the character react if they couldn't stand up to somebody? What do you learn about your character when the strength that defines them is taken away? 

This is actually a scenario I've put Asp through a number of times. At various points in my writing about her, she gets very close to getting caught (and closer still in the book about the earlier years). But part of her character is that she's cool, confident, and in control of any situation she's in. So even in those moments, I didn't really get a sense of who she was when things really went sour. That's about when our DM introduced our main quest: bring an end to the coming war between the elves and the orcs. Our "final boss" (diplomatically speaking, of course) is the High Queen of the Elves, who seems fairly predisposed to war. When Asp first met the Queen, she panicked a little. I was really curious why that was, so I started to imagine her having other conversations with the Queen as well as other situations in which she had dealt with important people. Something I noticed was that she tended to get more anxious the more powerful a person was. I realized as I thought about this that she knows the consequences of getting caught grow exponentially with the status of the person you're conning (and yes, she does kind of view diplomacy as con artistry). So her anxiety was natural, and I didn't necessarily need to change that about my performance with her. But without noticing all of this, I never would have realized that I would need her to get more comfortable with the royals if she intended to succeed in her mission. And that's why I've roleplayed her as getting slowly more comfortable around royalty, which I think reflects that she grows and learns quickly, so increased exposure to dealing with royals is making her less anxious. And being aware of this change--even guiding it--allowed me to really enjoy it as an element of the story. I have easily a dozen more examples of ways that I've used these hypotheticals to explore characters, even before I consciously realized what I was doing (and how it helped me). 

Here's my last word: you read this far because you wanted to be able to connect with your characters. As a lifelong gamer whose first character was made for me and whose second character featured customizations in every possible way, I really do understand the drive to connect to these products of our minds. And if you feel the same way, I want you to know how rich and rewarding it is. It does take time and work, but you're here, seeking it out. I know (again as an English teacher) that not everyone loves to write. But at a certain point, it's worth the work to really familiarize yourself with who they are. 

Oh, and as a bonus suggestion, I suggest writing a journal of the campaign and doing so in the first person as your character's actual thoughts. Not only does it keep you engaged with the character throughout the session, but rereading your notes from the previous session before starting a new one is an excellent way to get back into the right frame of mind. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: clothing by culture in my homebrew setting, how to figure out your style as a GM, and lessons from 15 years of my GM notebooks. Until next time, happy gaming!

A Mystery One Shot with Branching Paths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How to Deal with Mistakes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How to Handle In-Game Romances

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How to Find the Right Group and Stick with It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How to Give Alternate Rewards to Loot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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