Outfitting

(Thanks to Cherry Picked fan Dylan for this RP Advice suggestion)

Humans love rewards. As long as we are compensated, we’ll do challenging, risky, or terrifying actions. The promise of something at the end of a trial encourages us to keep going; to persevere until we get what we deserve.  Gamers familiar with the role playing genre are acquainted with this operant conditioning. We’ll go save a hostage or slay a demon lord if there’s treasure afterwards.

Rewarding players in a role-playing game means giving them experience (direct character growth) or in-world materials (money and gear). Either way, the character gets more powerful and can overcome more challenges in the world. The difficulty for a game master is dispensing these rewards fairly and maintaining interest in the campaign. Scaling levels is typically easier for a game master: as the players gain levels, so do the enemies. Natural progressions with skill trees and later-game abilities keep interest and variety. Giving players new gear is difficult to do in a fulfilling and balanced way.

From the very beginning, your equipment gifting choices dictate the tempo and tone of the campaign. Do you give players weapons specific to their characters or do they all get the same load out? Giving a sniper specialist a sniper rifle clearly signals previous actions. This character has had their rifle and trained with it for a significant amount of time. That player will seek improvements with that weapon, either by modifying it or finding better versions. Now, consider starting every player, including the sniper, with a rusty knife. Despite their skills in long-range weapons on paper, they don’t have anything to actualize that skill. Their early game goals revolve around finding a suitable weapon.

The first time the GM gives an item reward will be radically different in both these scenarios. If you give them a rusty hunting rifle, the player that started with the decent gun will not care. They might keep it as a backup, spare parts, or a bartering tool, but they won’t feel rewarded. That is, however, a grand upgrade from the knife. That character can finally use skills they’ve learned and will feel a surge of competence. Plus, they have accomplished a goal, which is always satisfying. Things go differently if the item found is a 50-caliber rifle with an infrared scope and a back-massager (or whatever accessories guns have…). That’s a natural improvement for the armed sniper, but the poorly-armed player will feel both overwhelmed and excited. If others don’t make an equivalent jump, the sniper will skyrocket in power and be the defining member of the team.

It’s clear to see the thematic difference between the two starting items. One uses their gear to complete challenges, the other struggles with challenges to get gear. The latter definitely sounds more interesting from a storytelling perspective, but depriving players requires a delicate touch from the game master. Players make decisions when picking stats. A Catalyst character may spend an entire level’s worth of growth points to pick up Rifle Focus; getting that ability was a choice. If they rarely use it, it was a bad choice to make, which is not a fun realization. The overall story of a trained-military sniper killing demons with a butter knife may be interesting, the player will be frustrated. A little tension is good, too much spoils the campaign.

So how do we get the drama of helplessness without torturing the player? Present a different choice. Let’s say this military veteran finally finds a sniper rifle, but it only has five bullets. Good gear is rare in your story, so firing this weapon should have a monumental impact in a fight. The rarity of bullets means every shot is a choice. Can the team clutch it out without using ammo? If they hit a later encounter and find themselves cursing about wasting ammo on easier targets, you have succeeded. A wrong choice in the narrative is compelling; a wrong choice in character construction is annoying.

Taking this lesson, let’s reexamine the earlier case of a sniper steadily improving their weapon over the campaign. That’s dull. It’s a Skinner Box giving a slow drip of meaningless gifts. It also breeds bad balancing traits in the game master. If you give players a “+1” sword, then the enemies start having “+1” swords. Oblivion had this problem: once you found top-tier glass armor, random bandits would be wearing full sets of glass armor (yet still mugging you over 50 septims…). Any sense of power the item had is lost when it becomes commonplace.

The solution to this item “power-creep” is to, once again, add decisions for the player. All of Catalyst’s magic items require vigor to use. This comes from the same pool as the energy for general actions and spells. For a player, using a sword’s bleeding enchantment early in a fight might mean an enemy dies sooner, but they may be out of energy when the dangerous demon general arrives. Gifting such items to a party without making them character specific adds even more compelling choices. If they’re debating who should get the “blinding stone” not out of greed, but because they want the most utility out of it, then you have succeeded.

