Writing effective setting in adventures (part three)

As I conclude this series on setting, I’ll next cover the  often-misunderstood tactic of the use of nature in setting.

Seasons

The time of year may be incidental to your adventure, but even so, you may be able to use it to dramatic effect.  First you should consider the role of the seasons. Do they, in some way, link to the story? Is there a birth or death for example? Is a character in the autumn of they years?

Secondly, you can use atypical weather to denote something is either very good – or very wrong.

A sunny day in the middle of winter spells optimism.

A downpour in the height of summer casts an inevitable gloom.

The weather can be the portent of something to happen (or reflect what is happening).

You don’t need to handle the link too heavy-handed. The best links are natural and appear almost incidental.

The players will make the link subconsciously and that is in your favour.

Getting it right

Unless you know specific aspects of weather intimately, don’t guess at them. Do your research.

Unless you’ve experienced a hurricane or a blizzard, you don’t really know what it’s like.

It’s a bit like people who tell you they’ve got the flu.

They have a cold.

People who have ever truly had the flu know the difference. And it annoys them when people describe their sniffle as the flu.

Similarly, poorly described settings that involve snow will frustrate people who live in areas that get a lot of snowfall.

As will anyone who reads an attempt to get the weather right by guesswork.

Weather as an event

If the first two reasons for using nature and the weather as to either provide a backdrop or to act an a metaphor, the third option is arguably more important.

Sometimes the weather is either a major aspect of the adventure – the impending arrival of a tornado or the effects of an earthquake – or it is a factor in the story.

The blizzard in Stephen King’s ‘The Shining’ is a prime example here as it keeps the characters isolated.

How do you use mood in setting?

From time to time the setting doesn’t add anything to the story in itself. You may think that adding any words to the setting gets in the way.

At this point, it is worth considering if the story has enough ‘mood’ to carry the tale, or if the appropriate setting can add to the mood.

It could be as simple as the darkness of night, the sound of distant thunder or the desolation of the wilderness.

An often-overlooked aspect of setting is the role that culture plays

You can’t have one…

Just like a horse and carriage, you can’t have setting without a nod to culture.

The culture doesn’t change the setting specifically – but it does dictate how the characters see and interact with the setting.

And it affects the way the players view the NPCs.

A boardroom full of men and women can be the setting.

As you read that sentence, you may interpret nothing strange.

If the story was set in the 1920s, the culture of the era dictates that either the women were visitors, or in subservient roles, or this was not a typical boardroom.

The setting hasn’t changed, but our interpretation of it has because of the prevailing culture.

Moreover, we will change our view of the characters in the room as a result.

What’s the best way to avoid clichés?

The boring standards

‘It was a dark and gloomy night.’

I’m sure it was, but a players deserve better than this.

It’s a phrase that sounds so bored it makes the player think the GM can’t be bothered. And if the GM can’t be bothered, why should the players?

The confused metaphor

‘It was a virgin field, pregnant with possibilities.’

My English teacher taught me that example, almost thirty years ago.

This isn’t just confused; it’s a mixed metaphor. Be aware that your description has to make sense.

‘The stench of body odour overwhelms you. It reminds you of…’

Unless it’s really important, does it matter what it reminds the players of? They got the idea already – body odour.

It’s unpleasant. It stinks.

The particular fragrance of body odour isn’t particularly necessary. Unless of course it is necessary. Otherwise, credit the players with some imagination.

Having said that, you could introduce the smell before we know it is body odour. That would be valid.

The overly obscure metaphor

Some GMs are aware of the boring options and are clever enough not to confuse the player, but they want to be inventive.

‘He stood on the deck of the ship like a goalkeeper waiting for a free-kick to be taken.’

Ten out of ten for originality, but zero out of ten for comprehension. What on earth does it mean?

Trying too hard to make the metaphor original also makes it unintelligible.  And in a fantasy setting, who’s heard of football?

Point of view and characters

What do the characters know?

The GM is in the head of the characters, and so they must see the setting through the same eyes.

Would the PC urban doctor know every type of tree in the woods? Would he know an antique clock from a reproduction?

Be aware of how you introduce the setting and which descriptions you use to allow the player to see the scenery.

You shouldn’t short-change the PCs to keep the description honest, but you have to be descriptive too.  If they don’t know the names of the trees, describe their colours, their shapes, their leaves etc.

By the same token, the PC doctor wouldn’t pay much attention to the trappings of an operating theatre.

