As I pore over my new Dungeon Master’s Book (pooh-pooh Essentials all you want–the DM side is simpler and contains all the errata necessary to combat the last few years’ power creep) and Dungeon Tiles for Athas, the City, and the Dungeon, I remember that I still need to prep for the meat of tomorrow’s session. No, it’s not the monster tokens or the fucking badass 3D cart they’ll be defending a few sessions from now, it’s the story, the challenge, and their desires that really make the game.
And, as one still new to DM’ing, I grapple with all three.
Avoiding the Plot Holes
The best thing about reading a book for me–regardless of genre, though I find mystery and thriller pay the most attention to it–is the realization at the end that you’ve seen the trail lain before you, but it wasn’t until the end that you saw how it all connected. Subtle foreshadowing, twists that you should have seen coming, and the excitement of a wild, but justified ending. It’s a bad book when you can’t quite see why things worked out the way they did. Most likely, the author failed to adhere to basic rules of storytelling (or is doing so on purpose–thanks, postmodernism).
“If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall…”
Chekhov’s well-known adage and the story beats covered in Robin D. Laws’ Hamlet’s Hit Points both speak to laying down the “piping” and having that “piping” reassert itself later, resulting in the aforementioned “Aha! It all makes sense now!” feeling that has one been primary goals of mine as I run Marrakesh for the second time. For those of you unfamiliar with my homebrew setting, here’s a quick teaser:
The Narbonne have occupied the port city of Marrakesh for more than a generation now, and tensions are running high as Queen Shar’azi al-Maghreb formally recognizes Lord Admiral Rainier Desmarins as her Chief Vizier. In the background, the cult of Ioun has gained considerable political clout, and rumors abound of a crown princess gone missing. The Merchant Prince Tariq threatens a boycott of Narbonnais goods just as a rash of bankruptcies hits the noble quarter, but the opium trade and Red Moon houses are as profitable as ever. Winds bring news from the south of a religious civil war in the Dragonlands, and the deserts themselves are coming alive as ifrits, djinni, and mirages walk among mortals. What path will our adventurers forge for themselves in a land rife with intrigue, treachery, and wonder?
Think French-occupied Algeria meets typical fantasy meets the blackpowder age, with thieves guilds and dubious loyalties aplenty.
It’s a setting I’m rather proud of, from a storyline point of view, but when I ran it for the first time over the summer, I had a terrible time conveying the story to my players. Most of it was my sheer inexperience as a DM (I was a novice then, but I’d like to think I’m at least intermediate now), but part of it was a failure of that delicate balancing act between giving them too little or too much information.
A Little Bit Louder Now (Shout!)
Now, I opt for the former. Chances are that unless your characters are operating on an identical wavelength, what seems blatantly obvious to me may still be overlooked by my players, yet if I plant the smallest of seeds (thinking, “See what a sneaky, ingenious GM I am?”) it flies completely under their radar. Don’t try to play the clever one.
Unless your group has been with you a long time and know you’ve a reputation for the intrigue/twist sort of thing, the seemingly-bold detail is just subtle enough to be remembered later but not glaring now. Context is everything, and your players don’t have it.
So, like on the stage, one needs to really lay on the blush and foundation, exaggerate your gestures, dress a little more brightly.
That way, they can’t miss the clues I’m laying down for them. And better that they figure out your nefarious plans early on than not all, no? Worst comes to worst, you can complicate life for them afterwards, or add a moral dilemma to it all.
Ah, so you figured out that he’s the murderer? Well, as a matter of fact, he’s been working for the man you’ve been working for… and now that you’ve blown his cover, you’re next! (See Gorky Park (1983), excellent movie.)
Better to have that “Aha!” moment than be scratching your heads at the end. I mean, you don’t want to have planned out all those intricate motives and loyalties for nothing, do you?
Raising the Stakes
I’ll admit, I didn’t think of this detail myself, but instead swiped it from Gamemastering a quality (and free!) PDF offered by Brian Jamison. Standard practice in 4th ed is to arm players to the gills with magic weapons right from the start; my group at college always got one magic item their level +1, one their level, one their level -1, and starting gold equivalent to their level. This way, we were all badasses and could min-max our abilities accordingly. (Fuck yes I will take the Boots of +1 Teleportation Distance for my teleport-gimmick swordmage that, moreover, has a 6-square teleport as a free action once per day.)
