character development: rebirth and reinvention

Rebirth – Where a character confronts certain core assumptions about their nature and place in the world with the intent of changing.  To overcome one’s flaws, they must be shown in a way that directly challenges the character and which overcomes their inertia to remain as they are.

This option is not taken lightly, rebirth is traumatic, may have deep psychological or spiritual implications from which the character may grow.  Confronting deepest fears or flaws is optional yet the option to confront these is often taken, whether as part of a point of no return or projection scenario.
 
It’s also rarely advisable to force rebirth on characters in interactive entertainment without prior foreshadowing and demonstrating why the rebirth is necessary.  The process is best served either following a dark night of the soul or a gradual yet visible apotheosis.  If you can manage both at the same time, this is powerful stuff.

Reinvention - The alternative is to either recreate a character to make them new or update an existing character to maintain their relevance, allow for new cultural sensibilities or to emphasise a particular focus – letting a character develop in ways that the original could not predict or that was unsuited to.

Where rebirth acknowledges what has gone before, reinvention prefers to focus on the renewed aspect of the character and minimise or even revise prior knowledge in favour of the new image.  As a result it grants more authorial control over the character and their environment.

This process can kill a character deader than disco if mishandled and is best done with an eye to what makes the character emotionally resonate with it’s audience.  When renovating the character, adding emotional hooks or minor details that catch attention may provide jumpstarts for strong stories.

These two processes permanently change the status quo of a character – a big step!  Done well, it transforms a character into something much greater.  Done badly and it means either applying retroactive continuity which damages their credibility or worse, forcing the character into yet another reinvention.

big damn dungeons

This post at Grognardia about the lack of mega-dungeons and the follow-up at Greyhawk Grognard and it got me thinking.  My introduction to the mega-dungeon proper (I didn’t know it then) was Descent Into The Depths/Vault of the Drow (D1-3) with it’s epic scale (miles of caverns) and sections you were encouraged to develop.  Big damn dungeons are one of the iconic elements (to borrow a phrase) of Dungeons & Dragons.

Undermountain, Night Below, Moria, Dragon Mountain, Rappan Athuk and The World’s Biggest Dungeon are examples with a more contemporary example being the dungeon built by Monte Cook at Dungeon-A-Day.  Demand for such exists yet few hit iconic status without re-invention or turning into self-contained mills to grind out levels and gain loot with no customisation or replayability.

Ironically, the failure of most mega-dungeons to engage may be down to granularity and scale, effectively not thinking big enough. There is a danger you create modules for the mega-dungeon setting rather than larger campaign elements.  The difference between module and campaign sourcebook is notable and it’s this divide that has caused many mega-dungeons to be definitive works, preventing individual innovation.

Mega-dungeons have been described as campaign dungeons.  Why not then treat them that way?  Provide a core sourcebook or boxed set for the megadungeon with an overview map with complete sections and gaps to allow growth. The basic model of expanding detail works but the trick here is to stop short of providing the ultimate resource.  Tabletop’s big strength is imagination and the unexpected so why not play to it?

The second part of this plan is to think larger scale when publishing to fill the gaps.  Instead of modules, using self-contained sourcebooks with example encounters and two or more adventures.  The rest is assorted new things, vignettes and elements to maximise replayability (e.g. tables, selections of elements) enabling emergent play and customisation while being effectively self-contained. 

The trick here in both cases is to inspire development by the DM, sections with three lines of text at most (something Gary Gygax excelled at) to spark imaginations (e.g. “Here lies Dragotha, the Undead Dragon.”) and deliberately leave sections for the games master to make their own.  Making your mega-dungeon different from your friend’s means you get more enjoyment out of it.

Flexibility in creating content is a desirable skill for any games master.  Providing rough flight plans for areas of the mega-dungeon and enough meat on the bones so running this game as is can be good, but running it your way is better.  Emergent play also allows the sourcebook to inspire further adventures within that common framework and gives players a taste of something they don’t get every day – the unknown.

campaign branding: genre conventions

Genre conventions are a framework of elements that set a scene and provide an audience tools to help them imagine it and the wider story.  These conventions give a creator options and choices that make their story or game distinctive and help convey messages (thematic or otherwise) to the audience.

Aesthetic - The specific attributes of a story that helps define it.  The time, place, genre and basic premises of what is expected from the story.  Aesthetic conventions include oppressive regimes, armoured knights or isolated rustic colonies. These need to be outlined up front or the audience will be confused.