Although a novice PC might wonder at the machinery or instruments, the doctor’s interest would be in the patient or the type of operation about to be performed.

What do your characters feel?

We often perceive setting based upon our own preconceptions and experiences. One man’s idyllic deserted beach is another man’s desolate wasteland.

As noted previously, the setting hasn’t changed – but the description has.

It’s also worth noting that our emotional state will affect how we view our surroundings.

Being nothing more complicated than happy will make us more positively disposed to our setting. It also affects what we notice.

The dreaded infodump – the pre-game literature

Often GMs will provide players with a small library prior to the game starting.  They call it ‘essential background reading.’

Worse still, they complain when the player’s don’t read it.  If you are one of those GMs, consider this:

If you are GMing an adventure for first level characters, how much would they really know of the world beyond the village they live in?  That comes as they progress.  They learn about the politics of the court, the common religions and the geography of the world as they interact with new people.

Writing effective setting in adventures (part two)

What’s the best way to avoid too much setting?

The bare minimum

Stephen King is a writer that likes the idea of giving the reader the bare minimum in terms of description.

He feels that too much and you force the reader to see your characters and settings in your way.

He wants the reader to own the description – thus making the story specific to them.

The key here is, ‘the bare minimum.’  Stephen King is a master at knowing what is too much and what is too little. If you are not as blessed as Mr. King, what do you do?

Trial and error

Until you become an expert, you will have to follow the trusted steps of trial and error.

The rule mentioned before of one line per new scene is a good starting point.

The more important a place is, the more you describe – but remember, you don’t have to reveal it all at once. Revisits can be used to flesh out more and more.

More than a few lines to describe the setting and you’d better have a good reason for it.

Know your players. Different players will have different tastes – if they love long descriptions, give it to them.

Using the right words

If you have a habit of overstating the scenery, work on the words you use. The later reference to senses is particularly useful here.

Use language that doesn’t just describe in a flat way. Use alliteration and very specific descriptors to sharpen your description.

A word like ‘gloomy’ suggests both the state of the weather and of the mood. The better your vocabulary, the better your settings will work.

How do you ensure you engage your player’s senses?

The basic five

The five senses are not anything mystical. They are on the other hand, extremely powerful when it comes to creating a setting.

Little else sparks the imagination like an appropriately used sense.

There is, as ever, a balancing act.  If the sense used is too obscure, you won’t engage the players – and they’ll spend so much time trying to work out what you meant that they’d miss the next few words.

On the other hand, making it too hackneyed doesn’t really add any value. Try to avoid the tried and tested if you can. Be original without being alien.

The final point is to ensure you use all of the senses.

GMs will typically spend 99% of the time talking about what characters can see and only use the other 1% when the input is exceptional – a loud noise or a pungent smell.

In real life the mix of sensory perception is never this heavily weighted in favour of sight. Why should your adventure be any different?

The emotions

Emotions aren’t senses of course, but they are a powerful link to getting a player to understand the setting very quickly. If you can combine senses and emotion you will really hook the player quickly – and that’s why I have linked them here.

Describing an inanimate object by using an emotion on the face of it seems odd, but it can convey in a couple of words what could take a five minutes to explain.

If your characters come to a ‘lonely house’ or enter a ‘confused room’ then you have started to evoke multiple images in the players’ mind – and only a small amount more description will enable the players to fully understand what you mean.

Understanding the levels of setting

Metaphors etc.

The subtlest way to describe is to say how the setting resembles something the players know well (or the other way around).  Each serves it’s own purpose but writers regularly confuse their uses.

a. Metaphors

This is an implication. There is no statement that there is a link; we simply use the resemblance.

‘She walked catlike across the roof of the villa.’

Nobody expects the character to have fur and a tail. If ‘she’ were a cat, we would say she simply walked – cats, by definition, walk catlike.

This one word suggests she walks assuredly, softly, secretively and no doubt evokes the image of a cat burglar. The players will probably already suspect that she is up to no good.

b. Similes

Here we add the prefix ‘like’ or ‘as’ and therefore by definition create more of a signpost to the link.

‘She walked across the villa’s roof like a cat.’

The same result but a different and less subtle route.

c. Analogies

This is the least subtle option as we tell the player that something was like something else and include a comparison.

‘Her journey across the roof of the villa was like a cat stalking its next meal as she made every effort to make no sound and reacted instinctively to every small movement around her.’

d. Allusions

Here you make reference to someone or something famous.

