I understand that, I think one of the differences is that you predominantly maintain that sense of order at the table and in the fiction.
As promised, here’s a breakdown of the video in question, covering three situations that occurred at the start of the session, along with my commentary.
Video
Rob: Why don't you take the lead here and we can get started at your convenience.
Okay, so you folks made casters. I believe Adam, you made a third-level knight named Sir Broderick, correct?
Adam: Correct.
Rob: Brendon, you made a fourth-level burglar named Simon Pepin. Who decides on a baron?
Brendon: Pepin. Brown. Yes, that's correct. Just, uh, his name is Pepwell. Pepwell.
Rob's Note: Everybody getting to know the character they made. Even if we didn't have an audience I still would do this.
The Initial Context
Rob: And we are using a variant of the original Dungeons & Dragons game in the form of Swords and Wizardry plus my Majestic Wilderlands supplement. The premise of the adventure is that they're at the court of the bishop. In medieval times, the court is not so much a formal affair as portrayed in movies. It's more like a daily social gathering. Among other things, people go there to seek out jobs or the bishop's patronage in hopes of work and reward. That's what these two fellows and their characters are here to do.
Establishing the initial context for the players (we’re using my Majestic Fantasy rules) and the initial context for the characters (they are at the court of the bishop, with an explanation of what being at court entails).
This setup is a contrivance, since it’s a one-shot. Normally, the initial context for the characters would be worked out during pre-game, which is itself an example of meta-agency, handled by the players for their characters, not as their characters. What’s not shown in the video is the correspondence and messaging between me, Brendon, and later Elliot about character creation, which was also part of that pre-game. We all knew going in that the goal was to highlight medieval fantasy roleplaying, so the players created characters suited to a feudal society.
Any questions, guys, before we start?
Brendon: I have two. First question: are we together when we get there or separately? Do we know each other?
Rob: You know of each other.
Brendon: Okay. Second question: we're basically just here looking for some kind of employment from the bishop, right?
Rob: Correct.
Brendon: Is there a line or procedure we have to follow before we can meet with him?
Rob: Generally, you're in the court and hope to attract the attention of either the bishop, which is hard, or one of his officials like the steward or one of his clerks, which is easier. We'll start in the middle of the afternoon. You've already eaten lunch and are just chatting it up.
Now, Brendon, because you have a 17 charisma, people know who you are. But they don't know you're quite a burglar. They know you're an aristo. Because of your choice to live an adventuring life, there's a strong sense of disapproval. So your charisma isn't counting here as much as it should.
Brendon: Got it. I'm like a bad boy.
Rob: Yes, that's the word I'm looking for. You're a bad boy.
This is another example of meta-agency, used to flesh out the initial context so that Brendon has a clear understanding of his character’s situation before play begins. Without it, he would have little to go on when making decisions.
Adam: I said I had a relatively high charisma. I've got a 12.
Rob: That's a solid reputation. You're a knight with good standing, but you're competing against other knights with charisma just as good as Simon Pepwell. Maintaining a horse and armor is expensive, which is why you're here.
Any more questions?
Adam: I think I'm all set.
Doing the same for Adam, fleshing out his initial context.
Also note the discussion with both players about setting details. To be clear about the implications: as the referee, I don’t care about what the personal goals or motivations are in particular. What I do care about is making sure they understand the facts of the setting necessary to realize those goals and motivation. Beyond that, as a friend, I’m interested in hearing what they’re thinking about their characters, but that isn’t relevant to my role as the referee. We’re all RPG nerds who enjoy talking about our characters and what we have planned for them, but that’s a separate from what’s required to run the game.
Rob: I want to point out it's okay to question me about rules. My goal is that anything your character could logically do in the setting, like jumping over a ditch or talking to someone, you can do. If I make a ruling that seems contradictory, feel free to question it. I also encourage first-person role-playing. Feel free to use funny voices.
Brendon: Okay, I'm a little dry but I'll try.
First off, prior to this session, neither Adam nor Brendon had played using my Majestic Fantasy Rules. Creating an atmosphere where questions are welcome and answered clearly is an important aspect of good leadership. The goal is to make players comfortable enough to focus on roleplaying their characters and enjoying the game.
The Bishop's Court
Rob: Alright. You're in the court. It's about an hour after lunch. You're milling around. Brendon, Simon sees the bishop's steward coming up to you.
I describe the situation Simon Pepwell and Sir Broderick find themselves in, then play it out through first-person roleplaying.
Steward: Ah, young Pepin Beau, isn't it?
Brendon: Yes, yes, Pepinwell. How are you, sir?
Steward: Good, good. How is your father?
