For readers of this blog, it’s no surprise that I borrow heavily from TV and movie storytelling techniques, rather than literature. While gaming is a media of words, really — the player and GM describe, the characters talk — I’ve found that most modern people are programmed from years of visual media to think in terms of the three or four act set-up, that they response instinctively to descriptions like “open on our heroes…” or “wipe to” or “smash cut! to.”
You can learn a lot about pacing, characterization, what combinations of characters work and what doesn’t (how many times have we seen Hollywood try to recreate the antagonistic mismatched pair that fall in love trope, only to miss the fact that they need to have chemistry or a reason for being together…), how spectacle works. When things bog down, it’s time for a car chase, explosion, or some other action sequence.
That brings me to the toughest moment in a new GMs “career”…that first adventure. I’ve been at this for coming up on 30 years, and I’m about to start a new campaign, and I’m having some trouble with how I want to start. There’s the simple standby — get a module, run it. The characters usually meet in a tavern in the fantasy campaigns, a bar in other genres….it’s forced, and it’s horribly cliched. So how to have a good start?
Let’s turn to a similar problem that TV producers have: the series pilot. This is the first episode made for a show that producers use to try and sell it to the networks. Usually they’re a bit rough, the characters aren’t quite fleshed out, and the story simple. The point is to sell the characters, atmosphere, and setting.
That’s your first adventure. You’re selling the game to the players. They’re selling their characters to the other players. When it works well, it’s magic; when it doesn’t it means the campaign doesn’t get off the ground.
Think on it: how many times have you been psyched to start playing in a new game, only to have the players and their characters not mesh right, the introduction is forced, the pacing is off, and if there’s a new system involved, the mechanics of the game itself could get in the way. This was my first experience with Call of Chthulu…I’ve never played in that genre again. The pacing was laborious, the rules a nightmare, and in the end — you died or went mad. Not fun. That’s the equivalent of the new Knight Rider -suckage from the outset. The players aren’t going to buy.
Another example: I recently was really keyed up to play in a Doctor Who campaign, but the obvious lack of interest in the GM (who has gone of a minimalist rules kick “Sigh…Why do we have to learn all these rules?” Answer: you don’t. The plot was leaden, we didn’t get anywhere (hint: when play slows, throw them a friggin’ bone), and in the end it nearly did in the interest in gaming of one of my new players. Fortunately, that hadn’t been her first experience — I had run her through a short solo, to-the-point, “pilot” in which her 1930s adventuress had to steal a parcel of secrets from the Nazis during the Olympics and escape Germany.
Dr. Who…players not sold on the campaign, but not necessarily opposed to trying the setting with a new GM. Hollow Earth Expedition? Quite the opposite. It sold her on gaming in general.
So how to put together a good game pilot? The same way you put together TV pilot: good characters, interesting atmosphere, and a simple first adventure that can be played quickly (one or two sessions at most.) It’s easier to do with smaller groups than larger ones, where the reason for characters to work together can get contrived.
The meat of any story — contrary to high modernist and post-modernist authors’ opinions — it character and plot. First, characters: There are a few ways to streamline the first session and cut down on having characters that will not mesh with others, and that are interesting not just to the player, but the rest of the group.
The first method is the traditional everybody brings a character to the table and they get thrust together on an adventure…the characters haven’t been designed to interface together beyond “I want a fighter” or “I want a sorcerer” or “I want to be the Vulcan science officer.” This will work adequately in genres where the characters are military, or law enforcement, or have been press-ganged into working together. This is also the method where you are most likely to have at least one character that does not fit with the others — that half-goblin thief that has his own agenda, and it doesn’t mesh at all with the others. So why is he here? Because Jimmy wants to play tonight and that’s what he done brought to the table.
This isn’t necessarily a lost cause. For instance, a lawful evil fighter and a lawful good paladin walk into a bar…why would these guys not kill each other? Why would they work together? Because they are, ultimately, lawful — governed by rules, and while their approaches might be sharply different, they both want to rescue the damsel and punish the wicked that kidnaped her…it’s a good character mesh for a pilot. It’s a buddy cop movie with swords and magic.
A better way to go is to get the players together and discuss the character archetype they’d like to play, and come up with relationships between the characters ahead of time. This works very well with experienced gamers who don’t mind the first night of a new game being a character creation session. To those who came to play, it’s not so fun. For games like Smallville, or Primetime Adventures, half the fun is being in the production meeting, putting together characters and relationship webs (if your fantasy is to work in a TV writers’ room, you’ll love it!)
The big benefit to this method is the other players see what you’re working with and can tailor their characters to complement or mesh well. Maybe they’re already friends or relatives, have similar interests… With input from the GM, who knows the type of missions he’s going to run you through, you can get a sense of the type of characters that will work. For instance, maybe you’re running a Call of Chthulu game and want a darker, scarier setting. The characters should probably not be cool under fire, wise-cracking hipsters. It would work well for Ghostbusters though. However the one “comic relief” character that would inject some relief into the game sessions might be the way to go; it depends on the group.
Less player input in character creation is not always good, but for the pilot, can be a game-saver. Get an idea of what the players want, build the characters for them with their input, and fashion the connections you need to make the plot flow. My upcoming Battlestar Galactica campaign is using this technique. Player A wants to be the main character, the commander; Player B doesn’t care but wants to be more “blue collar” — I made him the chief of the boat; Player C wants to keep aspects of other characters he’s played — he’s the hot-shot pilot that’s a lot like his last favorite character; Player D doesn’t really know what they want to play — I need a groud pouner type, but someone who can interface with all the other players…an enlisted guy isn’t going to work. Marine commander. A and B are friends and brothers-in-law. They’ve worked with C in the past and trust him and his judgment. D is the new comer but the subject matter expert they’ll need for a few of the missions planned. And lastly, they’re all there at the needs of the Fleet; they have to work together, but the way they are set up, they’ll most likely want to, as well….
I don’t recommend the last method, although I use it a lot due to scheduling issues that make kicking character ideas around hard to do. Some players don’t like to feel left out of the creative loop on the character creation but that brings us to another important aspect in which your pilot mirrors TV…sometimes the pilot has characters that don’t work. Dump ’em. Or let the players change their characters dramatically between the pilot and series. Hill Street Blues killed two of the major characters that would be in the series. Captain Pike was replaced by Captain Kirk. Commander Sinclair was a great character (and very Pike-like) in Babylon 5, but after a while, he just didn’t work. Dump ’em. Maybe an NPC that got left behind was somebody all the players liked. Maybe one would have rather played that guy. Think Helo from Galactica, left behind on Caprica…and who later provided excellent material for the show.
Another thing to keep in mind — your game is going to run like an ensemble cast show. As in Galactica, all of the characters have their own stories, but in the end it’s likely only two or three are going to be the main characters. Think Castle: the leads are Richard Castle and Kate Becket, but the second string, Esposito and Ryan are still just as important to the investigations and still get plenty of screen time. So long as all the players get their screen time, it doesn’t matter if one character is calling the shots (often Becket, with Castle — the one guy without any authority — providing the oddbal insights that lead to solving the crimes.)
Next time: Setting…
The Black Campbell 