Ideological - A specific vision or sensory experience (a ‘look’ or ‘feel’) – if aesthetic is the substance, this is the style.  Here is the grit in your crime drama or the slick chrome in your science-fiction.  As over half of all communication is non-verbal, this is something ignored at your peril.

Rhetorical - Persuasive arguments employed by a story on it’s audience.  The social implications of those arguments may compel (compare The Handmaid’s Tale with Gattaca with Children of Men) an audience and contemporary issues can shape or alter the sensitivity of an audience to a story’s rhetoric.

Ritual - Behavioural actions associated with a particular genre, the traits characters display to comply with the above.  Action heroes are courageous, tough and rebel against authority.  Noir detectives are cynical romantics with internal monologues.  All of these (and more) are explored in one place. 

Aligning genre conventions can maximise story impact and speed setup.  The trick is to do it so the genre conventions are revealed in an original or innovative way.  Due to high exposure (how many TV shows and movies have you seen this year?) these are used and re-used to a point some call formulaic. 

Judicious blending or contrasting conventions can invigorate formulaic elements.  Robocop is cyberpunk but uses elements of the western and crime drama.  From Dusk Till Dawn is another example of blended genres.
Yet even blending can hit saturation.  The key then is to go back to the classics and work from there.

To give a story zip, it’s worth focussing on character and emotions powered by situations.  In order to provide characters, emotions and situations context, genre conventions provide a backdrop for the drama and help to wrangle thematic elements.

play vs. story

“My take on the ludology/narratology debate has always been that it’s a clever and completely false dichotomy.  If what you’re into is talking about interactive entertainment, then it’s endlessly fertile ground. If what you’re into is making interactive entertainment, it’s literarily meaningless.”
        — Mark Barrett, game designer

So which is more important – game or story?  Every instance of what is referred to in the quote as interactive entertainment has narrative elements – in some cases flapping like vestigial limbs while others have huge plot museums for you to wander through – all to provide an answer to why you are here.

The quote above raises an interesting point.  Is plot essential to play?  Does it matter if you’re having fun grinding a level or three that you skip the exposition? Nobody stopped a game of Tetris because it broke their immersion – yet if you need that information to complete the game, you’d best have it available!

The priority that an audience places on mechanical interaction or completing challenges against that of story that helps you suspend your disbelief is more likely driven by a designer than by audience. Yet different players demand different things from games and a cohesive, entertaining story is often used as one of them.

This presents a paradox for tabletop roleplaying games.  I’ve seen games fall flat when players reject the set up.  If an event is unexpected and inconsistent, even if it follows the rule of cool, some players hit disbelief and utter “That’s just silly” or engage their right to choose and engage in mayhem upon the local village.

Equally, an alternate reality game stands or falls on exposition.  If you lack a strong lead then something new and shiny will distract your audience promising hidden stories, special benefits or unique merch.  While the interaction and challenges may be brilliant, without exposition you’re going nowhere fast.

Interactive entertainments in the vein of RPGs or ARGs require a greater investment of attention over time.  Using a story linked to the game as a reward is common to video games, RPGs and ARGs.  Some games implement this reward exclusively while others use it in tandem with formal play using rule mechanisms.

Ultimately it comes down to the design objectives of the game.  If you’re looking at formalised play then story is a secondary concern.  If you’re more interested in free-form play then story is suited as a framework and reward to participation. Determining what the players want then becomes important.

morality play

This month’s RPG Carnival deals with morality – both in game and audience. The title comes from a style of medieval and Tudor-era theatre where personified attributes (e.g. justice, charity) urge characters (and the audience) to live a good life.  Born of mystery plays where religion was distributed by the stage, a morality play is a Renaissance take on allegory.

What role does morality have in escapist entertainment?  Escapism permits a get away from the dolorous or banal nature of the real world.  Can entertainment vicariously give a moral holiday to an audience expected only to witness events?  When entertainment is interactive, is simulation of evil merely self-indulgent or actually evil? Where does escapism become transgression?

Moral holiday is a term coined by philosopher William James to describe a temporary respite from moral concerns using belief in an absolute reality – trusting the world to look after itself a while – until the individual is ready to return to striving for a better place.  Protagonists from Richard III to Dexter delight audiences while performing atrocities.  Of course, protests are made due to the immoral nature of it all.

