Roleplaying Games


A short dealing with privatized policing. Of course, it only goes for the dystopian view, while missing some of the benefits — like state-sponsored coercion and violence.

There’s some real sci-fi/cyberpunk RPG gold in this

Having really cut my teeth as a GM with the James Bond: 007 RPG in the 1980s, one of the techniques I used to introduce characters and/or stories was inspired by the Bond movies (and many other television series and action movies) is the teaser.

The teaser allows you to give a player(s) the chance to intro his or their characters in a simple action sequence. You begin in media res — the action is already underway. The teaser can have a connection to the rest of the story or not; you can make this the tail end of another unrelated mission, or you can connect it to the upcoming plotline through either a recurring villain or NPC, or some aspect of the teaser that eventually ties to the rest of the adventure upcoming.

The teaser should place the character firmly in their element of expertise, and play to the characters’ strengths and weaknesses. Let’s use Skyfall as an example. In this, we’ll stick with three “new” characters — Bond, Eve, and Tanner. (Why Tanner? We’re using him as the “eye in the sky” or hacker/backup for purposes of example.) You’re looking for a missing hard drive. We think we know who the guy is that has it. (Bad guy NPC Patrice.) One of our agents has tracked him down and is now not responding. Bond is our brick/fighting guy — the experienced, jaded one; Eve is our wheelman with some combat skills — she’s new and a bit unsure of herself; Tanner is their “hacker” — he’s the guy with the satellite feeds, the maps for them to use to try and get ahead of people, the guy that can get medical to you. He can coordinate the action between the characters when they are separated, effectively keeping everyone together, even if the characters are in different locations. He is, in essence, the glue between what could be completely separate scenes, and hence keep all the players involved.

Bond should have a moment to play to his jaded nature (he finds the injured agent — stabilize him or get after the bad guy?), he should have a combat sequence — fistfight or gun fight (or both) to show his combat prowess. Eve should have a chance to use her driving skills in a chase. (He’s in the black Audi!) She should have the chance to get into combat, but try to keep Bond in the spotlight for this. Tanner should be the guy directing them in the case (He’s turned left! If you go through the market you should be able to get ahead of them! [Give the Eve or Bond character some kind of bonus if Tanner gets a good roll on an appropriate skill to help manage the operation.])

Teasers should be short — around 30 minutes or so for a three hour session, but sometimes, they can be intensely fun on their own. I’ve had teasers run most of a game session (2 hours) for particularly complex action sequences. Example (let’s use Bond movies again, this time Goldeneye): The beginning of Goldeneye has a fairly complex action sequence involving Bond sneaking into a secret Soviet weapons plant and linking up with 003. The new characters might be just Bond, or Bond and Alec (003). They have to slip into the main portion of the factor to blow it up. They get cornered and have to escape while still destroying the place. A teaser like this, I can tell you from experience, is probably a one to 1.5 hour affair, minimum. There’s a lot of moving parts, but they do the same thing — Bond does action stuff like base jumping, shooting, and some stealth. Alec, if played by a player, would have to either be doing the same, or come in from a different direction. They would have some moment to play up their friendship or animosity, depending on the weaknesses with which they were designed. (Imagine the base jump’s the only way in  and one of the characters is acrophobic — golden!)

The teaser is a great method for introducing the characters: get them into their element, give them a few challenges that play to their strengths and weaknesses, then move onto the main story or campaign. But it’s also good for reintroducing the characters after a break, or introducing the next plotline.

The Living Daylights begins, as many Bond movies do, with a short mission that seems unrelated to the main story. Bond is training in Gibraltar with other 00s when one is killed by SMERSH. But SMERSH was deactivated! He chases down the assassin but the man is killed in typical spectacular fashion. It seems completely disconnected from the “main mission” — evacuate a Soviet general from Czechoslovakia who is under sniper protection…until the general is spirited out of the Blaydon safe house by SMERSH. Eventually, the plot would reveal the recaptured general is actually behind the SMERSH attack at Gibraltar in an attempt to get rid of a rival in the Soviet intelligence community who is closing in on his dirty opium for diamonds for guns operation.

