What a great storytelling DM looks like

The world I am describing is dynamic. That's why the war doesn't wait for the players if they don't show up in time.

Point taken. However, I don't think "dynamic" can be used to describe only that sort of game. Every game world changes and evolves, and some do so with more player input via agencies other than their characters alone.

Fascinating. Your insight into the types of games I play is uncanny.

Would you like to talk about the types of games you play? I honestly wouldn't mind hearing some "this is how I do things, and these are things I feel work well" in place of the "this is not how to do things, and they won't work well." This thread does some interesting things when people exchange ideas.

Impressive. Not sure why you emphasize "adult" rather than simply player but I am sure you must have some reason.

Because to be frank, the repeated use of terms like "helping hands" and "beginner RPGs" is giving me the strong impression that you don't believe mature players are capable of enjoying this sort of style, or at least that you would like to project an image of not believing such. The regular doses of sarcasm can't help but emphasize that. If there's some well-concealed respect for my players and people who enjoy this sort of playstyle as fellow gamers, I apologize, but it's really not showing through.
 

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There are a lot of sandbox GMs in the thread, so let me throw out the question of what tools that a sandbox GM has can make a storytelling game better. From the other side, what storytelling elements might make a sandbox game better? I'm approaching this from the angle that one approach isn't better than another, and that there can be a mixture of styles in a single campaign. Any thoughts?

Relationship maps.

Characters who want something - and are driven to get that. (Especially PCs.)

A setting that offers a challenge to what the characters want.

A setting that's unstable.

Player investment in the setting.

The DM has no investment in outcomes.

The DM playing NPCs to the hilt.
 

I just frequently find that I need to be a proactive nudger, for reasons that vary from group to group.
I think all referees need to nudge a bit from time-to-time, but I prefer to do my nudging out-of-game.
If we play on a weeknight after work, people might not have the energy to come up with proactive agendas, and would rather react to external prompts.
It's been my experience that trying to resolve out-of-game issues in-game creates more problems than it solves. If the players as a group are having a hard time focusing, then I'd rather put aside the game for the night and do something else instead, like pull out a board game, or a deck of cards, or whatever.

It sounds like you are willing to go to great lengths on behalf of your players to insure that they have a good game-night experience, but I have to ask, do you ever feel like you go too far in indulging your players? Is it reasonable to ask them to maybe make the effort to rise to the occasion, instead of repeatedly shifting gears from game-night to game-night?
If we use bizarre homebrew settings (like my current Gormenghast/Labyrinth/Poe mashup), they frequently prefer that I introduce them to the setting with actively giving them things to react to. It lets them become familiar with the setting through play, without having to do quite much reading up beforehand to see what is likely to fit, and is a little less work than their defining the setting as they go.
I'll be honest, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by "introducing them to the setting by giving them things to react to," so I'm not quite sure what to make of this.

On a more general note, doesn't every referee introduce the setting in play to some degree? I mean, I've introduced new gamers to the Third Imperium for Traveller, a sprawling sandbox setting, and I spent no more than seven or eight minutes before character creation describing the foundational conceits and another few minutes describing the sector where play would begin - the rest was introduced as needed. For Le Ballet de l'Acier, a historical setting, the players don't need to read Mousnier's two-volume history of the institutions of Ancien Regime France to get started - they just need to know at the outset, "Paris, 1625, The Three Musketeers - go!" and the detail gets added as the game progresses.
Actually, because I exclusively homebrew, I spend a lot of time working out the details of a setting as I go. I'm running the aforementioned strange baroque city game at the moment, as well as something set in a more Renaissance Italy-inspired fantasy country, and neither of them are settings I've exhaustively detailed ahead of time. So it's not time to figure out a city until the players absolutely are headed there — until then, I simply have a list of notes to work from. My players can guess (and my wife certainly knows) that I don't have everything pre-prepared, but it is all ready for them, if that makes sense.

I think it wouldn't work for the experience you are interested in; there would be the meta-knowledge that the world is not already fully formed. If that meta-knowledge doesn't bother you, though (as it doesn't for my friends), then there's still the experience of having the world spread out before you in each direction you go, and if a few details are ad-libbed while others have been set for years, it doesn't detract too much from the overall fun of the game.
Makes perfect sense, but if you think that's something different from the way a sandbox referee prepares, then I believe that's a misapprehension.

