It’s game day. Time to sit down for session twenty-two of your long-running campaign. Everyone knows their characters inside and out, people are really falling into the groove of role-playing and using their abilities well, and the campaign is moving along well. The heroes have made their way from being a rag-tag band of misfit strangers into a well-oiled team, and they’re progressing towards facing the Big Bad.

And then someone has an emergency and can’t make the session.

What do you? I mean, you can certainly cancel the game entirely. That’s always an option, but probably not the best one. After all, everyone was psyched to play, there’s creative energy to be harness, and in non-COVID times, it’s likely that some people have even travelled some distance to get to the game. Also, if you’re playing the game for a streaming network or a podcast, well, you have an audience to satisfy.

You can play the game without them. Most people will understand and say “Sure, someone can NPC Johunk the Barbarian, just don’t get me killed,” when they can’t make a session. And most GMs have learned to essentially make the person an invisible companion during those times. But that’s also unsatisfying, especially if there are major plot points that are going to be dealt with that session, or something very specific to the character. Having Johunk the Barbarian’s ex-boyfriend show up with a grudge during a session when Johunk is an NPC is far from ideal.

The third option is “Let’s do something different for a session.” This is when you can pull out a board game, or another RPG, or another campaign from within the same RPG, that doesn’t require the missing player.

We recently ran into that on Something… Something… Dragons. We were going to be missing a player for two-to-three weeks, so we decided to divert from the Carrion Crown Adventure Path for Pathfinder, 1st Edition and instead we did a couple of sessions playing Mutants & Masterminds, 3e. One thing that worked out well in this case is that superheroes are, by their nature, usually able to have people come and go between “missions” in a way that works for Pathfinder Society play, but doesn’t usually fit into an AP. I can’t just have Elyris go missing for three weeks, but no one wonders if Lightray isn’t able to join the team for one mission with superheroes.

For this reason, I highly encourage people to have back-ups to play. It can be another RPG, it can be a board or card game, whatever. But having something else to do on Game Night when a player suddenly can’t make it will definitely help keep the fun and excitement in the group and keep anyone from feeling like they wasted their night.

Plus, the side-quest can do a lot to make sure that everyone is all the more excited to get back to the main story.

Step 2 for Writing Super Hero Adventures: Villains!

This is a continuation of my blog post from a few weeks ago where I’m breaking down my process for designing and running a super hero RPG adventure. In the previous post we talked about determining the purpose of your adventure, brainstorming/writing your synopsis, research, and determining the characters who will be played. Now that you’ve got that pre-work out of the way, it’s time to sit down and really start zeroing in on the real meat of the writing process. I’ll be going over creating villains and their motivations. This honestly deserves a post to itself, because it is CRITICAL to making a memorable super hero story.

Designing a good bad guy is one of my favorite parts of the GM puzzle. There’s nothing like crafting the perfectly punchable face to go up against a team of super heroes. From overarching masterminds to the jobber of the week, there is a wide variety of antagonists to challenge and annoy your PCs. It can be difficult to narrow down exactly what your adventure calls for, but that is one of the most entertaining questions to answer. This is entirely subjective and you’ll need to rely on your GM instinct to select the perfect villain for your story. There are some ways to make this easier though!

So when you’re selecting or designing your villain, especially villains who are supposed to carry an adventure on their own, it’s important to look for three major traits: competency, proactivity, and sympathy. I describe these as such:

• Competency: The villain has the ability to enact their plan and combat the heroes, either directly or with the use of their resources and assets.
• Proactivity: The villain is taking steps to actively pursue their goals and move the plot along. They also have the ability to adapt to changes and obstacles put in their path by the heroes and/or law enforcement.
• Sympathy: There’s something about the villain that is intriguing to the players. I might need a better word for this, but basically the villain has something that the players can latch on to. This can be a complex, understandable motivation, a tragic backstory, a cool costume or powerset, or a wicked sense of humor. Something that makes the villain stick out in the player’s mind.

Antagonists don’t need all three, but aim for at least two. These traits ensure that the villain can carry the adventure, and will have your players talking about them for years to come.