‘Felicity the burglar. The wonderful, wonderful burglar.’

I chose this on purpose – and if you didn’t understand it, I’ve proved my point.

If you’ve never seen or heard of Felix the Cat, the allusion is wasted. Worse still, the players would wonder what on earth the words mean. If they do get it, they feel pleased with themselves.

(If you still don’t get it, ask someone older than you to sing the ‘Felix the Cat’ song (or YouTube it).  Then you’ll get it).

Allusions are dangerous ground.

e. Personification

This is a variation, where an inanimate object (or sometimes flora or fauna) is given a human trait.

‘The fog hugged her body as she sat on the villa’s roof.’

Next time out I’ll talk about using nature in setting.

Writing effective setting in adventures (part one)

One thing that most writers (adventure or otherwise) find challenging about setting is understanding how it gives the story context

Overlooking the setting

Too many GMs spend a lot of time on plot and ensure they have great characters and expect to produce a fantastic adventure.  Setting is the most often overlooked aspect of adventure writing that is relatively easily teachable.

Certain parts of writing are difficult to impart – style and pace are the two that immediately spring to mind – but like plotting or creating believable characters, crafting great settings is something that can be learned.

Having said all of that, good setting does not mean a good adventure but it’s fair to say that bad setting can equal a bad adventure.

Stories in a vacuum

The adventure doesn’t just need things to happen – it needs somewhere for them to happen. Setting doesn’t just give the players a place to see things unfold, great setting adds to the experience.

It creates the mood and can draw the player into the story in a way that no other facet can.

Setting isn’t world building, but it’s a small step towards creating a believable world in which your characters and plot live.

Setting is not, however, just the broad brush-strokes of the world – it’s not just the background.

The link to great characters

We are all influenced by where we grew up, where we went to school, where we live.

The creation of accurate settings reflects who your characters are, where they came from and sometimes even where they are going.

Your characters may be a reflection of their environment. Or the setting may give the players an insight as to why their characters are developing the way they are.

Do your characters conform to their setting, or are they rebelling?

What are the aspects of setting?

Do you need to include scenery?

Scenery is a challenge for the fledgling adventure writer. Too much scenery and the players will feel like they’ve stumbled into a book of photographs.

Very pretty but it doesn’t go anywhere.

Yet too little and there is no context for the story.

Scenery has its place. If the scene opens with a man bursting into the room with a gun, the players don’t want ten minutes of the GM describing how beautiful the room is – they want to know what’s going to happen.

As a GM, you have to know the appropriate point to describe the scene.

You either have to delay the entrance with the pistol, or find another way of working it in.

Each scene deserves at least a few words of setting – even if it’s a familiar place. You can always reveal details bit by bit if it’s a setting frequented often.  Players probably won’t take in all of the details in one sitting anyway.

Because that’s exactly how it works in real life. You typically notice the big things first and then upon revisiting, you start to notice more and more of the details.

Eventually you would notice if something was moved or missing.

A good rule (to be stretched and bent as you see fit) is to give the description as early in the scene as possible, without it getting in the way of the story or encounter.

The second suggestion is to invest more time on scenery the first time you visit – and the more important the setting is throughout the adventure.

Place as a character

Sometimes the scenery or setting plays as big a part in the adventure as any character. In a whodunit, the murder scene is often integral to the plot.

On these occasions, as much effort should be lavished on the creation of the setting as that important NPC.

And like characterisation, you may not use all of the detail – but you had better be prepared. Hogwarts in the Harry Potter novels is a prime example.  So if you have a dungeon, what was it before it was a dungeon.  People just don’t build them.  They are typically functional building that fall into disrepair and then they become dungeons over many, many years.  The dungeon should have a flavour that reflects its original (or most recent) use. 

If you only reveal the salient points in a mystery story, you have telegraphed the plot to the player. Similarly, if you over elaborate, the player will lose interest.

Sometimes the place has an importance because of its effect on the characters – and on these occasions, it merits a greater description.

It’s a classic show and tell scenario.

You can tell the player about the character or you can show the interaction with the setting – which is always far more effective.

Your own backyard

There is a real tendency for adventure writers to fall into two opposite traps when describing a place that is familiar to them – either from real life or a fantasy setting they’ve used over and over again.

The first option is to explain every detail. Often the GM is proud of what they know or remember and they want to share this in every minute detail.

The second mistake is to assume that every player knows about New York, the Manhattan skyline or the Statue of Liberty – and so no description is given.  Or for that matter the Jedi academy on Coruscant.

