For as long as I can remember, I have always included significant aspects of horror when running D&D (whatever the edition). Perhaps it is the pulp sword and sorcery influences, as that genre and "weird tales" often ran together in the same magazines and were often written by the same (or closely associated) authors. Perhaps it is because I have always enjoyed the visceral reaction of the players, and nothing says "visceral" like pants wetting terror. Or perhaps it is simply that horror depends so heavily upon atmosphere that I prefer it because it lets me stretch creatively.
In any case, horror is a key component to D&D (and similar games) to me. (Oddly, I don't much care for running straight up horror rpgs, except for the occasional zombie survival type game.) But when trying to include elements of horror in D&D, there are a number of hurdles to overcome and issues with which to deal. Over 20 plus years of DMing, I have identified some of them, and their solutions, and I thought I would share.
First, a note: When I say "horror" I tend to lean toward a specific sub-genre of horror, on which I can't really put a name. It's the kind that usually has a highly skilled group of specialists suddenly faced with horrific environments and opponents -- think Aliens or Resident Evil or the like (but good, in the former case). While I like psychological horror, and dabble in those elements in D&D, I am mostly referring to "physical horror" here.
Without Fear, there is no "horror". A game can certainly have a "horrific" atmosphere, and might include "disturbing" elements, descriptions and the like. But Fear is the ultimate goal, the ingredient that pushes the game over the edge from Dark Fantasy to Horror. Unfortunately, Fear is a difficult thing to instill in players, comfortable and safe in their chairs around the dining room table. Starting with atmosphere and imagery is a good thing, and makes your job easier down the line, but it isn't the end. To make Horror out of D&D, you have to have Fear -- character Fear and Player Fear.
The problem is that players don't get scared very easily, especially at higher levels in D&D. D&D characters are tough, resourceful and afforded all kinds of systemic protections against the kinds of things that instill pants wetting teror in normal folk.
So, the first thing is to make sure that the characters, whatever level they may be, are vulnerable to the horrific adversity. One way to do this is to have High Damage Yield: a low level party facing an ogre, or a mid level party on the receiving end of a dragon's wrath, or a high level party caught between a demon lord and an archdevil. Despite the durability of the PCs, there are plenty of creatures, traps and disasters than can whittle hit points down swiftly. Encountering such a thing, particularly if unexpected, can replace bravado with fear quite efficiently.
Damage is easily remedied, however, and therefore the weakest of the methods by which to instill fear. Instant death, however, packs a little more punch. D&D is rife with creatures that kill with a touch or a gaze, with death only a die roll away. "Save or die" attacks, spells and effects rob players and characters of control -- it's not their actions that dictate the outcome, but the die -- and a lack of control is frightening. Again, the effect is enhanced if the threat comes out of left field, because not only are the "heroes" slaves to fate, they are unprepared. A random encounter with a banshee should have them looking for a quick exit.
But death in D&D is not permanent as it is in real life. In some campaigns, particularly at high levels, it is little more than a speed bump, a "time out" for the player as he waits 15 or 20 minutes for the rest of the party to resurrect his character. This is true, too, of non-death but otherwise "permanent" effects like petrification: a medusa is only horrifying until the party mage has Stone to Flesh in his book.
Perhaps nothing instill terror in players -- which is immediately then tranferred to their characters -- like level drain. When the wights, specters and vampires appear, characters will fall over one another looking for the exit. Levels and XP are, it seems, more valuable that life itself, harder to replace and a kind of "punishment" for failure. And since the possibility of level loss is based on an attack roll, there's a sort of external locus of control issue happening, which only enhances the Fear inducing power of Level Drain.
Even with liberal use of all of the above, Fear can be very difficult to achieve without one more key component: player investment in their characters and the game. Certainly, players can put aside their suspension of disbelief and actively engage their immersion, purposefully indulging the DM and themselves in the "fun" of the horror elements, but it is mostly an act. That is, unless the player actually cares about the character.
This isn't an issue of deep immersion roleplayers and storytellers versus gamist dice chuckers or anything in between. it doesn't matter if the player cares about his character because he still wants to find the six fingered man, or because he has tweaked everything "just so". All that matters is that the player is invested in the character, that it has become more than a simple piece of paper scrawled with numbers and notes.
When that happens, threats take on meaning, becoming more than obstacles in the game. The inspire more than a simple challenge -- they have the potential, then and only then, to inspire actual Fear.
