I wonder whether to put a lot of advice for running a game into a book. Is this where advice goes to die?
I’m still thinking about the questions raised in 2023-01-20 Suggesting adventures but not writing them. I tried to write a new section in Knives, based on it.
2023-01-20 Suggesting adventures but not writing them
Questions can inspire us to think about issues and they make it clear that our input is required. Reading a setting or an adventure book is less useful because it takes a long time and when you’re in trouble, your instinct will be to turn back to the book you’ve been reading. This slows you down and you’ll feel inadequate. Don’t do it. Questions let you know that whatever you come up with is OK. Questions let you know that your input is required.
There are different kinds of questions that are important to the game. Think of them as table techniques. These are ways to solve problems at the table.
A simple question to ask is how things are accomplished or how they fail. Players announce what they want their characters to achieve, you clarify the intent and indicate what a successful outcome would entail, you warn them about consequences of failure, you suggest the attribute and the skill and whether to roll two or three dice. If the players accept, they pick up the dice and roll.
Once we know about success or failure, and having established the consequences, you can move on – or you can linger for a bit. Give that character a little spotlight and ask about how they did it, why they did it, how they felt as they did it. Why did that speech fail, was it something they did? Perhaps the player doesn’t have an answer. No problem, you already agreed on the consequences. But maybe the player feels like embellishing it or putting their own spin on it. This is the moment! You ask them a question and they get to tell us about their character. It’s an entertaining moment of character exposition at the table.
In-game knowledge is not covered by the rules. There is no history or geography skill, for example. And yet, characters probably do know something. So if the characters are about to enter Hunland, they might ask you about the inhabitants. You can turn that around and ask the players whether any of their players had previous experience with a guest from Hunland or whether their parents had ever taken them there.
These questions are about player characters and their backgrounds. If the player likes to improvise these details, they get to entertain us at the table and to enrich our game and we get a glimpse into the past of our fellow characters. It’s a short moment of spotlight within the context of the game. The answer given by the player colours the answer you’re going to give about the inhabitants of Hunland. The questions build on each other. It’s a virtuous cycle.
Cultivate a sense of wonder about the player characters. What are they doing, what are they thinking, what are they feeling? Don’t ask these questions at the table but keep them in mind when daydreaming. These questions are asked and answered through play. If Isolt and a player character are on a ship, start wondering about the player character. Are they faithful to their partner? Are they loyal to their king? Let Isolt fall in love with the character and we’re going to find out!
The situation develops into a question directed at players. Does the character elope with Isolt and prove to be a lover, not a fighter? Let’s see. Actions count more than words, both in the game and out of the game.
Questions for players work on two levels. The first level is: What do you do? The bandits are asking for the tribute they demanded last year. Are you helping to defend the village or are you leaving? The second level is: How hard is your soul? The headman begs you to stay. The miller asks you to protect the mill that’s outside the perimeter. The farmer hides his daughter from you. All these questions pop up as you daydream about the bandits, the village, the player characters, and you wonder: What are they doing, what are they thinking, what are they feeling?
Players can ask you questions: Are there any consequence for killing the baron? Can we get rid of Rasputin?
Sometimes players will let you know what they have in mind. Sometimes you’ll have to ask them. Sometimes they don’t know. If player’s don’t know what they want, then that’s OK. Present them with more choices. It’s your turn to ask them questions. See the next sections.
If you know what the players are wondering, set up situations that allow us all to find out. Are there consequences for killing the baron, of getting rid of Rasputin? Of course there are! How are the players going to find out? An assassination needs to be planned. Allies need to be found. Plans for a succession need to be made. Friends need to be in place. Moles have to be planted.
As players ask the question, you start to dream. Perhaps you remember reading about the assassination of Rasputin? Look it up, think about the parts you find fascinating. The tables turn and now you get to ask questions. How are the going to find allies? Once they do find allies, use the ally to tell players more. The ally is worried about the power vacuum. Who’s going to succeed the baron? Who’s going to talk to the guards? The players wanted to know, and you’re giving it to them in a way that leads to more questions. It’s more of that virtuous cycle.
Guiding questions guide you through unfamiliar dreamlands. Why are the dwarves undermining the castle? It’s not giant moles, it’s not purple worms, it’s small and skinny dwarves like Alberich and Mime from the Niebelungenlied. The question implies the existence of dwarves and asks you about their motivation. Your input is required.
As you daydream about the setting, imagining landscapes and people and problems, the questions can be a guide into an unfamiliar dreamland. The questions get you into the mood for a game that’s unfamiliar to you.
You often need to make up stuff. You read your notes and remember your ideas and then you fill in the gaps at the table. You present a world to the players that is apparently seamless and ongoing, forever conjuring up new material. Wherever player characters go, there’s more to see and more to discover. Sometimes, you didn’t prepare for this. In these moments, you fall back to what is familiar. Falling back to familiar ideas is something all referees do.
Between sessions, however, you prepare for the game. The conjuration at the table are not arbitrary. Sessions are short and between sessions, you prepare again. This is why guiding questions are important. They help you prepare the unfamiliar. You’ll fall back to the familiar at the table, when you’re stressed, and that’s OK.
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The next two sections would be about maintaining long term campaign interested in the campaign and about preparing adventures.
#RPG #Knives
(Please contact me if you want to remove your comment.)
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Something for a kind of retrospective? “What questions did we in fact answer through play?”
– Alex 2023-01-21 00:01 UTC
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@eldritchmouse writes about questions as adventure writing:
And this is where the real percolation begins. I formulated *at least* 5 more answers to each question, each one being a step further from the lowest hanging fruit. This is a slow process that, for me, requires the background processing part of my brain. If I sit down in front of the computer and just tell my brain to “generate ideas!” no ideas come forth. Surprising, really. So instead, I pick a few of the questions and then day dream about them as I go about my day: working, at the gym, driving, cooking, cleaning, you get the idea. Every time a new and exciting answer pops into my head, I jot it down (either directly into the spreadsheet or into a quick capture note file to migrate later). – Question-Based Adventure Design (Q-BAD)
Question-Based Adventure Design (Q-BAD)
– Alex 2023-05-23 15:20 UTC