Like most of leading a role-playing game, giving equipment to players requires the game master intuit what the players need. The experience and levelling component of RPGs means players grow more competent, more powerful, over time. Both video and tabletop RPGs also reward players with improved items as the campaign goes on. Better weapons and armor can be exciting on paper, but boring in practice. Conversely, depriving players of items, particularly tools they need for their specialties, tells an interesting story at the cost of the players’ contributions and feelings of control.

Before I wrap this up, I want to mention how Catalyst handles player items. We have a brief list of weapons, armor, and magical enchantments. We stress these lists are not comprehensive and encourage players to create their own gear. There is no table showing what items a new player should get or what rewards a demon general carries. We can’t define this; the GM has to for an optimal story. We also have a concept of item fragility: every piece of equipment has a chance to break after being used in a fight. This adds the inherent choice of using items at the risk of losing them every battle.

We utilize both types of item progression in our campaigns. “Runaways” focuses on difficult challenges to get mediocre tools. It is a bleak story about adversity and loss. Players have to choose between a handful of bullets and being fed. “Fourth World” has a human society with stores and currency. Players are meant to feel powerful and get the tools they need to save the day. They divvy up an ancient weapon stash and use whatever money can buy to hold off a demon siege. Both campaign guides help the game master lead players to interesting decisions and force them to care about their inventories beyond just another field in the character sheet. That’s more entertaining than all the “+1” items in the world.

--Alex

Introducing RPGs

Getting the uninitiated to play a role-playing game can be a daunting task. Honestly, having a group of people regularly do any activity is a logistical nightmare. Our modern lives are so chaotic; finding available people able to engage in meaningful social experiences is a blessing. Sharing this hobby with others is a wonderful experience and well worth overcoming a couple inherent challenges. Here’s our guide to clearing common hurdles with new role players.

The elephant in your gaming room is going to be the inherent stigma associated with role-playing games. There is a stereotype of antisocial neckbeards playing Dungeons and Dragons in their parents’ basements while eating Cheetos and chugging Mountain Dew. It’s silly. Even when I was a high-school aged, nerdy virgin, our D&D sessions were far more engaging and fun on a interpersonal level than most barroom drinking sessions I’ve done.

The first step to convincing people RPGs are for everyone is removing this stereotype. Sell gaming as a social experience: honestly describe your sessions. Talk about the absurdity of plots, the logical challenges, the heroic moments, and the spectacular failures. Make your play environment welcoming. Have drinks, food, comfy chairs, room to pace around, whatever people need. Promote the game as an excuse to hang out with friends.

I’d pitch an earlier session of mine to newcomers: “The four of us met up at my place after work. We opened a few beers, I made dinner, we reminded each other what happened last week, and started playing. My character left off sneaking behind some crazy zombie dude; he used to be in our group before Chad over there shoved him out of a plane. Now he was acting super evil and turned the nearby planation into a graveyard. His kid was nearby, so I figured he was responsible. We knocked out the kid, killed his dad (again), and headed back to the prison to meet up with Zack, err, Bonesaw. In this little break, our GM started texting a lady friend, so the rest of us began spamming sexts to each other. Once he got the point, we flashed over to Bonesaw holding off a demon army single-handedly with his crowbar of justice. I had the brilliant plan to shove a brick on our vehicle’s gas pedal and jump out on to their leader while the truck careened into the army. Apparently, I never noticed the alignment issue and the truck flaccidly drive off to the right. Regardless, we saved Bonesaw and lived to fight another day.”

Once you’ve convinced people of the positive social nature of RPG’s, the comradery and teamwork from getting together and chatting about a different world, they might begin to worry about the mechanics and complexity of such a game. This is particularly true if your friend doesn’t play any modern board or video games.

Initially, you’ll need to sell these people on the narrative nature of the game. Depending on the game, the rules for play can be introduced slowly and glossed over when they start playing. Setup a campaign that has a simple starting goal and, if combat is a part of the game, a basic tutorial-esque fight. I like escaping from a prison as a base point. It’s a simple enough premise and no one wants to remain a prisoner, so they’ll be forced to progress. I like having a non-playing character provide a plan to players and give them a couple scenarios. The players weigh choices, maybe come up with something different, and proceed. Moreover, it gets players talking to each other about something in the game.

Now, the other difficulty for new players is character creation. Every system has different complexity levels, but for most this is the most complicated part of the game. It’s usually because this is the most choices a player have with regards to the game’s mechanics and it comes at a point when none of those mechanics have been used.

