Back Into Space - The Warpstorm Trilogy begins

Following Chaosium's announcement that the publication of the 7th edition rules for Call of Cthulhu has been further delayed, I discussed with my group whether we should wait until the finished rules are published, and run Horror on the Orient Express in the way it is intended, or continue to play using the quickstart rules, or even go back to 6th Edition.  The consensus was to wait, so in the interim we have returned to a campaign which has been on my list of things I want to run for some time: The Warpstorm Trilogy for Rogue Trader.

"In Frozen Reaches, the Explorers find themselves facing an impending Ork invasion and working to save the planet of Damaris. But first, they will need to organize squabbling factions and establish a united front. This is no easy task, as powerful forces are working against them from the shadows...  The exciting adventure continues in The Citadel of Skulls and culminates in Fallen Sun. Do you have what it takes to brave the dangers of a warpstorm?"

Re-entry to the Rogue Trader system was a little rocky.  I had forgotten just how much complexity exists in such an old school system.  While not radically different from other Old School style games, Rogue Trader requires players to reference multiple sections of the core rules, and if they want to utilise all the options the system provides, reference specific sections in multiple books across the range.

On top of that, fairly routine actions (such as travel through the Warp, acquiring new items etc.) require a 3-5 stage process, each with a discrete set of mechanics, tests and modifiers, to say nothing of combat in both space and interpersonally.  It led me to wonder - what is the point of all this complexity?  What is this game doing (intentionally or otherwise)?

My conclusion is that all these mechanics and details provide a veneer of balance, and serve to effectively camouflage the degree of GM fiat that occurs in most traditional games.  To an extent the mini-outcomes these micro-systems produce can be used as a creative crutch by the GM, fleshing out details to add to descriptions and providing some colour.  However, as these systems also require the GM to specify difficulty, other variables and then situate the outcome in a meaningful context, they do not check GM fiat in any meaningful way.

Thus far, the mechanical complexity of Rogue Trader has been tiresome, convoluted, and just a little bit wonderful.

What Tabletop Games can learn from LARP

I had been planning a post on tabletop gaming versus live-action gaming, then Jenni went and stole my thunder.  However, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that what I actually wanted to explore was what lessons I think tabletop games can learn from theatre-form LARP.

LARP killed the tabletop star?
In my local roleplaying community LARP has been on the rise over recent years, and tabletop games and events have suffered diminished attendance when tabletop and LARP events clash.  Some tabletop GMs I know have complained that this has meant some of the more creative and immersive gamers in the community are now less likely to pull up a chair at their tabletop games at a ‘con when offered a LARP in the same slot.  Certainly the LARP community has been growing and flourishing in a way that the local tabletop community has not.  Why is this?  What makes LARP more appealing to some players than a tabletop experience?

There are many differences; some people enjoy costuming and set dressing (perhaps better termed 'immersion'), others prefer romance or intrigue plots, which are more elegantly executed in a live setting with a larger cast, than across a table with the GM playing multiple NPCs.  There’s not much tabletop can do to compete with this, but I do think there are some other things that tabletop can learn from the LARP experience.

Character Agency
In most parlour style LARPs players are given a high level of character agency.  They usually have a background, contacts and goals to try and achieve during the game.  From that point on, the player has almost complete control of their character.   There is usually little or no GM moderation, and often no interaction with a GM at all.   The players are effectively in charge of creating their own fun. This is a pretty big challenge to traditional tabletop games, although much less so to indie games.

This freedom can be very liberating, and I think the thing that tabletop games can take away from this is that many players enjoy a high degree of freedom in the way they explore their characters, and interact with plot.  To my mind this is pretty much the opposite of the ‘railroading’ common in many traditional tabletop outings.  Although I don’t think this means traditional games should move away from railroading entirely, I do think that there is cause to examine just how many assumptions, set-piece scenes and pre-determined outcomes feature in tabletop scenarios.  Do the characters genuinely have agency? If not, can some elements be constructed more flexibly to allow other outcomes?  Ideally a scenario should have a number of moving pieces, which can be added, removed, shifted, or replaced with entirely new character-generated pieces as required.