Brendon: He's doing well.
Steward: Excellent. So happy. Are you still in the proverbial doghouse with him or have you fixed that up?
Brendon: I think things are mostly patched up at this point. But if there's any opportunities here that might help me gain good favor with my father, I'm hoping to land one.
Steward: Actually, the bishop has something that needs to be done, and I think it would fit your skill set well. However, I don't think you can do it by yourself.
(He looks around and points to Sir Broderick)
Players can "make up stuff" if and when I invite them to do so. That may sound autocratic, but it's important to remember that they don’t have the same depth of knowledge about the setting as I do. Because consistency and internal logic are priorities in my Living World campaigns, rather than being subordinate to other goals, I only invite players to contribute details when there’s nothing already established that would contradict them. I make a note of these contributions to maintain continuity.
In this case, we hadn’t established whether Sir Broderick and Simon Pepwell knew each other, so I invited Brendon to fill in some of that background. The specific technique I’m using here is borrowed from improv theater. Like improv, Adam is free to accept or reject what Brendon proposes based on how he responds in character.
And no, we didn’t discuss this beforehand. In my experience, players usually catch on quickly. But if needed, I’ll step out of character and explain how it works.
Steward: What do you think of him?
Brendon: He's a good guy. I know him. Heard good things. There was a skirmish with bandits by the estuary and he acquitted himself well.
Steward: I think he would round out your talents. You're going to need a sword by your side. Sir Broderick, come here please.
Adam: Yes, steward?
Steward: Simon Pepinwell here.
Adam: We've met on occasion.
Adam accepts, establishing their relationship as part of the setting.
Also note that I use any technique, such as those from improvisational theater, that helps keep players in character and engaged in first-person roleplaying as much as possible. I have no issue with skill checks or combat procedures; they’re necessary given that we’re using dice, pen, and paper to resolve actions. And frankly, they’re a lot safer and faster than how I had to handle things during LARP events.
Steward: I would like a moment of your time. Would you accompany me?
Adam & Brendon: Of course.
Rob: He takes you out of the hall into a side chamber. There's a small fireplace, a table, and some chairs.
When the players said "of course," that was sufficient indication and permission to move things forward. I avoid using terms like "scene" or "encounter" because they’re too rigid to capture what’s possible with this method. Here, we simply shift to a new location, which I describe. If we were at a physical table or using a VTT, I would move the players’ tokens accordingly. I would still describe the location briefly, but the visual reference would help fill in the rest.
While it hasn’t come up yet, players are always free to ask questions about what their characters perceive, what they see, hear, smell, etc. That’s another example of meta-agency in my campaign.
Adam and Brendon were also free to refuse the Steward’s invitation. But out-of-game, we all understood that this was a one-shot, and that this was the obvious path forward. In a full campaign, the Steward would be disappointed, these were his first-choice candidates, but he would move on to his second choice, leaving Simon Pepwell and Sir Broderick to continue attending court.
Steward: The bishop needs someone to visit the Shrine of St. Calum the Dragon Rider. It's about a day's ride north of here and is part of the diocese, a popular pilgrimage site. But their seasonal tithe is late. In fact, they've been late every season for the past couple of years, and His Excellency is fed up.
(Steward turns to Simon)
Steward: I'd like you to go up there. (Hands Simon a sealed scroll) This is your authority to collect the money. Book no excuses.
(Steward turns to Broderick)
Steward: I'd like you to accompany him. The bishop would count it as a favor.
Adam: I’d be happy to accompany him, sir.
Brendon: Simon Pepinwell. You may have heard of Baron Pepinwell. I’m sure we all know about Simon Silver Tongue.
Steward: You’ll be compensated for your time. If you need to cover expenses...
Brendon: Do you have any expenses, Sir Broderick?
Adam: No expenses to speak of. I could use some feed for my horse.
Rob: (Steward scribbles a note) Take this to the stables. And here's 100 silver each to defray food and travel costs.
Brendon: Thank you, sir. (Takes satchel)
Steward: I expect you back within a fortnight.
Adam & Brendon: We'll be back well before that.
Steward: Good. I bid you adieu.
(He leaves)
Broderick and Simon Pepwell are left to themselves and begin roleplaying in first person. This is very common in my campaigns. Most of the time, it’s the players being themselves while speaking in character.
Brendon: Sir Broderick, what was the name of the village again?
Adam: The Shrine of St. Calum the Dragon Rider.
Brendon: Yeah, where's the chat window...
Rob: So why don't you get your gear and head to the shrine?
Adam: We head to the stables.
(Rob describes provisioning, horses being prepared)
Rob: You leave right away?
Adam: Yes.
