But I digress, only a little.
There are more DM Help Tools now than ever before, really
too many to count, in the form of Reddit groups, Facebook groups, websites, You
Tube channels, Official sites and places like DriveThruRPG and DMsGuild that
sell thousands of innovations for the harried DM. There are so many, in fact, that
it’s hard to know what to use and what to invest in.
One of my favorite things is the seemingly endless myriad of random table
generators available to DMs for little to no cash outlay. Granted, this is a
feature of D&D anyway, but the idea that anything you want can be randomized
is a freeing idea; whether it’s a d20 list, a d30 list, a 5d6 list, or a d%
list, anything from the contents of a person’s pockets to a random dungeon can
be made with just a few rolls. I love that.
But I don’t love it in the middle of a game. Not for me,
anyway. My DM style is more narrative, and I like to sit back before a game and
think about what the best twist, the coolest scene, the most interesting
destination would be.
That’s when I use random tables. I brainstorm with them,
often rolling several times as a process to get a few ideas running around in
my head. This is a huge help for me, and it keeps me from doing a lot of
rolling and pausing in the middle of a session.
I also like to write general guidelines for areas such as
the forest they are traipsing around in, or the city they just pulled up
to. Even if they never go to the
mountains in the west, or visit the upper crust part of town, I have something
there in mind and I don’t have to struggle to make it interesting if they suddenly
get the urge to go there. In fact, I only fill out those general details until
I need to do more.
The one thing I rely on the most is a list of names I have
pulled together beforehand. Players love to “go to the blacksmith” and look for
cool weapons. You don’t need to create an interesting blacksmith shop (not
unless it’s an essential location for your campaign). All you need is the list
of equipment with gold costs, and an NPC. This person doesn’t have to be
interesting, but they can be. Most of the time, players just want something new
for the quest. Asking them what they are looking for saves you a ton of time.
When they tell you, “any magic swords?” You can reply, in character, “Magic
swords? Where d’you think you are, anyway, Dimnae? I got regular swords for
killin’ regular things, all right?”
Boom. Done. Role-playing.
On your DM notes, you write the NPC name you randomly picked, along with the notation, "black smith, gruff demeanor, scornful of magic."
On your DM notes, you write the NPC name you randomly picked, along with the notation, "black smith, gruff demeanor, scornful of magic."
That’s it. You don’t NEED anything else. If they keep going back
to that guy, you can have him warm up to the players, maybe show them his high
quality scale mail he makes, and use it to part them from their gold. The
players will let you know if they like him and want to see more of him. That’s
when you make a short encounter using Tolzan, the Blacksmith and his suddenly missing children.
That usually means the players are bored, and it’s up to me
to liven things accordingly. These simple, generic encounters can be dressed on
the fly to either refer to the existing story, or just provide a bloody break
in the decision-making. And whenever possible, tie the seemingly random bits
together by moving the clue you were going to bestow on them at the end of the
session to something they get for defeating all of the thugs who tried to
ambush them.
I know that sounds like you’re circumventing player agency,
but if you are a narrative DM who likes to craft a story, then you will learn
quickly how to use every part of the buffalo, if you know what I mean.
Narratively speaking, there’s no difference between the guard with the crucial
letter inside the warehouse and the bandit who jumped the party down that side
alley they insisted on investigating.
The real trick to not undercutting player agency is to never
let them know you’re doing it. When they take off down that alley, shuffle a
few papers, make a roll, react to it, shake your head, and say, “Okay, you’ve
not gone more than fifty feet down the alley when you hear footsteps behind
you…” and now you’re in the little encounter you’ve been sitting on for three
sessions.
The players will do what they do: turn and yell at whomever
had the bright idea to NOT go to the warehouse, and then we roll for initiative
and in this case, the game is your friend because even simple combat takes
time. While they fight, you have plenty of time to restructure what you had
planned for them, up to and including leaving the game in a cliffhanger, which
is one of my favorite things to do that keeps players engaged.
Preparing ahead of time is not railroading. Picking up your
dungeon and setting it back down in front of the party is not railroading. Giving your game some structure in the form of pre-written material is not a cheat. Now, if the players want to hop the fence and you tell them they can't...okay, that IS railroading.
Trying to find that balance of spontaneity and craftsmanship is the thing to cultivate. Play to your own strengths, and shore up your own weaknesses.
Trying to find that balance of spontaneity and craftsmanship is the thing to cultivate. Play to your own strengths, and shore up your own weaknesses.
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