Rules Lite
Systems and rules are often extremely light in LARP.  In general they follow a principal that the rules should be secondary to interaction between characters and have as light a touch on the game as possible.  I think this is a principal that would enhance tabletop games for many players.  To be clear, some player like rules, mechanics and dice irrespective of the game or setting, but others are much more focused on story character and drama.  If you want your game to appeal to these players, the rules should support and enhance the game, not shackle and slow it. 

There are so many different rules and hacks available, that it should be possible to find the right kind of rules, for the right kind of game.  For example, in Trail of Cthulhu, a game about following clues, characters spend a relevant investigative point, mark it off their sheets, and narrate how it manifests, automatically earning the clue.  The system supports players rapidly accessing clues, and building some narrative details into the experience, while balancing their actions against a finite pool.  In EPOCH, during a Challenge Round players choose the level of injury or trauma their character sustains from cards in their hand, then narrate how this comes to pass  -the focus is on the impact of the challenge for the character, not the mechanical resolution to achieve this outcome.  In wrestling game Piledrivers and Powerbombs, ring scenes are simple and fast flowing, with players drawing playing cards, then holding or folding – promoting a narrative style combat without slowing the game for mathematical calculations, or the translation of actions into game-terms to apply a resolution.

So the question I think a tabletop GM should ask themselves of a scenario is: ‘what is the core activity of this scenario for the characters?’ then ensure the system being used is optimised or streamlined to enhance and support this activity.  It can be tough – we all have our favourite systems, but unless your players share this love, it is worth at least investigating other possibilities.

Sharing the Spotlight
Due to the high level of character agency in LARP, and the ability for multiple conversations and encounters to happen simultaneously, the amount of down-time in LARP can be pretty low.  Compare this with a tabletop game of say, 5 players where it is unlikely that more than 1 or 2 characters are narrating actions or speaking at once, and often the GM is speaking and all of the players are listening.  In this situation there is a high level of down-time for some players – particularly if there are folks in the game who enjoy the spotlight, and others who are quieter or more retiring. 

In some games, a less description from a player equates to a lower levels of action involving their character, meaning that both player and character are less involved in the scenario if they are overshadowed by others.  Both traditional and some indie games have tried to correct this balance through mechanics (e.g. combat rounds & character-specific powers or story points & narrative negotiations).  Nevertheless, there is generally going to be a higher degree of downtime in a tabletop game for the players.

In my view, the key to achieving a better balance is through game management by the GM – which is to say being aware of the amount of spotlight time each player/character is getting, and trying to balance this as much as possible.  In addition, encouraging the players to share or build on one-another’s narration, and interact more is likely to reduce downtime and mean the players are more engaged.  It’s not always easy, but it is an important step in making sure all the players are having a great time.

Pimp Your Game

The pitch is an important part of attracting players who want to play in a game that you facilitate.  Often we think about the pitch as essential for a convention game, where you are literally spruiking your game to strangers in the hopes that something about your description will appeal sufficiently for them to give you several hours of their time, and choose your offering over others. 

 

However, even when you are proposing a new game for your regular gaming group, a short, succinct and strong pitch will help focus attention on what you’re offering, and encourage the players to engage with that material.

 

In 2010 I wrote a post about The Art of the Pitch where I suggested that characteristics of a strong pitch are; a short and compelling piece of setting or fiction to pique the readers interest, and a description of what experience I might expect, as a player.  Both these pieces of information help potential players understand what is being offered, and ensure their expectations are closely aligned with those of the GM offering the game.

 

Bad Players or Bad Games?

 

Sometimes games fall flat, and the reasons for this are not obvious.  When this happens in a convention setting I’ve often heard the GM or facilitator complain about the players.  It’s a common response.  A GM has often spent hours carefully crafting a scenario, anticipating possible actions, and detailing characters – playtesting and preparing and so when the session falls flat, the variable over which the GM has had the least influence is the players, ergo, this must be the cause of the problem.

 

In EPOCH I argue there are no ‘bad’ players.  Only players that are not ‘activated’ and that it is possible for a GM to activate almost every player using a variety of techniques.  However, by far the most important technique is to ensure the players of the game are aligned with the style, an objective of the game that the GM wishes to run.

