Gaming

Where I talk about roleplaying games, computer games, board games, and other interactive entertainment

Campaign Resource Round-Up

PETERMBALL Gaming , , , , ,

So this is a heads up for the non-gamer folks – I’m dedicating my Friday blog post to the topics of Superhero RPGs for the next forseeable while, largely ’cause I’m a big ol’ gamer nerd who enjoys writing about games (and, lets be honest, I don’t have the time to spend on gaming messageboards that I once did). What this means, if you’re not a gamer, is pretty much this: I’m about to spend Fridays talking about things that’ll seem a little…well, esoteric. The rest of the week, on the other hand, will be my usual mix of ranting and writer-geekery.

CAMPAIGN RESOURCE ROUND-UP

I’m fairly system agnostic when it comes to superhero RPGs. I’ve run a lot of them, accumulated the rules for a whole bunch more, and while I’ve finally settled on a system that works for me in Mutants and Masterminds 3E, I’m always interested in seeing how new superhero systems work. This means that my campaigns tend to have a weird little grab-bag of influences from other systems, just ’cause solid advice for Superhero gaming tends to be that little harder to come by than it is for systems like D&D.

As a follow up last weeks list of 13 lessons, I figured I’d spend some time looking at some of the essential campaign advice/resources I’ve accumulated over the years. The following are the five of the most commonly-referenced Superhero books in my collection (plus one I expect I’ll be using fairly often in the future), and together they make for a pretty kick-ass primer on how to run a superhero campaign that lasts longer than 5 or 6 sessions.

Where I can, I’ve tried to explain the reason I recommend a book – some are chock-full of great stuff, some have a handful of pages that were a revelation to me when I first read them.

1) STRIKE FORCE by Aaron Allston (Hero Games, 1988)
Reason to track it down: It’s damn brilliant.

So sometime back in 1988 Hero Games dedicated an entire sourcebook to writing up Aaron Allston’s home campaign. In the hands of most gamers this’d probably make for a pretty dry read, but the Strike Force sourcebook is notable for being on the earliest (and best) breakdowns of the types of players who get involved in superhero campaigns that I’ve come across. Better yet, it charts the kind of issues that Allston came across as his campaign grew and evolved, and the advice offered made it a whole lot easier to run a successful superhero campaign after I read the book.

‘Course, being over a decade old and long out of print, it’s going to be damn hard to track copies of this down. I picked mine up on ebay about…well, eight or nine years ago, I guess. A lot of the advice has filtered down into other supplements since the eighties, but I’m still a big fan of the Strike Force package, which blends the savvy advice with the kind of enjoyable gamer-voyeurism that comes from getting a sneak-peak at a well-run campaign. It’s still the book I break out and re-read before I start running a new campaign.

2) CHAMPIONS SUPERPOWERED ROLEPLAYING by Aaron Allston (Hero Games, 2002)
Reason to track it down: Advice for constructing campaign worlds and running campaigns

In a lot of ways the advice offered in the 2002 edition of Champions is the logical progression of Allston’s advice in Strike Force fourteen years earlier. There’s a lot of useful stuff in the Champions genre book for Hero 5th ed, even if you’re not  entirely conversant with the Hero System (I’m not, which is odd, given my tendency to accumulate Hero sourcebooks). The guidelines for dealing with power creation and system balance may be Champions specific, but the general gist of it is still usable if you’re using a similarly gear-headed power creation system (and many superhero RPG systems do).

The most useful part of the Champions book for non-Champion’s GMs is the chapters devoted to thinking out your campaign world and maintaining the course during a long-term campaign. Such things aren’t a big deal if you’re primarily interested in running a game in an established comic-book universe, such as those that have been licensed from Marvel and DC over the years, but most Supers GMs I’ve come across tend to build their own worlds and Champions has decades spent doing just that.

3) DC HEROES: THE RULES MANUAL (Mayfair Games, 1989)
Reason to track it down: Subplot Guidelines

This was part of a boxed set of the DC Heroes rules (I think, perhaps, the second edition), which I loved for all sorts of reasons that had nothing at all to do with it being an RPG system. That said, there’s eight pages towards the back of the red DC Heroes Rules Manual that I routinely photocopy and slip into my campaign folder, ’cause the DC Heroes write-up on establishing and running subplots throughout the campaign is great stuff. I mean, 8 pages is a lot of real-estate in an RPG rule book, particularly one that fits all the rules of the game into 72 pages.

