Play Boldly
Following up on my last post, I intend to disparage no one, including my players past and present, but a malaise sets in on me occasionally when I’m playing a D&D game. Players seem lethargic. They don’t respond to the information given to them. Their characters act far different than the intrepid adventurers those characters should and must be.
Players should be as bold in game action as their characters are in the game world. Why? Because it pays off in fun and energy at the table.
I don’t mean that you should be the type of player who opens a closed door in the middle of combat or pushes every shiny, red button. Don’t go your own way at everyone else’s expense, despite what a certain famous D&D-playing author has said to the contrary. That’s jackassery rather than boldness. (Rule X: Don’t be a jackass!)
Instead, decide how the happenings in your game present opportunities for your character. Can you take cooperative actions that also work toward your character’s goals or display your character’s personality? If not, might you help further define the narrative or push the game onward? This can be as simple as making a deal with another character in a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” way. At other times, it’s a no-brainer how your character acts. Although some events in a game might fail to fit your character’s aims, think of how the smaller picture of the current situation might fit into the larger frame.
Whatever you do, don’t be afraid to take actions that make for a great game. Several bits of boldness follow.
Have Fun
Playing a D&D game is all about having fun. If you’re not having fun, say so constructively. Try to help figure out what’s going wrong. Maybe the subject of the game makes you uncomfortable. Perhaps play has bogged down. It could be you just crave some action. If you do say something (again, constructively), the game can be altered to accommodate your desires. A good DM wants you to have fun.
Ask Questions
Whenever you want more information, ask. A detail might be important to you or your character, and that’s fine. The game is about exploration and investigation, as well as fighting and character interaction. If you fail to ask questions, you might not receive some information you want or, worse, need. It’s not the DM’s job to give you every bit of information—sometimes you have to work for the goods. Further, detail should be built based on player interest rather than dumped by the DM in a way that slows the action. The DM is justified in assuming no one’s interested in details if no one asks any questions. By asking, you’re also telling the DM what you’re interested in.
Use Powers, Rituals, and Skills
Be familiar with your character’s abilities, and then use them whenever it seems appropriate. Suitability of use can be defined tactically, like the right spell for the right moment, or by roleplaying, such as how your character reacts to a situation. Most adventures are constructed assuming that a party has particular skills and abilities. If you have those abilities but don’t use them, the game might just go nowhere fast. Think about problems in terms of how your character’s abilities can solve them. It’s not the DM’s job to remind you of a ritual you have or to make sure you use your other abilities wisely. Know then do, bold one.
Have a Hunch
It’s the DM’s job to provide a situation, but few complex situations have clear-cut answers. Maybe you have an idea–it’s out there but it seems like a possibility. You might just be right, even if evidence suggests otherwise. Sharing your idea is always good for the game. If you have an opinion, then, voice it.
And don’t keep ideas to yourself just because your character might not know. Although your game might vary from mine, I see player discussion as the collective cleverness of the party. It’s fine to roleplay, after out-of-character discussion, that the wizard came up with the idea. It’s also possible that your barbarian just had an amazing flash of insight. (That could even become a permanent and regularly appearing character trait. How does she do it?)
The caveat here is that you avoid using knowledge the party has no way to know, such as verbatim attributes from Monster Manual. In my games, especially, relying on such player knowledge is a sure way to end up in trouble. Instead, use your player knowledge as a reason to use character skills and other abilities. It’s fine to ask for an Arcana check to learn about a monster, even though you, the player, think you already know some of the creature’s attributes. Perhaps it’s even fine to roleplay what your character assumes about a monster from details the DM has given. (“Careful with fire around this beast . . .”) Such roleplaying might even lead the DM to grant a bonus to your skill check.
Ham It Up
We all game to have fun creating a story about a group of awesome characters in fantastic situations. Part of the fun is the personalities of characters and how they interact with their world. As a DM, I use accents, changes in voice, scare tactics, and all sorts of theatrics to get across the situation or person I’m portraying. I do the same with my PCs when I’m on the other side of the table. You can too. Don’t be shy. Only a jackass would ridicule you for increasing the fun. (Rule X.1: Don’t game with jackasses.)
