This week I am extending the concept of "what our gaming says about us" to the GM chair. I came to some interesting insights about what is most important to me and how it extends into all areas of my life.
______________________________________________________________
A couple weeks ago, I did a column about our favorite characters and what they say about us as gamers and people. I noted several of the comments indicated the poster was primarily a GM and didn’t have a huge selection of characters from which to choose a favorite. Although I’ve been fortunate to have played in some really excellent campaigns over the years, I seem to find myself in the GM chair more often than not. So I could easily identify with those comments.
It got me thinking about the other side of that coin; how we design and run campaigns says at least as much about us as our characters do. After all, the GM gets to run dozens or hundreds of characters over the course of a campaign, to say nothing of the way we do plot arcs, adventure hooks, encounter design, and other aspects of campaign planning.
Back in the day, I cut my teeth running games the way I suspect most of us did in our early years: Haphazardly. Frequently with mixed results and including an occasional disaster. But there was some good stuff mixed in there too, like the time one player was able to sacrifice his angsty, cursed character to destroy the evil demigod the PCs faced thanks to some subtle plot hooks I’d planted dozens of sessions earlier. I was mostly feeling my way in the dark and having a grand old time doing it.
I’ve said before one of the biggest breakthroughs in my understanding of GMing was when I read Robin Laws’ Laws of Good Gamemastering--particularly digesting the concept of “player types” and how they get their “emotional kick.” It includes the concept that the GM also has a player type, and it pervades the campaign in ways much larger than that of the other players. This is something you’ve gotta keep an eye on so you don’t let your own preferences run roughshod over those of the other players.
Luckily for me, my own play style meshes pretty well with that of my players. At heart I’m a Strategist, which means I carefully consider my choices and want them to matter. This runs all through the way I design my campaigns these days. It goes something like this...
I start with a setting concept I think is really cool, usually one which has physical elements that set a certain tone. My last few campaign settings were Fallout (like the computer game) in Florida, a Gothic Horror Fantasy where Darkness was eating the world, a planet blanketed in poisonous “Mist” out of which only a few tall plateaus jutted, and Pirates of the Caribbean set in the Warhammer world. These have each provided a rich backdrop, teeming with ideas.
Once the players have bought into the campaign setting, they make characters and tell me about them. This also sets into motion more ideas about how to tie these into the setting, particularly the various power groups and their agendas. How the PCs interact with those elements typically makes up the bulk of the campaign. But first I throw them into a fairly tightly bound, almost railroady start.
Although I am all about the players being able to make meaningful choices, past experience has shown, at least for the first few sessions, our games need direction and momentum. The players want to see key features of the setting showcased while they bind together as a party. Later on they can focus on individual goals. But if those are the focus at the start, it tends to pull the group apart. Instead, I do my best to create an adventure which provides a common cause. And I’m not above saying, “You each need to come up with a reason to do this first thing.”
Once they’ve made it through the perils of the first adventure and settled into their characters a bit, I cast open the campaign world for them to explore as they like. Certainly there are likely to be paths that seem obvious from the outcome of the first adventure, but I’m also throwing out lots of hints, rumors, and plot hooks from other directions. You never know which they’ll bite on and which they will leave dangling. This is when those meaningful choices start to shape the remainder of the campaign.
My resolve about this was put to the test and crystallized how important choice is for me. It was during my Pirates of the Caribbean game when the PCs had been loaned a ship and tasked with sailing to Tortuga and recovering a treasure map thought to be buried in the (haunted) cemetery there. Their reward was to be the ship they had been loaned, which would then allow them to pursue the treasure on the map for their patron. I had already laid out the “dungeon” representing the Crypts of Tortuga, drawn the treasure map, and begun figuring out encounters along the dotted line leading to the big, red X. Only they never went on that adventure at all.
In what I thought would be a tense negotiation on the way into the harbor at Tortuga, they instead decided to defy and then battle an Imperial sloop. Some bold leadership and a few lucky dice rolls later, they had taken the Imperial ship as a prize, sailing into Tortuga with two ships instead of one. They had a short, spirited discussion about their new acquisition and decided they didn’t need to complete the treasure map mission to gain a ship now that they had one of their own. Instead, they sent the loaner ship back to Port Royal with a missive saying, essentially, “Thanks but no thanks.” They never set foot in the crypts, nor found the treasure map.
This incident really put my philosophy to the test. I’m pretty sure I could have persuaded them to “go on the adventure,” but that’s not how I roll. Instead I learned not to plan so far ahead because things can change and those carefully laid plans won’t survive contact with the players. The best way to stay open to the players choices is not to be too committed to any one outcome.
When I was thinking about my style as a GM and what it said about me, it was easy to see meaningful choices is a concept I hold dear in the rest of my life beyond gaming. I like feeling I have options, and I think my choices will have a significant impact on the course of my future. I also think it’s better to keep my long term goals in mind but not be too rigid in how I get there. Keep it loose. Keep it fun. Keep it moving.
