Cosmetic
That’s how tiefling horns work, right? I’m pretty sure that’s how tiefling horns work. And in a very real sense, that’s how every design decision works in an RPG. (Ya know… Angle grinder notwithstanding.)
Here’s where I’m coming from. In my day job, I teach a class called “Constructing the Moving Image” at the local uni. The curriculum moves from comics, to film, to 3D interactive environments, and the tools of the trade are Maya and Unity. Now as you might guess from my troubles with Roll20, I’m not the most technical boy in the universe. I know just enough about 3D animation to get my kids up and running each semester, and I live in constant fear that they’ll find a bug I can’t fix. But the reason I’m qualified to teach this sucker—despite being a technophobe and an English major at heart—is my experience as a GM.
When the name of the game is design it doesn’t matter whether you’re using comic panels, a physical movie set, or real-time 3D rendering. It’s your job to consider all the elements. If we’re talking film, then the list includes shot composition, lighting, costuming, production design, etc. etc. If we’re talking about building a dungeon, then you’ve got other elements to noodle with. Your read-aloud text should be evocative without overstaying its welcome. Your map should flow naturally from one chamber to the next. You want to deliver snippets of lore through a mix of environmental storytelling, player handouts, and interesting NPCs, all of which contribute to a sense of discovery as the PCs move between chambers. Creature selection should reinforce motif, whether that’s “temple of ooze” or “dragon aerie” or “pirate ship.” And if you’re custom-tailoring a dungeon for your group, you’ll want to seed it with character-specific business as well, placing a clue left by Torbalt’s long lost brother as well as some interesting techno-loot for Whizz-Bang the tinkerer.
Now all that said, if you find yourself thinking, “But wait! He didn’t mention dungeon backstory! Or quest hooks! Or random encounter tables!” then congratulations. Your GM brain is doing its job. The list of relevant details does not end. But whatever elements you emphasize, the real trick of design is making sure that they work in harmony. Your choices should create a unified experience, with a cohesive tone and mood throughout. The same thought process works at smaller scales too. After all, there’s a reason that our demon-blooded Thief typically rocks the devil horns and not the I-love-nature deer antlers.
And so, for today’s discussion question, what do you say we talk about underserved elements of game design? What bits tend to get left by the wayside in your experience? Do you see GMs phoning it in on treasure placement? Maybe there are never enough encounters in the adventuring day, or too few? Maybe the environment is always well-lit, and your sweet dark vision never gets a chance to shine? Whatever the oversight, let’s hear about your pet peeve missing elements down in the comments!
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“Maybe the environment is always well-lit, and your sweet darkvision never gets a chance to shine?”
Tiefling with Darkness spell-like ability: Fine. I’ll do it myself!
“You know magical darkness even blocks darkvision, right?”
“WELL FINE! Look like I’m picking up a warlock invocation!”
And I’ll have an imp familiar! And he’ll see in darkness too!
“Creatures with darkvision can see in an area of dim light or darkness without penalty.”
Is this some kind of 5e joke? I’m afraid I’m too Pathfinder to understand.
But even in 5e, imagine actually getting the invocation and darkness only to realize that the rest of your party is effectively getting blinded.
Half of my group would consider that a perk.
For two and a half years I played a half-drow who took a -1 to everything in bright light (though my hawk familiar negated that on Perception with a bonus IN bright light), but through an almost comical series of events, literally EVERY combat we were in was inside, or at night, or in thick forest, or late afternoon. It literally NEVER came up until we sort of forgot about it. (Not that I’m necessarily complaining.)
I’d like to imagine that there’s a point where the half-drow’s sunlight sensitivity kicks in and where the familiar bonus helps out where your wizard was practically blind.
“Argh! Lighting between two and three thousand lux! My one weakness!”
be careful with that angle grinder, you don’t want to risk a Setting Adjustment by Wizard.
I once designed a Trapsmith Apprentice style Rogue and the homebrew campaign he ended up in was depressingly void of traps.