In the first scenario, the player will think they’ve stumbled upon a game about writing a guidebook, not an adventure.

In the second, anyone who hasn’t visited these places (or watched the film) will feel left out.

It’s like a recipe book without a picture of what the end product is supposed to look like – you feel cheated in some way.

Include the detail that sets the scene and is relevant. Add nothing more but don’t scrimp on the ingredients either.

Change of scene

The greater the alteration of scene, the more important the description becomes – and the earlier the GM needs to reflect the change.

As an adventure writer, you know when you change scene where the action is taking place – it’s your story. But do the players?

To use a literary example, too many books transfer the action from a quiet room in the centre of Chicago to the wastes of Alaska and don’t let the player know until the second page of writing. As a reader this is most disconcerting (and the example I use is from a real novel).

If your characters experience a change of setting, you need to describe that change – even if it means holding up the plot for a minute or two.

Players that teleport, travel to another plane, enter a dark cave or simply visit a village with differing customs – they all need to be aware of what’s changed.  It sets them mentally to be prepared for other changes e.g. the NPCs may react differently to them.

Some problems with PbP GMing

As I enjoy my relatively short time as a Play By Post (PbP) gamer and GM, I have started to notice the significant differences between table-top and remote gaming.

Unlike play-by-email, where it tends to become a one-on-one relationship, PbP is more like table-top in the sense that you have to accomodate many players and their different styles and wishes.

Unlike traditional table-top (unless you count convention one-shot gaming), there is no pre-determined group dynamic.  Players could be from anywhere in the world and have any sort of idea about what sort of game they want to play.

Many PbP sites just have game listings.  Specifically, the GM takes players on a first come-first served basis.  Sometimes they ask for a character rationale before accepting players – but rarely (if ever) have I seen a player rationale.

I’ll start with a real-life example.  I just joined an on-line game as a replacement with no rules for entry.  Once in, I had to provide ‘x’ dice rolls for random character generation.  That’s OK, I don’t mind some of that.

Except I ended up with a totally dysfunctional character – and nowhere to take it in terms of a future career.  I am an old, short, dumpy, very attractive (with a huge scar on her face), very intelligent, female woodcutter.  My weapon is a two-handed axe and I have poor strength and weapon skill.  Every facet of my character has been randomly rolled and the GM decided what skills I should take!  My future careers are pre-ordained and none appeal to me. 

I now wonder why this game has a high drop-out rate?  Should I quit now to save the GM the problem of replacing me later?  If I’m to invest daily time for a couple of years, I want to  have a character I can relate to.  I want to know that I can take this character somewhere and not simply aspire to be a vagabond.

My point here is that, as a GM, it is worth setting out some ground rules before players join a PbP game.  If you are attracting new players, you should explain how you expect character creation to pan out.  How you treat power-gaming or meta-gaming.  What you as a GM enjoy and what limits you’ll set on the game.

How about a questionnaire for potential gamers? 

• What do you enjoy most about gaming?
• What do you enjoy least about gaming?
• What limits do you want the GM to set?
• Where would you not want the GM to interfere?

You get the idea.  Unlike table-top, where you typically know the players and gain fun from the social side of the game, PbP isn’t like that.  GM and players need to gel.  My first effort at GMing a PbP started well and the posts flew thick and fast.  But then we were in combat.  As soon as I took my foot off the pedal and looked for some role-playing with the NPCs, posts dropped off alarmingly.

As a GM, I now know I need to keep things quick-paced for this group but had I pre-screened better, perhaps I would have got players more attuned to ‘my’ type of game?

As a potential PBPer, use this information in reverse.  Be honest with the GM about what sort of game you like and don’t be afraid to ask questions.  Better to drop out before you start than to leave after a few weeks or months.

Which games to do like?

As I was writing my appendix to my Mouse Guard review, it occurred to me that our opinions of games are often formed not by the mechanics or the out-of-the-book flavour, but by the GM (or to a lesser extent the players).

Think about that for a few seconds…

Imagine a GM offers to run a new game.  It’s a genre you’re OK with and you roll an OK character and you absolutely hate the experience.  Who do you blame?  Typically the games designer.

Yet even an experienced GM can falter with a new system and spoil what could have been year’s worth of enjoyment in a couple of hours.  Similarly, we are typically tolerant of flawed mechanics if the GM really sweeps us up into the game-world.  A so-so game can last years – as long as that GM continues to control it.

