Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m delighted to be returning to the adventures of Vox Machina, as they attempt to flee the bowels of hell with a big nasty devil hot on their trail. Well, technically not the bowels of hell, since they’re actually pretty high in its layers – more like the esophagus of hell, I suppose? Regardless, in true devil’s bargain fashion, last episode’s daring feats of gambling by Pike were only enough to get them safely beyond Zerxus’ doors. For the rest of their journey, they’re now free game for Zerxus’ minions, who have been instructed that only Pike needs to return intact.

Meanwhile, my own party is making their escape from an equally oppressive pocket realm, as they charge forward towards the final battle against Strahd. Our DM has mercifully acknowledged our general frustration with Curse of Strahd’s limited venues for player expression and one-note tone, and thus we recently barreled through the last pre-climax hurdles at warp speed, gathering weapons, liberating allies, and hatching anti-Strahd schemes all in the course of one mammoth session. One of the most important skills you can develop as a DM is flexibility, and the understanding that you are collectively creating a living text – by fast-forwarding through material we clearly weren’t passionate about, they were able to create a version of Curse of Strahd that was actually paced such as to keep our interest.

As of now, we’re currently mid-battle with Strahd, with my peace cleric Tilly attempting to keep his attention off my friends by calling him things like Strahdy-wahdy and Strahdikins. Meanwhile, our noble bard Tulip keeps me alive, swashbuckling rogue Oberyn skewers him with the Sun Sword, and Uncle Fester-reminiscent wizard Dr. Bob does god knows what with his impressive magical faculties. I can vividly see the freeze frame of our ongoing battle in my head, and can’t wait to get back to the fight – but for now, we’ve got some hells to escape and a dragon to slay. Onward!

Episode 5

We begin on a flashback to Allura and the rest of the prior band of heroes, back in the days of their own adventures. These flashbacks are obviously a privilege of adapting material from tabletop DM-led exposition to TV drama, fitted snugly within the additionally flashback-accommodating format of the cold open. They have done an exceedingly graceful job of making this structure feel natural, like the story was always constructed this way

I also like how they’re weaving in this theme of cyclical conflict, which subtly points to a great catastrophe awaiting Vox Machina. Zerxus’ party of heroes fell to ruin and invoked the Calamity, Allura’s party splintered and failed to permanently seal their target, and now Vox Machina must take up the mantle, knowing that the lessons of history point towards a coming failure for them as well

This all collectively emphasizes the importance of the players’ choices – the only thing standing between them and this grim historical precedent is their agency, their own ability to flip the script

Kima and Allura of course possessed an excellent adversarial rapport before eventually becoming lovers. I absolutely adore writing this sort of romance, and actually have a similar long-term NPC romance brewing in my campaign, between two characters whose dynamic isn’t far off from Natsuki and Yuuko in Sound! Euphonium. I always try to write towards my players’ interests, but my own passion for any given quest is generally tethered to the emotional drama of the NPCs involved – and if I can make that drama feel convincing and satisfying to me, I can only hope it provides some entertainment for my players as well

The two end up fighting a chimera alone, a perfect venue for reflecting on how much they mean to each other. I pulled this gambit back during the campaign’s first act, when one of my major NPCs was kidnapped, and another made a desperate play to save her. Nothing like a near-death experience to make characters voice the secret hopes they thought they’d take to their graves

Allura’s starstruck face upon Kima’s victory leads us back to the present. Yeah, that would do it

While Allura is eager to rush after Kima, the other two urge caution, prompting Allura to question if they’d feel the same if it was either of them in danger. An excellent trick – using the obvious parallels between these pairs to challenge them on their actual feelings for each other. Though they’re portrayed by the DM, good NPCs should possess their own interiority and perspective, making them useful tools for elegantly pressing the players on their feelings or reasoning

For players who are less comfortable expressing themselves, NPCs can also mitigate the pressure of performing in a group. I’ve occasionally thrown in “fireside chat” sequences featuring several NPCs and the player party, where the party’s allies reflecting and confessing their feelings is employed to make the players feel more comfortable expressing their own characters’ thoughts

Allura’s agitation works perfectly here, prompting Percy to declare “we’re not together,” which in turn forces Vex to chew on how those words make her feel

Vex is well-positioned for a classic personal arc – having been taught only distrust and self-reliance by her father, her journey involves letting go of her need to control everything, which will also lead her to embracing a relationship with Percy

In general, I consider “what is their journey” to be the most fundamental question defining any reasonably multifaceted character. Characters defined as fixed points, as simple sets of values and affectations, will rarely surprise or delight you. From the question “what is their journey,” everything else emerges – what informed their current outlook, how they present themselves towards the world, and what they either hope or fear to become

Down in hell, the City of Dis’ generally murky atmosphere is doing a fine job of integrating the party’s CG pursuer into the composition

