Introduction – What this book is … and isn’t EDIT: Move this.

[bryce0lynch]

Introduction – What this book is … and isn’t

This is not a book of DM advice. This is not a book about how to design an adventure for your home game. You might find some words of wisdom herein to help you with aspects of your home game, but the book isn’t targeted at you. This book is advice on how to write an adventure for publication. It’s targeted at the person who is writing an adventure to sell, or give away, or in some other way have someone else use it.

There’s a key difference between personal use and having someone else use it. When you write something for personal use you have this vision in your head. You came up with an idea and it’s floating around in your head. A deep chasm, darkness down below, the other side barely visible, a tattered rope bridge, voices and furtive figures seen in the shadows, their yellow eyes blinking in and out, and a dim red glow from below with a low rumbling and the smell of sulfur wafting up. You know what you meant when you jotted down “rope bridge over chasm” on your notepad, because know what you imagined.

But when you write for someone else you have to transfer that vision from your head down to paper and then in to someone else’s head. They can’t see what’s in your head and there are at least two translations between your head the poor sap who’s reading your adventure.

That poor s.o.b. Their kids were running late this morning. Their boss puts them through petty tyrannies every day. Traffic was hell. They had cold lettuce wraps after cleaning up the dog shit from the gaming table. The group will be here in 20 minutes for the game they are supposed to be running. They pick up your adventure and gets:

Rooms 2: The room is dark. There’s a rope bridge over a chasm. It’s 40’ deep. (better example needed)

The poor sap’s game is NOT going to go well …

The goal in adventure design is twofold. To misappropriate a theme: Apollo & Dionysius. Or, more directly: the goal is unbridled creativity that is organized well. That’s the goal of this book. To get the creativity out of your head and on to paper in such a way that the person reading it is just as excited as you, if not more so, to run it. The characters walk in to room two, the DM glances at the adventure for half a second, their eyes light up with excitement, and the players face the challenge of the chasm. That’s the goal I’m setting for myself, on your behalf; the DM glances at the page for half a second (perfectly organized adventure) and their eyes light up (evocative creativity.)

Core Concept One: The adventure needs to be organized. The DM needs to be able to find information quickly, scan it quickly, and use it. The adventure must contain the resources the DM needs at the table in order to run it. It’s amazing how many adventures fail at this, as if the designer has never run a game at the table. Conveying the information to the DM in a way that is useful to them is non-trivial. It requires focus. You have to understand what you are trying to do in the adventure in order to convey that to the DM.

Core Concept Two: You need to convey your creative vision to the reader. Unencumbered by mechanics, you are attempting to paint a picture in the DM’s head. You can not succeed by being detailed. It would take a thousand words to convey the full scene in the designers head. Instead, you need to convey a thought seed … a tiny granule that will lodge in the DM’s head. Their own imagination will then take over and fill in the details. This idea seed has no rules. The old saying is that English is the most descriptive language ever. That’s not enough. You have permission to murder it, twist it, bend it, use it in every manner possible to get your idea across.

This isn’t a book about OSR adventure design, or fantasy adventure design. I like the OSR and have certainly learned a lot reviewing OSR adventures, but the advice herein can be used with any type of RPG. Chummer or knight, P.I. or Malkavian, the principals apply. I’m going to focus on using Fantasy in my examples, but it should be trivial for you to see how these transfer over to your genre of choice. Likewise, I prefer player-driven RPG games, but the principals apply to plot-based adventures also.

Finally, there’s more than one way to make an adventure evocative and usable at the table. The advice is this book is, I believe, the most effective way for the most designers to reach that goal. Do what thy will … but be purposeful about deviations.


EDIT: This looks a lot like the introduction to the evocative writing section. Somethings not right. Do something about it.

 

[squeen]

I'll assert that when a D&D session goes well it is visceral---the mechanics disappear and both the players and DM can be "in the moment".

Your core-concept #1 speaks to this: having the information well organized---quickly scan-able---helps the DM stay abreast of the action. I think, without a doubt, this is your major contribution to the current zeitgeist of OSR. Your reviews are a persistent warning against the wall-of-text syndrome: i.e. description-heavy products. The screened-off DM "drops out of the game" as he/she stumbles to find a needle in a haystack.

The problem is that core-concept #2 is most frequently in opposition to concept #1. The tools an author has to convey an idea-germ to the DM are words...and yet verbosity gets in the way of play. You often speak of "failed novelist syndrome", but novels (stories) are the traditional way one human has projected what is in his/her mind into the minds of others. In modern times, we cheat that a bit with moving pictures---which, if you really think about it, are just as odd an experience as D&D: in no way are 2D images inside a rectangle equivalent to direct experience and yet most people can lose themselves in that false-reality quite easily. The art/map found inside a OSR product is another "cheat" to convey mood/info without words---but it is expensive, often poorly done, and frequently not shown to the players (which might be another core-concept: the book art should help the DM!).