Escapism is compatible with both morality and banality.  Banal escapism is certainly possible by the medium of ‘reality TV’ so moral escapism can and has been since Aesop.  I could tell you about my paladin but the heroic stance is often a default state.  This has led to examples of actual play subverting the social contract of a game due to dissatisfaction with formulaic adventure or a missing incentive to be heroic.

Allen Varney wrote an excellent article, Do The Right Thing where he notes many games use resource-based survival and the scarcity of games considering morality beyond good vs. evil or moral spectra with ethical bells & whistles.  Attempts to justify morality by mechanics foundered on relativism, consider Vampire with it’s paths of enlightenment and numerous hierarchies of sins.

Yet laws without authority or sanction are inherently weak and one size doesn’t fit all even with superheroes.  Moving from zero-sum into business ethics a moment, is a moral element an essential component in games design if only to provide context?  Is morality a genre convention or part of a social contract between players and to a larger extent, society?  Like it or not, the audience is part of a greater thing.

Violation of taboo is a provocative element and may be used for satire or shock value to reinforce established morals.  Using entertainment to justify evil acts exposes your ethical or moral integrity to criticism.  Players can ignore a moral framework and play as they like – rebellion against conformity moves to territory where things may bite not only in-game but also in reality.  How good is a game if it’s censored and censured?

The tipping point comes when the moral holiday becomes the moral retirement plan or when a consensual line is crossed.  Visiting a carnival and living in one are different things and require at least a shift in viewpoint.  Where there are those threatened by an alternative point of view, they need either to be shown the fears are baseless or where appropriate, reminded of the basic right to freedom of speech.

character development: the point of no return

Otherwise called that ‘Oh sh-’ moment where a character realises they must ‘do something’ about a situation or confront something that exposes them to a flaw or vulnerability.  Recognising the point of no return as a point for activity means the following:

Clear Options – Doing nothing must lead to obvious negative consequences.  Retreat must be worse.  If they didn’t bury their heads in the sand, signposts for different options need to be apparent. At least one option represents a theme at odds with the character and their goals or one where a weakness, flaw or gap comes into play.  From such seeds conflict will arise, whether it’s external battles or inner struggle.

Boons - The character may have help in dealing with the conflict – in the form of people (Merlin), places (Rivendell) or even objects (e.g. Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber). They can provide advice, safe refuge or even the tools to achieve success, not only at the point of no return but beyond…

Boons may be related to the theme of the story or adventure, or reflect the attributes of the hero or those attributes sought by the hero (e.g Excalibur is a symbol of kingship and martial power). They help to complete the character if they have suffered in the events leading up to the point of no return (Frodo is healed at Rivendell before leaving with the Fellowship).

Banes - Building a better enemy for a character has been discussed in my post on antagonists. They represent the opposing side of the conflict, in some cases a dark mirror of or an embodiment of the flaws or limitations of that character. The enemy may have boons of their own – or perhaps be the guardian of the boons for the character to obtain.

Banes can also be foils rather than foes, some foils can be turned into allies (e.g. Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca) while others may remain an aggravation and lesson as what failure can lead to. While foils can threaten the character, this is usually not potentially lethal to the character, that perogative belongs to the villain.

Threshold – This is a locus, a place or state of mind that must be achieved in order to begin dealing with the issues determined by the theme or leading to this situation.  The threshold can be a literal doorway or cliff top, or it can be a psychological crisis or journey.  What happens next is up to the character…

campaign branding: supplies in demand

It’s interesting to note many games and stories have inherent assumptions about their rules borrowed from real life(TM) yet authors and game masters fail to consider logical extensions.  An example in D&D 1st to 3.x edition is the prevalence of powdered silver as a cleric spell component.  It implies relative ease of access to silver by any priesthood.  Not a problem in a game with a common silver standard.

There are places where this is not applicable.  Settings like Dark Sun where sorceror-kings and history have depleted resources.  Or Ravenloft where werebeasts aren’t only prevalent but rule certain realms.  Another example from D&D is diamond dust.  Diamonds aren’t plentiful without a source.  There are other examples but you get the idea.  Wool without sheep?  That may be a problem…

Rather than despair at the inconsistency, it’s worth thinking of this as a way to give the game or story a bit of distinction.  An explanation why is needed as you will be asked by those inconvenienced by – or who wish to take advantage of – the situation.  To have arrived here, a series of events have taken place.  All you need to do is to establish what they were.