You might have a character who encountered serious issues in a previous adventure. You might introduce the character in a teaser where an old bad guy turns up to have them murdered, and this drags them back into a life of action. Or that thief who was retired but has burned through his money, or is presented with a challenge just too juicy to ignore — reintroduce them living happily, then hit them with some minor action piece that plays to their diminishing money or requires them to use their mad thieving skills…boy, don’t you miss the rush…?

Hopefully, these few suggestions can give you a new tool in your GM kit to help the players connect with their characters and with the world/adventures you are presenting. While I’ve used primarily modern day examples, you can easily adapt the teaser to any genre you might be playing.

When they first announced the “preview” for the Firefly RPG was being released for $29.99 on Drive Thru RPG, the fandom seemed a bit unimpressed. I happened across the product on the previously mentioned website for $9.99 and judging from the description, I figured it was most of the game with a few adventures thrown in. I was right — this is a “beta”, if anything — the game is nearly finished, but they punched out an edited version with a pair of adventures to allow GenCon goers something to buy and try.

firefly

There are a few things obviously still to be completed — the episode guide isn’t complete, and each show seems to have either sidebars with rules variants or important NPCs for the episode. Once completed, it should be useful for the GM. The experience/advancement rules have yet to be finished, but character and ship generation is mostly there.

So what do you get? The basic rules are complete, and take Cortex Plus closer to FATE than the game mechanics for the other Cortex Plus lines. For some this will be great news, for some…not as much. Characters have three attributes: social, mental, and physical and you have between d6 and d10 , your skills are between d6 and d12 (no knowledge get you a d4), and you get three assets that use the same d8 or d4 and you get a plot point mechanic of Marvel Heroic RPG.  You set up a dice pool from the appropriate attributes, skills, and assets and try to beat a number rolled by the GM based on difficulty and various assets or complications of the scene setting. Sound familiar? Yeah, it’s FATE.

Spacecraft aren’t created like vehicles, which are a single die asset; they have their own attributes and assets. There are a few examples of the vessels seen in the first episodes, and i suspect you’ll have more as the game is completed.

In combat, or doing any other deed, the player or acting character chooses the outcome they want — if you succeed, that happens. In combat, you are “taken out” (this doesn’t necessarily mean dead) if the opposition is trying to harm you, or otherwise gain a complication. Complications are bought off with opportunities due to the GM rolling a 1. Sound familiar? /Yeah, it’s FATE with d4-d12 polyhedral dice (or Cortex Plus.)

There’s a small Chinese glossary (and specific lines from the show are covered in the episode guide), a basic layout of Serenity, and an atlas of the worlds around White Sun. If you’re a big fan of the show, you may already have the beautiful Map of the ‘Verse, the Serenity Blueprint Reference Pack, or the Atlas of the ‘Verse book by Quantum Mechanix. Use these instead. If you don’t have them, pick them the hell up…they’re worth every penny for even passing Browncoats.

How are the adventures? To be fair…I didn’t look at them, yet, and this “quick” review is already over 800 words long.

So how is it? For $10, it’s great! I’m not a huge fan of Cortex Plus (as you could tell from this review or other one on the Cortex Plus line — the main exception being the excellent MHR) but the game design is tight, simple, and easy to learn — perfect for the RPG newbie, which is the stated market of the line producer in an afterword in the book. I suspect it will be fun, easy to play, and worth the full price once the release version comes out. So next question: can you buy this and play it? Yes. And if you know Cortex+ or FATE well enough, you’ll be able to “fudge” (oh, shut up) the missing bits of the rules. For those who just want a quick pick up game in the universe, this beta might be a better choice for you, if you can grab it while it’s still $10.

