We’re really into “this is the end” and, understandably, “how,” but also, significantly, what this ending even is. Here’s what I mean.
I’m really, really not going to define this as “adventure!” meaning to throw additional violent encounters at them, nor as “epic!” meaning suddenly drawing in highly consequential impact on the communities and social context. (I did both for the Spelens Hus RuneQuest game, which was fine then. But not here.)
Instead, we have a remarkably strong context for the locations, ecology, culture and subcultures, and character-identities, and we have a number of opinionated personalities deciding a lot of things session to session, even moment to moment. Who will come into contact with whom next? What will be said, what will be decided, by whom? What, if anything, results in terms of a ‘real’ fate for any of the player-characters? What will it mean?
We don’t know. I as the GM do not know, particularly in structural terms of “this arc crests now,” or “now I shall introduce the moment of truth.” In this, I am severely deviating from and defying the game’s textual expectations, even requirements, for its role of the Adventure Guide.
Here are a couple of principles that I’m using instead, both well-displayed regarding Sam’s character Vephselk in this session.
Sam rightly pointed out that in Sorcerer terms, Vephselk has effectively concluded her opening Kicker … which by the principles of that game, does not mean you stop playing instantly. It means that whatever trouble the Kicker has caused or reveals which is still “in play,” if any, still needs to get attended to.
So how does that apply here? Well, it means that in thinking about the opening scene-framing for Vephselk this session, I needed to decide whether such “trouble” is already in place given what we’ve done and what we know. I really didn’t want to force it. However, as it happens, if you go all the way back to the necessary assumptions (i.e., established facts) for the first session, then it’s equally necessary (i.e., already established) that Vephselk and Okmev are moving straight into the region associated with the Ant tribe, where Ithasha came from … arguably, not just a little trouble, but a whole node and nexus and Big Bang of trouble for everything that’s happened so far.
That’s how I’m doing it. As long as locations and people continue to “ripple” from what we know (including unrevealed GM info and internal player character-notions) and what’s been done, then we play and “find” our ending. It may be muted, even anti-climactic in classical confrontational terms; it may be intensely dramatic in those terms; it may vary across these concepts per character. We’ll see.
Now for the harder part to talk about, which I offer as a useful cautionary example. This session features some crap interaction and some sub-optimal play in terms of the imagination. The three of us in Europe were all exhausted, and you can see us struggle. I want to stress that this included no failure of interest and no “checking-out” in terms of attention to play, but rather our ability to interact and contribute in our usual talking-and-listening way.
My part is especially painful to watch, especially toward the end of Part 2 and carrying into most of Part 3. I’m far below my usual standards for clarifying either of these:
- When a description is merely colorful, or even a signal that we don’t have to do anything, that everything’s fine, vs. when I’m formally proposing the need to solve a problem.
- At a very immediate level of character actions and perceptions, saying where we are, I do this, roll that – I’m talking about the appearance of a structure, the scope of immediate perceptions, sensory impressions, cultural details, the relative positions of any and all characters, and the social “feel” of an interaction.
These are bumpiest in the sequences featuring me and Lorenzo, when in editing, I realized how often we partly missed what the other was saying.
At the end of the conversation between Ithasha and Farith, when Hadd rejoins them and Lorenzo talks about his Monster Knowledge skill. I realize that they are not catching the point that the scene is over, but instead of saying so, I just cut out of it in the midst of Lorenzo trying to roll. If you can believe it, I literally forgot that he was trying to do that while attempting and failing to say he didn’t have to.
When they arrive at the village some ways downriver, and I cannot bring myself to role-play through “you meet this guy, they say this,” or any further detailed account of arrival. That was fine at the point of arrival, I think, but a bit later, when Farith looks around for a blacksmith or glassblower, we didn’t have a good foundation for imagining where or who was or wasn’t there. At the time, I mentioned Skansen, which is a familiar reference for anyone in Sweden and more than enough for a shared imagined context, but wasn’t on the ball enough to realize that Lorenzo and Sam would need an additional sentence, and that we really could have pointed to an appropriate spot on the little village map I’d already provided. So that whole sequence was played in an abstract space of “I say this, I do this,” rather than our usual well-placed notions.
The net effect is not disastrous or unhappy or not-fun. It’s merely OK, in the sense of what Anthony describes as “the OK plateau.” We certainly experienced no lack of caring about what’s going on, which fortunately results in each of us internally filling-in what’s needed. But its quality in the moment was merely adequate, and subject to the role-playing equivalent of “varying signal,” which is far below our usual standard.