No matter how much time I have to prep, there is no way I can detail every chateau and village in France, or every hectare of every planet in the Third Imperium, or what-have-you. Large sections of my settings perforce must remain broadly defined, but what I do know is enough to improvise in such a way as to maintain the integrity and verisimilitude of the setting as we play. For example, sometimes all I've got is a sentence or even just a few words, like my notes for the province of Auvergne in France ("Medieval Appalachia," reflecting the fact that Auvergnats tend to be isolated and rustic), but it's enough on which to build as the need arises.

The real lesson, of course, is that when I'm setting conflicts into motion (such as NPCs preying on other NPCs in a way that PCs may notice and get involved in), I'm careful to pick those that I can guess my players are going to enjoy.
For me that's part of the pitch before the game even starts: if we're playing 'space truckers' of the Third Imperium, or swashbucklers in the France of Dumas and Sabatini and Weyman, the kinds of conflicts likely to arise in the course of the game should be generally understood from the outset, so there is at least some measure of tacit acceptance of what may come down the track after the game begins.
 

Enter the well-realized NPC, the character with character. What are his or her values, aspirations, hopes, fears, habits and so on? The fuller one's grasp of those, the easier it is to deduce the character's behavior in response to any circumstances. No longer is it necessary to cover all possibilities by "brute force" methods.
Yup.

I don't prepare plots. I assess consequences that arise from the players' choices and the adventurers' actions.
 

Relationship maps.

Characters who want something - and are driven to get that. (Especially PCs.)

A setting that offers a challenge to what the characters want.

A setting that's unstable.

Player investment in the setting.

The DM has no investment in outcomes.

The DM playing NPCs to the hilt.

LostSoul, are you answering the question "what sandbox techniques could contribute to a storytelling DM's toolkit" or visa versa? I think it's revealing that I often can't be sure either way!

Here are some techniques that I've learned use in my current sandbox game that I think weren't part of my arsenal before:

- Dice-based unpredictability. Here I mean random rolls that shape the outcomes of all kinds of events and reactions, not just combat, and are largely independent of the characters' abilities (i.e., old-school reaction tables where the probabilities aren't determined by the predictable Diplomacy bonus of the party's skill-monkey). I can't say how much this contributes to the player's experience, although hopefully it creates a live-wire sense of a game in which anything can happen. What I know for sure is that it's very exciting for me to feel like I'm a co-discoverer of what happens, where I'm frequently surprised and have the same experience that the players do of piecing together meaning from scattered clues (what does it mean that there's a lammasu wandering through this dungeon level?) and solving problems (ah, I can make sense of that if it's here to purify the corrupted fountain).

- Avoidance is fun. In the city adventure I ran last night, one of the players apologized afterwards for keeping a tight rein on his fellow party members and keeping them from biting on any of the many tempting hooks I (and the dice) dangled before them, because he knew they'd lead to trouble and they were there to get paid. I thought that was awesome! Each time the players decided not to deal with something now, it built up a picture of the city in their minds as a place where interesting things were going on all the time, built tension as they suffered insults for now and added people to their hit list for later, etc. And the climax of the session was being in the tower of a lich they'd accidentally killed, suffering an exquisite dilemma between their greed and their fear of hideous traps, ending in a cathartic running away burdened with their loot. I think the sandbox techniques that make the things you avoid dealing with or run away from as exciting as the ones you do are first, the demonstration that as a GM you don't expect the players to deal with any particular set of things you put out there (so that they know the fun doesn't depend on biting on the hooks) and second, the presence of dangers that are not tied to the player's capabilities (so that prior experience demonstrates the virtue of running away, but also that sometimes the PCs are able to overcome something the GM didn't think they could - this last is important so that a seemingly impossible threat is a gamble, not a tool the GM uses to push them around).

In stuff linked over here I talk about Graham Walmsley's book Play Unsafe, about improv techniques and gaming; I think those are very useful for both sandboxes and storytelling of the non-Dragonlance kind we're talking about here where responsiveness to player choice is key.
 

It sounds like you are willing to go to great lengths on behalf of your players to insure that they have a good game-night experience, but I have to ask, do you ever feel like you go too far in indulging your players? Is it reasonable to ask them to maybe make the effort to rise to the occasion, instead of repeatedly shifting gears from game-night to game-night?

I don't feel that way very often; if I did, I admit it would be time to reassess how comfortable I was advocating the style (at least as it works for me). Sometimes I do run into mental blocks with what a player would like to do and what I think makes sense, and those are reconciled away from the table; I'm still working with my wife on one particular stumbling block for our private Hollowfaust-meets-Pride-and-Prejudice game. Usually, what players want to do requires fairly little readjustment, particularly in settings that are built as we go. If conflicts do arise, I have to ask myself whether I'm the unreasonable one, though. Sometimes I am.