The worst offender, read-aloud text, divorces everyone at the table from being real-time immersed in the collective vision---the DM exits his/her imagination---punished to "read before the class"---and sometimes players agency is completely shattered when even their thoughts/emotions are dictated in text. This is the polar opposite of everyone being "in the moment". A failed attempt from the 80's to mechanize adventure writing.

Dovetailing this a bit with the Fairy Tale thread: perhaps the only way to resolve the inherent conflict between the two product goals is not to convey detailed information at all, but just to trigger latent memories and tropes already in the DM's head through the use of a few key phrases. You often say "evocative writing": this implies you are casting a spell! A few magic words conjures up (evokes) an entire scene in the DM's brain.

(Good) art lives in that tension between those two opposing forces. Your "Maw" project is somewhat doomed (in my opinion, sorry!) because, with it's one-hour time-limit and harsh description limits. With it (if I read your intent correctly), you are attempting to trivialize the balancing act between two fundamental forces and reduce an artist's agonizing decisions to a formula much like the Dutch Masters attempted to do with schools for photo-realistic painting. While this may elevate the minimum standards of a typical product, it is (IMHO) unlikely to yield anything "great" and could easily become a set of shackles for future designers. I may be wrong---and I applaud your efforts, it's much better to experiment than just sit back and do nothing.

Lastly, I'll add another controversial statement: OD&D is ultimately only for nerds. Back in the 70's, this was not a compliment, nor a label anyone would willing self-apply. Pre-dating the mainstreaming effect of geek-chic (driven by 90's tech-boom $$$'s), originally to be nerdy implied a lack of physical prowess and/or social-skills, but an excess of mental prowess. Geeks took refuge in the notion that they were "smarter" than average as compensation for their other failings. (And, as we all well know, this refuge can easily become a hubris.)

Why bring this up? I think it's always been the mainstream's (i.e. commercial) product's Achilles' Heel. It takes a certain mental-gymnast to be a good DM. Anyone can learn to play the card-game Uno in a few minutes---but not everyone can DM well. Sure, you need to be quick-witted, but also (and more to the point) it may be necessary for the DM (and players?) to already have the classic tropes pre-loaded in their brains in order to trigger the latent imagery. This speaks a bit to a point you and Patrick Stuart have both made regarding the "outsider art" of Unbalanced Dice Games which I'll now paraphrase as the author not sharing our common (Western) set of mythology. Likewise Patrick himself is a master of turning tropes on their head with just a few simple phrases (or is it that he evokes slightly more mature and uncomfortable ones---I dunno).

Well now. Does that help muddy the waters?

Cheers.

 

[DangerousPuhson]

D&D treads an odd line between art and story, one which is supremely hampered by the mechanics of it all. If you untangle into one form or the other, you either get a story-driven piece that's too choice-constricting, or an artsy piece that's too nebulous to work with.

A prime example of this is the sticky situation of read-aloud you've mentioned, which is prescriptive in its nature and inflexible to the imagination in some poor cases, but at the same time excels at getting everyone to understand the scenario in the same way, so that it can be approached with a uniformity that promotes the interesting nature of the encounter.

If I say "here is the sanctuary of a buried temple; there's an altar shaped like a melting blob of stone, a row of pews, a brass chandelier overhead, and two doors leading north" that's all well and good provided there is nothing specific to the interaction. But if the DM expects the players to interact with a specific pseudopod on the blob altar, or wonder why the colors of the chandelier's flames aren't all the same color, or has a monster skulking among the pews, then the players would have been better with a specific read-aloud mentioning those things upfront, otherwise they're working with the subjective image of the situation they've already built in their mind from the terseness of the original description, rather than the specific image that the author intended to make the mechanics of the interaction work. You can elaborate as the players explore the room and check each individual thing, sure, but if there's a couple of things that you need to convey at a glance, then they're not being conveyed here. When you plan to spring something, the player's won't be thrilled to get ambushed by the creature in the pews simply because they neglected to say specifically "what about the pews? can we look over there?"

However if I say "here is the sanctuary of a buried temple; there's an altar blob of molten stone at the front with six pseudopods extending from it - two point north, one points south, and three point east. A row of eight mahogany pews are spaced evenly apart facing the front; among them shifts a dark hump, ever so slightly pulling out of view. There is a brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling with seven flames arranged around a central diamond-shaped hub; each flame glows in one of the colors of the rainbow - counter-clockwise from the north they are yellow, orange, red, etc. etc. etc. blahblahblah" then that's obviously way too long, but there's no denying that players paying attention will have a clear image in their minds of exactly what is going on in the room, and can choose to address the shifting creature in the pews, or notice that the green flame is between the purple and red one instead of the yellow and blue one, or that only one pseudopod points south, etc.

