Out Of The Box

And now for a few more words on ‘con scenarios. It used to be that it was very difficult to find the kind of published scenario that I would run at a roleplaying convention. Principally this was because of my requirements:

• The scenario must be wholly based in the ‘real’ world or play on tropes and settings that are so clearly established in film or fiction that my audience will have NO issues adjusting regardless of their prior knowledge.
• The scenario must feature pre-generated characters with enough ‘issues’ and interpersonal relationships that they can adequately fill down-time and lulls between actions. Issues must be sufficiently dramatic that characters can demonstrate their ‘roleplaying abilities’ getting to grips with them.
• The scenario must contain a mix of build-up scenes and action scenes of sufficient intensity and length that they fit within a 3 hour time constraint, regardless of player actions.
• The scenario must contain the prospect for success and failure, clearly established, in a way that can be examined and analysed by players in the wrap-up.
• The scenario must use a system which can be learnt by ANYONE in less than 5 minutes, or be able to be abridged to this level.

Nowadays I’d probably expect more from a scenario, but for the last decade or so, I struggled to find published scenarios that fit this description without significant editing. So, mostly I invented my own and borrowed elements from here and there. Sometimes I’d use a scene from a good adventure, othertimes most of the adventure, but I’d have to make the pre-generated characters, which was a whole lot of work in itself.

I generally steered way from investigation based scenarios, as these could easily lead to players not finding the clue in the available time, taking up a false lead, or ultimately, to me having to fudge providing the clues.

However, I’ve noticed in recent years that there are not just a few, but many, published scenarios, which would now meet my old criteria. Notably “My Little Sister Wants You To Suffer” from Cthulhu Britannica, which I’ve now run 7 times, and which is IMHO probably one of the best ‘con scenarios out there. There are others, like Terrors From Beyond, or the Curse of the Yellow Sign series by John Wick. In addition the Gumshoe system has now put investigation scenarios back on the table for me in this format. And there are many more…

I’m not saying that everyone should run a published scenario at a 'con; just that I’m very glad that the market now seems to be delivering works which are better suited to the sorts of ‘con games that I, for one, like to run and play in.

What do we get?

This post has been a while coming. Not because it’s especially profound, but because writing jobs for the Kapcon 20 LARP have been eating my time (in a good way).

Today’s subject is campaigns. It’s been something I’ve been musing for a while now – the difference between the one-off or short run games versus the longer term campaign. Part of what made me want to consider this was this topic on the Canberra Roleplaying Meet-Up boards. Partially it was because my long-running D&D campaign GM said to me the other day that his entire aim in running a campaign; all he wanted – was to create enough mystery and interest in his players that they came back for more. Particular session-to-session enjoyment was not the driving consideration. Partially it was this very flattering post by Mash where I’m referred to as ‘the GMing Stig’ which is exactly the kind of thing that’ll make me entirely insufferable. And finally, it was because I’ve really been enjoying my Kingsport Call of Cthulhu campaign, which is now going on one year old.

So, my question out of this jumble of thoughts is; what do we, the GM’s want to get out of a campaign?

I think we can all agree that campaigns are a huge investment of time and energy, and that like all relationships they have their ups and downs. Sometimes the downs are so severe that we just want to quit. In the WFRP campaign that Mash recollects with such kindness, I suspended the game for almost a month and came very close to calling it off. Why? Because the game that I wanted to run wasn't the game that the players wanted to play. They didn’t want to have their characters snared by the (often fairly woeful) plot hooks set up by the Paths of the Damned campaign. They wanted to adventure in the Old World, and they wanted the story to come to them. If they were to investigate leads, they wanted some compelling reasons – in character – to do so. I had never had players refuse to investigate a plot before, and I felt that the rug had been pulled out from under me.