So what’s the point of this blog?  Well, if a few readers make the effort to try a game they previously disliked (by running it with a different GM) then I think it will have been a blog worth the effort.

Aside from my Mouse Guard experience (which still does not have a happy ending), I can relate my D&D 3.5 tale. 

D&D was a system I avoided like the plague because of one role-player in a game I was only observing casually (for more on the +3 dagger, you’ll have to trawl September 2009’s archives). 

When I wanted to game again, 3.5 was the only option available to me.  I played a session and – really didn’t like it.  The GM was fine, but the players and the dynamic were reminiscent of all the strange mechanics that put me off the game in the first place. 

Players saw the game as killing and looting.  Everything was a dungeon crawl – they fought to be the person to kill the kobolds and wanted to be first to loot the bodies.  During my second session, I asked why this style of play?  “Because that’s the only was to get xp,” I was told…. 

As luck would have it, the GM wanted a rest and as someone with previous experience, I was asked to start something.  I asked innocently if they would consider Pathfinder.

And so, a few months into Rise of the Runelords, we have a game that is essentially 3.5 but the players now don’t even bother to loot every corpse.  And if they’re injured, they hang back from the front line. 

They even help each other to outflank opponents!

The same game, a different experience altogether.  I now play in a couple of Pathfinder games and they are nothing like that 3.5 game I re-started by gaming interest in.  Had I taken that one experience, I would have given up on 3.5 and Pathfinder would have been lost to me.  

So, the next time you play a game and it doesn’t do it for you, politely consider using a different GM.  Not necessarily a better GM, just a different one.  You may find you like it after all.

Mouse Guard – An update

As I’ve said before, I review them how I see them.  My personal feedback for Mouse Guard when I did my review was mixed and, at the time, I wondered if this was a game thing or a GM thing.  

At couple of people contacted me to suggest it was the GM, and I took that at face value.  Perception can never be ‘wrong.’  Someone’s perception may not be the same as the facts, but it is still how they perceive it and their opinion is just as valid.

I was therefore pleased to hear not one but two interviews with Luke Crane recently and it appears – from my perspective – that I was both right and wrong to blame the GM.

The whole concept of comic book role-playing is close to Luke Crane’s heart (I don’t feel I know him well enough to call him Luke and Mr. Crane sounds too formal).  As is the narrative style and his desire to write ‘different’ role-playing games.

From his words and my limited game-play, I think it takes a particular GM to run a game like Mouse Guard.  Not necessarily a better one, but certainly a different one.  The whole scene framing aspect of the design can lead to a very stop-start game experience if the GM doesn’t handle it correctly.

In one sense, I felt like I was part of a comic strip when I played Mouse Guard.  But each frame felt insular – I did not sense a flow of image to image.  Which is exactly the opposite of the experience that Luke Crane wants the players to achieve.  His passion for playing is palpable.

Would I change my initial review?  No.  Would I give Mouse Guard a second chance as a player?  Perhaps.  Will I buy the book and look to GM myself.  Absolutely. 

The game as described by Luke Crane is the sort of role-playing experience I would like to be part of – and by becoming the GM, at least I can control it.

So when I’ve GMed my first session, I will no doubt give a further review.  At least I’m unlikely to blame the GM next time.

Writing the unique adventure

Wherefore art thou unique adventure?

At the risk of spoiling the joke, I’ll start with the punchline – there is no such thing as a unique plot/story/adventure.

There, that’s got it out in the open.

Too many GMs give up writing their own adventures because they can’t think of a unique plot. They have plenty of excellent ideas, but when they sit down and analyse their creation, they see a strong similarity to this book or that movie and they wring their hands with despair.

There are a whole host of reasons why you’ll never find a unique story. Every reason makes sense but should never stop a GM penning that great idea just because it’s similar to a recent bestseller.

In fact, there’s a good reason why it should encourage the GM, but I’ll save that surprise until the end.

I’ve been told by different sources that there are only one, three, seven, twenty or thirty-six different plots (and I covered these on the How to Plot series).

I have no idea which version is true and I don’t particularly care. It’s an academic debate. If you analyse a plot enough, you come across enough similarities to categorise is as one basic concept or another.

So on a purely logical level, discarding a story because the plot is similar to lots of other adventures is quiet ludicrous. It’s supposed to be similar – the academics tell us so – and that’s why there are only 1/3/7/20/36 categories.

The next point is that we’ve been telling stories since we could talk. All the unique plots went thousands of years ago.