 

The most likely criteria for a such mismatch (in my experience) include:

• a game which features a strong investigative component
• a game which features a highly complex setting, characters or NPCs
• a game which relies on players absorbing significant amounts of detail, either character or system related to drive the action
• a game which requires the players to share narrative duties
• a game which has a strong combat focus.

This is not an exhaustive list by any stretch, but games which feature any of these elements strongly, and fail to communicate this to the players in advance, are more likely to fall at the first hurdle of player activation and result in a mismatch between GM and player expectations.

 

Pimping your game

 

So how to do it right?  Probably the most important tip for any game facilitator is to be honest about what the core activity of the scenario is.  What are you expecting of the players, and what is expected of their characters?  If you spell this out in advance, through the blurb or description of your game, then I think you are much more likely to find an audience that wants to play the same kind of scenario as you.

 

In my game, EPOCH, I provide 3 simple sentences for each scenario, after the blurb which provides the setting to help fulfil this criteria:

 

"EPOCH is a game of character-driven survival horror. The goal is to deliver a tense and scary experience in a single game session. EPOCH players are active participants in the creation of the game atmosphere and have complete control over the creation and ultimate fate of their characters."

 

However I was also very impressed with the description provided by venerable GM Marcus D. Bone for his Kapcon games here and here, which exemplify the kind of clear communication I'm proposing.

 

On the subject of good game blurbs, I'd also like to highlight the creative efforts of the grandexperiment who has adopted alternative media in lieu of text to create an arguably stronger initial impression with his potential audience.

Introducing New Games

Over on RPG.net there has recently been some talk about just how much GM-driven description is ideal for roleplaying games.  Some contend more description is better, others argue that too much description alienates players.  I think that if you play a campaign with some regular players, as a GM you probably have a good sense of which players enjoy description, and which are itching to interject and get started with their character’s interactions and the secret is finding the right balance to keep everyone happy.  But what about when you run a new game for the first time?  What about when you have a group of strangers at the table, as you might in a convention game?

New games often have an awful lot of information to convey.  Many have both a bespoke setting and a bespoke system.  Players will want to know from the moment they sit down, what sort of dice are needed?  What about character sheets?  Some will be focussed on the mechanics, seeking to draw comparisons with similar game systems, while others more interested in the setting, and the role of the PC’s.  And then there are many players who don’t engage at all from the outset, reserving judgement until later.

So, how to reconcile of the tension between a tremendous information dump, and not spending the first 30-45 minutes of the game talking about playing, rather than actually playing the game?  I personally find that an integrated approach works best, and here are the steps I generally employ as part of a 'pre-flight checklist' before every game.

1. Be well prepared before the game.  Think about how to describe it, and make sure you have all the props (pre-generated characters, handouts etc.) printed and ready to go.  I usually try to have the below list on a single page, with some dot points for each heading to jog my memory about what I’m going to say.
2. Talk about other stuff before the game.  Most important if you are running the game with strangers – it is important to get to know folks a little before the game begins and try and make sure everyone is comfortable  and engaged.  I usually ask about other games people have played, or other events at the ‘con.
3. Start with a purpose statement.  A high level description of what the game is about and what role the character will play.  If the game is about investigation or problem solving, it’s important to emphasise this here, so that the players understand the game dynamic from the outset.
   