Ultimately I decided that my WFRP players were right, and I was wrong. The story should come to them. They should have compelling reasons to act, and if this wasn't within the scope of the scenario then it was down to me to create and introduce these elements. This provided me with ample opportunity to level in-game consequences and trials to really develop the character beyond the mere scope of the scenario. When I did that, I found that the more we learned about these characters, the more complex and real they were, the richer they became, and the more meaningful the action was when it came.

It may sound straightforward, but it was a watershed moment for me. And it works well in every setting I’ve tried it. I used the same technique to run an 18 month Mutants and Masterminds campaign in Canberra, and it’s the same technique I’m using for my Kingsport Tales campaign. One year on in Kingsport we know that Professor Bishop is so timid that he’d rather sleep outside on a park bench, than risk a confrontation with his landlady for coming home after hours. We know that Dr. Holden will allow himself be set up on dates with women in which he has no interest, to keep up appearances and not excite the Kingsport grapevine. We know that Karl the fisherman is so haunted by his escape from Innsmouth that he sold his fishing boat and lives in a filthy squat. And we know a whole lot more besides…

So, back to the question – what do we GM’s want to get out of a campaign? I’m not sure I’m satisfied with just eliciting a sense of mystery and trying to lure the players back to find out more. I’m not sure that simply allowing players to explore my game-world, and marvel at it’s complexity is enough either. I’m not even sure that telling stories, solving mysteries and completing scenarios cuts it any more either. I want more*. I want to actually share a story with my players. I want them to own it, and I’m willing to let them shape events and have enough control to do that justice, because I know the story will be so much stronger, so much richer, if we have collaborated to tell compelling tales about characters we all care about.

*Intended more as a general statement of intent, or manifesto, rather than a literal plea for more.

Fright Night IV - Part 2

Fright Night playtests and gaming continued:

(Spoiler Warning) Mash ran The Hand That Feeds, a western game with supernatural elements, featuring a cast of werewolves and demons. I was cast as Clem, a ruthless bandit, accompanied by my do-gooder brother played by Paul in the playtest as a Puritan. I was taken aback when the first encounter of the game revealed the town to be unbelievably wholesome (or so it appeared) and faced the hard choice of continuing to hunt the demon, or just try and sucker folks out of as much money as possible. Mash’s character questionnaire, complete with a snip and swap section was neat, although I think that the ambition had outpaced the mechanics as several players seemed confused by what they had received at the end (I had no such problem). I totally support the idea, and have a similar thing envisaged for EPOCH, but I’m not convinced I want to start the game with the players filling in paperwork.

Given the fairly moral nature of our party I was expecting to cause some waves by playing Clem as a real bandit, so to not ruffle too many feathers I went out of my way to try and have him be less ruthless than he might have been (his interrogation of hapless townsfolk was positively genteel by Hollywood western standards). Nevertheless I fell afoul of the party morals after Clem shot a woman (in the leg) who had previously been possessed by the demon. No one would listen to Clem’s assertions she was still possessed (the players had read between the lines of the GM’s description) so I was immensely satisfied when Clem turned out to be right, at which point Clem went his own way. Predictably the other character’s strategy of trying to talk people into doing what they wanted fell through and Clem did the inevitable and used the rather suspect dynamite listed on his character sheet, which regrettably killed most of the party. The game ended with a great final scene with Clem and a small child he had ‘rescued’ leaving the decimated town accompanied by Clem’s brother who was (unknown to us) now possessed by the demon.

It was a fun game, but I could see that Mash was really wanting to explore some dark themes, and to do so with characters who were deeply conflicted. An ambitious undertaking, but potentially a very rewarding exercise if you can pull it off. Again most of the suggestions made were around some of the details, rather than anything central to the plot or ideas.