When in a game situation, consider how your character might react. Even if you try to focus on the cooperative alternatives, this can result in actions that seem inappropriate to the situation. Don’t worry about what other players think, unless their characters have a chance to react. (Try not to coach others on their own actions, as well.) Sometimes, however, your portrayal will rub another character the wrong way. This can lead to appropriate drama as long as everyone’s comfortable with that course of play.
A druid I play is very bold with her sense of righteousness and proper authority, and she also refuses to take any crap. She has to back down at times to please or appease her comrades. Her boldness has become part of the way the whole group plays. Something happens, and everyone wonders how she’s going to respond. It adds fun.
In all cases, though, it’s important to distinguish between what your character says in a scene and what you, as a player, are saying at the game table. It’s remarkably easy to become confused. (This is why I, as DM, try to use accents and voice changes when speaking as a non-player character.) One misunderstanding in this vein can send a whole scene awry.
Repeat: Be Bold
It happens that all it takes to get things going in a game is bold action on the part of one or more players through their characters. Player characters are supposed to be heroes, after all. Although the DM does provide the scenario, background characters, and plots, the game requires player (and thereby character) boldness to keep things moving. Like in life, timidity or inaction can be the worst choice. Lack of boldness can leave you with little but regret to nurse your wounds. Regret is a terrible bandage and a bitter medicine.
In a recent game, one player decided her male rogue character was too wounded to go toe-to-toe with the villain. He timidly hid, taking pot shots with shuriken, sans combat advantage. But he could have taken his mace, the clever strike power, and a little boldness to hit that guy dead in his face, with combat advantage, ending the battle dramatically and covering his wounded self in the glory. Instead, he just made me (the DM) sad and seemed a lot more like a punk than the tough guy he really is. Circumstances dictate that this might be the character’s final impression on the game. Double sad.
Don’t play to make others sad. To adhere to this point, you have a simple creed: when in doubt, just do something. Whenever possible, make that something audacious, cooperative, and entertaining. You won’t regret it.
Mailbag 2 – Freelancing 101
I’ve gotten a number of questions about freelancing and writing for D&D Insider. In this issue of the Mailbag, I’ll deal with queries and submissions. I’ll also touch on huge sums of money you can make and the glamorous lifestyle you can lead through successful freelancing. Or maybe I’ll just talk a little about money.
This is going to sound so obvious, but from what I’ve seen, it bears emphasis. Be sure to follow the submission guidelines when submitting to anyone, especially D&D Insider. As an editor for Dragon and Dungeon, I received a ton of queries and had only so much time to sift through them. I could ignore outright those that failed to follow the submission guidelines. My dirty little secret is that I didn’t always do this–sometimes an idea was too good to pass up–but I could have in every case without repercussions.
Following the guidelines shows you pay attention, and it shows you’re what I call “coachable.” You indicate that you place enough importance on your time and the editor’s that you present what is asked of you. Further, you demonstrate you can follow and take direction. These elements are important in any freelance writer.
When I was still employed at Wizards, the D&D Insider editorial team, I’m sad to say, was barely big enough to handle the flow of queries and submissions. Now that I’m gone, it’s entirely possible that the filter for such material is down to one person: Chris Youngs. He has a lot of other duties besides looking for new content. It’s likely that other companies you might submit ideas and work to have resources that are more limited.
When you do pitch ideas, rely on those that bud from your exposure to the game. Mechanical elements can stem directly from your home game or good story concepts. Be concise in your descriptions while proving you’re the one to execute the idea. You have to show that you know what you want to do in as few words as possible. Your pitch has to do more than reveal your notice of a mechanical hole in the game. It has to promise entertainment, as well. Mechanics are too dry without a story connection.
It was always easier for me to work out story elements and let rules elements spring from that narrative. My colleagues seemed to work from that angle, too. For example, Mike Mearls reinforced in me the idea that you should see a monster in your head, fighting a hero in a fantasy action movie, before you put its stats on paper. The best Dragon and Dungeon articles also grow from that fertile soil. It might go without saying, but good adventure design requires such thinking.