Yet, Jamison’s advice is to skip all that. Let them have a longsword and leather armor, but no more. That makes the magic items that you do give out all the more special, treasured, and most importantly, not taken for granted.
But I didn’t read that chapter until after we’d done character creation, and now my characters feel entitled to have their Terrifying Scimitar or Dwarven Chainmaille.
What can I do to bring them back down to earth without frustrating them? How do I justify taking their magic items away, and is it really justified?
Two Birds, One Stone
It was Marrakesh, the city itself, that gave me my answer. Given my setting–a colony run by foreign occupatiers who have installed their Chief Admiral as the Queen’s Grand Vizier–imposing martial law seems a logical extension of the recent power transfer that make have riled up some of the resistance. I can even make an allusion to my previous party of adventurers, saying that a recent rash of arson have prompted the Narbonnais to make the unfortunate, regrettable, but necessary decision to ban the carrying of arms and armor by anyone besides the City Guard and Royal Navy.
This way, I’ve raised the stakes, introduced a whole new dimension of play that wasn’t there before. Are they more than a walking armory? Is it their swords that win the battles, or their hearts? And when they surmount such an ostensibly high obstacle, the satisfaction will be proportionately greater to the difficulty of the task.
Which is why I loved Cataclysm Heroics so damn much. But that’s another conversation.
Of course, their first order of business should be to seek out people who can help them regain and hide their old armaments, and that will invariably lead them into the black market, the den of thieves, and Tariq al-Jawar, who is more than willing to arm them if they do his dirty work.
In upping the ante, raising the stakes, I have also provided a plot hook to get the adventurers working alongside the thieves guild. If I had one major frustration from my summer game, it was that my players were at odds with everything. Perhaps if I do not introduce the rival guilds immediately, but let them deal with one at a time first, and stop trying to be so damn cunning and ingenious as to ruin the story, we’ll all enjoy it more when they meet Ra’shal and Leyla. And all the more difficult when they meet Pierre Aveline…
But there’s one snag in my plan I’ll need to address to make it work.
Wielding a Hammer, Not Everything Is a Nail
Since adventurers are lazy, like water, always trying to find the path of least resistance, how do I ensure that they won’t just say, “Fuck it, I’m going to try to kill these guards confiscating my phat lewtz and never go to Marrakesh again!” Because, as you know, it doesn’t matter that my level four adventurers think they can take on veterans with ten plus years of experience under their belts… and guns.
Why, my pretties, I have to make sure that each of them absolutely has to go to Marrakesh, and that will require fucking with each of their characters on an emotional basis. Who said GM’s couldn’t play dirty? The players sure try to.
Is this potentially railroading? A little bit. But I’ve also found that given a sandbox, characters tend towards evil, raping and pillaging and wreaking havoc on their world. And you need to correct that, a little bit, or just give up on trying to plot at all. But you can only pull the Wheel of Misfortune so many times before you’ve seen it all and the deaths you visit on the helpless citizenry who’ve followed you become boring.
So I’m going to run on the assumption that Plot Is a Good, and Necessary Thing, and that as a GM it is within my rights to make sure everyone is having fun, and senseless violence is not.
Getting back on track from our siding into game philosophy…
Hit Em Where it Hurts–Their Wallet
The best way to railroad without seeming to overstep your bounds is to do so based off of what they’ve given you. Take their weakness and play on them, or even better, turn their strengths into their Achilles Heel.
One way I could do that is to take their character backgrounds and to suddenly invoke them all, but that feels a touch contrived. I’ve a much easier, and universal, plot device to unleash upon them to get them into that city:
Simple PC Greed.
The Fabled Treasure of House Madar that they’re going to uncover once they clear the restless ghosts of its murdered progenitors? Contracts with various noble officials for trading rights and privileges within Marrakesh. What’s better than treasure? Treasure that generates even more treasure!
But if they don’t want to deal with the martial law in Marrakesh, they lose out on potentially building a trade empire. Never mind the million other ways they could lose it all to the rival commercial factions in the city… the first step is always the hardest.
Maybe they’ll butt heads with al-Jawar after all. I won’t rule out the possibility, but it does cut out one of the major plot twists I have in store for them.
But a “base” in the city that’s a shop that earns them revenue? That’s just cool. We’ll see how they take to it on Saturday.
So there we have it, kids. I’m trying to play my hand openly (waving it around, even) while giving them a hard time, yet still finding the motivation to justify it all. Hopefully it gets us what we all want: to have a great time. Time will tell.