I tend to find the subplot guidelines particularly useful for the third edition of Mutants and Masterminds because it’ gives a framework for addressing Complications in play. I can say many positive things about the Complication mechanic, but among them is the fact that players get to foreground the kind of subplots they want their characters to be involved in. Aside from the handful that are based off powers, almost all Complications make for a story element that can be carried over through multiple sessions and evolved as the campaign goes on.

4) AVENGERS:EMH BLOG SERIES by Steve Kenson (Online)
Reason to track it down: Lots of interesting thought about how games can replicate superhero tropes

Between Icons, three editions of Mutants and Masterminds, and work on a handful of other systems, it’s a safe bet that Steve Kenson’s credentials as a game designer with a love of superhero games is fairly well established. What makes really interesting reading on his blog, however, is the series he’s done about the Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes cartoon where he goes through the series, episode by episode, and asks what can be learned about game mastering and game design from the show. He’s finished the entire first season, which starts here, and he’s now started on the Justice League cartoon.

Turns out, there’s a whole damn lot that can be learned, and it also provides a convenient excuse to rewatch a particularly excellent superhero cartoon in the name campaign research. Printed the entire series out for future reference.

5) MARVEL HEROIC ROLEPLAYING BASIC GAME (Margaret Weiss Productions, 2012)
Reason to track it down: Event-Based approach, Initiative System

One of the new kids on the block when it comes to superhero RPGs, and one that I’ve only recently acquired at that. I picked it up off the recommendation of Patrick O’Duffy, who (quite rightly) pointed out that the system disrupts the basic paradigm of superhero gaming. As he put it in a recent blog post:

This (the game) is a huge departure from the traditional campaign models of pretty much every superhero RPG, or indeed every gaming group, which have been solidly emulating Claremont’s X-Men for something like 30 years – a broth of long-term plots, multi-session plots and character-focused subplots that move in and out of focus as part of an indefinitely-ongoing game with a high degree of player-PC identification and the GM solidly in the driver’s seat. Once again the focus is on the setting rather than specific heroes, and the play of events that are bigger than they are (one of the things that tends to distinguish from DC, where heroes are often bigger than events). The subtext is that exploring the setting and the Event is where the fun is, for both GM and players, rather than tying yourself to a single character or coming up with your own story scenes.

I’m not sure that the MHRBG is the first time this event-based approach has been attempted – I’ve got a copy of the old Marvel FASERIP module for Secret Wars II and it did something very similar (albeit poorly) – but they’ve certainly streamlined the approach and made it workable.

It’s interesting enough that I’m eager to test the system out properly, assuming I can find some willing players, but I’m far more interested in the bits of the Event-Based approach that can be borrowed and adapted. ‘Cause, honestly, I kinda like the Claremont approach to campaigns.

The other thing to take a look at – and this part I plan on stealing ASAP – is their initiative system. It rather elegantly discards the usual RPG approach of randomizing the action order and replaces it with the simple expedient of picking someone to go first, then allowing them to choose who goes next. For systems that require a high level of trust like superheroes, giving that kind of control to the players strikes me as a great way to create the right atmosphere.

6) ALAN MOORE’S WRITING FOR COMICS by Alan Moore
Reason to track it down: Really, it’s Alan Moore explaining how comic narratives work

This one isn’t exactly a game supplement, but when it comes to understanding how comics do what they do, my go-to recommendations are Moore’s short guide and Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics. Both treat comics like the unique storytelling medium they are, but Moore spends a lot of time explaining how *story* works (and character, and plot, really). Plus, come one, it’s Alan Freakin’ Moore explaining how comic books work. When you plans for a session come into contact with the player group and fall apart, leaving you to improvise a session based on the fumes coming from the burn wreckage of your plans, having an instinct for the way comic book stories unfold is useful.