Apparently, this part was paraphrased by the transcription. In any case, the players gather what they need for the journey. I try to handle this as much as possible through first-person roleplaying. The last thing I ask is, “Do you leave right away?”, giving each player the opportunity to say if their character wants to do anything else before departing.
Normally, there would be a map with shops and other key locations marked. Players would look it over and decide if there’s anything else they need. If so, I roleplay it unless they request a quick resolution. Most of the time, I grant that and move on. It might sound autocratic, but the players only have a limited view of the setting, what their characters would plausibly know, so I provide context as needed.
Because I approach it this way, players often end up spending the session simply living as their characters. They don’t have to, but they usually become so interested in what’s happening around them that we end up playing out the entire day, with their original plans postponed until the next session.
Pilgrims at the Inn
Rob: You ride four hours, nightfall. You find a tavern along the way. You're traveling north along the Conqueror's River.
Again, I describe the circumstances the party finds themselves in. I rolled for encounters, and none occurred.
Brendon: Do I have a horse?
Rob: Yes, you have a riding horse.
Brendon: At the inn, Sir Broderick, just to be clear, my name is Pepwell. Thank you for not making me look bad in front of the bishop's steward.
Adam: I think we should ask around. Do any locals know anything?
Rob: You're six hours away from the village. There’s a common area. You’re eating dinner. Four pilgrims are in one corner.
If this had been my usual setup, there would have been a map of the village. The players would "look around" by examining the map, noting what I placed on it, and asking questions. Since we were using theater of the mind, I assumed that "look around" referred to the tavern. The rules of improv still applied, and the players could have chosen to redirect the focus, saying, for example, "We check the stables", and I would have continued from there.
Brendon: I walk up. "Greetings, pilgrims. What brings you here?"
Pilgrims: We're returning from the Shrine of St. Calum. It was excellent! There’s a dragon skull with a half-melted sword through it. They let us touch it!
(Conversation continues about the shrine, lunch being served there, long lines, etc.)
Brendon: What's the situation there now?
Pilgrims: It seemed fine. But get there an hour before sundown or you’ll wait forever.
Brendon: What’s the bishop like?
Pilgrims: We saw him at morning service. It felt rushed.
Brendon: (To Sir Broderick) Sounds like the abbot is the issue.
Adam: Yes, let’s get a night's sleep and head out at sunrise.
Once again, I handled everything through first-person roleplaying.
So, where are all the skill rolls? As I’ve explained before, I call for a roll only when the outcome of an attempted action is uncertain. Up to this point, nothing Brendan or Adam has had their characters do involved uncertainty, so I simply ruled on the results and continued roleplaying.
Rob: No incidents. Travel resumes. You're now about a half-hour from the shrine. It’s more wilderness, with swamps to your left and the Ork-infested forest across the river to your right. You camp for the night.
Star Crossed Lovers
Once again describing the new situation.
Brendon: Sir Broderick, want to take the first watch?
Adam: I think that would be a good plan.
Rob: Okay, roll a perception check. Just a d20 plus your Wisdom modifier.
Adam: My Wisdom modifier is -1. I rolled a 14, so that's 13.
Rob: Okay. Just before you're due to wake Simon, you hear a scream about a hundred yards away. Definitely human. Female.
First, the players handling the setup of camp by roleplaying among themselves is typical.
So here is the first time we had something uncertain happen thus a skill roll is needed. I was looking for a 10 better on a d20 for complete success. Normally it is a 15+, but the circumstances was advantageous. And this was before I started using 5e advantage and disadvatage. What I would do now is have Adam roll for advantage.
So why did this encounter happen? The first time I ran the adventure, it was part of a Majestic Wilderlands campaign. This encounter originated from a random roll as the party traveled north along the road beside the Conqueror’s River. In that version, they weren’t on a mission for the bishop; instead, the group chose to escort the couple back home, and the rest of the adventure unfolded without the “collect the tithe from the abbot” plotline.
In its current form, I established a timeline for the couple’s journey from Woodford. In a normal campaign, the encounter with the couple would only occur if the party happened to camp on the road that particular night.
If they force-marched to Woodford, they might have encountered the couple on the road. If they delayed their journey, they would have found the aftermath of the ruffian attack. I keep a chart of possible outcomes, roll one and roleplay accordingly. If the party approached from a different direction entirely, the couple’s situation wouldn’t come into play until they reached Woodford and heard about the two runaways.
This illustrates how I make a World in Motion work, by combining timelines, notes, and a focus on plausible outcomes.
Adam: I wake Simon. "Simon, wake up, there’s a scream over that way."
Brendon: Did I hear that?