One the style side: Production values are very high, editing is complete enough that I didn’t have any typos or errors jump right out at me. There are some glaring omissions in the rules set, as mentioned above, and incomplete chapters (although they tweaked those bits enough to not be readily obvious. It’s typical corebook quality from Margaret Weis Production…top notch. The only weak part is the art in the pre-generated character archetype section. The rest of the book uses screen caps and looks pretty and shiny. The art here is, in a work, execrable. A word to Monica Valentinelli — when you guys hit the splatbook phase of the game, do not hire this artist. No, really, just find appropriate screen caps and pop a bit more cash for the next tier of artist, because this guy truly stinks.

So — Substance: 3.5 out of 5 (it’s most of the way done, and if they keep going with what they were doing in the episode guide, I suspect it’ll be a 5 out of 5 for the core book.) Style: 4 .5 out of 5 — it’s pretty, the pdf has some bookmarks and hotlinks in the text but they are not fully built out yet. The use of screencaps is nice, but the original at is crap. As it stands, this particular beta is definitely worth $10, but would have pissed me off royally if I’d paid the original $29.99 they were asking. Another plus — if you buy this, you get 20% off the real book, which should give you the price point; they’re going to spot you the cost of this product — of the main core book is fully bookmarked, hotlinked, and the episode guide and rules are complete, this will be a definite buy as a pdf or hardcover for $30 it looks like they are shooting for.

One of the things most players do when creating a character is develop some sort of hook, or “shtick” for their alter ego — it could be a defining trait, skill, weapon or look, something that makes the character easier to connect with for the player, and the others at the gaming table. Having a shtick is nearly essential for a pulp-style game: the fearless, slightly (or very) unsavory archeologist who ultimately does the right thing; the earnest, down-on-his-luck pilot that finds a rocket pack and turns into a hero; the two-gun toting “shadow” that uses his powers to cloud men’s minds fights crime in a manner that is itself highly questionable; the whip wielding Mexican (well, Californian) hero out to right wrongs…. all have something quickly definable about them.

Shtick is good. It gives a character personality almost immediately, and while it might change or develop over time, it gives you a nice shorthand for describing the character to others and yourself.

Shtick, however when taken too far, or when too well designed can actually hijack a character and make them hard to relate to, or makes them unsuited for the game world they exist in. Here’s two examples of very similar characters…one worked, one did not:

In our Hollow Earth Expedition game, we had the action sidekick in the form of Jack MacMahon. He was a Columbia-trained lawyer who couldn’t pass the bar due to being a bit thick and lazy. He was the son of a politician, rich and well-connected, a bit spoiled, and generally somewhat untalented…except when it came to having guts and fighting. Put his totemic (and at the time, very rare, Registered Magnum) in his hand and he was nigh unstoppable. He was a two-fisted, gun-slinging combat monster — but he also was careful not to go so far over the line he would be arrested for his actions. He was always in the right (well, mostly…) He was a sucker for women to the point he couldn’t hit the female ninja kicking the crap out of him. He was loyal to a fault, almost puppy-dogish.

Jack kicked ass, threw off memorable quips, and always did the stupidly brave thing. And he got his ass kicked, even when he won fights. He was human.

The character was retired when the player could no longer make it to the game. I retooled the campaign, helped one of the new players who obviously liked being the action dude build a “Jack replacement” — “Daredevil” Dan McCoy, a movie stuntman and sometime wing-walker for flying circuses with a sideline in two-story thievery. He was enthusiastic, brave to the point of lunacy, and so damned good at just about anything physical as to be unstoppable. He was a showman and the player obviously enjoyed taking him right to the limit…and over.

The shtick became unmanageable. He would get into scuffles with important NPCs they needed and screw over the other players. He notably chased down bad guys by (unnecessarily) ramming a car through the lobby of a fine hotel in Lisbon, drawing the attention of the military police (Portugal being fascistic at the time), and otherwise was a rabid dog off the chain.