And that’s my list. Some of these are out of print, but if you’re lucky you can pick them up by scouring ebay or looking for a PDF version (I know the DC book still exists as Blood of Heroes, but I don’t know if it still contains the Subplot advice). I’m always looking for new books on the subject, so if anyone’s got any recommendations, let me know.

I’ve left of a handful of obvious choices – the M&M rulebook is pretty much a given for me, given that it’s my system of choice (although I do wish it had a more expansive book on running campaigns). Also absent are the various messageboards associated with a particular game system, which are often packed to the gills with GMs who are willing to offer advice. Being part of an engaged community of gamers that talks about their campaigns is actually a pretty awesome way of picking up some neat campaign tricks, so it’s worth checking to see if your system of choice has one.

13 Things Learned About Superhero Games After Running 30 Sessions of Mutants and Masterminds

PETERMBALL Gaming , ,

So Monday night we played the 30th session of Shock and Awesome, my formerly semi-regular and now pretty-much-weekly Mutants and Masterminds campaign. It represents about a year and a half of gaming, give or take, although I expect the 60th session will come around much faster than the 30th did.

The session saw our intrepid teen heroes caught inside a demonically-possessed virtual reality game alongside a bunch of school-mates. Eventful things happened: one hero kissed her long-term crush after months of pining and putting her foot in her mouth every time they talked; the other heroes girlfriend turned evil (again) when a dormant personality emerged alongside her massive dangerous electro-magnetic abilities. They fought a bunch of demons, too, but the relationships were the interesting things.

We’re now on a three-week hiatus while one of the players heads of the UK, but when we return we’ll pick up where we left off, trying to convince the evil girlfriend she really should turn back to normal before her unsociable behaviour loses her the journalism intern she’s been chasing for the last thirty sessions.

Since I’m still in list-mode after all the dancing monkey posts, I figure I’d switch gears from writing to gaming and, in honour of the players that make Shock & Awesome so much fun, I put together the following.

13 THINGS LEARNED ABOUT SUPERHERO RPGS AFTER RUNNING 30 SESSIONS OF MUTANTS AND MASTERMINDS

1) PITCH MATTERS

These days “Super Hero Comics” is a very broad genre to try and replicate. Even the four-colour comics that M&M is designed to replicate covers a lot of ground – there’s a vast gulf between, say, a Fantastic Four comic, a Spiderman comic, a Batman comic, and an issue of the Teen Titans. All of them are four-colour, but the *way* heroes are expected to deal with their problems is very different.

When it comes to kicking off the campaign, make sure you’ve got everyone’s expectations on the same page. Kudos if you’re smart enough to give your players a brief (“Think X-Men, except you’re being trained by a retired Batman”); real Kudos if you’re smart enough to gather your players together and let them craft a communal pitch as a group – get everyone to pitch in a bunch of things they like in comic books (or even just comics they like) and base your game about the most common elements.

Shock and Awesome is slightly gonzo ’cause that’s what the players demanded. It’s got relationship dramas ’cause that’s what the players demanded. It’s got a but-load of puns and wrestling references ’cause that’s what the players demanded. It’s got some serious elements too, cause…well, you get the picture. Our reference points we used were early Spider-Man and Kirkman’s Invincible, with a handful of other elements thrown in.

2) MINUTIA MATTERS

My friend Allan runs a killer Call of C’Thulhu game. Largely he does this by spending session after session letting the characters just exist in the world, doing day-to-day  things, with little hints of weirdness around the edges. He pays attention the regular minutia of everyday life – who you see, what you do, what’s a constant presence. It means you get to know the NPCS and the places that’ll matter down the line, so when things from beyond space and time eat the chef at the local diner, you actually give a damn ’cause you know the chef’s name and his blueberry pie is really damn good eats.

Tracking and depicting that kind of minutia isn’t my strength as a GM, but I made a conscious effort to use the technique for this campaign. Superhero comics, especially solo titles, are all about the supporting cast. Even the Avengers have Jarvis. Shock & Awesome has a steadily growing cast of extras who all serve campaign roles, from NPC foil to source of sage advice, and there are plenty of regular settings that come back again and again.

It helps. It also means the players are becoming increasingly paranoid that going to the local Java Hut franchise will result in a super-villain attack.