Now is a good time to pause and reflect on what I’m saying.

A lot of adventure writers – the ones that get published – aren’t really interested in this debate. They just get on and write.

This discussion is for the rookie adventure writer. I’ll be more specific, this debate is of most interest to the wannabe adventure writer. The one that yearns to pen an adventure but feels what they have to offer isn’t original enough.

The key word was in the last sentence.

Original.

Original is not the same as unique. Striving for a unique story is going to stop you ever putting pen to paper. Seeking out an original story is easy. Yet for some reason, despite their power with language, writers tend to get these two words muddled up.

If you listed your favourite books (or films) of all time and considered their plots, you’d be amazed a how many of them – if you broke them down into a simple form – were similar. Each is original, based upon the setting, the characters, the language etc. but none could be called unique.

Consider Walt Disney. He made a fortune recycling the works of the Brothers’ Grimm. Did anyone mind? Hardly. His strength was in taking a standard story and making it original through the magic of setting, characters and dialogue.

Take William Shakespeare. Hardly unique, yet his plays have spawned so many obvious remakes that were successful in their own right. Sometimes the story was copied in its entirety, other times an element was borrowed.

Invariably the setting was changed – either to present day, the future or even using animals instead of people. Think about the following:

• Romeo and Juliet = West Side Story
• Taming of the Shrew = Kiss Me Kate and 10 Things I Hate About You
• The Tempest = Forbidden Planet
• Othello = O
• Henry IV Part I = My Own Private Idaho
• Hamlet = Lion King
• Twelfth Knight = She’s the Man

There are significantly more books out there that use one of Shakespeare’s plays as a starting point. It’s where they go from there that makes them original. Just setting Macbeth in the 21st century isn’t enough. You need to make more changes to make it original.

I chose films rather than books as the titles above ought to be familiar to all of you. The fact that they were based upon five-hundred year old plays did not affect their box-office.

This brings me neatly to the promise I made earlier. I suggested that similarities to existing plots are actually a good thing. As they say in all of the good washing powder adverts – here’s the science.

Using a plot that’s already been proven to be successful makes the story more workable – not less. Think about it. The plot seems vaguely familiar but the characters, setting and actual reason for the conflict are new. This makes the story original and familiar – a recipe for success.

The only word of warning I would voice is to make sure that you don’t imitate this week’s bestseller. That’s too familiar. Use the classics or at least something that was on the best-seller’s list ten years ago. Make it original – take the element of the story you’re basing it on that means the most to you and change as much as you need to make it your story.

You see, being original is easy once you know what to copy.

Generating ideas for adventures

Coming up with ideas for adventures by widening your horizons

Just where do you get ideas?

I will admit to being something of a dog with a bone on this subject.  I know it causes more hardship than any other for GMs and so I will publish whatever I can think of on the subject – in the hope it will help.

I have met many published authors and read interviews with countless more. As I’ve said in the past, most of them will confirm that being asked about where to get ideas from is the most common question.

Many aspiring writers no doubt hope that the famous author will provide them with a web address – or book title – that will mean never having to think up an idea themselves again.

Of course, successful authors (or adventure writers) don’t have a secret place they go to find new ideas. Most writers I’ve heard can’t even tell you where they find inspiration – it just happens they say.

Coming up with the idea is only part of the battle.  If you give two writers the same suggestion, they’ll provide quite different adventures. Give a published writer the same idea and they’ll produce a much better quality adventure.

So what magic ingredient separates mere mortals from the published greats? At this point, I’ll concede that I don’t believe there is a writing course out there that can turn a poor writer into a great one. It’s an inherent talent.

Having said that, I believe that with the proper guidance, most GMs can produce better adventures - although I still can’t agree on one magic ingredient. I think it’s a potion and all the aspects of writing go into that potion.

I’m going to go off at a tangent now, but I’ll get back on track on coming up with ideas before the end.

I listen to a lot of podiobooks and writing podcasts. It’s a close community. I also frequent many of the forums. In addition, I am an avid reader of ‘How to Write’ books.

One piece of advice always comes through loud and clear – in order to be a decent writer, you must read. Every source I ever reference says this.

So I was looking at an aspiring author’s blog the other day and there was a link to their Amazon wish list. As I’m always looking for new authors to ‘discover,’ I clicked on it. I have read works by half of the writers and had heard of about a further quarter.

What struck me – and produced a genuine ‘light bulb’ moment – was that I thought to myself, “You sure can tell what type of book this author wants to write.”