Showing you know the game’s needs is also key. If the maps in your Dungeon adventure can all be built with recent Dungeon Tiles sets, your query is a step ahead. Supporting recently released material is a good idea. On the flip side, supporting older rules with truly fresh ideas can work well. Older classes, for example, will always need some love.
No time can be had to give you a response if your proposal is rejected. I was sorry that was the case when going through proposals was part of my job. It’s a sad truth. The editorial process and limit on resources requires a focus on what is going to be published. If your idea is accepted, you’ll get a go-ahead and, assuming you do what you should, a contract.
Then, there’s the waiting.
It’s frustrating, I know. Even if your article receives a green light, you might be waiting a while. Take comfort in the fact that the editorial plan for Insider is often nailed down months ahead. That said, don’t become too comfortable. Write to the editor you’re working with every so often to make sure things are on track. I promise–unless you actually are pushy, whiny, or annoying–you won’t be perceived as such. I enjoyed working with new authors when I was an editor, and I liked candor.
Such honesty is what you’re going to receive from your editor. And you should always ask questions if you have them. Questions early in the process are infinitely better than problems or misunderstandings later. Whatever you do, though, don’t take personally any brevity in your editor’s responses and instructions. It’s just that old devil of limited time raising its head again.
Respect your own time, thought, and effort, as well. Don’t sell yourself short. You won’t get rich writing for D&D Insider or other gaming entities. It’s likely that Insider and freelancing for Wizards offers the most lucrative outlet for D&D work. (Working for Insider is the likeliest path to working on D&D books, unless you have other gaming credits or prove yourself in another way.) But even if you write for someone else, you shouldn’t give your work away. You can receive “exposure” and a paycheck.
That’s it for now. I’ll talk more about this subject in the future. Leave me comments, and send me email.
Become Emotional
The psychology of desire and attachment defines our lives in countless ways. This fact is true even in the roleplaying games. Every character you play is an extension of you and the desires you want to fulfill by playing. More elusive, though, is real attachment–emotional connection–to a game’s goings on. Fulfilling player desires is where much of the fun is, and this is something the DM should facilitate. But when circumstances in a game also hit a personal chord, they have more meaning and can create even more fun.
Have you ever noticed how almost every player enjoys the fights in a roleplaying game? That’s because combat has real stakes and real consequences to something valuable to each player–his or her character. The danger to each character strikes that aforementioned personal chord. This is an example of attachment or emotional investment at its simplest in an RPG.
Attachment, and the significance it provides to imaginary events, is hard to pin down. No unaltered publication, such an adventure, can pull it off for you or your fellow tableside explorers. Hooks in such products exist only to help your DM make the connection between a published work’s assumptions and the campaign’s reality. However, even with these tools, your DM can’t create all the necessary emotional involvement. You have to help. And you should, because everyone at your game table will have more fun if you do.
If the roleplaying aspects of a game aren’t as fun and exciting as combat, somebody has failed to make those aspects personally significant. Perhaps you haven’t provided the DM with the tools to create situations you (character or player) care about in more than a superficial way. Define your character meaningfully, and you’re on your way to bringing such game-enhancing situations forth. Even a shiftless, unaligned mercenary has motivations and secrets that can be tapped to enrich a game’s storyline
The 4e Player’s Handbook goes into a little detail on this subject in its second chapter. It aims at inspiring you to describe your character in nonmechanical ways, and it’s right in that you need no complex history or extensive motivations for your character. But like countless other RPG systems, it fails to clearly define why this exercise is necessary. Therefore, your choices can seem arbitrary.
A character’s quirks, appearance, and history can be interesting as a simple narrative that allows you to roleplay consistently. It’s more important, however, to define traits that motivate your character or others in ways that push game’s unfolding tale forward. Such traits should make the story personal and evocative.