3) PREPERATION IS THE ENEMY OF PLAYER-DIRECTED CONFLICT

Shock & Awesome wasn’t meant to be a regular game. It was mostly a fun fill-in we played when the other players couldn’t make our regular D&D night. As a result, I put a lot less effort into preparing our earlier sessions than I normally would have. Largely I’d present a situation, run  through the fight-scene, and wait for the players to pick a direction.

The results were…interesting…in terms of the things that became important. Shock became obsessed with recovering a school bag because it contained her diary. We realised Awesome was living a triple life: Super-hero, ordinary school kid, genetically-modified super-soldier working for a secret religions organisation working to prevent the apocalypse. These things got more time than I would have given them in a typical Superhero RPG, simply ’cause I wasn’t hustling things along in order to move onto the next scene in the adventure.

Some interesting things happened as a result of this: the fights gradually receded into the background while we focused more and more onto the teen drama that was important to the characters. We fretted about what they would do at uni after they finished high-school, and whether they’d go to the same university as there significant others. We had an entire scene that revolved around one character trying to explain getting to second base to the other character using wrestling belts as a metaphor.

The lesson here isn’t don’t plan – although there’s been more than a few sessions where I’ve underplanned and the players have decided the direction of the game – but I’ve certainly eased off on planning as much content as I usually do.

4) IT’S ALL ABOUT THE META-TEXT, BABY

If you’re playing a comic book RPG, you’re probably a comic book fan. Embrace that. Use it to your advantage. Refer to each game session as an Issue. If you’re truly nerdy (I am), present the players with a list of *other* comic book titles that exist in the same fictional comic-company universe, and use that to reinforce the pitch.

This has the advantage of getting players to think in terms of comic-books rather than game mechanics, but it also means they can invest in the storylines and sub-plots. In extreme cases it also means you explain away real lapses of continuity as “a new writer came on-board  guys, and the editor forgot to tell them about…”

5) IGNORE THE RULES THAT BORE YOU

The latest edition of Mutants and Masterminds has a skill challenge system for handling certain tasks like chase-scenes, escaping death traps, and other minutia that don’t really fit under the combat rules. We used them a couple of times and I’ve vowed never to do so again. Personally, I don’t mind the rules that much, but they bore one of the players silly and it quickly reduces a chase scene from “thrilling pursuit” to “dull sequence of die rolls.”

Superhero games can’t afford to be dull. A dull session or two of a D&D game won’t kill a campaign ;cause there’s still going up a level and acquiring cool new abilities on the horizon; a dull superhero session doesn’t have the same option. Superheroes tend to be fairly static in terms of power level, so the traditional RPG rewards of experience points and exponentially increasing abilities don’t really fit well with the genre.

6) TRUST MATTERS

If you’re players don’t trust you, forget about running a supers RPG. It’s just not going to work.

Of course, this is pretty much true of any roleplaying system, but there’s something about superhero RPGs that make it doubly true. Perhaps its the fact that you’re dealing with the extreme power-levels, or you’re playing games designed to replicate a genre where heroes get routinely beaten and outsmarted for an entire issue before overcoming the villain. Where most games are built around the players succeeding, superhero games are built around the players failing again and again until they accumulate the resources (in M&M,  Hero Points) that will enable them to Hulk Up and kick some serious ass.

There are a whole mess of genre conventions that don’t work if your players don’t trust you: starting an session mise-en-scène, setting up the players as you want them to be; hand-waving that crucial scene where the players are captured simply because villains capture heroes and you don’t want to trust such things to the dice; presenting a villain that seems unstoppable at the start of a session, at least until the players discover his weakness.

Basically, you can make a game that’s way more fun for everyone if the players trust you (and, for that matter, each other) to run a game that’s fun and relatively consistent in the way it presents the world.

7) YOUR MAIN JOB WHILE RUNNING THE GAME IS DENIAL

In a traditional D&D type campaign your main job is setting up the world, putting together the adventures, and generally prepping sessions as best you can. In a superhero RPG your job as the guy running the game becomes something very different – find out what the players want for the characters, then figure out how to deny them without abusing your privilege as the guy running the game. You create obstacles, lots of obstacles, from the mundane to the super-villainous, and you place them in front of the characters.