It was as simple as that.

When I’ve read blogs or interviews from successful authors, they say something quite different. For most of them, only a fraction of the books they read are within their genre. One even said they never read the competition. Many list non-fiction as their chief source of reading, and most follow the recommended ‘good books’ and classics, regardless of the section of literature it comes from.

So now I can finish the detour and bring us back on the original path. Poor writers don’t read much. Decent writers read a lot – but tend to focus on their genre. The good writers are the ones that read widely.  And for writers, please read adventure writers.  Plus, I’d be surprised if any GMs don’t also read.

So, aspiring adventure writer – take a look at your book collection.

A few of you will have a wide selection, but I’m guessing the majority tend to read within a much narrower range (and you can include sourcebooks as well as conventional published works). It’s understandable.

Many aspiring writers (adventures or otherwise) started out as readers and wanted to add to the body of work they enjoyed reading. And most readers tend to have favourite genres rather than an eclectic taste.

So, if you want to become a better adventure writer, start acting like a published author and read outside your chosen genre – especially non-fiction.

Which brings me back to my original point. If you only read within your genre, your stimulation for new ideas is dampened. You’ll find yourself reworking plots from the books you read and you’ll discard them as being too like this novel or that short story.

If you read more widely, you’ll pick up inspiration from plots (or factual topics) outside your genre – which in turn will allow your creative juices to ponder, ‘what if…’

Now I’m not advocating plagiarism, but instead pointing out that reading non-fiction and new genres will inspire you in a way that your tried and trusted field never can.

And it will improve your story-telling ability too. As a good example, many aspiring adventure writers will have to include romance in their story at some point, but how many have read good novels from this specific genre? I’ll not ask for a show of hands.

So try reading some books that you wouldn’t usually read. It will seem strange at first, but you do want to come up with new ideas, don’t you?

Weather is so much more than how wet you’re getting

As a GM how many times do you consider the weather during an adventure?

Most GMs overlook the weather as a useful tool in both setting and also in telling the story.

Many years ago, we relied on the weather and took it seriously. Poor weather affected crops and livestock. Bad weather could even affect health.

Nowadays we have supermarkets that will fly in food from around the world and central heating and air conditioning to ensure we don’t need to vary the climate inside our house.

But it’s deeper than that. Seasons reflect aspects of life and weather can be a great barometer (pun intended) for emotions.

In reality, we all react slightly differently to the weather. Some love the heat and others despise it. Even considering these variances, the majority of people will react similarly to most climactic conditions.

The English language is littered with idioms that reference the season or the specific weather. They don’t need explaining, we all understand exactly what people mean when they use one. That’s because they are understood as a subconscious level. Even the most basic of weather descriptions convey a mood:

Spring = hope, new birth

Summer = adulthood, happiness

Autumn = old age,

Winter = death

Sunshine = happiness, goodness

Storm = trouble, a change

Calm before the storm = trouble or a change ahead

Rainbow = hope, a link between two extremes (sun and rain)

Cloudy = confused, muddled, unclear

Clouds on horizon = trouble ahead

No wind = no change

Windy = changes

Rough weather = problems

Fog = confusion, unaware

Rain = depressed, badness

Snow = coldness, cleansing

This makes weather an ideal setting tool to convey what’s going on in the story or in a character’s head. You don’t need to use the sledgehammer approach but I’d also exercise caution at being too clever.

A few references, subtle ones, dropped in during a scene will convey the message.

As an example, if you used the rain as a portent for something bad about to happen, don’t have a PC thinking, ‘it’s starting to rain and rain is a bad thing.’ Instead, reference the changing light – from bright to muted grey tones. You could even describe the rain, or its effect as resembling something inherently evil.

The use of metaphors and weather work well. Mention the noise that the rain brings, reference something having to stop because of the weather. Consider how inanimate objects react to the weather – or even the characters.

How does the rain affect textures? How does it change how things sound? Does its own noise drown out something the characters were listening to? Does it simply stop whatever was making a noise? Does it therefore bring silence? How does it affect the characters’ senses? Does it affect what they’re doing? And be subtle here – does it affect their mood? Remember to build the mood, don’t dunk the reader in it.

Sometimes a sudden change in mood is necessary and an equally sudden change in weather is appropriate. Sometimes the change, or even the manner of the change is as important as the weather itself.