Playing in War for the Crown my animal companion is very under used as many places require a large tiger to be locked up during the visit. At least this time I got a frieldly warning ahead and plan for the appropriate spells and magic item.
That’s a good one. If you’re a specialist, you want that to pay off once in a while. Adjusting the world accordingly makes sense for some players.
I remember my AD&D 1st Ed. druid getting bullied for being supposedly useless outside of a forest–until the DM gave me the chance to show what warp wood could do to galleon’s hull.
Laurel had fun with that one and a catapult. Those were some very upset dire corbies.
Had a great GM once. Great story, fantastic worldbuilding, interesting NPCs, could improv his way around our dumbest schemes. But he could not balance a combat encounter if his life depended on it. Every time we either walked through like the enemy wasn’t even there, or we got our shit pushed in, no grey area. Still had fun though.
I probably resemble that lack of balance in combat design.
I intend to solve the problem by promising partial XP in case of retreat, so the players let their characters do their thing and not get them killed by XP greed.
Was it a “one big encounter per day” problem? I mean, did the dude just not pay attention to CR at all?
Some editions are worse about CR than others. Remember that damn crab?
But even if CR is working as intended, it’s entirely possible to make an encounter that should be a bit tricky turn out to be a brick wall because it’s a bad match to the party. Say, DR when nobody in the party has sufficiently high-damage attacks (or enough spell slots to get through its HP, because first level).
It was GURPS and I don’t know how their equivalent of CR works but he was way more into the roleplaying/world-simulation aspect than the mechanical aspect, so yeah, he just hit us with whatever would be appropriate for the enemy to have in-universe. which meant random criminals and local law-enforcement were a cake-walk, but the military and totally-not-Blackbeard-in-space would crush us. Most of the time, we just avoided combat because talking with the NPCs was more fun and he would let us get away with just about anything if it was well-RPed.
Wait there are two of us? This is awkward.
THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!
Congratulations, you got me to look up what a kudu is.
My design goals have been achieved.
I ran two campaigns where I had the opposite frustration with my players: one campaign was advertised as dragon-heavy, the other one was a descent into Drow country.
Despite a few repeated hints and an accumulation of encounters with draconic or drow creatures, respectively, my players never went around acquiring critter-specific weapons or countermeasures. By the end, not a single bane weapon in sight. Even energy protection stuff was more of an afterthought.
On one hand, I approve of their restraint at metagaming. OTOH, I cannot help thinking it was maybe pushing it too far.
They still managed to reach the campaign’s end, mostly unscathed. So it’s alright, finally.
To be fair, there were plenty of non-draconic and non-drow encounters, so a case for versatility over specialization could be made.
Relevant comic: https://www.handbookofheroes.com/archives/comic/less-favored-terrain
I think it’s on the GM to pass along this information. It’s the PCs’ job to capitalize on it.
It’s hard. I really like battlemaps if for no other reason than disambiguation. Ever been in that argument where someone believes their character wasn’t in the fireball? Battlemaps fix that in a hurry. Some folks are perfectly content with just detailed descriptions. I’ve even played 5e where we did the combat more like Dragon Warrior.
So to answer your question, while there are things I like better than others, outside of those situations where a GM is a noob and making rookie GM mistakes, I feel there’s a good takeaway from all different approaches. Ultimately, I’m running what I think of as a hack n’ slash adventure with a veneer of epic adventure more so than story-but since the story telling on my end is kind of lite, the players have stepped on their end.
My friend who’s running modules and I have talked about GM business, and something he said that he really enjoyed in my game was that I do just step back and let the players MAKE the story. I just do my part-I run the world. And when they go back to home base, there are new rumors. Things are going on.
I think you have to know what you do best, and then start thinking about those things you like that others do and think if they even have a place in your style or not. Design is tricky.
Collaborative design even more so. If you don’t leave any space for the creative contributions of your players, then why are they even there?
Well, that’s it, isn’t it?