The problem was the combination of the character and player made for shtick run wild, and it ruined the verisimilitude of the world, even though the other characters were also over-the-top…but in a way that was believable for the world. Think Indiana Jones. In real life, he would have had local authorities up his ass on any number of times in the real world. (But then, there also wouldn’t have been Nazis running around British-allied Egypt, either…) He was just enough, but not too much, to make the movie setting fly.

There are ways to manage shtick run wild, and you can see some of the techniques in “the best there is” characters who are suitably restrained by plot and their world. One that springs to mind is Starbuck from the reimagined Battlestar Galactica. We see her in action in the cockpit  the first few episodes of the show – she’s lunatic, better than the best, and unstoppable. So what do the writers do to make it not “Starbuck saves the day” every episode? They break her leg after a crash caused by, frankly, being too damned good in the cockpit and taking on too many Cylon raiders. She has to do other things that are outside the character’s purview.

An example of a similar combat monster/same player in out Battlestar Galactica game: SGT Cadmus is a marine that aids in trying to uncover the Cylon menace. In combat sequences against people or skin jobs, he’s the ruler of the roost. So I stuck him on a number of investigatory adventures that required him to be subtle, use his brain. He’s outside his element, but the player loved it because, eventually, he got to shine in a fight. But the character was restrained so that the shtick was important…something that, when used, made the character stand out, but didn’t stomp on the other characters’ moments in the spotlight. (Eventually, he got to meet the centurions, did very well, but was nearly killed. It gave the players a sense of how damned dangerous the toasters are close up and personal.)

Another example would be Cliff Secord from The Rocketeer. We are led to believe he’s an incredible pilot, and we see some evidence of that in the movie…but what does he he wind up doing most of the movie? Investigating crime, trying to stay out of the clutches of the FBI, and throwing punches — not his strong point. When he gets to fly, he’s a bit out of his element because of the nature of the rocket pack, until he gets the hang of it.

Another way to control shtick gone wild, other than make it a less important element of the game adventure, is to have consequences for folks that, say, blast bad guys when it might not be strictly legal. The cops could be an ever-present issue, requiring them to disguise themselves, a la  The Shadow or Batman, or Zorro. Your war on crime in the 1930s, your raid of that “evil” creature village in your fantasy setting, that murder of an important figures still-beloved zombie wife or child leads to hordes of not-shambling dead coming for your head. The forces arrayed against you are large, well-funded, have the monopoly on the legitimacy of violence, and will eventually get the character, if they don’t step it down a bit. It’s not railroading…it’s a bigger challenge.

For me, the best line is “slap dat hobbit’s dick off, yo.”

I got permission to repost this from jetshield over on the Wizards of the Coast community boards:

So there I am, watching my group bicker (in character) about how to get into the Temple of Akargon to retrieve the Rod of Improbability that’s rumored to be there. The little one (she’s 7), comes in from the next room, taps on one of my player’s shoulder to get his attention, and says “I’ve got the key I can sell you.”

Now, most groups would probably drop out of “game mode” at this point, humor her, and get back to playing. I don’t play with most groups.

The player says to her (still in character) “What do you want for it?”

“Five thousand gold” she replies, “and an ice cream cone.”

“An ice cream cone?! What’s that? More to the point, where do I find one.”

“There’s an ice cream store over near the school, but they’re closed now.”

“What if I just give you six thousand gold instead?”

“Okay, six thousand gold…and an ice cream cone.”

“No. No. I meant six thousand gold and no ice cream.”

“No ice cream, no key.” she says with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“I’m not sure it’s worth it. We could just kick the door down.”

“If you don’t have the key, the guards will kill you. They’re really tough. You’ll never get to the door to kick it.”

“According to our sources, there are no guards. Besides, a few soldiers shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

“They’re statues that come to life if you don’t have the key.” [note: this is news to me]

“We can handle a couple statues if we have to.”

“There’s a thousand of them.”

Another player chimes in (also in character). “If she’s even half-right, we’re going to need that key. I say we get her her ice cream. We’re wasting time.”