Rob: Yes. You both now hear shouting and a commotion.
Brendon: We should move. Let me scout ahead, I can move unseen. Signal if you need my sword.
Rob: Okay, Brendon, roll Stealth with advantage, 2d20, take the higher. Add your Dex and Stealth bonus.
The players roleplayed getting up, and then Brendon told me what his character was going to do. I don’t use a formal system like Intent and Task or PbtA moves. Instead, players describe their actions in first- or second-person, and I determine whether the outcome is a success, a failure, or uncertain, if it’s uncertain, I call for a roll. In making that call, I weigh the circumstances, what the player described, and the capabilities of their character.
Brendon: Got an 18.
Rob: Good. Adam, are you also sneaking?
Adam: I’ll try. My best. Rolling... 17.
Rob: You both sneak to a ridge. Below, a campfire glows. You see a young woman in fine clothes held by a ruffian. A young man lies on the ground, rubbing his jaw. Two more ruffians are armed with clubs. One has a shortbow. The leader has a sword.
This was actually an opposed roll, Stealth versus the ruffians’ perception. Unknown to the players, they rolled significantly higher. Thanks to my LARP experience, I have a solid grasp of how situational awareness works (one of the few aspects of LARP that’s realistically modeled). With a successful Stealth check, the players receive a clear description of what’s happening and anything they would plausibly observe under the circumstances.
Brendon: How close can I get?
Rob: Fifty yards without another roll.
Brendon: I'll do that. I ready my crossbow, aim at the leader. I’ll wait for Sir Broderick’s charge.
From experience, I know that close approaches are much more difficult and require evaluating specific site details, making the outcome uncertain and justifying another Stealth check. Again normally there will be visual references place on a site map. However, 50 yards is a safe distance that doesn’t require a new roll. Brendon knows what his crossbow is capable of and chooses not to take the risk.
Adam: I’m charging on horseback. Targeting the ruffian holding the woman.
Rob: You get a surprise round. Roll to hit, d20 plus your bonuses. You need 11 to hit.
Adam: First hit: 13.
Rob: Hit. Roll damage.
Adam: 12 damage.
Rob: He goes down. You can reach the second one.
Adam: Second attack: 14. Damage: 12.
Rob: You skewer him as well. You’re now about 40 feet from the leader.
What happened here is that Adam was positioned down the road on horseback. It looks like part of the transcription was lost, we’re missing the moment when he told me that’s what he was doing. The second campsite was just off the road, so Adam didn’t have to worry about charging through forest terrain. He waited farther out, and due to the horse’s speed, was able to close the distance and reach melee range within a single combat round, which also counted as a surprise round.
A rule specific to my Majestic Fantasy system is that a fighter can attack a number of Hit Dice equal to their level (with no cap). Since the two ruffians totaled fewer than 4 HD, he was able to take out both of them in a single pass.
If I were running this as a typical session, there would’ve been a map on the table with minis and props showing the layout. Players would assess their positions, angles, and plan accordingly. In this Theater of the Mind session, I default to “yes” unless there’s a detail I’ve already established that would contradict a player’s action. In that case, the player can reconsider if they simply missed the detail. But if they heard it and chose to ignore it, then the consequences, good or bad, stand.
I tend to err on the side of giving more information rather than less. It’s also one of the reasons I prefer visual representation to support my verbal descriptions, it reduces miscommunication and keeps the game flowing.
Brendon: I fire at the leader. I rolled a 15.
Rob: Hit. Damage?
Brendon: Five.
Rob: He grunts, wounded. Everyone roll initiative. d6 plus your bonuses.
Surprise round is over. We go into normal combat order.
Adam: Six.
Brendon: Eight.
Elliot: (enters) Hey everyone! Can I join?
Rob: Yes, great timing. Adam, can you invite Elliot in?
Adam: On it.
Elliot: Character is Sheamus O'Riordan. Halfling merchant adventurer. Level 5. I’ve got a pony and a cart.
Rob: You're nearby. You hear the commotion and ride toward it. As you approach, you see three ruffians down, one wounded leader, a crossbowman, and a knight.
Elliot: I sneak up, bow ready. Stealth roll: 19 + 6 = 25.
Rob: You’re within 60 feet. You can shoot.
Elliot: I fire two arrows. First: 14. Second: 17.
Rob: Both hit. Roll damage.
Elliot: 4 and 2. Total: 6.
Rob: He collapses. Combat over.
And to make things even more fun, a late player arrived, unexpectedly, at a moment that turned his character’s entrance into a genuine dramatic highlight.
The Aftermath
Woman: Who are you?
Adam: A knight come to your rescue.