This pretty much works on every level of the game. If the hero really wants to duck off and get changed into their uniform, figure out a way to complicate that. If they want to date a girl in their class, throw romantic rivals and disproving parents and the occasional demonic possession into their path. If they seize on a particular villain as a favourite (in our case, it seems to be a chap dubbed “Doom Squid”), hold off on using them for as long as possible.

The trick to making the whole denial thing work? Timing and a sense of scale. Small wants (“I need to get changed into my costume”) need short-term denial. Major complications require multiple sessions. Hold out too long and things will just get dull, at best, and irritating at worst. This is another one of those situations where the meta-text of the game can be useful – comic books have all sorts of “anniversary issue” thresholds that can serve as the catalyst for a big change.  I’ve tried to set a routine where the players *know* that their characters are going to see a major change in their characters around issue 12 (one year), 24 (two years), and 30 (’cause we were about to go on hiatus). Any major acts of denial that get started in the next couple of sessions are likely to carry us through ’til our 50th session.

8) HERO POINTS ARE LIKE CANDY

Hero Points are M&M’s way of saying “bravo, you’ve done something comic-book-like,” while simultaneously allowing the players to continue doing comic book like things with their powers and abilities. It’s win-win. Give those suckers out like candy. Remind the players that only the first hit is free, but the rest are going to cost ’em.

9) THERE IS NO PROBLEM SO BAD THAT A HERO CANNOT MAKE IT WORSE

Seriously. It’s, like, a rule.

Sometimes it’s intentional. The players in Shock & Awesome will gleefully walk into situations that make life difficult for their characters, and they’ll do it with a smile on their face. They may know that Professor Nix is secretly a super-villain and that any minute now there will be a super-hero slugfest, but part of the fun is getting their characters into deeper trouble before that moment comes. It’s one of the great joys of the M&M system – it rewards you for going along with certain genre conventions, even if you know better.

Other times, well, lets just say it’s always entertaining to see how quickly a situation deteriorates.

10) CARTOONS ARE YOUR FRIEND

For all that Superhero RPGs are meant to replicate comic books, comics are a pretty fricken’ terrible narrative form these days, especially in the field of superheroes. Story arcs are extended across multiple issues, cross-overs are becoming increasingly common, and the backstory…oh god, let’s not talk about the ungodly amount of baggage your standard superhero comes with these days. All in all, it can be a horrible medium to try and replicate when it comes to pacing an RPG session.

There are, however, some pretty sweet cartoon adaptations of the superhero genre that will rock your damn socks off, and the plot of a half-hour kids cartoon is actually pretty-well paced if you need to rip of a plot that will fit into a gaming session of two or three hours (My personal recommendations are Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and Justice League Unlimited, but the classic Batman: The Animated Series cartoon from the nineties still rocks the Kasbah).

11) FIGHTS ARE FAST

Such an important part of the comics themselves, but we do so little of it in the campaign. Or, rather, it takes up so much less time compared to other RPGs. If you’re used to the D&D gaming paradigm where you can fit, more or less, one fight-scene per hour into a session, Mutants and Masterminds streamlines the art of the smackdown. This is a huge conceptual leap to overcome when you make the shift from running D&D to Supers, since it means you need to start adapting to a game-style where a fight against the epic big-bad will be over inside of half an hour.

12) FIGHTS ARE ALSO KINDA DULL

There is an art to running an engaging superhero battle. Personally, I’ve not learnt it yet, although I’m slowly getting better. My approach to running combat has been increasingly dominated by years of playing D&D, which has been escalating the level of tactical complexity in recent editions. Comparatively speaking, M&M combat is much simpler, especially in one-on-one confrontations – the players will pretty much adopt the same tactic every fight and whittle away the bad guys defenses.

I’ve got this flagged as one of the things to try and fix when we resume playing in a couple of weeks. In some respects its my fault – a lot of the bad guys are just as stand-there-and-slug-it-out as the players, so it’s not like there’s a lot of incentive to get creative with the battle rules.