   
4. Now it’s time to talk about system.  Unless you are using a system specifically designed for one-shots (Dread, Fiasco, EPOCH etc.) then you might need to consider making a cut-down or ‘lite’ version of the system and using only the mechanics that will actually be needed for the scenario you are running.  I try and customise character sheets where possible so only the information needed for the specific scenario is presented.  If combat is a major element of the game, I usually do a short introduction at this point, then revisit it later, when the characters have sheets in front of them, with an example in mind.  It’s important to keep this system description as short, and to-the-point as possible, and ask if there are any questions after each main point.  It’s likely there will be a recap of skill or combat rules when the scenario calls for this to occur, which should allow for additional reinforcement, and breaking up of the detail.
5. Now the setting, where does the game take place?  If it’s a high-concept setting then I usually try and have examples of other popular media to draw on and then explain the differences.  What role do the characters have in that setting?  Particularly flag the way that NPCs are likely to react to them in the context of the scenario, so everyone is one the same page when the game begins.
6. Break out the pre-generated characters or backgrounds. These should always be as short as possible, ideally no more than a couple of paragraphs.  More than that and it's likely that not all the players will absorb the details.  As an example, check out the way I set out pre-generated characters in Sundown, my Call of Cthulhu scenario of the Old West.  If you want the players to have more time to absorb the information, you might hand out the sheets at point 4 instead, but be aware that players may ignore subsequent description in favour of looking at their sheets.
7. Finally it’s time to begin the game.  I usually introduce each character first, either with a dedicated vignette scene, or by framing their arrival at a destination, and asking the player to add additional details, like a description of their character, then prompt them to embellish this with some additional detail and mannerisms.  Hopefully this way, all of the players understand each other's characters and are ready to interact when the scenario first puts them together.

Horror and Helplessness

A little while ago Lowell Francis, a blogger who has posted extensively on horror roleplaying games, posted that in his view,  "horror thrives on player uncertainty and lack of control”.  I thought about it a little bit at the time, but when he recently repeated the assertion that “most horror operates from threat, entrapment, and some degree of helplessness “ it helped me crystalise my own thinking about the nature of horror in roleplaying, and helplessness.

Helplessness is tricky in roleplaying games because of the question of trust.  Most traditional RPG’s are a shared paradigm where one individual has more narrative powers, and can set the stakes for most conflicts (as GM).  In this relationship, trust is essential.  Implicit in this traditional paradigm is the fact that the GM is not subject to any meaningful checks and balances beyond their social relationship with the players – and, therefore, can structure the story to kill, maim or incapacitate one or all of the characters (or place them in situations where the survival of their characters is unlikely).   But even if the stakes aren’t this severe, the players are effectively being asked to trust that the GM has the best interests of their characters, and their enjoyment of the game as players, at heart.  In a traditional roleplaying games, therefore, the players are largely helpless against the authority of the GM.

Nowhere is this paradigm more evident than in horror roleplaying games.  Many of these systems conflate character helplessness with player helplessness.  They use a mechanical system to establish norms, then ensure that exposure to horror will irrevocable and perpetually erode the characters mental wellbeing within those norms (a la Sanity points in Call of Cthulhu).  In this context the system is continually reinforcing to the player, that their character is helpless against the horror (in the case of Sanity points, they will almost always lose sanity points faster than they can gain them, and each loss is accompanied by periods of system dictated distress helplessness – temporary, permanent and indefinite insanity, often at critical moments in the action).

Other systems use similar mechanics.  In the Gumshoe system the characters spend from a wide pool of perpetually diminishing resources to investigate, encounter and attempt to survive their brushes with the horror.  In Dread, each pull of the tower brings the characters closer to their doom.  In Geiger Counter the horror increases its dice pool every test.

But, in my view, most horror isn’t actually about helplessness. 

Horror is about the intersection between character and something terrible (the source of the horror).  The essence of horror is not helplessness, but rather the human struggle against the macabre and inhuman.  The place where a protagonist tries to find the strength to struggle against forces that would otherwise eviscerate their physical or mental wellbeing.  Lovecraft’s Robert Olmstead escaped Innsmouth, Armitage dispelled the Dunwich Horror and Dyer returned from the Mountains of Madness intent on warning others.  Ripley ultimately defeats the Alien, Ben survives the horde during the Night of the Living Dead, MacReady bests the Thing and the Freeling family flee beyond the reach of the Poltergeist.

So, if you accept that horror is about the struggle, rather than helplessness, what does this mean for horror roleplaying games?

To reflect the way these stories play out, the GM should be continually exploring the impact of the horror on the characters.  The horror should have no independent motive or agenda – rather it exists entirely through the prism of the characters experiences.  That’s not to say all the characters must survive, or that there isn’t a broader story – but the experience of the characters should be the focus of the game.