Extremes, opposites, and mysteries are good places to start when defining meaningful traits for a character. The most interesting characters in literature and movies have strong attributes with contradictory flaws. Straightforward but potentially significant qualities also work. A noble warrior who hates orcs has difficulty when faced with an orc that displays honor or begs for mercy. An addict might put her addiction before the welfare of others. A thief with a heart of gold can’t just take the treasure and leave suffering in the theft’s wake. An adventurer who values family and friends returns home often and might share the wealth. A strange birthmark might have meaning.
Once you have a few of these traits for a character, simply answer one question for each–why? Does the noble warrior hate orcs because orc raiders slaughtered his or her family (cliché but still useful), or is this hatred based on the teachings of a mentor, religious order, or leader? Is the addict’s addiction someone else’s doing or the result of an addictive personality, or due to accidental exposure? Is the thief kind because of personal suffering or regret for a past deed? Do the ties that bind the family oriented-adventurer come from burdensome duty or genuine affection? (What if he or she is adopted?) Does the birthmark single out the character as a messiah in the campaign, or is the mark just the thing to send a religious fanatic over the edge for one encounter?
Players can (and probably should) work together as a group to come up with a few traits that two or more characters share. Is another character a lover, a sibling, an old friend, or a onetime rival? Could the party share an overarching affiliation or loyalty? Have similar circumstances forced the characters together?
These traits, even simply detailed, should give the DM a springboard from which to weave a tale that is emotionally motivating to a character (and player) and the party (and players). The DM might, for example, decide that the noble warrior’s mentor is corrupt and deceitful. Clues woven into the game could eventually lead to a momentous confrontation with an unexpected but wholly personalized villain. Perhaps the party, sharing affiliation with the warrior’s religious order, has an interest in seeing such corruption rooted out. Will the warrior be able to confront and destroy a once-trusted teacher? How will the experience change the character? Certainly none of this will happen without some play-enhancing emotional investment.
Such traits also give other players special points of interest to interact with in your character. People are complicated, and groups even more so. Motivations mesh and clash. This give and take can be interesting at the table.
Players and the DM should emphasize the positive aspects of character traits, though. A DM should use them to influence the path of a session or game rather than to force an outcome. Players should use them as a means to facilitate roleplaying, rather than derailing the game with the infamous, “My character wouldn’t do that.” (Maybe not, but what would he or she do when faced with something important to a comrade?)
Molding a character and party to purposely build attachment to the game is a worthwhile task. Doing so allows the DM to reinforce emotional investment by taking cues from player desires expressed as character traits. The game then becomes a shared narrative that is sharply focused on its protagonists, rather than a series of unfortunate events heaped on the shoulders reluctant participants.
More to Come
If I get some interest, shown in the comments, I’ll write more about this from my perspective as a DM, using my recent campaign episodes as examples. I can also expand on player emotional investment in a session rather than just at character creation. Something can be said for using 4e’s background system to create more emotional investment and mechanical benefits, as well.
Feel free to use the comments to critique, as well. Is the essay too long, too impersonal, too whatever. That’s valuable information, so spill it.
Also, I have some interesting mailbag topics. I’m looking for more. Email me.
Check out the new bio, too. Identify the classic AD&D monster and source if you want.
Mailbag 1 – Character Contortion
Here’s the first question from the mailbag. Jon Hixson asks:
How do you deal with players new to 4e who want to run characters that the system doesn’t support? I’ve got one player coming from 3e who wants to run a “Buffing/Utility wizard who does very little damage.” There’s really not a lot of buffing powers outside of the leader classes (and the “buffs” are fairly short term and small), and not a lot of utility outside of rituals. Considering every power does some form of damage, and pawning this player off on a cleric is unlikely, I’m not sure what to say.
Here’s the first essential step to overcoming this problem–stop equating class name with what the character is in the game world. I’ve heard players say, “Boy, I miss druids being able to use healing spells.” Well, I play a 5th-level druid, and she can heal as just about well as any 3e druid of her level. See, she’s a multiclassed bard. In the game world I play in (Jeremy Crawford’s Oberon campaign) her social title is “druid.” But that would be her title even if her class were wizard. If I had wanted to emphasize healing and retain the “primal” feel, the shaman class would have suited that purpose just fine.