Here’s the really hard thing: I have one player at the table that’s like half checked out all the time. Barely talks to me outside of game where I try to gather input from folks for what they want to see happen with their dood next. So for him, I’ve taken to just dropping in a Norse God themed encounter like every other dungeon (character is a Cleric of Freya). And overall, it works. He’s always thrilled to secure the honorable rest of ancient viking heroes, or otherwise receive a divine quest related to the dungeon they’re in.
Other than the map building and graphic making, really, my game is easy to run.
I think more than any other part of the game, wilderness travel is missing from most games, and I think it’s some of the most enjoyable opportunities for shenanigans.
When I GM, I try to have random encounters include things like finding berries or fruit in season, or maybe a random well cave; perhaps the party finds an abandoned homestead that can serve as a safe resting point (or haunted, whichever you prefer)… there are endless possibilities with wilderness travel, but most modules and games I’ve played at just ignore it or make it as simple as “roll encounter table for monster of the region”.
It’s so boring to just leave the wilderness blank, and filling the wilderness is one of the ways to really make the world feel lived in.
One simple encounter I have on a table that hasn’t happened yet is just hearing and finding a rare bird or beast; the tracking and locating it requires a couple skill checks that might net the party a handful of experience.
Goodberry, spells that make fast-travel mounts, the Outlander’s background feature, etc… These options just reduce the wilderness to a triviality, and it bores me so.
How do you frame that sort of thing? Is it “good luck” to spot a unicorn or something (complete with mechanical bonus)?
Luck could work, though if there’s a Cleric, Ranger, or Druid, I might choose to make it a message or boon from a higher power that has taken note of the individual. I’m not entirely certain what you mean by “complete with mechanical bonus” though.
Alternatively, when identifying the animal, a knowledgeable character might recall lore that ties it to a former civilization (for a plant example, the simbelmyne and the mounds of the Rohirric Kings). And if it’s a tangible thing that can be moved, an archaeologist or bard may want to get their hands on it; if it’s an unmovable thing, a trip can be taken out to see the bird or the ruin or whatever. Then it could even become a short mission or quest.
P.S. Actually, another thing I have been wanting to use is ripped from my dad’s old notes. He made something called a “Grove of Alignment”, which served as a potential meeting ground for cults or a place for a “sword-in-the-stone” kinda thing (think the Master Sword in the forest). To get close to the center, you have to be closer to the alignment, so NG might only be able to reach 100 yards from the center of a LG grove, and a CE would be actively repelled (through Will or Wisdom/Charisma saves).
It’s a chance for a mystical encounter, maybe with fey, maybe with a divinity, or something else entirely.
It’s tricky to make wilderness travel significant without making it tedious. You need to put something out there that players engage with, without it just becoming a chore. Wilderness travel doesn’t lend itself to typical TRPG plot structures, nor does it come with interesting complications that can inspire unorthodox plots. It’s just walking around without dying.
I and one of the other DMs in my group have used quirky random encounter tables, which were mostly filled with unique, silly encounters for players to engage with along the way. Goblins built a village in the middle of the road, or ominous gnomes offer money for people willing to accept experimental treatments, or you see what looks like slavedrivers running slaves through the woods. They interact with the party and ongoing plots in unique ways; maybe they move the huts off the road (destroying most of them in the process), or the levelheaded party members need to talk the reckless ones out of what they imagine will be a cool buff, or the giantess you’re escorting tries to eat the “slaves” and the idiot paladin murders two trying to cut their chains.
It can be a fun diversion, but good luck building something more substantial out of that structure. Maybe if you had some plot-filled encounters sprinkled in there and structured the campaign around some conceit which lends itself to wandering the world, like travelling merchants or something…?
I think that’s a misread built upon decades of circlejerk. Wilderness travel is neither tedious or a chore; and the entire point of encounter tables IS to give those regions something to engage with.
It’s also one of those places that makes skill checks really something you can utilize. It’s an environment where the shadows and the unknown can hold more mysterious things than in cities, because anything you can encounter in a city might have a reason to be in the wilderness, but the opposite is much harder to justify.