First player: “Okay, little one, we’ll get you some ice cream. How do we find you when we’ve got it?”

“I live here, silly. I’ll be in my room.” She says, and heads off. [another note: the characters were having this conversation in a burned out ruin in the middle of a barren wasteland]

The characters head off on a quest for ice cream (minus one player, who went to the store to buy ice cream and cones).

Just thought I’d share.

The original post can be found here:  http://community.wizards.com/go/thread/view/75882/27928765/Well,_I_didnt_see_that_coming

Do I really need to tell you how to play “pretend”? You’ve only been doing it since you were about two year old…but role playing games are a bit different. While they are just as collaborative as when you were kids (some of you still are, you’ve just got two digits in your age), the structure of some RPGs require a different approach to how you play your character.

There’s a lot of theories of role playing game design, GNS, Threefold Model, Big Model, Turku (or as English-speakers might call it “immersive”)…throw all that out and ask yourself this question, “Why are you playing?”

The answer should, in part, be “to have fun with friends”, but I’ve found that’s not always the case. There’s plenty of folks who view tabletop gaming and LARPing a more social form of acting practice. Game long enough and you’ll get one of these players. They’re in character the whole time. They lift their hand or some other signature to let you know when they are out of character. It’s like dealing with Christian Bale on set. They’re great players while the game is ongoing, but I’ve found they aren’t into the socializing aspect as much. (This, admittedly, could just be my experience…but there’s been a bunch of them that have crossed my path.) Really — LARP is probably going to be more of a draw.

Others want to just socialize of beer and pretzels — a board game, computer game, movie night would be just as enjoyable. In the middle you’ve got folks who like to do problem solving and tactical exercises (here be “gronards”), and others like the storytelling aspect. The latter are even happy when they aren’t the center of attention; they want to be entertained by the story and other characters, as much as anything.

Which of these you are is going to shape your interactions with the other players and their characters. If you’re an “immersive” player (the actor) in a group of the latter folks, they’re going to love how well developed your characters are, and hate how much you try to hog the limelight. If you’re a beer and pretzels guy, you probably just aren’t going to be as into the game as the other types.

This is okay.

However, the GM is going to have to balance the group members’ goals for what they get out of the game. If you’ve got a bunch of B&P players, this is easy. Short one-shots, a few different, rules-light games will fit the bill. If you are the sort that likes character or plot-driven storytelling, you’ll want to find the balance of how immersive you want to be. Our group tends to slide in and out of character, and can often find themselves on the sideline for a while as the story necessarily focuses on one character or another. There’s no one “right” way to play. Rather, it’s about managing your expectations of what the group will be and how you want to interact.

It’s been a while since I posted one of these, so here’s the latest from our BSG game:

The last  half dozen sessions have revolved around our version of the Water episode (see here for recap) and the fallout of the same. After clearing Aaron Doral of involvement in the murder of the master-at-arms, and dropping the suspect as he was attempting to vent the ship’s atmosphere at auxiliary damage control, the characters continue to investigate the sabotage of the water tanks, focusing on the mysterious pilot that was seen on the surveillance camera. They work out it was female, despite the helmet being on, and from the squadron patch that it’s one of the raptor pilots.

The investigation seems to clear all of the women the right size, but in their questioning of the alibis work out that Boomer’s timeline is questionable. In the course of discussing the situation, the new master-at-arms (one of the PCs) lets slip that they have a test for Cylon agents. They decide, just for safety sake, to test Boomer. When they go to arrest her, her programming trips and she nearly kills the MAA with a metal chair, but gets dropped by one of the other PCs. Injured, but not dead, they take her under guard to the infirmary for her shattered leg.

The doctor does surgery on Boomer’s leg, and while under anesthetic transmits their location to the Cylons. The battle that ensures when two basestars jump right into the middle of the fleet took two sessions to complete. They launch their fighters and the good guys are outnumbered 20 -1. Half of the fighters hold back as a screen for the basestars, but several hundred hammer the civilian and military ships. It was a very desperate fight, and our first real engagement of the campaign.