(Spoiler Warning) In round two of Fright Night I played in Scott’s LARP All Saints’ Eve. I had been cast as Kurt Carter, a wealthy control freak who had recently lost his wife to cancer, and whose daughter had been abducted not long before. On top of that he had brought a gun to a Halloween party. My take was that Kurt was a man on the edge, a tragic figure who sees his life falling apart before his eyes, but is too weak and selfish to do anything to really stop it, and hides his pain and helplessness behind an obsessive need for order and coldness toward the world. Ants played Kurt’s son Jeremy, an 11 year old pyromancer who obeyed his father while under scrutiny but rebelled as soon as he was away from him. Jenni played his friend-from-the-streets, Arial, who Kurt didn't approve of. Clearly Kurt was going to be put into a tough emotional position, and I suspected that he would be expected to lead the action at some point.

The party started badly for Kurt, as we were trapped in a room without external communication. The control-freak was suddenly deprived of control. The unfortunate target of Kurt’s displeasure was Mandy the maid (played by Donna) who really took the brunt of Kurt’s self loathing passive aggression through the night. Largely this was compounded by her raising the matter of Kurt’s missing daughter early on while touching Jeremy. As it turned out, she was a bad egg, although Kurt was acting out of prejudice rather than any serious evidence.

Mandy wasn’t the only one to feel Kurt’s cold wrath, and Jeremy and Arial got a fair bit, with Kurt eventually alienating his son to the point he was ready to run away. Only the elder Cunningham (played by Jackie) really bothered to try and see through Kurt’s quiet aggression, and ultimately she was the only one who stood up to him, and forced him to back down (despite others having the ability to kill him with various powers).

The game ended rapidly after a really slow build up. Kurt, goaded by ghosts, convinced Jeremy to pretend he was having a fit as a distraction, so that he could question Mandy at gunpoint away from the others. From there, things accelerated until there was the discovery of the body of Kurt’s daughter (really creepy) and a knife point stand off as Kurt confronted Mandy, Jeremy was threatened and Arial moved to defend him. Finally Will, played by Glenn saved the day, and freed us.

It was a tough, draining and fairly unpleasant experience being Kurt. Toward the end I had to disengage somewhat, because I just didn’t want to go too far into Kurt’s grief. As we wrapped up I felt pretty bad about how mean I had been to the others, but I did find it to be a memorable and compelling outing.

Fright Night IV - Part 1

Last weekend was Fright Night IV, a one night, two-round, horror roleplaying ‘con. I’ve previously posted about the origins of Fright Night. The fourth installment caused me a little stress, with some switching and changing of games early on, and then 3 last minute player absences. Despite these small problems, the ‘con overall seemed to run smoothly, with all games being run to time.

I was fortunate this year to play in a total of 4 Fright Night games, 3 in playtest, and one on the night itself. I’ll post some brief thoughts on these below, but please heed the SPOILER WARNING for Splinter of Corruption, Did you hear the one..?, The Hand that Feeds and All Saints’ Eve.

(Spoiler Warning) Splinter of Corruption was run by Doug, who adapted an existing Dark Heresy introductory scenario into something more to his tastes. At its core this was a really solid scenario, a straight sci-fi horror exploration and investigation which reminded me a lot of Sophie’s ‘Still to Come’ from Kapcon 19. The characters added a nice 40k element, particularly the explosive collars and floating electronic skull servitors. I found it a fun outing, which enthused me for the sci-fi horror genre, and ultimately there were only some superficial suggestions made along the lines of tidying the investigation track and final sequence, and developing some time-keeping protocols. Doug’s use of miniatures really added a nice, unique element to the game, but unfortunately this was not included in the final run due to time constraints.

(Spoiler Warning) Did you hear the one..? was Sophie’s latest horror offering. Again it presented a straightforward horror setup – people gathering to spend the night in a haunted house. I was given the role of ‘believer’ and created Gill, a paranormal obsessed tech-head with a deficit of social skills who I loosely based on Milton Waddams from Office Space. Glenn played my nemesis, the slightly less socially awkward skeptic, and I spent a good long time sniping with him. Due to the semi-LARP nature of the game it was very visceral, and more than a little challenging for me. I think it worked really well, and the way it ran and concluded was very neat and well executed. Suggestions made afterwards turned it from a good game into a really great game in my view, as notes were replaced by a whispering GM and a co-GM was added to play the critical NPC. In my view this game has most strongly achieved the aim of a genuinely scary horror game in a ‘con setting, and as such is worthy of considerable kudos.