I'll be honest, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by "introducing them to the setting by giving them things to react to," so I'm not quite sure what to make of this.

Usually it's starting with one major prod to get them reacting to as a group: grisly murders on the outskirts of the village, a stolen body, things of that nature. An event to expedite getting the players together and moving as one.

Maybe the example of how I started a very recent game would help?

When I got my list of players, I sent a list of potential game pitches around, and gradually they voted it down to "Tanglestone: a sprawling, labyrinthine city mostly empty, isolated from the rest of the world, populated by strange and baroque people who have never seen the Outside." My notes on the city were a couple of pages of handwritten ideas at that point. Then players proposed characters, and I talked with them about how to make them fit just so. Some of their ideas were different than what I'd originally envisioned for the city — one player picked an elf monk, for instance, and I had no previous plans for elves to appear as a race, or for a monastic order. But I adjusted the idea of the city accordingly, planting a small faction of elves into an orchard district and proposing a monastery set atop the spires of the immense cathedral structure that held many temples. The same happened when another player picked an assassin: a bit of conversation, and then we determined that one-half of the law enforcement of the city, so to speak, would be the guild-clan of the Night Sweepers, a somewhat sinister organization that keeps the streets clean and safe at night.

Now, the player of the librarian in the game is quite proactive, and handed me a long list of potential story hooks for his character: teaching literacy to other guild-clans, questing for long-lost books, rising floodwaters in the library basement imperiling the books, and so on. Some were goals that the character would actively pursue, but others were things I would stage that he'd like to react to. The player of the monk, on the other hand, is perfectly happy reacting to things of my choosing — he's a manager who can spend from 9:30-4:30 in meetings chasing important agendas on game day, so he tends to like letting other people (like me) do most of the active scheming for a change.

To begin the game, I selected "rising floodwaters" from the librarian player's list: I figured out a cause for it (picking a potential antagonist from one of those pages of notes: "filth king?"), added the complication that it was also a problem in the catacombs, and then let the players investigate. So there's an example of players shaping a plot (but not a script) in a way other than in-character actions.

On a more general note, doesn't every referee introduce the setting in play to some degree? I mean, I've introduced new gamers to the Third Imperium for Traveller, a sprawling sandbox setting, and I spent no more than seven or eight minutes before character creation describing the foundational conceits and another few minutes describing the sector where play would begin - the rest was introduced as needed. For Le Ballet de l'Acier, a historical setting, the players don't need to read Mousnier's two-volume history of the institutions of Ancien Regime France to get started - they just need to know at the outset, "Paris, 1625, The Three Musketeers - go!" and the detail gets added as the game progresses.

Yes indeed. So here's another potential example of clarification. When I'm adding details to a setting, sometimes they're ad-libbed answers to a character's questions, same as you describe. "Is there a glassblower in the Crafter Block?" "There'd have to be. Give me a second..."

Sometimes, though, they're reactions to character suggestions. "It would be awesome if I could find a work on this whole cults-in-the-noble houses that laid out which houses were prosecutors, which ones were eliminated, things like that." "That sounds good. (I hadn't thought about the prosecutors being from within the noble houses, but that's actually a better suggestion; internecine strife would introduce the theme of rot from within more solidly, and it suggests that at least one of the prosecutor houses might have something to hide.) Yes, you do find a work of that nature."

Bear in mind that the latter approach is still subject to judicial review: a player proposes a new plot twist, and the GM makes sure that incorporating that suggestion doesn't give the player characters an easy path over adversity. It may be the GM says "That's an interesting idea" but holds to the original vision of how the world would appear/react more often than he adapts the player suggestion. But I'm assuming that the distinction is that it's done at all.

The reason I like storytelling elements in play is that they tend to enable genre convention and theme as major participants. In the Tanglestone game, for instance, running with the player's suggestion actually gave us more opportunity to steep in the theme of gradual decay and the walls beginning to crumble. There's more dry rot and wormwood. Verisimilitude is measured a bit differently; though the world is more malleable to player desires than might be realistic, it winds up feeling more appropriate, more thematic. Their suggestions nudge the world closer to as they see it.

Does that make some measure of sense?

No matter how much time I have to prep, there is no way I can detail every chateau and village in France, or every hectare of every planet in the Third Imperium, or what-have-you. Large sections of my settings perforce must remain broadly defined, but what I do know is enough to improvise in such a way as to maintain the integrity and verisimilitude of the setting as we play. For example, sometimes all I've got is a sentence or even just a few words, like my notes for the province of Auvergne in France ("Medieval Appalachia," reflecting the fact that Auvergnats tend to be isolated and rustic), but it's enough on which to build as the need arises.