Those with improv genius and opportunity will riff something pithy and insightful into the human condition and the apparent inconsistency. The rest of us have to prepare something – which requires thought and a little bit of judicious problem solving. I recommend borrowing a couple of methods to facilitate this as you’ll need to identify the root causes and possibly turn it into a scene or even a whole story.

The first is taught by three-year old children the world over.  Ask “Why?” in response to an answer to your question.  Repeat five times. Each “Why?” sparks an answer which leads to more information.  More than five and whoever you’re asking may try to strangle you.  Asphyxiation is bad and it reduces my readership. Resist the temptation. It’s been tested by children so you don’t have to!

The second is Dr. Rotwang’s adventure funnel which offers a goal, sets obstacles in it’s way and provides details to give additional flavour.  Use the inconsistency as the goal (in the first example, the presence of powdered silver despite the setting saying otherwise), set obstacles (the whys it’s not working that way in the setting) and use elements of the answers to your five whys as details.

Doing this is no excuse for bad research or sloppy plotting.  It does smooth rough edges off and provides opportunities for campaign branding.  Done well, your audience will buy into the story when they find that the apparent inconsistency has a logical and internally consistent explanation for why things are the way they are.

character development: gaps, buttons and flags

The Chinese say an urn’s usefulness is in its emptiness. When developing a character, look for their gaps or wants.  Take the rugged loner, someone without family (in RPGs some tire of threats to family so their relatives die peacefully to stop this plot being used) and some games masters either comply or escalate with a manipulative response.

These gaps (or voids) are where a story can fit in.  For our loner, stories about isolation, friendship or relationships may resonate.  Here Maslow’s hierarchy of needs provides fuel and ideas and those with input into characters do well to consider how choices leave future gaps.  Stories may be positive resolutions or threaten to widen or deepen the gap.

A character without flaws in physical or psychological or spiritual makeup is difficult to relate to.  Even The Man of Steel has limits and carefully cultivates a fallible identity in order to fit in. People are drawn to gaps, needs and vulnerabilities and this attraction can be used to give characters empathy – it is desirable but not essential.

Some make it easier by giving characters hot buttons, using the risk principle ‘If X, then Y’ where ‘X’ is a situation and ‘Y’ is an action or behaviour. This compulsion may vary in intensity from irritant to obsession and forms a contract the behaviour will take place at some point – otherwise why bother?

Hitting the hot button repeatedly can lead to fatigue where the audience doesn’t give a damn or worse, turns the character into a cliché.  Timing and the rhythm of a story is also a consideration as hitting the hot button at the wrong time may get in the way of or worse still, derail a story completely.

A character without hot buttons is concerned with editorial or self-control.  If nothing provokes a reaction the character disconnects from the story.  The hot button isn’t critical, it can be interesting if used well and can present dilemmas where the behaviour can set them up for risks or sacrifice for a reward – fulfilling for both the character and audience.

An alternative to the hot button is the flag.  This signifies a character’s story needs to go where the flag indicates – suited to aspirational goals (“Kill Bill” or “Escape from New York“).  Like all journeys, there are beginnings, waypoints and a destination.  Using the flag forms an implicit contract that the journey will feature and eventually be resolved.

Reverse plotting from the flag leads to story hooks and situations which may need to be signposted. Individual audience members may feel the plot is being railroaded or led by the nose.  Again, over-use weakens its impact.  Throwing in distractions or curveballs can give the audience a holiday.  Remember to make it fast and come back to the story.

A character without flags has no positive goals or desires.  They just float through life, reacting to events and trying to deal with their flaws.  It may be nice if you’re in a 90’s sitcom or soap drama but is it adventurous?  Is it heroic?  And would you engage with a character that laissez-faire or passive?  Few people will enjoy the vicarious feeling of helplessness even if they bond with the character by other means.

campaign branding: making magic items memorable

There are ways to make a game come to life.  Campaign branding is about making a particular game have it’s own distinctive feel. Whether it’s the flash on your magic, the genre conventions you’re working with or down as deep as explaining where all the diamond and silver dust comes from, essentially setting fluff that impacts directly on the characters that help make a setting memorable. So let’s start with a popular one.