Woman: Thank you! (Helps the man up.) This is Anton. I'm Quinneth. We're from Greenwell Manor.
Brendon: Are you okay? Any injuries?
Anton: Just bruised. We... we ran away. Our families want to keep us apart.
Brendon: Why?
Quinneth: My father’s a noble. He's a smith’s son. They wouldn’t allow it.
Elliot: I’m a professional scribe. I could write a contract placing him in your service. Legitimize this story.
Brendon: Perfect. What’s a fair fee?
Elliot: Consider it on the house.
Rob: Make a professional literacy roll.
Elliot: Rolled a 10 + 4 = 14.
Rob: Good. It’s official-looking. The couple is relieved.
Brendon: We'll say I’m courting her, taking him into my service. We’ll get through the village without suspicion.
Rob: That works.
Elliot: Now that that’s settled, shall we get some rest?
Rob: You rest uneventfully. Morning comes, and you prepare to finish your journey to the Shrine of St. Calum the Dragon Rider.
I think the transcription got condensed here. Immediately after the combat, the players began roleplaying with a young peasant, about 16 years old, and a nobleman’s daughter of similar age. The two were fleeing from Woodford, the village where the pilgrimage site is located.
In my Deceits of the Russet Lord adventure, dealing with the “star-crossed lovers” is the first branching point where each group's experience begins to diverge. Every group has handled the situation differently. In this case, Brendan, Adam, and Elliot chose to support the couple by creating a subterfuge to keep them together until the group could resolve the situation at the abbey and shrine. This was all handled through first-person roleplaying, with a single skill roll used to resolve the uncertainty of forging a document.
In the dozen or so times I’ve run this adventure, about half the groups decided to bring the couple back to Woodford, some hoping to help reconcile the families and allow them to marry, others believing it improper to go against parental wishes or to allow a noble to marry a peasant. These groups, including Brendan, Adam, and Elliot’s, all felt it was too dangerous for the couple to travel alone. The other half (all but one) chose to hide the couple in a nearby cave or abandoned hut, intending to revisit the issue after dealing with the abbey. And for the first time ever, a group this spring decided to simply resupply the couple and let them go on their way.
Each of these choices triggered different ripple effects in the events that followed. These early decisions create major points of divergence in how the adventure unfolds. If you watch the rest of the video, you’ll see how this group’s choice plays out when they arrive, resulting in a unique sequence of events compared to other groups who have played through the same setup.
Wrapping this Up
By now, it should be apparent that there are significant structural differences between how I run my Living World sandbox campaigns and how other RPGs like Burning Wheel, D&D 5e, or PbtA are typically played. While I may use many familiar techniques, my extensive use of first-person roleplaying, combined with a focus on plausibility and world continuity, serves a different purpose: to bring the setting to life in a way that makes it feel visited, not authored.
The resulting story might, on the surface, resemble those produced in other fantasy roleplaying systems. But the process that generates that story is fundamentally different. It emerges from a model where the world exists independently of narrative needs, and events unfold based on player action interacting with that world. Just as Burning Wheel or D&D 5e campaigns follow procedures aligned with their own design goals, my Living World sandbox follows its own internal logic, one that supports a distinct experience and playstyle.
So when you focus only on surface similarities while ignoring the structural procedures that define my Living World campaign, you're missing the point. And when that happens repeatedly, it stops looking like misunderstanding, and starts looking like a refusal to listen.
Things to Consider
If those reading this don’t believe this is a distinct style of play with its own methodology, one that uses familiar techniques in unique ways, then here are the questions will need answers:
- If this isn’t a distinct style, why are outcomes in my campaign determined by extrapolated world logic rather than by authored stakes or dramatic framing?
- If our techniques are “the same,” then why does first-person roleplaying in my games drive the fiction forward in the absence of resolution mechanics, while in your systems it often triggers Moves or Tests?
- If we’re both using clocks, fronts, or timelines, why does mine emerge from in-world causality and NPC agency, while for others it is oriented around pacing, dramatic tension, or spotlight balance?
- If our use of adjudication is similar, why do I intentionally avoid interpreting player action in terms of narrative intent, and instead weigh it against a simulated, consistent world state?
- If this is merely a difference in emphasis or timing, then why does the other framework assume a referee must interpret or guide story outcomes, while mine deliberately avoids doing so in favor of consequence-based play?
Until those questions are answered directly and without collapsing the distinctions I’ve laid out, then any claim that Living World sandbox play is “not really different” is simply a refusal to engage with the actual structure of the game I run. And while I highlighted my own particular take on sandbox campaigns. Many of these points apply to the other posters descriptions of their sandbox campaigns.