Oh yeah, absolutely. I think it may simply be the methodology by which the inchoate portions of the game take form — and the precise things you're trying to simulate, be it theme, dramatic convention or an alternate reality — that distinguish the two styles.

(And I'm from Southern Appalachia; it tickles me to consider a French translation of "you'uns.")

For me that's part of the pitch before the game even starts: if we're playing 'space truckers' of the Third Imperium, or swashbucklers in the France of Dumas and Sabatini and Weyman, the kinds of conflicts likely to arise in the course of the game should be generally understood from the outset, so there is at least some measure of tacit acceptance of what may come down the track after the game begins.

I'm generally not so well-prepared as to figure out all my potential conflicts ahead of time. "Wicked fae abducting children" might occur to me when the game's in motion, only for me to find out that a given player is not really cool with too much children-as-exclusive-targets dread.

While I can give the players a general precis of what they might be doing, their suggestions might change my mind, and new things might occur to me as the setting is built over the course of play. So in case something crops up that wasn't mentioned in the original discussion, I have my guiding principle to adhere to.
 

merricb posted this Gary quote in another thread. I think it has some relevance here:

Gary Gygax, Advanced D&D Dungeon Master's Guide (page 119)
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While it might seem high unlikely to those who have not been involved in fantasy adventure gaming for an extended period of time, after the flush of excitement wears off - perhaps a few months or a year, depending on the intensity of play - some participants will become bored and move to other gaming forms, returning to your campaign only occasionally. Shortly thereafter even your most dedicated players will occasionally find that dungeon levels and wilderness castles grow stale, regardless of subtle differences and unusual challenges. It is possible, however, for you to devise a campaign which will have a very minimal amount of participant attrition and enthusast ennui, andit is not particularly difficult to do so.

As has been mentioned already, the game must be neither too difficult to survive nor so easy as to offer little excitement or challenge. There must be always something desirable to gain, something important to lose, and the chance of having either happen. Furthermore there must be some purpose to it all. There must be some backdrop against which adventures are carried out, and no matter how tenuous the strands, some web which connects the evil and good, the opposing powers, the rival states and various peoples. This need not be evident at first, but as play continues, hints should be given to players, and their characters should become involved in the interaction and struggle between these vaster entities. Thus, characters begin as less than pawns, but as they progress in expertise, each eventually realizes that he or she is a meaningful, if lowly, piece in the cosmic game being conducted. When this occurs, players then have a dual purpose to their play, for not only will their player characters and henchmen gain levels of experience, but their actions have meaning above and beyond that of personal aggrandizement.

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I started D&D in 2e by buying the books and putting together a group. No outside influence (I didn't learn the game or style from anybody else).

What Gary says doesn't strike me as contradictory to the way I play. To me, it hints at the idea that what the players are doing should be part of something bigger than just killing things and taking their stuff.
 

I started D&D in 2e by buying the books and putting together a group. No outside influence (I didn't learn the game or style from anybody else).


Did that include getting Dragon magazine? That probably influenced a lot of DMs who didn't have other DMs around to show them the ropes.
 

Did that include getting Dragon magazine? That probably influenced a lot of DMs who didn't have other DMs around to show them the ropes.

I started getting Dragon when I went to college, 2 years later, when my "interpretation" of D&D was already set.

Now, something to couch all this in, when I say "no outside influences", which is nearly impossible, I mean as in not learning the ropes from another player (and their style) or by reading lots of D&D game books or adventure modules (we never use them).

I did read various TSR novels (greyhawk and FR novels, I didn't read Dragonlance until the big 3 novel compilations came out).

I was also into Battletech/Mechwarrior and ShadowRun. In many ways, they were more analogous to the story-style of play. We didn't actually play much of those games, but the concepts of how a game was supposed to be planned.

To my eye, that's how all the games of that era were "meant" to be played. My interpretation came from reading the books, as that's all I had. Confirmation came from playing the game with the group of players we built up, and the fact that kept playing. My gaming group is still going, since 1990.

I was also programming games and DMing tools back then. Having played games like Akalabeth and text adventures, a plain dungeon crawl was something a computer could do. To me, the value of D&D was that a human GM could tell rich stories with believable NPCs and human interpretation of the player's choices giving limitless options without the tedium. As Nethack demonstrates, you can write code to do a lot for a dungeon crawl. Therefore, the human is needed for the fuzzy stuff.
 


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