To show this in practice, I’m going to use my Sinister Six example from the previous blog post. For the main villain of this piece, I selected Peter Parker, specifically Peter wearing the Symbiote suit. I could have gone a few different directions based on the synopsis: “The Sinister Six are all that stand between New York and an army of ravenous symbiotes.” I could have chosen Venom (technically I did) or Carnage as ringleaders of this plan, and that would have been fine. They will probably make some kind of appearance in the story as lieutenants of Peter. Based on my research in step 1, I could even go obscure and select Knull, Void Knight, or the symbiote-dragons (I will definitely have symbiote-dragons show up, because that’s cool as hell.) But after looking at all my options, Symbiote Spider-Man was the best choice for my story.

Since I’m working on a one-shot, the villain needs to have the gravitas and power to carry an entire story by themselves. I needed someone iconic, who could strike fear into the hearts of players from the word go. I also needed a villain clever enough to come up with a scheme that could challenge 6 super beings, especially beings as wily as Otto Octavius and Norman Osborn. In a fun bit of irony, players signing up for a Sinister Six game would sit down expecting to fight Spider-Man, and I’m providing that experience with a twist!

So how does Peter fulfill the three requirements I laid out? He is competent. In the comics, Spider-Man routinely takes on the Sinister Six and triumphs. He’s got a versatile power set, experience, and intelligence. All of that is being amplified by his connection to the symbiote, and the way I’m writing it, Peter is going to have a bit of an edge to him. (Cue dancing Toby Maguire scene) The symbiote is going to be using Spidey’s powers, intellect, and perseverance without his morals. Essentially all that great power with none of the responsibility.

The symbiote is also going to be proactive. It’s been using Peter to accomplish its goals of softening up the Earth for the aforementioned symbiote invasion. I won’t reveal too much about its plan, for the sake of not spoiling the game for folks who are signing up for Origins 2021 or 2022. Safe to say, prior to the adventure’s start, Spidey has been ingraining himself with Earth’s mightiest heroes and using his access to ensure they won’t be around when the invasion kicks off. He’s also been traveling around New York, preparing critical systems to fail when the Klyntar arrive. During the adventure, as the Sinister Six move in to hunt a spider, he’s going to be putting obstacles in their way, and reacting to their successes. Proactivity (outside of pregame prep) is largely something that has to be handled during the running of the game, rather than writing, so we’ll talk about that in a future post.

Spider-Man is sympathetic too. He’s an incredibly popular super hero, and the entry point for most fans of the Sinister Six as well. Seeing him break bad because of being overpowered by the symbiote is going to strike a chord with people. Some groups may even decide that killing evil Spider-Man doesn’t count (I could see a Kraven player making this argument) and they’ll rally around the idea of saving Peter while stopping the symbiotes. Or they’ll relish the chance to finally have their favorite Sinister Six villain succeed in their fight against the Webbed-Menace.

However it shakes out, players will gravitate towards Peter as the antagonist. This is a benefit of using popular characters when working in famous universes.

Sympathy is the hardest of these traits to manufacture when creating your own villains. If you don’t have years of comic fandom to fallback on, it falls to you as GM to generate that interest. When designing an antagonist, ask yourself what draws you to some of your favorite villains. Feel free to pull from those characters or tropes, especially if you’re just starting out. When you get comfortable analyzing those popular ideas, you’ll be stronger at creating new ones. Another benefit you have is no one knows your players’ tastes as well as you do. Communicate with them to see what appeals to them from a villain, and design yours along those lines.

So we’ve talked at length about creating or choosing villains for your adventure. They are as much the star of the story as your PCs. Getting this right will lead to you having more memorable adventures. Just remember to make sure your antagonists are competent, proactive, and sympathetic and you will be most of the way there. Next time we’ll talk about outlining your plot and creating an exciting opening scene. Until then, let me know who your favorite villains are and may all your hits be crits!