13) SUPERS  GAMES ARE HARD WORK

I work harder to make a typical M&M game work than pretty much any other set of RPG rules I’ve ever run, although it’s probably on par with running Feng Shui. It requires a big change of mindset, a lot more cooperation with the players in terms of the games narrative approach, and the tendency to veer off-course or have the players pull an unexpected solution out of a hat (or, for that matter, a mutation granting electromagnetic powers) increases exponentially.

The other thing I’ve noticed: there’s not a lot of advice out there for people who run superhero campaigns. The internet is full of advice for people interested in running fantasy or SF games, but the vast majority of the advice I’ve seen regarding Superhero games is largely drawn from the rulebooks of superhero games and the occasional forum thread on places like enworld, rpg.net, and the mutants and masterminds forum.

Post-Script: Want to see how my thinking on Superhero RPGs have changed? I’ve written a companion piece to this entry detailing 15 Things I’ve Learned About Superhero RPGS After Running 150 Sessions Of My Campaign.

Gaming is not Writing

PETERMBALL Gaming, Writing Advice - Craft & Process ,

Once again, I dance like a monkey for your amusement. This time around my friend Al asked via facebook:

Why should writers never write RPG campaigns as stories, why on earth did you do just that, why isn’t it finished yet?

Okay, we’re going to kick this one off with a list o’ reasons, some of which people are likely to disagree with.

1) EDITORS DON’T LIKE IT

Let’s kick this off with the obvious – the best reason to avoid writing up RPG campaigns as stories is the fact that places that give you money for writing aren’t a big fan of things that are based on RPG campaigns. This warning from Strange Horizon’s List of Stories They See Too Often isn’t exactly uncommon, where they pretty much tell you to avoid anything where:

Story is based in whole or part on a D&D game or world.

a.       A party of D&D characters (usually including a fighter, a magic-user, and a thief, one of whom is a half-elf and one a dwarf) enters a dungeon (or the wilderness, or a town, or a tavern) and fights monsters (usually including orcs).

b.      Story is the origin story of a D&D character, culminating in their hooking up with a party of adventurers.

c.       A group of real-world humans who like roleplaying find themselves transported to D&D world.

They’re not alone. I mean, I can think of at least one other well-paying fantasy magazine that has the same prohibition and I’m willing to bet that a bunch others are just as biased against campaign-oriented fiction without specifically calling it out. Call me crazy (or, you know, mercenary), but writing things you can’t get paid for is generally a bad idea when your goal is to write things for money.

Me, I write for money. Stories are one of those things I exchange for some form of payment. If you can find someone who’ll pay you money for your campaign notes, more power to you. Personally I’m planning on sticking to the things that don’t alienate editors.

2) YOUR CAMPAIGN IS A HORRIBLE STORY

Here’s the thing most people don’t like to admit about gaming – it’s a terrible format for complex storytelling. Instead, gaming is, to borrow a phrase from (I think) Robin Laws, a way of telling a simple story in a complex way.

This isn’t an argument about rules complexity, just a reality of the way RPG’s work. Characters tend to get painted in broad swathes, and even when they’re designed to replicate the kind of internal and external conflict you’ll find in a narrative story, those conflicts lack the depth you’d aim for in fiction. PCs are often defined by singular motivations and short-term goals. Session and campaign goals are externalised and often unrelated to the internal conflict.

More importantly, gaming doesn’t really need to *stretch* against the boundaries of its genre – a great deal of the joy of gaming, when you get down to it, comes from hitting genre sign-posts and inhabiting narrative moments that are recognisable as familiar sign-posts of the genre. GMs frequently look for familiarity because it makes their life easier.

The very nature of a campaign as a collaborative, ongoing thing works against creating a cohesive story as well. In narrative terms your standard gaming group represents an ensemble cast with no clear protagonist, your average campaign is a series of episodic stories connected together without any real clear sense of narrative arc, and the vicissitudes of dice and rules mean that you have no real control over the pace and climax of the action. Think of it like a very uneven TV series where, if you’re lucky, there’s a seasonal arc to hold things together but plenty of stand-alone episodes.

