I’ve worked on the Forgotten Realms every day of my life now for over fifty years, and for over forty of them have been joined by scores of fellow creators, all of us pumping our energies into the setting. So a lot has happened, in-world, and with so much going on, the place certainly seems alive. Some hapless crofters in the Dales or shopkeepers in Waterdeep would probably tell you their world was a lot too alive, a lot of the time.
Some gamers prefer less detail, and may find catching up on all the Realmslore daunting or a time sink or too expensive, but the secret is: you don’t have to use even a tenth of it. It’s there if you need it, to answer a question or save you design time, but most gamers take what they want to, and freelance their own homebrew setting from that standing start.
And all of the years of news and rumors goes a long way towards building the illusion that the place is vast and real and, yes, alive.
Which is certainly better than dead.
I’ve often talked about taking care to avoid this: your FRP setting being a lifeless backdrop, with the lights low and all NPCs frozen in place, dust settling on their eyeballs, until the moment the PCs walk on stage and the lights come up, everyone starts moving and talking, and it’s action time. Players can sense this; their characters are the prime movers in the setting, and nothing happens when they’re away from the world, not playing.
Which makes it all seem a trifle hollow and unsatisfying, and robs the play of some of the fun because the actions of the PCs can shove and shape the world too much.
It’s preferable if the world rolls along, with things happening, while the PCs are resting or recuperating or studying or shut away experimenting with new spells...or incarcerated. And if there’s just one background plot (everyone’s vying to put their pawn on the throne while the old King lies on his deathbed, and suddenly royal heirs start disappearing), the players can still feel as if their PCs are the prime movers, because everything swirls around them and reacts to them.
I’ve always avoided this particular problem by having four or five subplots unfolding at the same time, so the PCs can pick and choose what they want to get involved in, and try to profit from. For instance…
1. Wherever the PCs dwell or move to, daring by-night burglaries happen. Are sneak thieves following them around and using the PCs for cover, knowing the PCs will eventually get blamed?
2. Rival merchant companies (or unofficial cabals) are feuding, with arson and alley knifings and cargo spoilage and thefts, and the PCs are caught in the middle because they’ve been hired by a third party as warehouse or wagon or caravan or pay-packet guards, and are on the spot when some of the feud’s darker deeds erupt.
3. An exporter of live monsters has hired the PCs to live-capture certain local beasts lairing in ruins, but this is going to land them in trouble because local smugglers are using the ruins to cache contraband, and they’re working with an impoverished old-blood noble family with shapeshifting bloodlines, who are controlling or at least goading the monsters to run interference; the PCs may very well end up trapping a shapeshifted—and furious—young noble, perhaps the heir of the house.
4. A royal heir has been threatened with a slow and painful death during the aforementioned quiet struggle for the throne, and has gone to ground locally, hiding in disguise with a handful of trusted and formidable bodyguards. Who don’t want the PCs or anyone else nosing around too closely to certain ruins where they’re now hiding out. With good reason, as another faction is hunting them, seeing this as a golden opportunity for an assassination or capture of the heir, and will assume the PCs are part of the heir’s hired defenses, and act accordingly.
5. Long ago, the king outlawed and exiled a genius inventor whose innovations threatened the crown’s control of society—and the inventor came here and hid. Now elderly and infirm, the inventor has surrounded herself with automaton guardians of her own creation, and will fearfully use them against the PCs, agents of the faction hunting the heir, and the heir’s bodyguards.
6. The crown has never been all that friendly with independent wizards of power and accomplishment, and quietly made it clear that they’ll avoid trouble by maintaining a low profile in the countryside. One such wizard has done so, right here, and now finds trouble has come to them. This mage knows all about the inventor, and is quite willing to seize control of her guardians and use them as defenders or to misdirect anyone who gets too close.
And so on. Now, a fine line has to be walked here, best navigated by DMs who take care to find out the triggers, likes, and dislikes of their players (dungeon crawls or not? Palace intrigue, or draw blades and kill someone?), because no one wants to sit down at the gaming table to relax and get away from real-world problems and stresses—only to find themselves in an imaginary situation that’s even more tense and fraught than real life. Gaming tipples should be optional, not desperately needed!
Plots in fantasy fiction often involve big stakes. The fate of the world may hang in the balance, an ancient evil or god may be on the verge of awakening, or the Magical McGuffin in the wrong hands could unleash devastation on a realm, a continent, or a sacred special spot that harbors a precious last hope for all.
However, plots in an ongoing FRP campaign should be both large and small in stakes and scope, with the small ones in the foreground.
A local merchant wants to burn down the warehouse of a competitor, or a handful-of-coins swindler comes to town. A local official has to enforce an unpopular new royal law or tax, and the resentful common folk react by deceiving the local constabulary to avoid the consequences.
To personally involve or victimize the PCs is to court player dissatisfaction (Hey! Where’s my relief from everyday real-world troubles?), but if the adventurers have been hired by someone affected by events (such as feuding merchants), they’re inevitably involved. The brute-force way to involve aloof PCs is to have them falsely accused or framed, but far better is to bring them into situations where they must make a choice, and then consequences flow from that. When bad things happen to us, we feel better if we had some choice, some say in what unfolded.
It doesn’t have to be complicated; it can be as simple as “Where does our next meal come from?” for the PCs. Suddenly there’s no water; who’s stealing it? It’s draining away underground; who or what in the dungeon down there is diverting it? Only one way to find out, so down we go…
Nor do these setting events and politics have to drag the PCs into involvement in an aggressive and forceful way; they can be a panorama of passing “news of the day” that the PCs can reach into when something catches their eyes.