To be continued...

Ante-Up

I’ve been busy playing a good number of games of late. Particularly playtesting Fright Night scenarios (look here for more detailed thoughts after the ‘con this weekend). In addition, I’ve been having fun playing some rock-n-roll D&D and a little Delta Green.

The latter has reemphasized to me the importance of securing player buy-in for a game. The problem with Delta Green, and many other Cthulhu outings is that it requires the characters to engage with the scenario set-up in a way that is, perhaps, unrealistic for their characters (if Fox Mulder’s sister had not been abducted by aliens, would he really have investigated X-Files with a passion?). So, if the characters are played as real people, without agenda or other emotional baggage, why would they risk their lives and careers for obscure and difficult investigations into the strange and paranormal? Even seeing something unusual or frightening seems an improbable spur to such irrational behavior. If player realism is shattered, the consequences for a game can be profound.

The short answer is that the GM must get the players on board before the game. Explain and discuss the nature of the game he or she wants to run, seek input and advice, and then work with the players to integrate their characters into the plot in a way that will allow them to engage with it in a consistent and meaningful way.

It’s easy to say, but its much harder to actually implement, especially when there are so many other things that need to be prepared, read and considered to run a game. I loose track of the Cthulhu scenarios I’ve read that simply assume the players will dutifully follow the plot, irrespective of dangers and consequences for their characters, and while I can understand how this can happen – writing a detailed and authentic scenario with a unique flavor is very demanding – there really ought to be more attention paid to developing skills and introducing techniques to bridge this difficult chasm.

Epic Finale

Tonight we concluded the Raid on Innsmouth. 18 different scenes over 4 epic sessions, featuring 36 different characters; 1 Coastguard Cutter, 2 Patrol Boats, 1 Submarine, a truck with a snow-plough and a cast of Marines, Coast-Guardsmen, Submariners, Treasury Agents, mobsters and regular investigators. It was a lot of work to prepare, and even more to deliver. Some of the epic scenes taxed my descriptive skills pretty heavily, and the sheer level of violence was like nothing I’ve run in Cthulhu, outside Masks of Nyarlathotep. Overall it was a lot of fun; completely different to the regular Kingsport game, and a hard thing to top, but at the very least, I think I did the scenario justice. The next thing to consider will be running a published campaign, although I’ll need to be careful to pick something that caters to both the slow atmospheric burn that some of my players prefer, and some bursts of frantic action that others enjoy.

On Spetember 9 I provided a brief players perspective review of 'Burning Stars' from Terrors From Beyond where I said "I am assured that all will be revealed in the conclusion, so reserve final judgement for now." Well, in fairness this scenario delivered a humdinger of a twist. Something so clever I've never seen it done before in a roleplaying game which takes my opinion of this scenario from 2/5 to 4.5/5. Despite this awesomeness, there were some elements which let down the playability of the scenario and it could do with a fair bit of tuning to really deliver on its awesome twist. Still, great stuff!

One Night as a Supervillain - Part 2

The night had begun well. I delivered my Best-Man speech, playing up on the idea that Thunderbird was a womanizer who hadn’t liked Kelly (the bride) from the beginning. I followed two heart-warming speeches from the groom and maid of honour, and could tell I had struck the right note when, as I sat down, there was a dejected, gloomy atmosphere amongst the wedding party. Then Jack (aka Thunderbird) went mingling with the guests, and to my delight made a number of jokes about how he could have sealed up the supposed victims of his organ harvesting with his ‘lazer gaze’.

