Hello everyone, and welcome the fuck back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’ll be returning to The Legend of Vox Machina, where I’m fairly certain the team just finished off their tutorial quest. I mean, I’ve only participated in one long-term D&D campaign myself, but given that my campaign also opened on killing a local dragon and receiving a nice estate in return, I have to assume that we’re still working off the standard D&D template here.
That makes this episode all the more exciting, as we’re presumably finally stepping out from the shadow of Wizards of the Coast, and can start to see what our own dungeon master has planned. Along with that, I’ll be keeping an eye on how our secondary cast members “grow into” their characters, presumably becoming more confident in expressing their personalities as the campaign continues. The twins and Scanlan have gotten the lion’s share of the dialogue so far, so I’ll be interested in seeing if our druid, cleric, or even berserker get more loquacious as the journey continues. Either way, Vox Machina continues to be a fascinating exercise in translating narrative into gameplay (the fundamental promise of D&D) and then back into narrative, so I’m sure I’ll find something to mutter about. Let’s get back to the adventure!
Episode 3
We open with a flashback from Percy, the snippy noble-born with the big gun. “Gunslinger” isn’t one of the default D&D classes, but it’s still relatively well-supported by supplemental materials, and the presence of a gunslinger can shift your story’s worldbuilding in a slightly steampunk direction
Apparently his whole family was murdered, with only him escaping. “Nightmare reflecting your childhood trauma” is a pretty easy way to turn theoretical exposition into active drama, particularly if you’re conveying something that the character wouldn’t want to reveal to others
There appears to be a plague mask of some kind on his wall. Simply the fact that the camera lingers on this frame implies this object has some significance; a century of film has collectively instilled in us a variety of assumptions about cinematic purpose, including held shots imbuing objects with narrative significance
Watching the opening a second time, it’s clear that the twins and the gunslinger are the only characters whose origins are highlighted as narratively significant. This does not surprise me. First off, in pure storytelling terms, attempting to capitalize on the origin stories of all these characters at once would result in a terribly unfocused narrative, or at the very least one where the connections between all their stories would likely feel too convenient. But if we’re considering this story as a roleplaying session translated into narrative, this choice has a second explanation: those three players are the ones who are most comfortable play-acting an entirely new person with their own personality and history, rather than hanging back in the group like the druid, or simply offering quips like the berserker. In the unique dramatic framework of tabletop roleplaying, how much your various players are comfortable participating is actually a key consideration in constructing your narrative
Damn, their place is nice. They’ve got a whole villa outside the city, with a big yard and everything! We didn’t get a yard with our dragon-killing estate…
Some nice incidental moments across the cast, building out more details of their individual personalities and various rapports. Our druid is unsurprisingly a morning person, while Grog seems to have conscripted Vax into some loosely defined dick-punching challenge
The complex lighting of this show’s background art does a solid job of creating depth even with no foreground objects. Consistently impressed with how this show avoid the flat look of so much western animation
“Dignitaries from across the realm are here to create a new security pact.” This is pretty much also what happened in my own campaign – after the relatively self-contained quest of the introductory phase was completed, a council gathered to aim us at our first world-threatening objective. It seems this is the default pacing of a D&D party’s development, though I’d probably slow it down a bit if I were to DM my own campaign. I’m quite fond of the early, scrappy phase in a party’s life, when your powers and reputation are limited, and your ability to assess the environment is as important as your physical prowess
Scanlan and Pike have a classic will-they-or-won’t-they dynamic: the flirtatious rogue who can’t help but falling for the straight-laced cleric. The dynamic plays up a fun alternate side of each these archetypes: the rogue gets to demonstrate his genuine passion and gallantry, while the cleric gets to show she’s not nearly as stuffy as you assumed, and actually has a wild side
The gang clean up pretty nicely, Scanlan’s pearlescent codpiece aside
Grog and Pike seem to share a healthy regard for copious drinking
“Everyone visits a party and mingles” is an interesting challenge for D&D. In a traditional narrative, you’d do precisely what they’re doing here: sprinkle a dash of encounters, with each member of the party strutting their stuff for a moment or two. But actually engineering a party such that your players organically run into this variety of experiences is a lot tougher; and since such encounters prioritize play-acting over mechanical conflicts, your choices will be to a greater extent dedicated by what the party is comfortable with. For example, my own party’s fancy dinner involved me doing every single bit of the useful diplomacy and information-gathering, while my cat warrior companion got stoned with a wizard
Based on all these fisheye shots and screaming noises, I’d guess the Lords of Whitestone have something to do with Percy’s backstory
Yeap, they’re the ones who killed his family
“Percy, I say you just walk over to the Briarwoods, say hello to break the ice, then punch them in the face. See what happens.” Grog’s player seems to be getting comfortable participating more, but still in characteristically Grog ways. It’s an oddly rewarding thing to see these players grow into their characters
Also demonstrating some classic episodic narrative weaving here, as the resolution of the last conflict (you’re being recognized for killing the dragon) naturally conjoins with the introduction of the next (ah shit, your nemesis showed up to your recognition ceremony). Stories should never come to a complete rest without a reason – one action should necessitate the next, bonded by sturdy junction points
The Lord of Whitestone performs some light hypnosis on the king to keep out any unwanted guests
Vax is performing a truly impressive series of stealth and lockpicking checks as he explores the Whitestones’ quarters. The variance of dice rolling is what provides D&D with a sense of drama and suspense, but it can also lead to some awkward contradictions between gameplay and narrative. The first time you fail to pick a lock in spite of being a lock picking specialist, you’ll wonder if there’s a better way to convey challenge in game design
The Whitestones further provoke Percy by talking shit about his family. This is the sort of drama you need a particularly kind of player for: you’re not just reacting, you’re getting provoked on behalf of your avatar’s trauma, and that requires a greater commitment to taking on a different personality
This practical issue can in turn result in some odd quirks of narrative design. The players who are willing to act more will naturally have their narratives front-lined, and subsequently receive a greater degree of character development, while someone like Grog might always just like drinking ale and punching dicks
Vax’s roll luck runs out, and he’s caught by the returning Whitestones. Another odd quirk of rolling dice versus narrative design – sometimes characters are intended to fail, but can roll their way past an intended setback, leaving the DM scrambling to trip them up somewhere else
The Whitestones appear to be vampires, which would explain why they look, talk, and act like vampires
Solid choreography for Grog facing off with Whitestone – nice contrast in fighting styles, with Whitestone’s nimble rapier tricks demonstrating the weakness of Grog’s heavy attacks
Lady Whitestone finally does the sensible thing, and sends a bolt straight at the cleric. Always attack the healer first, folks! As my own team’s healer, I can confirm I will fuck up your day forever otherwise
Apparently our Percy’s got some dark powers of his own. Nice composition here, evoking whatever spirit is connected to him as an ominous extension to his own shadow
And Done
Alright, it seems we’re off on a Percy adventure, then! We’re combining a couple narrative shells here, with “the party must clear their name” necessitating a classic “the party investigates a spooky manor” adventure. It also feels like we’re getting more equal contributions from across the party at this point; the twins stepped back a bit, giving quieter characters like Pike and Grog more space to express themselves. It’s all pretty standard RPG drama at this point, but the party’s increasing rapport is building them into delightful traveling companions, while the show’s negotiation of game design and narrative provides endless material to scratch at. As the show’s confidence in its material grows, it’s becoming a more rewarding experience by the minute. I’m eager to see what’s next!
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