Gamers lament the generic nature of magical items (given how most RPGs treat them, this isn’t surprising) and have correctly identified a little detail goes a long way.  Doing it is it’s own artform.  Which do you prefer?

A +1 long sword with a ruby in the pommel
or…
A black +1 long sword with hazy red edges and a glowing ruby in the pommel.

Six more words.   Mechanically identical, aesthetically different.  Keep additional fluff to fewer words than the original description and use enough to make a difference or three from the base item. Short words help to sell this idea and as someone once said, if you can’t show, then tell but do it quickly.

You’re right – I prefer ostentatious magic.  Having seen sword smiths working and the effort it takes to make a normal blade, why not give magical blades cantrip-level bling?  Do you want them to know it’s magical? And magic need not be glowing.  They can emit a bitter scent, twitch like rat’s noses or even scream when wielded.  And that’s just weapons.

Armour may shift through many colours, robes may be seamless, rods may be inset with gems that twinkle like stars.  Exotic materials may be used in construction (and if magic is involved usually are) or manufacture and this is the beginning of the level of customisation you can aim for.  That black and red sword can have a lot more about it than just being a magic sword with a Sith colour scheme.

Additional decoration in the form of maker’s marks, insignias, religious markings, mystical runes and more suggest additional stories as well.  This is before we get to decorations like dragon’s head pommels which can be applied to non-magical weapons as well.  Stories you can use to give the game new directions – triggers for bringing a game to certain parts of the campaign world even…

Those craving subtle magics can find them and use them if they so wish.  A nondescript dagger may reveal lethal magics only spotted by those looking for such. As long as form follows function it makes some sense.  A dagger makes a good assassin’s weapon, a flamberge less so (even if it’s effective, sheer size makes concealment tricky) – it depends on the enchanter.

You can omit mechanics and reveal the modifier only if someone thinks they’ve missed.  Doing this in isolation or solo play is fine.  Doing this for a group of four to six people with different weapons may slow things without some preparation so it comes down to preference, adjusting player combat rolls or more gameplay with players who know what they’re doing. I prefer the latter myself.

toolkit: antagonist

As conflict is a key element of most stories and games, it is worth considering the role of whoever or whatever opposes to the protagonist.  What are the defining characteristics of an antagonist?

The antagonist is an opposing force to a character.  This may be a physical opposition but more often an opposition of ideology, philosophy or paradigm; in Gladiator, Maximus and Commodus are polar opposites; one a family man, battle-skilled general and highly principled while the other kills or imprisons his own family for power, has no experience of war outside training in personal combat and exemplifies decadence.

By the end of the story, the protagonist and antagonist need to have resolved a significant issue, which usually is a win for the protagonist.  The root of interplay for protagonist and antagonist comes from the Greek play tradition of agon – where each side responds in an argument with the chorus as judge and the second person to speak traditionally wins for they have the last word.

An antagonist also embodies the internal conflict of the protagonist.  In The Dark Knight and Batman comics, both the Joker and Two-Face show aspects of Batman; the former his outsider status and capacity for violence, the latter his dual identity and sense of vigilante justice – it’s a measure of Batman’s complexity as a character this actually works without seeming like an excuse to pile on villains for the sake of it.

If you prefer the Bard, Hamlet and Laertes are another example – the latter shares the former’s passion for justice and obligation to family and the deaths of Polonius and Ophelia set these two on a collision course played out in the duel between them in the final act.  The two tortured characters are mirror images of each other and it’s this similarity that makes the inevitable tragedy poignant.

An antagonist must also prey on the weaknesses of a character, be it the protagonist or another character known to the protagonist.  Lex Luthor makes an effective foil for Superman by access to kryptonite while Hannibal Lector exposes and exploits the psychological foibles of both Will Turner and Clarice Starling as well as his numerous patients.  Having an inactive antagonist doesn’t do very much for anyone.

There are many ways an antagonist can work to further the plot.  Not all need to be villainous, Lieutenant Gerard from The Fugitive is one example of a noble antagonist – others exist where moral ambiguity exists in the plotline or the character needs to develop before facing off against a more threatening and definitely villainous antagonist or a mutually destructive situation.

A good antagonist has these traits and others that help make them admirable, if not sympathetic.  They need to be given some depth to engage the audience and this means development and more than two-dimensional plotting of the character.  It’s said that the measure of an individual is by their enemies, ensure the protagonists are getting their money’s worth and your audience will surely do the same!