Let the players join the dots. If you’ve positioned them well enough, they’ll get the picture. You don’t need to go over them with a felt-tip to convey the message.

Finally, setting is an integral part of writing an adventure. The use of weather is just one tool to set the scene – not your only one.

Character creation (part six)

This is the most technical aspect of the creation of NPCs (or your own PC if you’re a player).  Few will venture down this path, but it can be rewarding and doesn’t have to be that time-consuming.

If you want a significant NPC to be a truly believable character, follow these suggestions.  Similarly, if you want your PC to be believable and consistent, read on.

Different types of personality profiling

There are many different psychometric tests on the market. They are designed to help you to either predict or understand behaviour.

Their most common use is in recruitment but they can be handy tools for creating characters.

There are two types that are used more often than any other and both are outlined here.

Understanding the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator

The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is a common tool for identifying personality types. It is not without its critics but for the purposes of character creation, it is useful.

The MBTI is not about caricatures. Instead it indicates a preference for behaviour.

Choosing one from each pair does not mean the character does not display some of the other preference. If you equate it to a percentage, people are never 100% one type. Some may be as close as 51% and 49% – and the indicator simply specifies which is the majority preference.

For example, someone with a preference for Judging over Perceiving is not automatically more judgemental or less perceptive than someone else.

a. Energizing

Extroversion or Introversion (E or I)

This indicates how the person gains their energy. E’s draw that energy from social situations. I’s on the other hand, need time alone to recharge their batteries.

The extrovert focuses on people, activities or other external things.

The introvert is focused on internal issues such as ideas or emotions.

Someone with an E preference is not necessarily the life and soul of the party, just as someone preferring I is not necessarily a wallflower.

b. Attending

Sensing (S) or Intuition (N)

This dictates which preference the person has for gathering information that will be used for making decisions. Specifically it is how new information is understood and interpreted.

Sensers deal with the here and now – with reality.

Intuition means dealing with the world of imagination – with what could happen or be meant.

c. Deciding

Thinking (T) or Feeling (F)

Linked to Attending, Deciding dictates which preference the person has for making decisions.

Thinkers deal with logic and use objective methods to make decisions. Feelers use hunches and gut feelings to make choices.

d. Living

Myers and Briggs also noted that people showed a preference to exhibit either their Judging function (T or F) or their Perceiving function (S or N) when relating to the outside world. This is broadly how others would perceive the character.

Judgement (J) or Perception (P)

People who exhibit Judgement show the world their Judging function (either T or F).

This means that TJ’s tend to appear logical, and FJ’s as empathetic.

P’s show the world their Perceiving function (either S or N). SP’s appear as concrete, and NP’s will be viewed as abstract.

There are by definition 16 combinations possible although two with the same profile will not appear identical – but similar.

The work on the MBTI was in part based upon the work of Carl Jung. Another aspect of Jung’s work is that of perception and that our reading of others is based on who we are (not always who they are). 

It is our MBTI ‘profile’ that is used to judge others.  So two different personality types will view a third person quite differently.  Neither will be wrong in their assessment (but this is getting a little deep now).

This is also linked to our belief system of right and wrong with regards to personality types. We tend to look most favourably on those that think and act like us and are least well disposed against those we see as different.

To make this less abstract – STJ’s will appear as very logical and well-reasoned to a fellow STJ but to an NFP, they may appear fixed, stubborn and cold.

Reversing the roles, the NFP will appear open and intuitive to a fellow NFP but may seem some sort of sixties hippy to an STJ.

Using the Five Factor Model

The ‘Big Five’ traits are: Openness, Conscientiousness, Extraversion, Agreeableness, and Neuroticism (OCEAN). Some refer to them as CANOE.

a. Openness

This is described as an appreciation for right-brain activity e.g. art, emotion, imagination, curiosity, and the need for a variety of experience.

b. Conscientiousness

This is a tendency to show self-discipline, to act dutifully, and plan for achievement.

It does not lend itself towards spontaneous behaviour.

c. Extraversion

This is the desire to seek stimulation and the company of others.

d. Agreeableness

This is about being cooperative and compassionate rather than suspicious and antagonistic.

e. Neuroticism

This is an inclination to too readily experience unpleasant emotions such as anger, anxiety or depression.

f. Overall

Logically, characters would score between 1 and 100 on each scale – with 50 being the typical score. Thus people can be very high on a scale, high, average, below average or very low. Their ‘score’ dictates how readily they exhibit the behaviours noted for each trait.

And this concludes the series on character creation.