And out in the snow drifts, the weather provides a similar accommodating effect for the dragon Vorugal. This show’s overall composite has improved significantly since the first season – no longer do either CG or traditionally animated characters look superimposed over their environments, rather than genuinely integrated into them. Of course, the layouts don’t measure up to the best anime has to offer, but at this point anime itself also has trouble measuring up to the layouts of the pre-digital era. Now that it’s so easy to make CG backgrounds and superimpose characters over them, the art of the graceful, voluminous layout is slowly dying out

“Allie?” Kima asks. Never underestimate the power of a cute couple nickname, particularly if it contrasts against that character’s generally serious or regal affect

Kima and Allura’s fight naturally echoes the flashback from before, an obvious privilege of this adaptation. DnD is too slow-paced and too ambiguously staged for this sort of thing; asking your players to find dramatic satisfaction in the resemblance of a current event to one from months or even years ago is generally a fool’s errand. Of course, I’m breaking that rule myself with my current conception of “train-top battle: the sequel,” but that event feels singular enough even in DnD framing to naturally evoke the comparison

“Your weapon is too damn loud!” “I’m sorry, we can’t all blast magic out of our bloody fingers!” Allura and Percy are an excellent pairing

Allura gets speared upon some frozen tree roots as Vorugal blasts her. Another handy feature of NPCs: they can ratchet up tension in combat without actually changing the encounter’s mechanical variables, by being imperiled in such a way as to create a greater sense of urgency or consequence

Percy fires at the ice itself to send Vorugal crashing into the lake. Environmental variables like this can be tricky, because players can’t actually physically assess their surroundings without the DM as intermediary. Lackluster implication of devices like this can feel like railroading, with the DM providing exactly one useful environmental object – while on the flip side, creating a fully imagined arena of distinct variables for every fight is a huge ask for the DM. Here, the icy lake is basically the fight centerpiece, so exploiting it seems natural

The hell-party arrives back at the portal, and Keyleth begins opening it as the others fend off their pursuer. Another fun fight concept: the holdout point, wherein a party must delay the advance of some antagonistic force until rescue arrives. Alongside simply diversifying the styles of combat, this conceit allows the party to briefly fight an opponent that’s well beyond their abilities in a controlled scenario. A fine method of introducing a late-game foe early; in fact, I used a variation on this for my party’s first, accidental journey to hell, foreshadowing their eventual final battle

Active camerawork does a nice job of conveying the size of their opponent as they dance around this giant devil

This devil provides a handy opportunity to demonstrate the core faculty of Pike’s new breastplate. Basically the same logic as a Zelda boss: give the party a new tool, then construct a boss that demonstrates that tool at its best

An excellent “let them fight” moment as the devil chases them through the portal, and immediately sets to work attacking Vorugal. The default case is to avoid robbing the party of their kills through DM interference, but there are lots of cases like this. Having two simultaneous holdout fights resolve through the unstoppable enemies being thrown at each other is a lovely payoff for surviving their rampages

The party is forced to flee and dodge falling wreckage as the two titans do battle. This is actually a concept I haven’t used before, but have in my drafts for my next major post-campaign quest: a combination of combat and agility, with a traditional combat encounter segueing into two kaiju-sized monsters wrestling across the battlefield. I’ve been working to more directly integrate expository and mechanical action, and having the players be required to actively navigate such a battlefield in traditional turn order seems like a fine approach

Vorugal’s defeat is then used as an affirmation of Allura’s trust in Kima. A fine bookend for this adaptive arc, though I doubt it played out this way on-table – watching two monsters fight is one thing, but having an NPC steal the party’s final blow is a step too far

I’ve actually used this faux pas to fun dramatic effect before – my heroes have a rival do-gooder that they absolutely despise, and part of that hatred comes down to him once stealing their glory during a major conflict

Keyleth and Vex perform a sweet combo attack, firing one of Vex’s arrows into Vorugal with Keyleth’s root-growing magic attached. Combo attacks aren’t naturally supported by DnD’s combat system, but they’re such a satisfying fusion of mechanical ingenuity and roleplay solidarity that I am forever seeking ways to crack them mechanically

And Done

Thus our heroes defeat another dragon, and pick up a spiffy new suit of armor in the bargain. These dragon fights are proving to be excellent campaign markers, each serving as a simultaneous capstone for personal arcs and embodiment of mechanical advancement. And with the production having so improved across its seasons, they’re also proving delightful visual highlights, cinematic spectacles to aspire to in my own encounter design. DnD’s turn-based combat system doesn’t naturally lend itself to inventive, collaborative acts of martial derring-do, but its rules were made to be broken, and when DM and players are working in sync, basically anything is possible. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work implementing combo attacks!

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