The Writing Desk of Jakebe Rabbit

The last time I ran a role-playing game was two or three years back. It was a 3.5 edition Dungeons and Dragons game, set in a home-grown world I had been building over the past few years. I tried to run a game in the setting a few years earlier, back in Arkansas, but that game had imploded in a spectacular fashion. I really wanted to tell a story in this universe, though, and I thought I would be able to take a look at my mistakes and improve my storytelling for this new batch of players.

It didn't quite go as well as I'd hoped. I clashed with one of my players pretty badly and he ended up leaving the group. Another, I suspected, didn't really want to be there despite repeated assurances to the contrary. Part of this was my own problems with self-image and depression at the time. A third player was new to this whole business, and there were issues with his concept that I honestly think I bungled. A fourth player moved away, and I used that as an opportunity to end the campaign.

The campaign, I think, crumbled under the weight of my expectations for it. I wanted it to be spectacular and exciting, mysterious and involving, and if my players weren't singing their praises at me from on high I wouldn't have been satisfied. No matter what I did right, I was certain I could do it better. And everything I did wrong was proof that the game was total rubbish and people weren't having any fun. Stress at work, depression and my own unachievable standards killed any fun I could possibly have making it. Letting it go turned out to be a relief.

So, fast forward to a few years later. I'd like to think I have a better grasp of storytelling under my belt, as well as a solid understanding of what works and doesn't work in a tabletop role-playing game. I think my biggest issue was over-reaching with my story, making it so large that there was no room for change. My ideas for the plot dominated everything, and if the players jumped the track I had so carefully laid out for them I didn't have a plan B. Things would jump the rails and I had no idea what the terrain was like over there. I spent so much of my time in panic mode.

Now I'm getting the itch to run a game again. I want to go back to the universe that I've created, but this time I think I know how to make it work. You just start small. Narrow your focus, plan a few games out at *most*, always bring things back to the players and what they want. I have a clear idea for the kind of story I'd like to tell -- dramatic, character-oriented, with a healthy splash of action set pieces -- but I also know that the success of the game depends on how malleable I can be. I think I can tell an exciting story while learning to let go of my ideas about how it should proceed.

Anyway, my previous failures were still my fault, just not in the way I thought at the time. I've had a few years to learn as a player from a number of really good gamers, and the lessons have proven invaluable in changing my perspective on RPGs and what they can do. I'm outlining a few of these lessons to keep them in mind for this new game I'm creating, and as a way of presenting this out to the Internets so I can get help with refining and refuting these ideas.

+ For the purpose of the story, the players really ARE the center of the Universe. I think one of the biggest mistakes I tend to make in my games is trying to punch up an air of mystery, that there are forces in the world at work beyond the perception and reach of the players. For a passive audience, perhaps, this piques interest and encourages you to play along to figure out what that mystery might be. For a role-playing game, where players are active participants in the story, it's just annoying and frustrating. No one wants to be told about far-reaching things that they have no way of influencing. It just makes them feel helpless and unimportant, small and ineffectual. That's not why people play games -- they want to be heroes that make a difference in the world around them. Anything that brings a player-character front and center in the story is good. Anything that makes them feel marginalized and out of control is bad.

+ Keep the plot as streamlined as possible. I have nothing against complex plots with a lot of moving parts. In fact, I love them! TV shows like LOST, Game of Thrones and Battlestar Galactica feature a giant cast of characters all with their own arcs and agendas, each acting to pull the course of the story towards something that favors them. This tension makes for incredible storytelling. In games, I've found, this doesn't work quite as well. I think you can work with such a tapestry when your audience is 'passively engaged', where it's not expected they have a say in the direction of the story. In role-playing games, your audience (the players) rightfully expect to be the chief drivers in the way the plot goes. The NPCs are generally there to either try to drive the plot the other way (antagonists) or add more muscle in the group's direction (allies). The more factions you have tugging in different directions, the more this tends to diminish the power of the player's actions. I'm not saying it can't be done, but if you're adding a bunch of moving pieces, you have to consider how this new faction affects the player's lives and their ability to feel in control of the situation.

Besides, when you have work, social engagements and who knows what else to think about, it's really fucking hard to keep a boatload of storylines straight in your head. Especially if you're the GM. Chances are most of the brilliant plotting will end up happening off-screen if it happens at all, so it might be a good idea to be a bit more myopic about the scope of the story in general. If things end up getting complicated, let that develop naturally over time. Don't force it.

+ Learn to love what you're doing, instead of doing something for the love. I tried to turn this into a pithy maxim and it didn't quite work, but the idea behind it is sound. I often got so hung up on instant feedback and glowing accolades from my players that anything short of "this was the best game ever" became personally devastating. Sometimes a game is simply going to be "good". And every once in a while, hopefully not often, you're going to try something that didn't work, fail with something you've experimented with, or people will just have an off night. I think it does a world of good to believe in the process of your storytelling, trust that you're doing something good, and fall in love with the process instead of the results. That goes for all kinds of writing, actually, but it really helps to keep your sanity when you're running a role-playing game.

+ The more attention you pay to your PCs, the more attention they'll pay to your story. This one seems a little contradictory, but I don't think it is. Obviously, you have an idea for a story or scenario and you want to play it out. But if you tailor your story to the strengths and weaknesses of your characters, the more entwined they'll feel in what's happening. If a player enjoys, say, taking advantage of people's naievete, let them do that for a while -- but make sure there are consequences for his actions. Maybe have the villain run a long con on the PCs that takes advantage of some mistaken assumptions they've made, or have one of the allies fall out with the group and refuse a vital piece of aid. The story becomes a natural outgrowth of the character's actions and philosophies, then, instead of an external influence encroaching on their lives. This requires flexibility, an understanding of what players want out of their characters, and a solid grasp on the world and how things move. It's not easy, by any stretch, but the effort pays off big time.

I think that's all I have so far. What do you guys think? Do you agree or disagree? Are there any fundamental lessons that I've overlooked? I'm really interested in what former players of mine have to say about all of this...