Sure, and understandably so. "We are walking to Mount Doom" is hardly a railroad, is all I'm saying. Having a Big Bad, or an early meeting with his Dragon or whatever...
Sure, and understandably so. "We are walking to Mount Doom" is hardly a railroad, is all I'm saying. Having a Big Bad, or an early meeting with his Dragon or whatever...
Yes, but that's exactly the point. Having "plot points" not even as hard requirements but as potential, doesn't remove the scope for "play to find out" potential.
Yes, but that's exactly the point. Having "plot points" not even as hard requirements but as potential, doesn't remove the scope for "play to find out" potential.
Daggerheart thrives when the focus is on the emotional journey of the PCs and the GM leaves room for their impact. You’re not playing a pre-planned story—the overarching plot of your campaign will emerge when you collaborate with the players to weave together the characters’ stories, the world, and major events.
Actively create room to be surprised by what the characters will do, the choices they’ll make, and the people they’ll become. Try to prepare situations without expectations about the solutions the players will find or create. While preparing adversaries and appropriate maps can help make for exciting scenes, always know you can adjust or completely throw out plans to follow inspiration when it strikes at the table.
Now that we have some ideas of what could potentially happen in our campaign, it’s time to talk about story arcs.
Arcs are a connected series of sessions within a campaign that focus on a specific objective, theme, character, or idea. Though you won’t know for sure the path your players will take, by preparing the structure of the arc, you can ensure that you’re giving them the adequate narrative fodder for a satisfying story.
The examples the book gives here are big picture beats, and follow directly forward from the backstories the players established together in Session 0. I think the more you present a scenario that appeals to what the players & their characters care about, and play to find out the answer to questions, the more in alignment with the intent you are.
I've been slowly working on the Red Hand of Doom port, and here's how I've tried to conceptualize that over to the first act of the module after the little intro Act I wrote (the Red Hand outriders are assailing the town of Drellin's Ferry, ahead of the full invasion kicking off!):
"Act 2 reveals the full extent of the Doom crashing down upon the Vale. It also gives the player characters a chance to discover this danger and warn the town, followed by potential involvement in a fraught social scene as the leadership of the town tries to figure out how bad it is and decide on next steps.
In this Act we play to find out:
What will the PCs think and do once they discover the Red Hand's plans?
What relationships will they build amongst the people of the Vale?
How will they shape the outcome of the Red Hand's first major encounter with a major center of habitation?"
And then we play to find out the answer to those questions. Apocalypse World and its descendants do this sort of "Front -> Questions" framing, where you prep as the GM some sort of impending Thing that attacks what the PCs care about in some way, and then jot down some questions you want to pull on over the course of play as appropriate.
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When I prepped a "missing starsteel" side-quest type thing for my Thursday group, I just jotted down some ideas for myself, wrote who had them and what that place looked like, and then just kept asking "what do you do" after each scene. It wound up with a resolution I had no expectation for, but the game + my loose prep made it easy to adapt and test their choices. My prep was an idea cloud per below (plus the existing city districts I had to lean on):
"- The River Gull (Captain Tirn Wavewalker, be-earringed, laughing, blue skin with white tattoos)
Dockhands at the Old Docks bribed (small gems, twinkling with perfect facets)
Nearby fishers saw a small pony-cart haul away a crate, a swatched wide figure.
Workshop:
Small cottage in Southwark, neglected front yard. Wide windows, a kitchen with part-stale bread and spilling dishes. Sketches and poetry flap about. A guard dog barks in the back.
A pristine workshop, carefully arraigned. Runes forming hymns of creation incised upon all entry surfaces.
Songsculptor Vidan (haunted face, greying hair, sonorous voice). Wants: To finish their masterwork's heart, sing it alive.
Masterwork: A representation of Sertig - god of making, wrought of smoky quartz and brilliant corundum, holding a hammer and tongs."
How all that went:
The group had been tracking down a missing starmetal shipment that the master Drakona blacksmith ("nothing anneals better than Drakona fire") had promised them some rewards crafted from if they found it. I'd decided to try and subvert expectations a bit: they knew that the thieves guild in the city highly frowns on "independent operators" and were more and more convinced something like that was at play. I'd established in my notes it was a dwarven devotee of the god of Making who needed the star metal to craft a heart for the statue of his god, so he could "sing it to life."
When they eventually found the spot where the stolen shipment had been taken (a huge workshed behind a neglected cottage), the Rogue went creeping about via Invisibility; some quick actions (and a bit of Prayer dice) kept the dog they now knew was there guarding by the main door from scenting her. Decisions were made to get some food and have the most animal-gifted PC (the farm boy Guardian) try and lure it away. When the dog emerged, it was a gorgeously crafted and animated dog of stone the size of a St Bernard. Still doggish and pursued the sausage excitedly.
Confronting the dwarf, they quickly realized he was somewhat mad with devotion and single-mindedness. There was a moment where they had a conversation above table about maybe helping him finish the work and nudging him to unleash his new animated statue as a distraction so they could go make an attempt on some political stuff they were aware of, but they decided against that. The sorcerer having threatened his masterwork statue with Big Explosion, the dwarf had reluctantly given in ("oh, yes, I shall instead grow CRYSTALS OF ANIMATION!"). And then the sorcerer insulted the dwarf and his lineage.
Badness ensued, at the end the sorcerer had indeed set off an explosion in the magic laden statue ("ok cool, so like - everything slows down as the Arcane Crystal shatters and your chaos bolts impact the statue and then it just explodes outwards with a huge shockwave...make an Agility Reaction roll...and then who's next closest?"), the workshop had collapsed (the Guardian rescuing the masterless animated dog, the sorcerer straining to hold the roof up as the Seraph quickly healed and covered for the Rogue, who grabbed the star metal heart), and 2/4 people were just on the edge of death moves.