I don’t roleplay that much.
It’s not that I look down on it, or think it’s a waste of time. I’ve been an avid roleplayer in the past, and bought many and sundry books, dice and miniatures. I love pouring over descriptions of character types, race option and special abilities. I love building characters, creating backstories and weaving those histories in with the other players. But once we get started, tend to get frustrated.
I wish I could lay the blame on the storytellers, and say I was just playing a bad game, but this has happened over and over. I’ve played with rule-lawyers and easy narrators, dice worshipers and laid-back judges and everyone else in between. I’ve even run games myself, with the same result (I should point out that while the players in the game I ran were never frustrated, I was—well, Brendan might have been, what with his character being constantly turned into a monkey). I can only conclude that since I am the common factor in these situations, it must be my problem. It is not you, game masters; it is me.
Most likely, it’s the call of the writing I should be working on, instead of enjoying myself making things up with friends. I recently decided to quit roleplaying altogether, and use that weekly game time to make things up solo. And I was okay with that. Until of course, I got the best idea for a roleplaying session ever.
It was a standard D&D story concept: journey across dangerous lands to a forbidden kingdom to save a princess. Only in this game, all the PCs would be…bards!
Yes, I know. It’s too awesome an idea for words, isn’t it?
Gathering up some of the best roleplayers I know—J.R. (natch), Russell, Kate, and Alex—I gave them basic character concepts and had them run with it. The result is a delightfully eccentric group of performers. I talk about them here, but then, that’s what the wiki is for. It’s a short-run game, with a clear beginning, middle and end, and should wrap up in three or four sessions. These elements, combined with more pre-game writing than I’ve ever done, were supposed to help me relax and enjoy the game. You know, what roleplaying is for.
Turns out, it all worked.
The first game went along swimmingly. A lot of this is due to how hilarious this group of is (I was going to record and podcast this game, but decided against it at the last minute. After laughing for four straight hours, I now regret this choice), but some credit must be given to my exhaustive planning of the world. Not everything I planned out was used in the game, but was able to handle surprise questions by the players quickly and easily because of all that planning. I guess, when it comes to running a game, you cannot over-world-build. Who would have thought that the fact that all messenger’s capes are purple and worn on the left shoulder would become a plot point? You may not need to reveal all this information at once, but it’s important to know it.
So, in Game 1, our motley crew met with a frustratingly specific messenger, ferry-stealing toughs, a hungry land shark, a stuck-up hero, a grief-ridden monarch, a squire’s poetry, and a band of long-bow wielding thieves. What will happen when they cross the cursed Fields of the Spiderbirds, next game? Who knows?
Well, I do. Vaguely. I’m still working it out. Next session’s not for another month or so…
Favorite moments
- The argument with the royal messenger, as illustrated above. More than anything, this exchange was something I wish I had recorded. Well, this and the argument with their playwright that preceded it.
- The land shark encounter. I asked Alex to find me a random monster for this scene, and he came up with the Bulette, an awesome classic beasty. Needless to day, this encounter involved an awful lot of running.
- One of the goals this session was to delay Flashheart, a powerful–if obnoxious–hero who has the same goal as our bards. The team split into two, with JR delaying Flashheart directly and the other three messing with his horse and squire, Potzu. This proved more difficult than expected, what with Flashheart’s horse being intelligent and Potzu being a poet. But not only did they pull it off, but they also left a note! Now, that’s style.