Dealing with Writer’s Block

Writer’s block happens to the best of us (heck it happened to me as I was trying to figure out what to write for the blog!), and it comes in many different forms; from being unable to decide on a direction for you next session or even the start of a new storyline, to figuring out and giving life to your new character by way of their backstory. It’s definitely frustrating when you have so many ideas that just seem to be at the forefront of the mind and then unable to get them down (either digitally or on paper, for those of us who still need to physically write stuff down). So, for today’s post we’re going to talk about ways to identify and combat the dreaded writer’s block, or at least the steps that have helped me break it when it occurs.

First thing I usually do is identify the type of writer’s block I’m having. Here I’m talking about two different scenarios; analysis paralysis due to too many ideas or not being able to come up with any thoughts as they relate to what I’m working on. For me, my writer’s block usually comes from the first option; a myriad of ideas usually float around in my psyche and it can be really difficult to pull one out of the ether and focus on it long enough to go somewhere with it. The latter has happened to me also, but it’s far less frequent. Usually that one crops up when I’m not 100% sold on an idea or concept, almost as though my brain is telling me this isn’t worth the time and energy to write, as I’m not invested enough in the idea. Once I’ve identified the type of writer’s block, I’ll then try some exercises that have worked for me in the past to get the pen rolling. Try to identify your version of writer’s block in either of these two ways, and even if it doesn’t fit either scenario, you might still find some of the following exercises worthwhile to try.

1. Movement
   This one came courtesy of my wonderful girlfriend Pita. As a yoga teacher, she’s studied the way that energy moves through the body and can get blocked at various points due to our everyday activities. As a lot of us have jobs (or hobbies!) where we sit for long hours at a time, that can keep the creative energy from being able to move properly. Think of it like a beaver dam stopping up the waterway; only a trickle of water gets through at any time, the rest tied up behind the dam itself. If we move, be that going for a walk (short or long, your preference), doing some yoga, dancing, etc., we give the body the ability to open up a bit more and let the creative energy move again. There’ve been plenty of times where I’ve been stuck on how to write a certain scenario or unable to see how to fit all the pieces of a session together where the act of getting up and moving for a bit has broken open the floodgates and gotten me to the answer I needed to be able to continue forward.
2. Listing
   Here’s where the old pen and paper come in handy, at least for me. When I’m dealing with writer’s block that I associate with analysis paralysis, sometimes the best way for me to get beyond that is to just write all those ideas down. Doesn’t matter how goofy or silly they sound at the time of me putting them onto paper, the important piece is writing them all down so I can sort out exactly what’s been floating in my head. Once that’s done, I can review what I’ve got written down, see what ideas may relate and which ones are just on their own. The more ideas that relate to one another, the more the idea clicks into place until the writer’s block dwindles enough to let me continue moving forward.
3. Engage in a Non-Writing Activity
   I know what you’re thinking, this one is in the same vein as #1. And you’d be partially correct. But the difference between that one and this one is I’m suggesting something that is potentially a bit more passive than movement. Putting down the pen/turning off the computer and taking time out to watch an episode of your favorite tv series or your favorite movie might inspire you to get beyond the block. You could also do this with a more active activity like playing a video game. By disengaging from the act of writing and doing something that doesn’t involve a high level of fixation can actually help spur the ideas to flow. Plus, if you’re watching something that relates to what you are writing, you may get a spark of insight or inspiration from that as well, effectively ending your writer’s block and giving you more material to work with.
4. Put It Down
   Another one that sort of relates to ideas 1 and 3, but the idea of putting it down is more to step away from it completely. Don’t engage in activities relating to writing or the subject matter you’re trying to write about, don’t try to think your way out of the issue that’s plaguing you. Instead, doing chores around the house, running to the grocery store, calling a friend or family member just to talk (about everything not related to what you’re writing), or anything else you can think of. Giving your mind time to disengage gives it time to rest and reset. It’s not always good to be so hyper focused on the task, because that will cause stress and stress will just exacerbate the writer’s block.

These ideas are definitely not the only ways to deal with writer’s block, but they are ways that have helped me do so. Whether it’s writing a new scenario to run at a convention, prepping for a new session of a home game, planning a new campaign or just putting together a new character and backstory, writer’s block can hinder all of these activities. Being able to effectively deal with that block will help you get more out of the time you spend on these activities, and hopefully lead to more fun when the game comes around. Let me know in the comments if you have any other ways of combatting writer’s block.