I also allow my players to customize the narrative appearance of their character and powers to support character concepts. For instance, the shaman class talks about primal spirits, emphasizing animals. Those spirits can just as easily be ancestor spirits and stay well within the intent and description of the primal power source. But, in your own home game, you don’t even have to be beholden to the power source description. I’ve seen a player create a deva “shaman” whose spirit powers were manifestations of her own past lives. In the game world, she was not identified as primal or a shaman. In my Dark Sun campaign, the shaman is a dwarf “animist” who calls primarily on ancient dwarf ancestor spirits. Mechanically, he’s a bear shaman–but bears don’t exist in my Dark Sun campaign. The classifications exist only to define the character for the player with reference to the rules, rather than to define the character in the world.
Some players want the character’s performance to be a complete match to concept at 1st level. That’s rarely possible in any roleplaying game. The concept solidifies only after the character advances to a certain point. That’s cool, in my mind, because the character (in the game world) might have the ambitions the concept embodies (in the player’s mind in the metagame). Like anyone with an ambitious agenda, the character is unable to express the full extent of that ambition yet. That’s a roleplaying opportunity.
As an aside, and not meaning to be snarky, one also has to go with game. What I mean by this is some concepts don’t match the tenor of a game. The 4e D&D game is high heroic fantasy that emphasizes beating monsters and overcoming obstacles. Other editions of the D&D game had the same core concept.
All that buildup is so I can say that a character who doesn’t pull his or her weight in a fight doesn’t belong in a typical D&D game in any edition. A character needs to be able to do some damage. Further, in 4e, the nature of most effects is “short-term and small.” The fact that the buffing powers work that way shouldn’t trouble anyone. They have their intended effect within the game’s framework.
Enough with the philosophy, though.
It’s clear to me your player actually wants to be in the leader role, probably without being beholden to the other meanings of “leader.” Arcane magic power is also part of his or her goal. I’d recommend he or she start with the bard class. Emphasize the Cunning Bard build, along with Charisma (obviously) and Intelligence (for the AC and Reflex, as well as multiclassing into the wizard class). Wear leather armor–it can look like fancy, heavy robes. Choose implement powers, focusing on those that help allies or hinder foes in place of higher damage. The character already has the Ritual Caster feat, so I’d recommend multiclassing into wizard immediately. For this player, I suspect a desire for wizard cantrips, so I’d allow access to the cantrips in place of the at-will power Arcane Initiate grants. I’d even grant training in a wizard class skill instead of Arcana, since bards already have access to Arcana, but I’m generous. Along the lines of my “narrative appearance” philosophy, I’d allow the player to ignore the “music magic” aspect of the bard, allowing the player to describe power effects “in-game” as he or she desires. I’d probably ask for a general description of power usage as part of the creation process.
There are other ways to solve the problem, such as a hybrid bard/wizard. My feeling is that full-fledged leader-role character is what this player is really looking for. The freedom to customize should result in something close to his or her desires, if not an exact fit. This sort of nonmechanical customization should be encouraged anyhow, and it often solves the problem you speak of.
Mailbag Memo
Please don’t hesitate to send me email or leave a comment about questions you have. (If you send an email, be sure to put Sims CH Mailing in the subject line.) I’m willing to answer just about anything I legally and conscionably can about games, the industry, freelancing, and working professionally at Wizards of the Coast. I’ll share opinions and facts, as well as how I’d run my game or recommend you solve a problem you have. I have a few questions already, but more is better. Don’t be shy just because I’m a cannibalistic demihuman. (I do bite.) Go ahead, email me. I dare you.
Emergence & Reentry
Emergence
Hello everyone! I’m Chris Sims, former Wizards of the Coast designer and editor. You might know me from my editing work on the 3e D&D game (Rules Compendium), my design work for the 4e game (Martial Power, Monster Manual, Monster Manual 2, and so on), or from D&D Insider. I’m joining my friends here at Critical-Hits, because I enjoy talking, thinking, and writing about games and generally geeky stuff.