And when that happens, I can't help but smile as the concealed roper drags an unwary PC off into the inky darkness, his screams begging the other characters to save him even as they stand uncertain, motionless, at the precipice of the lethal unknown.
In any case, horror is a key component to D&D (and similar games) to me. (Oddly, I don't much care for running straight up horror rpgs, except for the occasional zombie survival type game.) But when trying to include elements of horror in D&D, there are a number of hurdles to overcome and issues with which to deal. Over 20 plus years of DMing, I have identified some of them, and their solutions, and I thought I would share.
First, a note: When I say "horror" I tend to lean toward a specific sub-genre of horror, on which I can't really put a name. It's the kind that usually has a highly skilled group of specialists suddenly faced with horrific environments and opponents -- think Aliens or Resident Evil or the like (but good, in the former case). While I like psychological horror, and dabble in those elements in D&D, I am mostly referring to "physical horror" here.
Without Fear, there is no "horror". A game can certainly have a "horrific" atmosphere, and might include "disturbing" elements, descriptions and the like. But Fear is the ultimate goal, the ingredient that pushes the game over the edge from Dark Fantasy to Horror. Unfortunately, Fear is a difficult thing to instill in players, comfortable and safe in their chairs around the dining room table. Starting with atmosphere and imagery is a good thing, and makes your job easier down the line, but it isn't the end. To make Horror out of D&D, you have to have Fear -- character Fear and Player Fear.
The problem is that players don't get scared very easily, especially at higher levels in D&D. D&D characters are tough, resourceful and afforded all kinds of systemic protections against the kinds of things that instill pants wetting teror in normal folk.
So, the first thing is to make sure that the characters, whatever level they may be, are vulnerable to the horrific adversity. One way to do this is to have High Damage Yield: a low level party facing an ogre, or a mid level party on the receiving end of a dragon's wrath, or a high level party caught between a demon lord and an archdevil. Despite the durability of the PCs, there are plenty of creatures, traps and disasters than can whittle hit points down swiftly. Encountering such a thing, particularly if unexpected, can replace bravado with fear quite efficiently.
Damage is easily remedied, however, and therefore the weakest of the methods by which to instill fear. Instant death, however, packs a little more punch. D&D is rife with creatures that kill with a touch or a gaze, with death only a die roll away. "Save or die" attacks, spells and effects rob players and characters of control -- it's not their actions that dictate the outcome, but the die -- and a lack of control is frightening. Again, the effect is enhanced if the threat comes out of left field, because not only are the "heroes" slaves to fate, they are unprepared. A random encounter with a banshee should have them looking for a quick exit.
But death in D&D is not permanent as it is in real life. In some campaigns, particularly at high levels, it is little more than a speed bump, a "time out" for the player as he waits 15 or 20 minutes for the rest of the party to resurrect his character. This is true, too, of non-death but otherwise "permanent" effects like petrification: a medusa is only horrifying until the party mage has Stone to Flesh in his book.
Perhaps nothing instill terror in players -- which is immediately then tranferred to their characters -- like level drain. When the wights, specters and vampires appear, characters will fall over one another looking for the exit. Levels and XP are, it seems, more valuable that life itself, harder to replace and a kind of "punishment" for failure. And since the possibility of level loss is based on an attack roll, there's a sort of external locus of control issue happening, which only enhances the Fear inducing power of Level Drain.
Even with liberal use of all of the above, Fear can be very difficult to achieve without one more key component: player investment in their characters and the game. Certainly, players can put aside their suspension of disbelief and actively engage their immersion, purposefully indulging the DM and themselves in the "fun" of the horror elements, but it is mostly an act. That is, unless the player actually cares about the character.
This isn't an issue of deep immersion roleplayers and storytellers versus gamist dice chuckers or anything in between. it doesn't matter if the player cares about his character because he still wants to find the six fingered man, or because he has tweaked everything "just so". All that matters is that the player is invested in the character, that it has become more than a simple piece of paper scrawled with numbers and notes.
When that happens, threats take on meaning, becoming more than obstacles in the game. The inspire more than a simple challenge -- they have the potential, then and only then, to inspire actual Fear.
And when that happens, I can't help but smile as the concealed roper drags an unwary PC off into the inky darkness, his screams begging the other characters to save him even as they stand uncertain, motionless, at the precipice of the lethal unknown.