Listening as a GM

A couple of weeks ago, I had an interesting opportunity as a Game Master, and it didn’t even require me showing up to the table. I had to miss our weekly Monday night Netherwar stream, but rather than cancel the game that night, my players did something amazing. They got together, without me, and did a recap of the first eighteen sessions of our campaign. This was roughly the first four story arcs of the series. I thought this was going to be like a thirty-sixty minute conversation, but they blew me away and chatted for three hours. During the course of this talkback they covered all kinds of things: favorite moments, villains they hated, speculation on future plot points, comparing notes, describing their thought process behind different decisions they had made. Not only was it entertaining, it was a gold mine of information that I can use as I sculpt the story going forward.

This got me thinking about something that I think is largely unspoken in the GM community, just how important it is for us to listen. As Game Masters we talk a LOT. We bring all of the essential NPCs to life. We describe at length about what the characters see, hear, smell, touch, and taste. We narrate combat scenes and we answer rules questions. GMing is a vocal activity, but the quiet moments are crucial to having success in our field.

Imagine this. The heroes have just triumphed in a climatic battle and now they’re taking a break in the dungeon. As everyone is healing up and taking stock of their lost equipment, the players begin discussing what just happened. You have two choices here, you can hurry through the break and move on to the next encounter you have planned, or you can sit back while they roleplay for a bit. If you let them talk to each other, in their characters’ POVs, you can glean so much information. They could commiserate about how difficult that fight was. They can theorize about why there were Bugbears in the Mind Flayers den and what it means. Perhaps they’re curious why their employer sent them down here without a proper warning. Listen and take notes. Hearing these questions and their theories around them increases player engagement with each other and the story, and it also shows you what they’re thinking.

Some of my greatest “plot twists” have been the result of me hearing a good idea from a player and just quietly taking credit for it when the players found out it was “true the whole time.” If you let your players talk; they will do some of the work in this group storytelling activity for you. It’s amazing. I’ve had whole sessions of games that were just 3-4 hours of the players roleplaying and discussing what has been going on, and those have been some of my tables’ favorite games ever.

Episode 25 episode of our Netherwar stream is entirely roleplaying, and it is the favorite episode of all of the players’ so far. I didn’t have to do anything, but show up and turn them loose. It was great! So with that in mind, as a GM, you should always be on the lookout for opportunities to listen to your players. If they’re roleplaying with each other, and everyone is engaged, let that play out. Some GMs end a roleplaying scene prematurely. Granted you shouldn’t let it ramble on forever if it’s not productive conversation. Adjudicating this can be complicated, but as in all things I would err on the side of player choice.

You might also consider letting the players handle the beginning of session recap. I typically choose this route with my home games. Asking the players to refresh everyone’s memory about the last session, gives you the chance to see what made an impression. It also shows you what the players consider to be important from session to session. Take notes and consider fleshing those plot points out, and be willing to drop plot lines that don’t leave an impact.

It’s also important to do temperature checks with your players at the end of sessions, or particularly heavy scenes. This is doubly true if your game contains mature or upsetting elements. Check in with your players, ask them if they’re still comfortable with what’s going on. If they say they are great, keep on keeping on, but if they’re not, be prepared to tame some of those elements, or yadda yadda them. Everyone is playing this game to have fun, and the level of things people can tolerate in this space can change from session to session or even moment to moment. Listen and look for signs of discomfort and adjust things as needed.

Finally, tying back to the beginning of this blog, if you can schedule a time in the middle of a campaign or once every 3-4 months to just chat with your players about how the game is going and what some of their highlights are, go for it. Even if it’s just a half session, or a group dinner before game night you’ll get so much value from the conversation. After listening to the Netherwar recap, I have so many ideas for subplots, villains I want to introduce (or bring back), and tweaks that I can make to drive home the idea that this is our game together. This is a group activity. I know the GM is often held up as the leader of the group, but the best leaders know how to listen and adapt based on their team. Happy listening!