I want to write what you want to read. That means I’m open to questions and topic suggestions. Feel free to send me either or both at my Critical Hits email–chris at critcal-hits dot com. Also, I want to start helping you with your games and design questions, which might even form a whole new “mailbag” column if it receives enough response.
I also want to to play the “identify the classic AD&D monster and source” with my author bio. You identify it first, and I’ll tell everybody you did. I’ll try to change up once a week.
Reentry
I’ve been thinking about entry-level tabletop roleplaying games a lot lately. Looking back on the start of the 4e D&D game, and the amount of material that’s already out for it, I wish it had been developed and released in a more controlled manner.
I realize that the 4e game isn’t really entry-level. However, it was produced with the intent of gaining a whole sector of new players. It failed to be as good as it could have been in that area of design intent.
An entry-level game must give the potential player setting and rules material that are comprehended quickly and easily. The player needs some control of character creation and play through choices. But an entry-level game needs to limit choices to the point that they’re digestible.
By limiting choices, I don’t mean eliminating choices by making character creation extremely random. Randomness isn’t simplicity; it’s choices made for you by a roll of the dice. Numerous modern video roleplaying games allow a lot of choice during character creation without resorting to such a crutch. A modern entry-level product has to acknowledge that. Random systems all too often force a character into particular molds, limited by the designer’s imagination and page space. Such a lack of choice won’t fly with most modern gamers.
Numerous modern tabletop roleplaying games, and even more video game RPGs, instead provide ideal starting points for a player in the form of archetypes. You want a troll mage? Here’s the perfect set of initial abilities for that character. (Even the 4e D&D game has such archetypes for a starting character, but the information is easily overlooked in each character class entry.) The good modern games allow you to tinker with and eventually outgrow the archetypes as you grow in play proficiency. They do it without overwhelming you.
Speaking of overwhelming, the 4e D&D game had a cumbersome amount of legacy material and audience expectations. These pressures didn’t serve the design process as well as they could have. It seemed to me that the possible forms the game could have taken overwhelmed even the designers themselves. A 4e that took a few more of its cues from the old-school red-box (Moldvay 1981 revision) D&D Basic Set might have been better in the end.
For character creation and development, that game had several classes, a little randomness, and limited scope. It also had a range of information that at least implied a setting, as well as enough challenges and rewards to get one started as a DM. Sure, looking at it with modern sensibilities makes its flaws even more glaring. At the time, though, that red box had an approach that was sheer genius–simple, limited, and modularly expandable.
The tendency today is to try to give players everything possible at once, maybe even with a little new hotness for spice. That’s a wrongheaded approach, especially given the evidence of how people digest and play with tabletop roleplaying game material (slowly). It’s also wrongheaded approach if you, as a designer, want the game to have a long, exciting lifespan.
Too many players think that a new version of a game needs, at its inception, all the options the previous, mature system had. They’re wrongheaded, too. The way people learn and play a new system (slowly) doesn’t bear out this desire to have it all as soon as possible. It’s also wrongheaded if you, as a player, want the game to have a long, exciting lifespan.
Imagine if we could roll back time to the initial release of the 4e D&D game. What if the first Player’s Handbook had, at most, 160 pages–about the size of Martial Power and similar books. Let’s say it had the expected races (dwarf, elf, half-elf, halfling, and human) four core classes (cleric, fighter, rogue, wizard), levels 1–10. It’d also have all the rules the current PH1 has, along with some clearer “entry-level” stuff such as archetypes. (All this would indeed fit in a 160-page book, along with a little new hotness, such as a new race or three and maybe another class–to taste.)
Before you decry or support this utter fantasy, imagine also that the release schedule modularly expanded the game. Six months would give you, as a player, a few more builds, classes, and races. A year later, at most, you would have access to the first paragon tier material. Year two would show you epic tier in all its glory. (The fact is, though, most current 4e players aren’t yet beyond heroic tier, even now.)
It would have been better for the designers and for the players. And that’s not even mentioning a utilitarian release schedule for DM products. It’s also ignoring that an entry-level game also has to be simple and fun, which I think 4e is. But that, and perhaps expansion on some of the topics touched on here, is a topic for another day.
