Game Theory

Alright, so you’ve made a character. They’re shiny. They’re new. They’re full of possibility.

If you’re anything like me, you have at least five pages of backstory. You poured over their family, the way they grew up. Hopes. Dreams. Fears. Every detail that made them the way they were up to the minute your campaign begins. You could tell me their favorite color, what they ate on Tuesday, or what recreational sport they may play on the weekends.

Here’s the secret though: it doesn’t matter if you don’t do something with it. Those pages you wrote? The other players don’t have them. Your GM may not have read even read them all. Unless your character has their life story tattooed to their body, backstory doesn’t enter the world you’re playing in- until you introduce it.

Now I’m not saying that backstory isn’t important: quite the contrary. Backstory is pivotal in how you play your beloved character. It’s incredibly valuable reference material, and sometimes makes for the best role-playing moments in a campaign. What’s important to realize, though, is that in a campaign your character doesn’t exist outside the things they say or do in your sessions.

Is your character’s favorite food lime Jello? Have them order it in copious amounts at a tavern (only to be disgusted when the only flavor available is cherry). Have they always wanted a pet? Have them constantly talking to and try befriending creatures they come across- regardless of how hostile the animal may seem. Little nuggets like that take small amounts of time in a session and help flush out the personality of your character, without you having to deliver a report on who you’re playing. Trust me, your fellow players will find this approach more engaging, and the overall story you’re telling will be that much more fun.

This applies to the bigger parts of your backstory as well. For example, say your character was a shut-in with no access to the outside world until just before the start of your campaign. Wow- there’s so much to play with there! How do you interact with your party members (or other NPCs)? Perhaps you’re guarded and find trust in short supply. On the flip side, maybe you’re overly-faithful to the rest of your party who helped you escape. Do you know what money is and how to interact with merchants? Maybe you’re always stealing things, not because of malice but because you don’t understand how a sales transaction works. With no formal education, can you read? Do you purposely ignore signs out of pride? Constantly need people to read things for you, or do you take the time and frustration required to learn the skill as a now-adult? These are all ways to play aspects of that backstory, instead of just blurting it out as a footnote in your character description.

I know the urge to overshare at the top of a campaign. After all, we’ve spent all this energy crafting the perfect character, and we want everyone to see the work we’ve done. In my experience, this doesn’t yield the same impact as a slow release throughout the story. Having things come up organically is better for story-telling: it’s more meaningful and more engaging. Keep those secrets as long as you can- it’s fun to surprise your fellow players part way through.

Happy trails, adventurers!

I’ll admit it; the TTRPG that got me into this whole mess was D&D. 3rd edition, right as it was transitioning to 3.5, or thereabouts. And for the longest time, that was the only game I knew. It was what my high school friends were playing, and what we would do when we got together after school or on weekends to play. But one day, after we’d added some more people to the group, we tried a new game, Legend of the Five Rings. I remember the run didn’t last really long; we had trouble meeting up with the whole group, personal issues cropped up, usual teenage stuff. But I remember being really glad we’d tried something different, even if, for the next eleven years or so, it was pretty much only D&D as my main game.

Past those college years and into young adulthood, I learned about the Origins Game Fair. Kind of late to the party, as it had been in my home state for ages at this point, and even then my first time going was spent in the board game room. I did however get an event book that detailed all the different games that were being run at the convention, and I saw a lot more TTRPG systems on there than I knew existed. At that moment, I resolved that, the next Origins, I was going to come for more of the convention and experience more of those games.

So, a year later, and with a lot more knowledge about what the convention was and how to sign up for it, I spent HOURS sorting and resorting the excel spreadsheet listing out all the events that were being offered. I knew I wanted to make this trip one of new experiences, so the first thing I did was filter out all the D&D games. Even though the GMs and scenarios would be new to me, I knew the rules, and I wanted something more than that. So, locking those games out, I started my search. I settled on just a few RPGs for the days I was going to be there, sparsed in with some board games for good measure. Savage Worlds, Star Wars Saga Edition, Scion, Mutants & Masterminds and Champions all made the cut that year (why yes, I do have a spreadsheet with events I picked out for every year, thank you very much). The scenario descriptions drew me in; I was excited, if not a bit nervous, to be going to play with people I didn’t know game systems that I didn’t know. I was worried that not knowing the system could make me feel left out at the table, unsure of what I could actually do or how best to work my character within the rules. Those fears were unfounded, I am very happy to say. I sat at some wonderful tables where the players and the GMs were welcoming of people that didn’t know the game, and were willing to teach enough of it to get through a four hour session with just a bit of work spent up front to get me up to speed. Here was the other thing too; it wasn’t just me sitting at these tables not knowing the systems. It was true for some of the other players as well. And we all had a great time learning the game with each other.