Sounds like you’re just describing an uninspired wilderness. And if, as a GM, you’re making an environment uninspired, you can make anything tedious or a chore or boring to the players. You could just as easily make a city as boring as a wilderness if you don’t put in the work to make it less so.
There’s this whole mindset I see with some players (and not all of them, mind you), where the only thing that matters is the bullet points on the paper; the pins on the map.
If you don’t enjoy wilderness as a GM, it’s gonna be damn near impossible to make it enjoyable for players. Sounds to me like that is the primary issue in the conversation Wyrm.
I’m definitely a contributor to the “nothing ever happens in the wilderness” problem. I tend to gloss over precise travel times and logistics rules because my players take long enough to get to the action as it is. But this might be why, in my (potentially) upcoming arctic horror campaign, I plan to make wilderness- and travel-related rules (not to mention weather) VERY important. There are no maintained paths, nothing is conveniently located, the sun is only up four hours a day and the weather WILL kill you if you are not taking precautions. To keep that from becoming a boring accounting game, I think I can work in plenty of mood-setting light or non-interactive encounters (like finding tracks or debris, or seeing something in the distance) to hint at local hazards and wildlife, the monsters stalking the region and the mystery the PCs are trying to solve. Should hopefully be a nice change of pace for both me and my players.
There are other, bigger, things out there to miss, sure, but two minor things that either pull me out of the experience or make me feel like the world is lived in are food and horses.
We’ve all been gaming in some media where the description is all: “You enter [VILLAGE] and proceed to [THE INN]. While there, you inquire about any local rumors and buy a [BEER/WINE]. The tavern owner can also rent you a horse.”
IRL there are recognizable brands of beer and wine that have existed since before the Norman invasion, and many little towns and regions have a food item or beverage that makes them unique, whether it’s a special pastry or a mint julep. Horses have names, too, and so I really appreciate the DMs that give a name to the local beer, or have bartender Mike plug the sausage rolls (“They’re fresh!”). Heck, Bill the Pony was technically the 10th member of the Fellowship of the Ring–he got his own Ral Partha miniature!
Even saying that “The nearest tavern is The Headless Wombat over in Oddsport” gives a sense of uniqueness to each adventure. The downside, I suppose, is keeping track of the details, in case the players want to revisit.
It is indeed. Remembering the name of the random NPC your just invented — or even where you wrote it down — is half the battle.
Next time I start up a campaign, I think ima make a serious effort to do a proper wiki rather than a series of disorganized Google docs.
Mind if I ask what the benefit of a wiki is? Sure, you can hyperlink stuff, but you can do that in Google Docs too. You can probably link to headings and stuff more easily with Google Docs, though maybe that’s just me being more familiar with GD than wikis?
Two of my group’s favorite running gags come from hastily-made-up alcohol specifics. The first is Big Mead (“The Biggest Mead!”), the strangely omnipresent beverage megacorporation that can be used as emergency setting flavor in any situation. (“What’s the warehouse full of? It’s a Big Mead warehouse.” “The gladiatorial games are sponsored by Big Mead.” “The source of the rich lady’s wealth is her husband’s job as a local Big Mead executive.”)
The second resulted from a PC who had never drank before asking for the STRONGEST thing the bartender had. Somehow this has lead to ‘dwarven rubbing alcohol’ becoming much of the party’s go-to drink, though they don’t so much chug it as choke slowly on it while crying. It’s an acquired taste, apparently.
I think this is a GM vs. Party problem. It really depends on the interplay between the GM and the Party. I have had parties that picked up all the info during a scenario, and did not “get” the central idea about it, and others who walked in blindly, and solved the whole thing in record time. Both with homebrew and with published adventures. If the players are not aware of the nuances that you put out, or are not interested in them, you can try and put in everything but, or even including, the kitchen sink, but they will either ignore it, and not miss it, or not appreciate all the work that you put in it, because for them it’s no big deal. In a campaign you have more opportunity to cater to what either you, or the group wants, but if and when those wants do not align, they, or you, will still not be willing and/or able to use it. That is both a boon and a bane, especially for published scenarios. If the writer is into a certain type of adventure telling\decorating, and either you, your group, or both are not into this, you might find the scenario not to your taste. However, with either another group, another GM, or some scenario tweaks by said, it might have been OK, or even good. So for me, it;s all about how my group reacts to stuff, and if I am willing, or able to cater to that. Sometimes I’m not, and sometimes the group isn’t.