What is my point? Well that the ideal is to take the best of both worlds, which Squeen overlooks and what Bryce usually alludes to but also seems to dismiss with a blanket "read-aloud = bad form" style that I don't agree with.

Read-aloud is just someone else's words put into your mouth - it is, by the nature of its inertness, no more exciting or boring than any other words. You can still include read-aloud AND be user-friendly. They trick is terseness - much like with room descriptions needing to be scannable at a glance, read-aloud needs to be written to be understood as efficiently as possible. In this way the author's intent for the situation is still there, and eyes don't glaze over.

While I'm on the topic, I've never agreed with the argument that read-aloud is bad because "a good DM should add their own spin/improvisations to encounters" - that's bullshit. If I'm buying an adventure, then it's bullshit. If I'm writing an adventure, then it's bullshit. "The DM" is not a universal standard across the board; we are not all built alike. We vary in levels of prep, creativity, imagination, oration skill, etc. A product cannot be designed for use by one type of DM, because then it will only appeal to one type of DM, and by omitting read-aloud, you effectively say "this product is only for DMs with the ability to ad-lib, and the verbosity to elaborate the ideas of another person". That's crap; I want products that are a toolbox of adventure. By omitting read-aloud, you're effectively selling me a toolbox without a hammer: yes, I can use the flat side of a wrench to hammer in a nail, but dammit, why the hell didn't they just include a hammer and let me decide if I should or shouldn't be using it? The adage "it's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it" holds true for adventure design.

Worried about scannability? Make the read-aloud an annex to the document. Afraid you're railroading? Learn to write your read-aloud in a more open-ended way. Don't like other people telling you what to say? Ignore whatever you don't want to include. But blanket statements about read-aloud "divorcing everyone at the table from immersion" is narrow-minded... Read-aloud has it's place; you just need to do it right, and most people don't.

 

[Slick]

We vary in levels of prep, creativity, imagination, oration skill, etc (...) by omitting read-aloud, you effectively say "this product is only for DMs with the ability to ad-lib, and the verbosity to elaborate the ideas of another person".

That's like 90% of what DMing is, though. The point of buying a module is to eliminate (or at least alleviate) the prep, creativity, and imagination parts, and let the DM focus on the task of actually running the game. Poor improv skill means poor DMing skill, and effort should be made to teach people how to get better at that, having a paragraph of pre-baked text to read every page or two isn't going to save them.

 

[squeen]

Funny, Puhson picked up on that because I almost left that paragraph out of the post. One reason is because I can think of situations where having a prepared description might be useful---e.g. seeing something (complex) for the first time as a pure observer. But in general, I think it's probably better to "evoke" and then let the DM add "non-critical" detail in their own words. The point I was hoping to make with the "divorcing" statement is that the mechanism affects both DM and players---momentarily changing them both from participants to observers. The illusion that this is "happening" vanishes---or at least it feels that way to me...and that's even when I'm reading my own prepared read-aloud texts from when I wrote the darn thing!

Perhaps the only time verbatim descriptions are not harmful is when the game is already in a natural observational pause. Either way, terseness is highly desirable---enough words to get the info** across, but no more.

On the other hand, in the off-line/sidebars/intro/appendices, I feel a bit cheated if a product lacks some extraneous depth. I want to get inspired by glimpses of something wild and exotic.

[**I almost wrote "mood across..." here, but I think that's the antithesis of my previous post's postulate: good design often leverages a shared mythology and triggers an associated visceral reaction. Info, not mood. That may be the critical difference---not evocative writing, but evocative details?]

 

[DangerousPuhson]

The point of buying a module is to eliminate (or at least alleviate) the prep, creativity, and imagination parts, and let the DM focus on the task of actually running the game. Poor improv skill means poor DMing skill, and effort should be made to teach people how to get better at that, having a paragraph of pre-baked text to read every page or two isn't going to save them.

Pretty big generalization. The point of buying a module varies from person to person, and party to party. Nobody's buying Tomb of Horrors (or conversely, Tales from the Yawning Portal) because it's easy to prepare and run, for example - they're buying it because it's got a reputation and history. Personally, I don't take ease of prep/running into consideration at all when I buy anything - I go straight off novelty ideas and glowing reviews. I can't imagine I'm the only one in this.

Also, the author's job is not to teach every reader how to be a better DM... the author's job is to write and print a product. If that product is made better by having pre-generated box text, then it should have pre-generated box text; if not, then it shouldn't. Nothing is black & white in how things "are supposed to be" in the world of module writing. There's no unified formula of everything. There are simply the best choices for the right situations.

 

[squeen]

Nothing is black & white in how things "are supposed to be" in the world of module writing. There's no unified formula of everything. There are simply the best choices for the right situations.