And thus my Origins habit began; I’ve been to each convention since 2009 (except 2020, stupid pandemic). And each year, I have gone with the intent and purpose to try out one or more new RPG each year. That was relatively easy, at first, because I hadn’t experienced too many, but as time went on the offerings of systems I hadn’t tried started to dwindle. I still persist though, every year, to find that new system, that scenario that sounds really fun, and try it out. I’ve learned a lot of new systems because of this, if only at a functional, play a game for 4 hours level. New mechanics, new ways of looking at scenarios rounded me out as a role player, gave me the creative spark to put my hand back in the GM ring, not just for home games but for the convention as well. It was as if I’d unlocked a new level of myself as a TTRPGer that I didn’t know existed.

At this point you might be asking what the point of this all is? I promise you I’m not just reminiscing of games past. I’m illustrating a case in which I was only aware of, or at least had spent the majority of my roleplaying time, in one specific system. And that by branching out, I was able to broaden my views, spread my proverbial wings and take to the skies. And while this might not be the path for everyone, it was the path for me.

I’ll leave you with this, dear reader. If D&D has been your main RPG, even through it’s many iterations, take a chance the next time you get to go to a convention, or the next time your campaign ends, to try out a new system. If you like superheroes, several systems like Mutants & Masterminds or Champions can make you feel like an Avenger or a member of the Justice League. If you want to try your hand at an Indiana Jones or Lara Croft type of game, look for systems like Hollow Earth Expedition or Savage Worlds. Want to head into space and all its perils? The Expanse or Traveler systems might work for you there. The options are out there, if you want them.

If not, I think there’s likely to be a 5E version of any of the above options as well.

It finally happened. The Big Bad got a critical hit near the end of a climactic encounter. You rolled a Natural “1” on your Death Save. There was no last minute reprieve for your heroic last stand. And now? Now your character is dead.

For many of us, the character isn’t just a bunch of numbers on a sheet of paper (or electrons in a virtual tabletop). This was a character we had become invested in. We had hopes for their future. We had plans for what they would do next. We knew their backstory, from their childhood friends to their first fumbling steps into becoming a hero. And now, this story is over – in all likelihood, not in a way that we intended.

There are certainly people who will scoff at the deep feelings that many of us (or the players at our tables) might be feeling at this moment. Certainly those who are newer to gaming may think “Well, just write ‘Jr.’ at the end of the character’s name and bring in their kid,” or compare it to a video game. After all, when Link dies, you can just go back to the last time you saved, right? And certainly in many game settings, death can almost be a revolving door, with methods of bringing a character back from the dead.

But it’s not always possible. And feelings can be hurt. There’s going to be shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression… in other words, all of the same stages of grief we feel in the real world when someone we love is lost.

This. Is. Ok.

When you’re emotionally invested in a character, it’s normal to grieve the end of their story. It is a loss, and it can be a painful one. Even if the character had a “good death,” that doesn’t change that we can be sad about never getting to play them again.

So, what should you do in these moments? My suggestion is to treat the same way (although to a lesser extent) as you would for any other grief. Allow yourself to have these feelings. Seek out other people who have a connection to this character that you can share stories and anecdotes with. And if you need to cry a little? Go ahead and do that.

Role-playing games are a social activity, and are about forging the connections and relationships around the table through the medium of shared storytelling and gameplay. If you’re doing it right, you should feel something when a major character dies.

I also advocate after-care. As a GM, I think it is important to check in with your players regularly. In general, this can just be about checking how people feel about the tone of the story, or any house rules that are happening, or events that are regularly happening (or regularly not happening). But after a major event in the future of the campaign – and a player character death certainly qualifies – it’s perfectly acceptable to just bring the table together and ask “How is everyone doing?”

In Something… Something… Dragons, we did just that at the end of The Haunting of Harrowstone. I would have wanted to do that anyway, just because it was a turning point in the campaign, but it became doubly important because of events that transpired during the final session. Now, we were doing it for an audience, but even if we hadn’t, it would have been worth doing just for the check-in with my players.

But my biggest advice after a player character death is the same advice I give to people who are mourning the loss of a real person. Grieve, and allow yourself to grieve. But afterwards, continue to live. The old character is gone, and that is sad. But there are more stories to be told, and the friendships that were created around the table can continue. Pull out that backup character and start building your excitement for the next set of stories that can be created. As the Vision put it “A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.” Every character’s story will eventually end, so enjoy the stories while they’re available to you – around the gaming table and away from it.