Kelly, meanwhile, was sitting dejectedly on the stair with the remaining bridal party. Now I asked the ‘wait staff’ to deliver my note and folder to ‘Shadow’. I was testing Shadow to see if she was still capable of dark deeds, and the note instructed her to deliver the attached folder to the bride. The folder contained embarrassing pictures of the groom at a strip club, drunk and singing from the stag night (not the most incriminating - but it was what I had to work with, and I thought it might just tip the balance on her unhappiness with him). Shadow (aka Gwen) did so, and I was pleased.

Next my note was delivered to Kara, the cyborg who had defended Thunderbird from my malicious tabloid accusations, thus earning her a place in my plans. I sent her a note (supposedly from one of the magicians present) telling her that she had a virus in her system which would cause her to kill everyone present unless she delivered $5 million to the magician. To my delight she did, although I believe that the magician didn’t take the money. I had also sent a love note, supposedly from Kara, to one of the police detectives professing a desire to ‘interface’. This turned out to have broader ramifications than I had anticipated.

About this time Loki talked me (and Puck) into separating the wolf spirit from the superhero Fenris under the guise of a group wedding photo. I helped out, as it seemed likely to spread some mischief, and then made myself scarce as I didn’t want to be incriminated in the subsequent aftermath (there was quite a bit, and I did use this opportunity to voice my suspicions about ‘Lew’ the building manager aka Loki effectively double-crossing him).

I made sure to check in with Detective Bud Stone at regular intervals, to amplify the increasingly bizarre threats to the party (and world) and discuss the nature of Chaos Gods. Good times.

Now I made good on another of my objectives and spoke with ‘Shadow’ aka Gwen revealing that I was actually Coyote. Jackie had sent me some very cool fiction around how conflicted Gwen was before the game, before she knew my identity. Gwen had apparently just been dumped, and I tried to seize the moment to remind her how much fun being bad could be… It was the first of several encounters, where I tried, but ultimately failed, to talk her into coming to the dark side – but to be fair, it’s pretty hard to compete with an Angel cop.

About this time Loki told me that we had unwittingly brought about Ragnarok, by our releasing the wolf spirit. I told him that as it was his plan to cut the spirit free, it was down to him to fix things, and to my surprise, and his credit – he actually did, even though it alerted the party-goers to his identity and ultimately brought about his demise. At one time it seemed that we might need a willing human sacrifice to save the day, so I tried very hard to hint that only a true hero aka Thunderbird might be willing to make the supreme sacrifice, but alas he wasn’t biting and apparently another method was found. I did manage to arrange some media mischief, after I convinced Thunderbird to save some folks caught up in the wake of the devouring wolf.

The party was getting pretty wild now, with magical rituals galore, and I was getting nervous that I’d be rumbled soon, so I triggered my pièce de résistance, an arrest warrant for the groom’s father, Harry. I had taken pains to use a different envelope and format to the other letters, in case someone got wise to the sender, and hoped that Harry would be lead out in handcuffs, much to the distress of the groom. Unfortunately all the parties were very mature, and no immediate arrest was made. I even alerted to bridal party, lest they miss it, but alas it was not until the end of the night that this scene was played out, after Coyote had left.

Now things were getting downright hostile at the party. Puck was destroyed, and Loki fled, to return for a brief showdown – the ‘omnipotent’ gods were going down like flies. Gwen urged me to leave, and given that the newly reincarnated Galahad and Merlin were actively searching for me, not to mention her Angel cop boyfriend, Coyote did just that, leaving Justin Mallone with a killer hangover and no memory of what had happened.

In review; it was a brilliant game and great fun. Jenni and Paul did a fantastic job, especially as I learn about the other plots that were taking place. I am a little disappointed that I failed in my primary goal of messing with Thunderbird, as his own account seems to indicate that a love triangle caused him much more grief than all my efforts combined. I’m also torn as to whether I should have revealed myself, and faced Thunderbird down, forcing him to destroy Justin. But leaving the party when I did, just felt right for the Coyote.