But that’s not how many games play out.  This blog is called Total Party Kill because of precisely this tension.  The idea that GM’s sometimes violate the relationship trust – exploit the helplessness of the characters in their games.  Indeed many systems and scenarios are explicitly designed to create this experience, or will inevitably result in this outcome without modification.

Some players may accept, or even enjoy the helpless downward spiral of their characters.  Some may even embrace it – but unless you’ve had a conversation with your players about exactly how they enjoy interacting with the horror, its safest to assume that some players are looking to try and triumph against the horror like so many protagonists in horror movies and literature.

For these reasons, when I designed a horror roleplaying game, I put that conversation front and centre.  I also ensured that there would almost always be survivors of the scenario, just as there would be victims, and that the decision about which character survived, and which did not was an artefact of highly structured collective decision making, rather than putting the load on one individual – thus, the players are not helpless in a story that is all about their characters.  I designed a game that I believe exemplifies the struggle that I believe is central to horror.

Surviving EPOCH

Character survival is the aim of the game in EPOCH.  The scenario will remorselessly eliminate characters, so the pressure is on to make your character one of those that will survive the horror right through until the end scenes.  While is true that EPOCH is guaranteed to eliminate characters, it is equally true that there are guaranteed to be survivors so long as there is a basic level of engagement with the scenario.  So, how to make it through to the end? 

Because eliminations are the result of collective decision making, there is no guaranteed method, and every group will be different – but here are some methods I’ve observed as a GM that are often the hallmark of characters that go full distance:

1. Start with an interesting backstory 
Okay, this sounds like unhelpful advice because, of course, you are going to create an interesting setup for your character, but how can you get others to judge this as interesting enough to vote for your character?  Use the opening scene and consider some of the following:

• Introduce conflict, things aren’t going great for the character, be it relationship, career or otherwise.  You don’t need the detail yet, just establish that the character is feeling some pressure because of competing agenda.
•  Hint at something dark or secret.  You don’t necessarily need a lot of detail, but hopefully you might have an idea for a secret that you could hint at in the opening scene which you can develop later – or even ignore completely, but if you do some basic groundwork now you are likely to look clever later as you weave things together.
•  Embrace the conflict.  In the opening scene you should get an opportunity to show the audience how your character responds to some minor conflict or challenge.  Milk this camera time for all it’s worth and try and avoid ambivalent or run-of-the-mill responses.

2. Use the flashback for maximum impact.
As the scenario develops you will receive flashback cards – these represent a golden opportunity to have some dedicated camera time to develop your characters backstory.  I have observed that the difference between people who have played EPOCH before, and those who are playing for the first time, is the use of flashbacks.  Veterans understand that a well crafted, clever flashback is a major factor in deciding the winner of a ballot, and use them accordingly.  When using flashbacks: 

• Clearly establish the scene and time as it relates to current events as while it may be clear to you, the rest of the audience may be confused without this explicit framing.
• Use it to increase audience empathy, or intrigue about your character – ideally revealing more about the secret you have established, or a major motivation for your character.
• Again, be as clear as possible when framing this scene to avoid confusion.  Everyone needs to understand what the scene has revealed, and how it relates to the character in order for the flashback to increase your chances of survival.
• As the game goes on, play flashbacks sooner, and the time between challenge rounds is likely to diminish and you don’t want to miss an opportunity for that spotlight time.

3. Play your Hero/Zero card for maximum effect. 
The Hero/Zero card allows you to have an important and direct impact on another character.  If you do this in an interesting enough way, it may secure you some enhanced interest value.  This is particularly true if you Zero another character.  If you Hero another character, your chances of survival may be increased by a reciprocal act of heroism, but this is only likely to happen if you back it up with some bonding during the next tension phase.  Be sure to milk this for as much as you can to try and secure some additional support.

4. Play up your injuries or trauma. 
Be sure to emphasise the impact of the outcome card you played during the previous challenge round.  The more you emphasise the wounds, the more the other players are visualising the character, and the greater chance you have of making an impression in their minds when they vote. 