Sit down with new players and walk them through everything. My starting question is always, “who do you want to be?” For Catalyst, I’ll give a couple examples like, gun-slinging blood mage or fast-talking illusionist. If they give you an answer, adapt it to the game. If not, just ask at each step what they want: what sex is your character, what age, how do they fight, etc. Be liberal in your advice; don’t let them make a character that’s either useless or hard to play. Help them make a character that will be invaluable to the party. Damage dealers are my default starter characters because their impact on the game is obvious.

Finally, make sure your new players are actually playing. During social scenes, prompt for their input. During combat, let them mulligan bad choices. Don’t let experienced players dominate the scenes. If possible, have your story be skewed against experienced players. I enjoy making the early enemies have all the counters to whatever skills my most veteran player has.

Do be aware role playing isn’t for everyone. Like any hobby, there is a certain mindset required. You can guide people to it and shine gaming in a favorable light, but there’s always someone who just won’t enjoy it. Hang out with them elsewhere. For your new gaming buddies, enjoy an evening of laughter, intense debate, adult beverages, and the unique friendship that comes from knowing someone better by their character name.

In Media Res

A couple sessions into a campaign, players have their characters fleshed out. The over-exaggerated caricatures give way to more three-dimensional, consistent, logical avatars. The game master also settles into a groove. They understand where their story is going, how the players react to challenges, and how to balance fights or other tests of character skill. Sadly, the needs of a game are outweighed by the dynamics of reality. People come and go from gaming groups and those left are forced to either abandon a campaign, or persevere with a changing roster.

CPG has two ongoing playtests for Catalyst at the moment that both lost people this week (one is on an extended vacation and the other left town). So, we’re going to merge to the two groups and carry forth with one of the campaigns. The challenge will be integrating the two new people into the existing tale. Since this comes up enough in long-form role playing games, I figured I’d share some tactics I have for easy transitions both players and GMs can utilize.

The simplest solution is to retcon the new player into the existing story. They were always there, remember? Saying they were silent or overruled on past decisions gives a consistent history to the campaign. This is the best course of action if you have the same people for a campaign’s duration, but you tend to be down a person each time (scheduling twenty-somethings to do anything is a pain.)

The key to pulling this off as a player is to be informed about the world and actions performed by your team without you. Ask them to give you a quick recap before play starts, but the emphasis should be on emotion and reasoning. “We let the demons escape because we had to save the priest from the burning building. We deduced he’s the only one who knows where the relic is, so as frustrating as letting the enemy go was, we needed to keep the guy alive.” The biggest restriction on the joining character is their mental state and ambitions can’t differ much from the rest of the party. You’ll miss out on the moment of conflict your story was attempting if the person in question steps out for a session.

If you are swapping one character for another (effectively stating the person leaving was never there, it was always the new player’s character), things get trickier. You’ll have to examine what impact the departing person had on the story: did their choices have drastic outcomes and would the new character have done the same? In my campaign, Narwhal chose to violently stop a mad scientist. Clearly, there are repercussions to his actions; it’s not exactly fair to force those consequences upon the new player. However, this person swap lends itself better to interweaving the world and the party.

A few campaigns back, I had a player leaving town a couple months after a long campaign began. Since I knew this upfront, I shared some secrets with him about one of the factions that opposed the players. He ended up being an undercover agent, demonstrating peculiar behavior at points, but the other players never figured it out until the big reveal on his last session. In game, this betrayal occurred during a large inner-city skirmish. Our new player joined the campaign next week, his character having been an observer of the players’ prowess and an ally of the faction opposing the betrayer's. Of course, he had an ulterior motive to help; he wanted to use the players’ talents to further his personal city-conquering agenda.

Here, we’ve managed to turn what could have been an awkward transition into a scene breathing life and authenticity into the story. The world should not exist statically next to the players as they meander forward; it needs to constantly be pushing and pulling the players as they struggle to gain traction against larger forces. Using personnel changes to challenge the power of players enhances the scope of the campaign and the dire consequences of their failure.

As a final note to players entering an ongoing campaign, remember your etiquette. As mentioned earlier, the interpersonal relations between characters, NPCs, game masters, and players will have been established. You should certainly integrate yourself into this mix, but be sure not to trample over other players to do so. Your character will be new to the others; gain their trust and respect. Make sure no one regrets inviting you over to join their game.

--Alex