This gave us a chance to try out a really stripped down set of house rules for fleet combat. In it, the fighter squadrons get three actions to the capital ship’s one. To handle the fighter combat, the CAG (a PC) rolled his initiative versus the Cylon squadrons. To resolve combat between large numbers of fighter, I handled each squadron or group of fighters as a single unit. The CAG rolled his piloting skill and gunnery for the vipers, with the number of successes over the Cylon defensive roll being the number of fighters that were splashed; it was vice-versa for the Colonials. It ran fast and clean, and allowed for a big fight to be resolved in a night.

Galactica and the other military vessels did very well in the initial stages of the fight, mostly because the Cylons were concentrating on the civilians and damaged military craft first. As the toasters took serious damage in the first few capital-level exchanges, they changed their focus to the battlestars and hammered them. The fight took about five minutes game time, and once the fleet was jumped away, the characters ran for it. But not before they had taken serious damage — all three of the combat vessels were at half damage or worse. The fighters, on the other hand, did remarkably well, killing 20 Cylons to each viper lost. Another problem — two heavy raiders got through the point defense screen and landed in both of the landing pods (one crashing through the windows of the museum.)

The next session was a hard fought battle against a Cylon boarding party, while a PCin an unarmed shuttle attempted to bottle up the only functional heavy raider from escaping to report their position. For the Cylon fire team, I had two of the toasters carrying heavy machineguns, instead of just using their arm guns; another two used grenade launchers. They did not show fear or hold back when under fire (why would they?) which led to a nasty, but short fight in which the master-at-arms character is nearly killed and half his team is injured or killed as the Cylons punched through their defense and made for the CIC. Eventually, they were able to stop the machines, but not before there were a lot of bodies on the deck.

The first few times we encountered the centurions, they seemed a bit underpowered to me, but having made certain to apply their armor properly, they were damned tough opponents.

Traditionally, gamemasters try to sell their groups on what to play. Maybe you picked up the latest copy of The Morrow Project, or have been dying to bust into that copy of Nobilis you’ve had for almost a decade without playing, but often I see posts (and have written one, myself) on selling your group on the latest game obsession of the GM. It’s not surprising: GMs have the bulk of the work to do in creating a game world, setting scenarios in motion and telling the main structure of the story. New, more collaborative games work differently from this set-up, but this post is to suggest that the decision of what to play should be more of a group effort.

As a player, part of your responsibility to let people know what you want to play. If you join a group that plays only fantasy, but you really wanted to play science fiction or maybe some kind of horror-suspense game…well, if you didn’t let them know this, you might find yourself feeling less than interested in playing with the group. This is okay. If you’re not having fun, find another group…

…or you could suggest another game. I wound up running a Supernatural game for a bit because I had folks that were into the supernatural horror/conspiracy genre. I’m really not. But the players wanted to do it, so I boned up on the supernatural, and put my all into running a good campaign. We all had fun.

Players can really help their GM, and each other, by figuring out what people want to play. Maybe you’re lucky and you all want to play Dungeons & Dragons. Well, what kind of campaign do you want? Dungeon crawls? The usual Tolkein-rip off “great quest:”? Something a bit more barbarian and violent?  Court intrigue and story-driven drama? Serious or comedic? Immersive role playing, or something a bit more beer & pretzels? The trick to this is finding out what everyone wants and compromising to give everybody as close to their desired play experience as possible.

Recently, I reconstituted my Hollow Earth Expedition game to bring in new players. One of the players was keeping his archeologist/adventurer. His action sidekick was being replaced by a new gonzo stuntman/gunman/wheelman who had very little restraint — to the point he was instantly bringing them up on the local police and military’s radar. The other player chose the phenomenal big game hunter, but that meant he was often outside the main action. He was supporting them, but there was no opportunity for real interaction in action scene. Outside them, he was bland as a character.