Are your philosophies about life reflected in your GMing style? Is the way you plan your life similar to how you lay out the course of a campaign?
______________________________________________________________
A couple weeks ago, I did a column about our favorite characters and what they say about us as gamers and people. I noted several of the comments indicated the poster was primarily a GM and didn’t have a huge selection of characters from which to choose a favorite. Although I’ve been fortunate to have played in some really excellent campaigns over the years, I seem to find myself in the GM chair more often than not. So I could easily identify with those comments.
It got me thinking about the other side of that coin; how we design and run campaigns says at least as much about us as our characters do. After all, the GM gets to run dozens or hundreds of characters over the course of a campaign, to say nothing of the way we do plot arcs, adventure hooks, encounter design, and other aspects of campaign planning.
Back in the day, I cut my teeth running games the way I suspect most of us did in our early years: Haphazardly. Frequently with mixed results and including an occasional disaster. But there was some good stuff mixed in there too, like the time one player was able to sacrifice his angsty, cursed character to destroy the evil demigod the PCs faced thanks to some subtle plot hooks I’d planted dozens of sessions earlier. I was mostly feeling my way in the dark and having a grand old time doing it.
I’ve said before one of the biggest breakthroughs in my understanding of GMing was when I read Robin Laws’ Laws of Good Gamemastering--particularly digesting the concept of “player types” and how they get their “emotional kick.” It includes the concept that the GM also has a player type, and it pervades the campaign in ways much larger than that of the other players. This is something you’ve gotta keep an eye on so you don’t let your own preferences run roughshod over those of the other players.
Luckily for me, my own play style meshes pretty well with that of my players. At heart I’m a Strategist, which means I carefully consider my choices and want them to matter. This runs all through the way I design my campaigns these days. It goes something like this...
I start with a setting concept I think is really cool, usually one which has physical elements that set a certain tone. My last few campaign settings were Fallout (like the computer game) in Florida, a Gothic Horror Fantasy where Darkness was eating the world, a planet blanketed in poisonous “Mist” out of which only a few tall plateaus jutted, and Pirates of the Caribbean set in the Warhammer world. These have each provided a rich backdrop, teeming with ideas.
Once the players have bought into the campaign setting, they make characters and tell me about them. This also sets into motion more ideas about how to tie these into the setting, particularly the various power groups and their agendas. How the PCs interact with those elements typically makes up the bulk of the campaign. But first I throw them into a fairly tightly bound, almost railroady start.
Although I am all about the players being able to make meaningful choices, past experience has shown, at least for the first few sessions, our games need direction and momentum. The players want to see key features of the setting showcased while they bind together as a party. Later on they can focus on individual goals. But if those are the focus at the start, it tends to pull the group apart. Instead, I do my best to create an adventure which provides a common cause. And I’m not above saying, “You each need to come up with a reason to do this first thing.”
Once they’ve made it through the perils of the first adventure and settled into their characters a bit, I cast open the campaign world for them to explore as they like. Certainly there are likely to be paths that seem obvious from the outcome of the first adventure, but I’m also throwing out lots of hints, rumors, and plot hooks from other directions. You never know which they’ll bite on and which they will leave dangling. This is when those meaningful choices start to shape the remainder of the campaign.
My resolve about this was put to the test and crystallized how important choice is for me. It was during my Pirates of the Caribbean game when the PCs had been loaned a ship and tasked with sailing to Tortuga and recovering a treasure map thought to be buried in the (haunted) cemetery there. Their reward was to be the ship they had been loaned, which would then allow them to pursue the treasure on the map for their patron. I had already laid out the “dungeon” representing the Crypts of Tortuga, drawn the treasure map, and begun figuring out encounters along the dotted line leading to the big, red X. Only they never went on that adventure at all.
In what I thought would be a tense negotiation on the way into the harbor at Tortuga, they instead decided to defy and then battle an Imperial sloop. Some bold leadership and a few lucky dice rolls later, they had taken the Imperial ship as a prize, sailing into Tortuga with two ships instead of one. They had a short, spirited discussion about their new acquisition and decided they didn’t need to complete the treasure map mission to gain a ship now that they had one of their own. Instead, they sent the loaner ship back to Port Royal with a missive saying, essentially, “Thanks but no thanks.” They never set foot in the crypts, nor found the treasure map.
This incident really put my philosophy to the test. I’m pretty sure I could have persuaded them to “go on the adventure,” but that’s not how I roll. Instead I learned not to plan so far ahead because things can change and those carefully laid plans won’t survive contact with the players. The best way to stay open to the players choices is not to be too committed to any one outcome.
When I was thinking about my style as a GM and what it said about me, it was easy to see meaningful choices is a concept I hold dear in the rest of my life beyond gaming. I like feeling I have options, and I think my choices will have a significant impact on the course of my future. I also think it’s better to keep my long term goals in mind but not be too rigid in how I get there. Keep it loose. Keep it fun. Keep it moving.
Are your philosophies about life reflected in your GMing style? Is the way you plan your life similar to how you lay out the course of a campaign?