Right, enough preaching. Every gamer who reads this will do what they want to do and change this or that; it’s what gamers do. ;}
Some gamers prefer less detail, and may find catching up on all the Realmslore daunting or a time sink or too expensive, but the secret is: you don’t have to use even a tenth of it. It’s there if you need it, to answer a question or save you design time, but most gamers take what they want to, and freelance their own homebrew setting from that standing start.
And all of the years of news and rumors goes a long way towards building the illusion that the place is vast and real and, yes, alive.
Which is certainly better than dead.
I’ve often talked about taking care to avoid this: your FRP setting being a lifeless backdrop, with the lights low and all NPCs frozen in place, dust settling on their eyeballs, until the moment the PCs walk on stage and the lights come up, everyone starts moving and talking, and it’s action time. Players can sense this; their characters are the prime movers in the setting, and nothing happens when they’re away from the world, not playing.
Which makes it all seem a trifle hollow and unsatisfying, and robs the play of some of the fun because the actions of the PCs can shove and shape the world too much.
It’s preferable if the world rolls along, with things happening, while the PCs are resting or recuperating or studying or shut away experimenting with new spells...or incarcerated. And if there’s just one background plot (everyone’s vying to put their pawn on the throne while the old King lies on his deathbed, and suddenly royal heirs start disappearing), the players can still feel as if their PCs are the prime movers, because everything swirls around them and reacts to them.
I’ve always avoided this particular problem by having four or five subplots unfolding at the same time, so the PCs can pick and choose what they want to get involved in, and try to profit from. For instance…
1. Wherever the PCs dwell or move to, daring by-night burglaries happen. Are sneak thieves following them around and using the PCs for cover, knowing the PCs will eventually get blamed?
2. Rival merchant companies (or unofficial cabals) are feuding, with arson and alley knifings and cargo spoilage and thefts, and the PCs are caught in the middle because they’ve been hired by a third party as warehouse or wagon or caravan or pay-packet guards, and are on the spot when some of the feud’s darker deeds erupt.
3. An exporter of live monsters has hired the PCs to live-capture certain local beasts lairing in ruins, but this is going to land them in trouble because local smugglers are using the ruins to cache contraband, and they’re working with an impoverished old-blood noble family with shapeshifting bloodlines, who are controlling or at least goading the monsters to run interference; the PCs may very well end up trapping a shapeshifted—and furious—young noble, perhaps the heir of the house.
4. A royal heir has been threatened with a slow and painful death during the aforementioned quiet struggle for the throne, and has gone to ground locally, hiding in disguise with a handful of trusted and formidable bodyguards. Who don’t want the PCs or anyone else nosing around too closely to certain ruins where they’re now hiding out. With good reason, as another faction is hunting them, seeing this as a golden opportunity for an assassination or capture of the heir, and will assume the PCs are part of the heir’s hired defenses, and act accordingly.
5. Long ago, the king outlawed and exiled a genius inventor whose innovations threatened the crown’s control of society—and the inventor came here and hid. Now elderly and infirm, the inventor has surrounded herself with automaton guardians of her own creation, and will fearfully use them against the PCs, agents of the faction hunting the heir, and the heir’s bodyguards.
6. The crown has never been all that friendly with independent wizards of power and accomplishment, and quietly made it clear that they’ll avoid trouble by maintaining a low profile in the countryside. One such wizard has done so, right here, and now finds trouble has come to them. This mage knows all about the inventor, and is quite willing to seize control of her guardians and use them as defenders or to misdirect anyone who gets too close.
And so on. Now, a fine line has to be walked here, best navigated by DMs who take care to find out the triggers, likes, and dislikes of their players (dungeon crawls or not? Palace intrigue, or draw blades and kill someone?), because no one wants to sit down at the gaming table to relax and get away from real-world problems and stresses—only to find themselves in an imaginary situation that’s even more tense and fraught than real life. Gaming tipples should be optional, not desperately needed!
Plots in fantasy fiction often involve big stakes. The fate of the world may hang in the balance, an ancient evil or god may be on the verge of awakening, or the Magical McGuffin in the wrong hands could unleash devastation on a realm, a continent, or a sacred special spot that harbors a precious last hope for all.
However, plots in an ongoing FRP campaign should be both large and small in stakes and scope, with the small ones in the foreground.
A local merchant wants to burn down the warehouse of a competitor, or a handful-of-coins swindler comes to town. A local official has to enforce an unpopular new royal law or tax, and the resentful common folk react by deceiving the local constabulary to avoid the consequences.
To personally involve or victimize the PCs is to court player dissatisfaction (Hey! Where’s my relief from everyday real-world troubles?), but if the adventurers have been hired by someone affected by events (such as feuding merchants), they’re inevitably involved. The brute-force way to involve aloof PCs is to have them falsely accused or framed, but far better is to bring them into situations where they must make a choice, and then consequences flow from that. When bad things happen to us, we feel better if we had some choice, some say in what unfolded.
It doesn’t have to be complicated; it can be as simple as “Where does our next meal come from?” for the PCs. Suddenly there’s no water; who’s stealing it? It’s draining away underground; who or what in the dungeon down there is diverting it? Only one way to find out, so down we go…
Nor do these setting events and politics have to drag the PCs into involvement in an aggressive and forceful way; they can be a panorama of passing “news of the day” that the PCs can reach into when something catches their eyes.
Right, enough preaching. Every gamer who reads this will do what they want to do and change this or that; it’s what gamers do. ;}