One of the best things you can do as a successful Storyteller/GM is run a clean Session Zero. Of course, you’ll ask the basics about the character concepts your players have come up with, but there’s more to it than that. Thoughtful questions for your players are essential to running an amazing campaign. Knowing what your players are looking for, making a safe environment, capturing themes to explore or avoid: these are all pivotal fundamentals in assuring your success. Here are a few questions to ask of your players to make sure they’re comfortable and ready to enjoy themselves. After all, fundamentals are the building blocks for fun.

What type of campaign are you looking for? This one should be fairly obvious. There are different types of campaigns that speak to different players. Some look for long, sweeping story- an epic tale akin to Tolkien. Others are more interested in a procedural set up- focused on character as opposed to plot. Knowing what your players want will help inform what kind of campaign you’re running.

What was your favorite thing that’s ever happened at in a TTRPG session? Encourage the players to be as specific as possible, and explain why it impacted them in a positive way. You don’t want to replicate those moments exactly in the upcoming campaign, but it should give you insight into something that will make a player fall in love with their character, your story, and the time you all share around the table.

What types of encounters would you like to experience? Combat? Puzzles? Skill Tests? If you’ve played TTRPGs for a while, you know that there is more than one means to a given end. Do your players just want to smash and murder, or are they more interested in creatively solving problems? Someone interested in slaying a dragon may be bored by solving a sphinx’s riddle, or vise versa. A mix is always ideal to keep everyone on their toes, but knowing what someone wants can help you build the best balance.

How do you feel about romance in-game? Between players and NPCs? Between two (or more) players? Role playing can be deeply personal at times. It can drive people to be insecure if the wrong topics come up, or if they are pushed into encounters or experiences that they don’t expect or want at the table. At the top of the list is romance between players. Be clear at the top of the campaign what the expectations are: Is it something to look for, or is it off the table? It may change how Bart the Bard interacts with the other players on his team…

How do you feel about a session with no combat? There are (arguably) too many things to do when it comes to TTRPGs. Sure, many of us play to slay beasts, end wars, and save the world. But some of us play for other reasons. Maybe there’s a shopping episode where we pick up awesome magical items. Do you want to build a business and make tons of money? Maybe there’s a fantastic court room session to show off a characters diplomacy and wit. What do the characters do in free/down time? Do your characters want to explore these moments, or just the action that pertains to the overarching plot of the story?

How do you deal with a character when a player can’t make a session? It’s inevitable… there will be a session that someone has to miss. How are you as the GM going to deal with that? Is the character controlled by another player? Are they just missing from the adventure? Do you as the GM have to find a clever reason for their absence, or is it just assumed that they can come and go? This is a situation that always seems to come up, and is hardly ever flushed out beforehand.

What topics or themes should be considered off limits? Role playing should first and foremost be fun. Sure, it’s nice to challenge ourselves, but only in the places where we are comfortable going. Everyone has topics and experiences that can be triggering. Knowing what topics your players are unwilling to explore is as pivotal as what they’re looking for. It’s important to remember that this is a game, not a therapy session. Your players are already juggling math and magic (along with role playing a different person from themselves); don’t make them feel more vulnerable at the same time with subjects they won’t enjoy.

Of course, you may have other necessary questions to ask based on what game you’re running or how long you’ve known your players. Frequency of sessions, drinking and/or cursing at the table, dealing with PC death. There are a number of other things to think about when working through a session zero- this list is in no way comprehensive. Hopefully, it helps navigate through some of the essential details before moving on to the fun bits.

Let’s face it: if you’re like most people, you don’t like talking about your flaws. I know I don’t like mentioning my irrational fears, my vices, my obsession with all things cotton candy… But enough about me. On to serious matters.

While we might not like chatting about the skeletons in our closets the truth is we have them, and so should our characters. They round us out, give us dimension, and make for better stories. Conflict doesn’t solely come from the mind of your GM/DM/Storyteller, it can spark from the characters we create just as easily.

Think of the last book you read. Hopefully it was one you couldn’t put down, with fascinating characters who develop as you become more immersed in the story. Was the protagonist flawless from the start- a shining pinnacle of virtue? Most likely not. It provides no room for growth as the story progresses. In the best stories, the lead character evolves with you through the book. If the character was a paragon form the start, what would they be able to mature into?