Worse, everything is filtered through multiple creators who may have slightly different ideas of what story you’re telling. A character who sees himself as the embodiment of a particular archetype (hardboiled PI, for example) may enjoy some friendly banter with a character he perceives to be playing the femme-fatale, but his long-term expectation of the two character’s arc can easily be thwarted if the femme-fatale’s player (or the GM) doesn’t recognise that’s what’s going on and agree to it. If you doubt me, try this as an exercise: sit down with your regular gaming group and get people to write down what they perceive to be a “happy ending” for all the other characters. Odds are, the expectations will be wildly different. I’ve never seen a game-group navigate this kind of disconnect perfectly (though some have gotten close).

So, yeah, RPGs are simple stories that are told using enormously complex methods (regardless of system). Once you strip the method out, what you’re left with often feels comparatively hollow and familiar.

3) GMs THINK ABOUT SETTING AND ANTAGONISTS, WRITERS THINK ABOUT CHARACTER

For a couple of years one of the local universities used to bring me in and get me to work with a handful of students from their writing program. It was part of a subject they ran where undergraduates wrote longer works – a suite of poems, a collection of stories, or a novella – and had a writer/editor type critique their work.

I encountered a lot of gamers-turned-writers in those days, primarily ’cause the lecturer in charge would team me with any students of a…well, let’s say geekish persuasion…simply ’cause I knew how to handle the conversations you’d have in the first critique session. Inevitably we’d sit down and talk about the students work, and two things would happen:

1)      The student would rant about the university not understanding their work and the obvious bias their instructors had against genre work.

2)      I’d nod a lot and ask the question “So you’re gamer, right?”, after which the student would express shock that I could tell that simply by reading their work. They were usually just as shocked when I pointed out that I didn’t like their work either, despite being a gamer and knowing where they were coming from.

There’s a bunch of reasons I could pick an GM-turned-Writer just from a handful of sample pages, but primarily it’s ’cause GMs are hardwired to think about stories in a slightly different way than other people. They have great settings, they tend to build towards cool moments in the narrative, and they develop cool antagonists.

What they failed at, generally, was creating a compelling protagonist (or, indeed, identifying a core protagonist among their ensemble), conveying the narrative rules of their world, and hiding the fact that their approach to magic/space-flight/aliens/what-have-you was severely influenced by a particular set of rules.

Also, their action scenes were generally…well, messy.

These aren’t criminal faults in writing. Plenty of GM-turned-writers have overcome them and learned how to make their GM skills interests a strength, and I’ll certainly cop to being a writer who favours “cool genre moments” and writes a particularly mess and ill-paced fight-scene every now and then. Hopefully I’m getting better at that, but odds are it’ll take time and conscious effort and I’ll spend years relying on my circle of beta-readers picking up on the things that are more “game” than “fiction.”

THE WORLD SAYS DON’T DO IT, BUT THEN, I’M AN IDIOT

And yet, despite all this, I started writing a short novel based off a roleplaying game campaign earlier this year. In my defence, it wasn’t my game – it was run by the inimitable Sleech – and it involved a group of people who’d been gaming together for a long time. Unfortunately half the group absconded to Melbourne, including Al, so we pretty much wound down our regular game and got used to doing other things.

I started the novel project for two reasons: I missed the game and the people I gamed with, and it occurred to me that my job at the writer’s centre meant that, for once, I could afford to do some goofy projects that weren’t necessarily about making money in the long-run.

The reason it isn’t finished yet is pretty simple – looming potential unemployment meant I turned my attention to short fiction again, and I ran into all the problems I’ve outlined above when it comes to transforming campaigns to fiction (particularly when it came to disguising the fact that the game we were basing it on has a very distinctive setting).

I haven’t abandoned the problem, and to be honest I think I know how to get around the setting problem, but fixing that sort of thing takes the kind of dedicated writing and research time I don’t really have now I’m working full-time.

Fortunately, working full-time is only a temporary thing, and working itself still up in the air until I get news about if/how my contract will be renewed next year. Should I find myself without a dayjob, odds are the Untitled Victorian Planetary Romance, Pt 1 will make a re-appearance in my writing to-do list. ‘Til then, unfortunately, it’s a project I attempted and failed, and it’ll remain such until I get a chance to take a better run-up.