One of the reasons the hunter didn’t snag the player, and that the game ultimately stumbled through 2/3rds of an adventure was the characters didn’t mesh. The archeologist was professional, careful, and politic; the stuntman destroyed any chance of his character pursuing his goals stealthily; the hunter had no real reason to be there than curiosity. The players didn’t mesh, which meant the plot couldn’t work because the characters didn’t have a connection or shared goal

Once you have an idea of what game and style you want to play, now what character do you want to play? Here are a few tips:

You all have to work together, at some level. Even if you are at cross-purposes, you don’t have to start off that way. Recently, I was watching Hannibal, where the eponymous character works with the FBI investigator Will Graham to catch killers, while trying to manipulate the latter into madness. Why? Because he’s realized the guy is capable of discovering who Hannibal is, but also because he likes the guy, and he wants his “friend” to be just like him (i.e. a murderer.) Think of Londo Mollari and G’Kar from Babylon 5 — they hate each other, but ultimately, they keep having to work together.

Setting yourself up as the one guy that is the outsider sounds “cool” — mostly because it places you in the position that gains the most attention. “I’m a super-super-smart engineer, but I’m really an individualist that doesn’t like Starfleet…working for Starfleet.” Sounds great, except a) Starfleet is a paramilitary force with rules of conduct, b) it’s full of a lot of super-super-smart folks. You’re not rare. c) This character is designed to create big drama and conflict, not to help the group succeed in their efforts.

You don’t have to be the biggest, baddest person in the game. In fact, it’s the weaknesses of a character that make them interesting, not how hard they hit. Some players like the mathematics (in a point buy character generation system) of maximizing their character in a speciality — what older gamers call min/maxing. It can be annoying to players and GMs when their characters are fairly balanced and you have the galaxy’s best [insert skill/ability]. It’s okay to do this, but honestly, check with the GM first. If you are too whoppin’ powerful at an important skill or ability, you can force the GM to give the group higher/stronger opposition than their characters are prepared for. No if Nobrains the Barbarian can pretty much take on a platton of guys on his own, but the rest of the players would have a rough time with one guy…well, read The Iliad and see how Achilles’ Myrmydons do while he’s slaughtering everything in a straight line.

Lastly, If you are a man playing a female character just a suggestion: about 5-10% of the female population are lesbians. So if you play ten women…only one should like chicks. I’ve played female characters, and a few have been lesbians. But not all. Not even most. “But I’m playing an Amazon warrior!” Read the myth — Amazons took men as breeding stock, they just didn’t marry them or take long walks on the beach.

Ultimately, you should get an idea of what everyone wants to play and all tweak your characters a bit to make them work well together. Sometimes this is easier than it sounds. The above example of the pulp game is an example. We’ve been tweaking the characters to rescue the game. The stuntman remains, but he’s been toned down a bit, at least in personality. The archeologist and hunter are gone, replaced by a manservant working for the other character, a gentleman spy/adventurer. The characters hopefully well mesh better because at least two of them have a connection that requires or makes adventuring together make sense.

You can do something as simple as put together your group based on what you need: a fighter, magician, cleric, thief — the case of a fantasy setting. Everyone has their schtick to do. The GM now knows the kind of encounters and obstacles to throw at them so everyone has their moment in the spotlight. Let’s talk the Supernatural campaign from above: we had the priest/exorcist to handle the bad guys spiritually, the FBI guy that provided some legal coverage and had physical combat experience (as well as a connection to the “bad guy”), and the super-geeky computer expert/conspiracy theory nut that found them their targets, but was otherwise useless. Everyone has their thing, everything is designed to push a story. Skill and purpose overlap will occur from time to time, and this is okay, as well — if you have two fighter pilots in your Star Wars game, or two “faces” (infiltration specialists) in your spy game, that doesn’t mean you won’t have challenges that play to your other strengths and skills.

Even if you have cross-purposes, there should be enough things driving them to work together. Players want their characters to be unique, but you can do that and still have similar goals.

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