I agree. Rigid rules are bad news, however, I thought the essence of this blog was to try and suss out some insights that can benefit us all. My original response to Byrce was an attempt to help with the heavy lifting. To that ends I think there are a few ideas [core concepts, not rules!] on the table:

1) info is critical and should be readily accessible to the DM (even if it comes is the much-maligned boxed-text form)
2a) certain details have common connotations---a form of communication data-compression
2b) verbosity breaks the flow of the game (and an immersive experience is generally preferable)
3) I forgot number 3. Is there a #3?

 

[Slick]

Poor improv skill means poor DMing skill, and effort should be made to teach people how to get better at that

Also, the author's job is not to teach every reader how to be a better DM... the author's job is to write and print a product.

I should clarify, I meant that there should be an effort in general to teach new DMs how to riff off of tersely presented information, not as advice included in the modules themselves. If someone who's used to DM's Guild bloat cannot run something without boxed text feeding them their lines, some kind soul needs to write a primer for them. Because I find nothing wrong with this statement:

by omitting read-aloud, you effectively say "this product is only for DMs with the ability to ad-lib, and the verbosity to elaborate the ideas of another person"

Why would you ever design a module for any other kind of DM? I guess the average 5E modules are written to appeal to the "read-don't-play" crowd, so that base is covered. If Bryce's focus is on creating guidelines for a different (efficient and usable) style of module, then concessions don't need to be made for anyone who cannot use that style of adventure module for its intended purpose. Sure there are people who would use a module for other reasons, to skim for inspiration or whatever, but they should not be the target audience.

It's very obvious when someone is reading aloud from a book vs. organically describing something, which is why good DMs I've seen tend to paraphrase boxed text when they come across it. If you're paraphrasing something anyway, why not just turn it into a bulleted list?

 

[Beoric]

You often speak of "failed novelist syndrome", but novels (stories) are the traditional way one human has projected what is in his/her mind into the minds of others.

Being evocative and brief requires the skills of the poet, rather than the skills of the novelist. Which is, frankly, an older form of storytelling.

As for readaloud, I think if a product is to be run it is essential to clearly identify for the DM the information that the players are likely to receive first. That can be put in point form, which an inexperienced DM can easily read without embellishment until they get the hang of it. Actual boxed text is unnecessary, and in my opinion has two significant drawbacks:

1. Written language is different from spoken language. Boxed text is generally written in the former, which makes it less accessible to a listener. I suppose it would improve if the writer had the skills of the playwright.

2. Boxed text is confining in an area that is not static, that can be approached from multiple entrances, or that has contents that can change over time (such as when team monster reacts to the PC's intrusion). I find the cognitive load of adapting boxed text to changing circumstances to be significantly greater than that of improvising with information that is clearly identified. It was an even greater problem when I was an inexperienced DM.

I also think that, in general, designers make their encounter areas too busy. Few people who play D&D belong to oral cultures. We are not skilled at presenting or processing information orally. Adjectives and adverbs should be avoided unless the information is important, or if it is necessary to set tone; and if used for the latter, it should not be intermingled with (and therefore obscuring) important information.

 

[Beoric]

DangerousPuhson, let’s look at your example:

However if I say "here is the sanctuary of a buried temple; there's an altar blob of molten stone at the front with six pseudopods extending from it - two point north, one points south, and three point east. A row of eight mahogany pews are spaced evenly apart facing the front; among them shifts a dark hump, ever so slightly pulling out of view. There is a brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling with seven flames arranged around a central diamond-shaped hub; each flame glows in one of the colors of the rainbow - counter-clockwise from the north they are yellow, orange, red, etc. etc. etc. blahblahblah"…

Immediately relevant information is:

• The room is a temple. [Any evocative description goes here, so it doesn’t obfuscate the interactive elements. It’s buried, so perhaps it smells of dust, and thin, hairy roots dangle from the ceiling.]
• The altar is partially melted, and pseudopods of stone stretch from it in several directions. [Don’t clutter the description with the number and direction until the players ask; how often do you enter a room and start counting things]
• A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, giving off multicolored light. [Exact description can await investigation. You can probably get away with one extra “mood” adjective, so perhaps it gives off a “flickering, multicolored light” or an “eerie, multicolored light”, but not an “eerie, flickering, multicolored light”.]
• Most of the room is filled with pews. Attentive characters might notice a creature moving amongst them.

Or without the commentary, and with some modification:

• The room is a temple, smelling of earth, its ceiling carpeted with hairy roots.
• A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, giving off a flickering, multicolored light.
• The altar is partially melted, and pseudopods of stone stretch from it in several directions.
• The balance of the room is mostly filled with pews. (Attentive characters might notice the [whatever the monster is] moving amongst the pews – see below for details)

Point form, it can be read almost as written, with notes to the DM in-line. The lack of transitional devices between the points focuses the player on each point as a separate item, making it easier to process.

 

[squeen]

Beoric: Very nice!