5. Add a twist 
Some of the most successful characters add a twist half way though the game.  Often this is something completely out of left-field.  A sudden agenda, secret or history which makes their character undeniably interesting.  The complication card deck is designed to offer a suggestion for this twist, if you are having trouble thinking of something (and it can be hard, once you have a clear idea about a character).  While a complication card often, at first, seems impossible to weave into your characters story – if you think about it laterally there is almost always a way to make it work.  This should instantly give you some new material for a flashback and enhance the interest level in your character.

Leaving Nothing To Chance

As I prepare for Kapcon this year, I’ve noticed something different.  No dice.  That is to say, for the first time I can remember, none of the games I’m running use dice of any kind.  Thinking about the absence of this gaming staple, led me to reflect a little on the role of chance in a ‘con scenario.

Chance features in two main ways in old-school convention games.  The first is through investigation, with the GM offering information to characters via a successful skill roll – everything from “can I track the orcs through the forest?” to “can I tell if he’s lying?”

The problem with employing chance to investigation in a convention game is that the GM almost always wants the players to get the information they are seeking.  In 3-4 hours there is precious little time for false leads, or stonewalling.  It kills time, frustrates the players, and, at worst alienates them from the scenario.  

Of course, there are ways around this.  One is to skew character skills so they are very likely to succeed in critical areas – although this begs the inevitable question of, what happens if they should fail against the odds?  Another is to frame it differently, by changing the question from a binary information/no-information response, entirely dependent on luck, to providing degrees of success or levelling a time cost or similar for failure depending on the roll.  This tends to work best when the stakes are explained before the dice are rolled, and often involves a degree of impovisation by the GM.

The GM can also make the dice roll a fiction, and simple provide the information either way, which, if the players catch on, may lead to the perception that the system is little more than a camouflage for GM fiat.   

The second manifestation is in combat or action scenes.  These raise the stakes, as the result of a failed roll is more likely to be transparent to the players.  Theoretically a character may be killed, or suffer a catastrophic injury through a series of rolls.  As few GM’s are willing to allow characters to be eliminated early during a scenario, this often leads to similar responses to those I outlined previously.

In addition, the GM screen provides a way for the GM to disguise, or change results ‘in the interests of the story’.  In addition to potentially eroding player trust, this also has the disadvantage of camouflaging the role of luck in the game, which can really add to the flow of a game, and is often a leading source of stories told by players about the game afterwards.

Some games, like the Gumshoe system, have tried to separate these areas, guaranteeing players the clues in the investigative phase of the game while keeping an element of chance in action or combat.  Other, more modern games encourage more negotiation or narration from the players, to get at the essence of what lies behind a roll, and bring the outcome back to a broader context of characters and story.

I’ve used pretty much every technique I’ve described at one point or other over the years, including trying Gumshoe to split out the uncertainty of investigation.  This Kapcon I’m running almost exclusively EPOCH scenarios, where the players collectively make all the key choices.  Investigation is optional and as GM I have considerably less say on which characters are eliminated, and when, then any of the players due to the role of the Hero/Zero cards.  My only special power comes in breaking any potential ties in an audience ballot.  And I don’t think I’d have it any other way.  Chance can add a lot of spice to a convention game, but like any seasoning too much or too little has the potential to spoil the overall effect.

Road Trip

I just released an all-new free scenario for EPOCH on DriveThruRPG and RPGNow.  Road Trip is my fourth scenario for EPOCH, and is my take on a fairly classic horror movie sub-genre.  Like all the scenarios to date I tried to make it an inclusive framework for the stories of the characters, that is; flexible enough to match their decisions and provide a context of escalating stress and tension without being overly prescriptive, while also having enough story and depth for the characters to explore if they want (within a single session).

My thanks to Doug for the fantastic art, Andrew Smith for the editing work, and all the playtesters for providing such a memorable playtest.

On a more pragmatic note, 4 scenarios written by me seems like it might be a lot.  I have lots of ideas for other scenarios, and I’d like to see EPOCH scenarios branch out to other settings (certainly a sci-fi and World War 1 or 2 setting at least) but I’d like to get some sense that the scenarios are of some value, and being used by others.  I’d also like to broaden the gene pool a bit and have some other folks write scenarios.