This is not solely true of books. It can be seen in any storytelling medium: theatre, television/movies, and even video games/TTRPGs. In the latter examples, this is partially done by the leveling of players: characters at level one can’t do the same amazing things as more experienced and higher level characters. But it’s also done by certain game systems and clever GM/Storytellers who ask us to think deeply about who our characters are. When they ask us to come up with our flaws and setbacks, they aren’t looking for opportunities to kill our beloved characters: they’re trying to challenge us with obstacles that make us heroic.

When you’re sitting at the table, one of the most rewarding things that can happen is overcoming something within your character. Sure, slaying a dragon and looting its lair is cool. It’s what’s expected in our campaigns. But everyone can connect to someone who’s trying to better him/herself.

An example: You’re a rogue thief who is illiterate. You walk into stores unable to read the signs, unsure of what you’re actually stealing. You rely on everyone to tell you what town markers say, you can’t read your mail. You can’t so much as order off a menu without assistance. One day, a deal goes wrong in your crime syndicate because you misread (or couldn’t read) a letter from your boss. Now, you’re on the run from your leaders. It spawns conflict, sure, but it also provides you something to rise above.

What if you enroll yourself in a group reading class? You find yourself surrounded by five-year-olds, maybe one or two whom you actually enjoy. You’ve opened yourself to new settings, NPCs, and something to eventually triumph over. It won’t be as easy as an 80’s movie montage, but with the effort will come the reward that you’ve developed into a better, shinier character. That wouldn’t happen if you started off with the ability to speak and read in twelve languages.

Today’s the day, it’s the start of your new campaign. You held your session 0, got all the players together and ran them through creating a group ready to embark on the adventures you’re about to set in front of them. And then, an hour or two into the campaign, there’s no enthusiasm, no buying in for the plot hooks. The players look disinterested, the characters aren’t meshing like everyone thought, it seems to be a train wreck. Have you had this happen before? Or something similar, like something tragic happens and your players suddenly dislike the way the game is going? Are you ready to handle this if it occurs?

Hopefully the above won’t happen in your home game, but being prepared for it is something a GM should always be ready for, and one of the ways to be ready for it is to know your players pretty well. Or, maybe a bit more specific, know the type of experience that your players are looking to have with the game you are running. Are they looking for those big gorram hero moments? Are they more into smashing and bashing their way through with little in the way of dialogue with each other? How do they feel about failure in a game? What does failure mean to them?

I bring this up because recently I realized something about myself as a player; I don’t really like the “no win” scenario, or at least the very low chance of successfully defying the odds that were stacked against you. While it hit me just recently for TTRPGs, I’d known about it for longer as it came to board games. If you’re familiar at all with a game called Shadows Over Camelot, you know that the game is one that you just are not going to win all the time. Truth be told, you aren’t likely to win all that often when playing that game. Not only is the “enemy” given an advantage against you to start with, there is also a traitor mechanic where one of the players at the table is out to sabotage the rest of the group from achieving their goals. Please note, I am not trying to knock the game at all. It’s wonderfully designed and can be fun to play.

For me though, knowing that the game is slanted against the players, and that someone within the group is working against the rest of the party rankles me, even though I know it’s a mechanic of the game. So for me, I’ll likely tend to avoid games where this is the norm; games that the players are meant to get so far but ultimately fail, or where the mechanics lend themselves to the party turning on each other in a quest for personal power (or various other reasons). If I know the GM, and know how they run their games, I may be open to it. I’m just less likely to sit myself at a convention table with someone I don’t know for a system that is known for these types of scenarios.

Returning to the overall topic of the blog, this type of knowledge about your players will help immensely in the long run of planning out your campaigns. You’ll know what excites them the most about a game, and some of the more negative actions that you, at the very least, want to lean on less heavily within a game. I would never say to throw out all the mechanics that players say they dislike, because you want to have enough tools in your GM belt to keep the players on their toes, involved, and enrapt in the story you and they are weaving collaboratively. You just want to be aware of what the players are looking for at the onset of the game, and then check in with them periodically throughout the story to see how things are going. Keep an eye on your players at the table as you introduce plot points or mechanics that they might have issues with, and gauge how they are doing with it. Set up some time to talk with them after the session or the next day, to see how they felt about things. Communication is key in this process to keep your players engaged in the game, and to keep everyone having a good time.