Hey, Laurel, since apparently Thief can change his horns like they were a hairdo, which horn style would you like more for her? Which one would fit her and her image? 🙂
I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised that you’re teaching 3D art / animating, being a 3D artist myself!
Do you teach the kids just the modeling, sculpting, rigging basics, just the technical animation stuff (keyframes, animation sets), or is the focus on the theory (i.e. the 12 animation principles, color theory…)?
What happens when a Tiefling gets their horns done and they can’t pay for the horn-styling? Does Barb rework those horns back to normal under duress, or claims the horns entirely?
would you go to barbarian’s hair salon without being sure you had enough cash on hand to pay for the service and a generous tip?
Fighting an ancient dragon, sure, fine, whatever, but that? I shudder at the mere thought.
Summoner would probably try it (or pull something stupid like try to get service for himself and his eidolon for the price of one), with predictable results.
The first game I ran I foolishly attempted to wing it. That campaign lasted a total of maybe a half an hour before the entire thing collapsed.
“Maybe the environment is always well-lit, and your sweet dark vision never gets a chance to shine?”
Not on my watch! With so many races having inborn Darkvision (and several having the Ultra-Special-Deluxe-120ft-Edition) you better believe that every single subterranean site will be darker than a Vantablack-coated coffee pot inside a collapsed star. And nightfall in the wilderness won’t be a simple blue tinge on the screen either. If no one had the foresight to pack torches or invest in Dancing Lights, The Grue will come to haunt thy ass (and you will Percept him with Disadvantage).
Also, a technophobic English major teaching a 3D-animation class? How come? (Asking as freshly baked Japanese major who’s unsure how to translate university knowledge into an application).
I feel sorry for humans in your campaign. And other races without darkvision, but humans are about it. They have basically the worst night vision in the setting.
(…I guess it’s not quite as bad as it was in 3.5, where most non-humanoid creature types without automatic darkvision had low-light vision.)
Yeah, but to be fair, my groups have never chosen Humans as PCs (not that I begrudge them, now that Tasha’s out, not even Variant Human’s “Feat at 1st Level” is special anymore).
My group’s current line-up is: raven-man, eagle-man, frog-man, giant fairy, dragon-man and aquatic lifeform-man (several of them can’t make heads or tails of Kenku/Firbolg/Vedalken etc., so we keep it simple). A few of those don’t have Darkvision, putting them next to humans and halflings in that regard. However, I don’t have any pangs of conscience about exposing non-Darkvision races to a “bigger” disadvantage. I see it rather as enabling the players’ triumphs.
Fun can be derived from multiple in-game interactions and I would file “Darkness and the dealing therewith” under Player vs. Environment. The players find their diligent planning and stocking up on torches and hooded lanterns rewarded and squeal with delightful guinea pig sounds at their ability to drive back the darkness with humanity’s power over fire and light.
My current party is an eclectic mix of races, and yet it was a surprise when I realised that my character (a sea-elf) was the only one with darkvision. But that works out pretty well, since as a ranger, scouting ahead without a light source is pretty much part of the job description.
I recently read a story about a party that had three elves, a tiefling, and a human (meaning everyone in the party had dark- or low-light vision except the human). So in the latter half of the campaign, after a big payday, the rest of the party pooled their funds and bought the human character some darkvision goggles so she could be a normal, functional person. Very cute little moment that only arose because of the specific party composition.
For me it’s usually religious and cultural details and little superstitions. Oaths, weird metaphors or curses, things like skipping the ninth floor on a building because the number nine is sacred to the Dark Powers or everyone going indoors at noon to avoid being smote by the crazy sun god (and the tradition being that you can drop in on a complete stranger to avoid being outside at high noon), that sort of thing.