You might ask, what about a convention game, where you won’t know the players before hand? Or you might not know the GM for a game that sounds interesting that you want to play in? For running the convention game, you may want to make sure players are aware of what the session will entail at the onset, see if anyone has any trouble with it. For joining a game with a GM you’ve never played with in a game that maybe has some elements you’re not sure about, you’ll have to know yourself well enough to try something a bit outside your comfort zone. Be willing to communicate with the players and the GM, and make use of any safety tools (like the X Card or similar tools) if things go in a way you don’t like. Gaming should be fun for everyone, it can just take a little extra communication to get there.

One of the things that most of us like about TTRPGs is our ability to leave the real world behind. We can examine strange worlds, imagine having incredible powers, fight off monsters that we would be powerless against, and otherwise do the impossible.

The other thing is that we can experience things that would be utterly terrifying and horrible in a safe environment. In that regard, a game session is not unlike riding a roller coaster. There is an illusion of danger, but it still has the safety valves on.

But sometimes the fears and dangers are close enough to the real world that they can hit the fears and anxieties not just of the player characters, but the players themselves. This is especially the case when the dangers they face aren’t just fantastical ones, but brush up against real-world horrors. After all, bad guys in games do some horrible things, and a Goblin threatening to eat a child can really hit the buttons of a player who has a history of child abuse.

Recently, in Episode 39 of Something… Something… Dragons, we ran into just such a case, where something happening in-game pushed the buttons of one of the players and they made use of the X-Card to say “No, stop, I can’t handle this.”

We’ll get to the specifics of the X-Card below, but what I really want to talk about is the fact that we had an X-Card, and why, and why it was set-up ahead of time.

As a GM (or Storyteller, or Referee, or whatever term your particular game uses), you have a phenomenal amount of power over your players’ imaginations. After all, you control not just the world that their characters are in, but also their perceptions of that world. You control the narrative and essentially everything that isn’t left up to the roll of the dice (and even that you have some say over). Your players willingly give up that control, based on trusting you. Because by default, the only control they have otherwise is to say “No,” and walk away from the game, which ends the fun for everyone.

But there should be a step before that where they can say not just “Yes, and…” or “No,” but have an ability to say “Yes, but….” And where they can tell you when you’re getting close to their limits without pushing past them.

The specific tool you use is going to be based on what is right for your table, but the important thing is getting these tools in place *ahead of time*. And the reason is that it both makes sure that you aren’t violating their boundaries and limits, and that it gives them the trust in you that you won’t. If they can trust that they’re safe at the table, they’re much more likely to give themselves over to the scene and the moment. And giving them the safety valve builds the trust that may well ensure that you never need to use it.

The important other half of that equation, of course, is to respect the tool. If you have discussed limits and boundaries and then violate them, or ignore the use of one of these tools, your players won’t trust you. And they shouldn’t.

Before looking at any of the specific tools, there are some practices that I think belong as a part of any game.

Pre-Game Talk / Session Zero

Before you start a campaign, a Session Zero is a good plan. This makes sure that everyone is on the same page and is trying to play the same game. It can include everything from what method of character creation, to which House Rules will be in place, to a shared background that the characters should have, but it can (and should) also discuss the tone of the game. If you’re playing a superhero game and one person expects Golden Age heroism, one player expect 60’s-style “Camp,” one-player is expecting 90’s-era angst, and one person expects a cosmic space adventure, someone is going to be unhappy.

Similarly, if you plan to explore mental illness or domestic violence through the campaign, this should be talked about ahead of time. So, figure out what everyone at the table wants and is looking for ahead of time, and you can make sure that you’re all on-board. For instance, I knew in Something… Something… Dragons that it was going to be horror-focused, so I made sure that the players were going to be ok with a certain degree of suspense and psychological horror. We had requests to avoid excessive gore, so we’ve done that. And we’ve had players express varying interest in romance and physical displays of affection.

Post-Game Debriefs

Now, I don’t think these *have* to happen every session – or at least they don’t have to be more than just saying “Everyone having a good time still?” But there should always be the ability to have them. And the debriefs can involve the whole table, or be one-on-one between player and GM. But it’s definitely worth suggesting them after an intense session (like we had at the end of Season One and the death of Thalia.)

So, with that in mind, here are a few of our favorite tools.

X-Card

The X-Card is one of the simplest tools, and one that can be easily implemented. It’s nothing more than a card with a large “X” on it placed where everyone can reach it. If anyone (including the GM) is uncomfortable with how a scene is going? They can just touch it, and the other people at the table are expected to change the scene (either fade-to-dark and skip the scene, or change what is happening). The person who activates the card is not expected to explain their reasons, but they may explain what exactly is being “X-ed” out. Maybe they don’t need the scene to stop, maybe they just need a particular description to be skipped over.

It also doesn’t have to be about something that they find disturbing. If most of the people are engaged in a serious role-playing scene, and one person is cracking wise about an episode of TV, someone might want to X out the silliness at the table.

The X-Card was developed by John Stavropoulos.

Lines and Veils

Lines and Veils is more of a “Session Zero/Debrief” tool than one that will come up in game. Instead, it’s a system of establishing boundaries for the story, and are usually defined by each player individually and then shared with the GM before the start of the game (or revised between sessions).

The distinction between Lines and Veils is that lines are a hard border for things that will be excluded from the game with no questions asked. This could include any specific topic and taboo, but common lines are child murder, rape or sexual violence, racial discrimination, but depending on your group, could even include more neutral topics like in-character romances. Veils are more “soft borders” where it’s not that the person objects to the content existing in the game, they just don’t want it to be explicit. If a player has – for instance – drug use as a veil, it’s totally fine to establish that the crime boss deals drugs, but you wouldn’t show an addict strung out waiting for their next hit. A very common veil would come to physical intimacy, where you would fade to black after an initial kiss and then pick up with the characters the next morning.

The Consent Flower

The Consent or Support Flower is designed around letting players communicate their current emotional barometer about a scene in a subtle, non-verbal way. On the table, there are three cards – one green, one yellow, and one red. As conceptualized, these were created with flowers on them, or the cards were designed to look like petals, but the colors are the important part.

The person activating the card will make eye contact with the person they are communicating with and tap one of the three cards.

• Green: This card means “go ahead,” and possibly even “go further.” It’s a way of explicitly giving consent without verbally doing so.
• Yellow: This card means “caution, but proceed.” It indicates that the scene as it is currently going is acceptable, and can continue at its current intensity, but should not be intensified. A good example of this might be when a player with arachnophobia is dealing with the party investigating the lair of a giant spider, as their way of saying “Your current descriptions are a little creepy, but they’re still in my comfort level. Don’t go any further.”
• Red: Red means “stop.” The current scene is outside of their comfort level and should be pulled back immediately, and the intensity lowered or the scene ended.

In all cases, of course, no explanation is owed beyond that which the person activating the card feels the need to provide.

Tayler Stokes created the Consent Flower.

These are only a few of the options available, and we’re not here to say which ones you should or shouldn’t use. That’s going to be something for each table to decide for themselves, and you may decide you don’t need any of them aside from a good Session Zero. You may decide you need to use several of the different tools. And that’s fine.

You’ll probably realize that a lot of the concepts from these different tools aren’t that unique or original in and of themselves. You will no doubt recognize these concepts from other places in your life. But hey, we’re gamers. We tend to like having rules and guidelines, even if we do end up wanting to break them. Also, to be frank, a lot of gamers have some social awkwardness, so having a system in place to communicate comfort can be a big boost above and beyond just expecting everyone to be able to read each other.

What is important is that everyone at the table be comfortable and feel safe and supported. That environment will allow everyone to enjoy the game more, and can even make it easier to push into difficult topics and themes having established where everyone’s boundaries are and knowing what is and isn’t off the table instead of blindly guessing.

It’s about communication and conversation. Which, after all, is the basis for good storytelling. Good gaming, everyone!