Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am once again beyond up to date on my outstanding reader bounties, meaning it’s a fine time to reward myself (and you all? I hope???) with a fresh reflection on my fledgling dungeon mastering career. When last we left off, the party was approaching Castle Blackmire, and my DMing prep work was already on sounder footing relative to the initial Festival of Saint Agatha. There is simply no way to avoid the gauntlet of data and experience provided by actually running sessions; even among DMs, what amounts to “sufficient preparation” can vary wildly, depending entirely on your own comfort, knack for memorization, ability to improvise, and conception of what exactly you and your players want from your campaign.
Tag Archives: Dungeons & Dragons
The Legend of Vox Machina S3 – Episode 12
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’ll be delving back into the adventures of Vox Machina and company, as they work to defeat the evil that they themselves kinda-sorta accidentally unleashed. Isn’t that always the way of it, though? You defeat one evil dragon, think you’ve done something good, and then some entirely other evil dragon decides to fuse itself with the corpse of your quarry, becoming a dread-creature of power beyond imagining. It’s enough to make a hero want to hang up their +2 sword and just take a load off, letting someone else save civilization as we know it for a change.
There’s certainly an inherent tension in the construction of a D&D campaign, a balance necessitated by the party’s simultaneous need for heroic validation and dramatic incentive. How do you as a DM keep going bigger while still validating the party’s prior process, telling them in the same breath “that was some glorious, consequential heroism you just did” and “also, things are now worse than ever before.” At what point do unintended consequences shift from feeling “earned through recklessness” to “inflicted by a hostile narrator,” and how do you manage that balance while both surprising and validating your party’s expectations? These are questions whose answers depend on a million factors, and which must be approached with a distinct tactic for any given player party – and that very variability is what makes DnD so endlessly interesting to me as a storyteller and game designer. No puzzle so compelling as one without a defined solution, so let’s get back to the board as we conclude season three of Vox Machina!
The Legend of Vox Machina S3 – Episode 11
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re returning to the tales of Vox Machina, who recently suffered a schism in the wake of their dubious victory over Thordak. Fed up with her teammates’ lack of trust in her decisions, Keyleth packed up her feathers and flew home, seeking her own methods of detecting Raishan’s location. The twins then set out to find Anna Ripley, and hopefully let Percy rest in peace. Meanwhile, Grog and Pike stayed back at the half-destroyed manor, praying for a method of raising Scanlan from his apparent coma.
It’s certainly a low point for Vox Machina, but it’s a well-placed and necessary one. The battle against Thordak focused the party’s priorities, and thereby let them forget for a time the natural divisions and divergent ambitions of their constituent members. The fact that they’re splitting now is a demonstration of how well they’ve been defined as individuals, serving as both a brief cooldown of dramatic tension and an affirmation of their personal progress. The primacy of the party is a core aspect of DnD, but if you want to build a fully furnished fantasy adventure, you must also allow the space for players to define themselves as members of a larger living world, and not just vehicles for action heroics.
Granted, Vox Machina have a natural advantage in this pursuit, given they’re all professional goddamn voice actors who are perfectly comfortable sculpting emergent disagreements amongst themselves. For my own campaign, I compromised between the primacy of the party and the texturing of individual party members by eventually making the campaign a tour of their homelands; allying the Dales required visiting our ranger’s old stomping grounds, then infiltrating the home of our nemesis brought us face-to-face with our rogue’s origins, etcetera. Vox Machina’s unique strengths as a group facilitate the starkness of this separation, but in truth every group will have its own strengths, and crafting a successful campaign is ultimately less about following one strict model than embracing what you and your players enjoy and excel at. With that obvious truth established, let’s charge back into Vox Machina!
The Legend of Vox Machina S3 – Episode 10
Hello folks, and welcome the heck back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re diving back into The Legend of Vox Machina, as our team nurses their wounds and plot their next course of action. The battle against Thordak nearly bested them, leaving earth rent and allies fallen, while offering little hope of truly ending this conflict. Kash and Percy are dead, Scanlan is unresponsive, and now Raishan possesses Thordak’s corpse, with which she is presumably getting up to even darker business than its original owner.
It’s all a gloomy, calamitous mess, which seems perfectly appropriate for this moment in the party’s journey. Traditional adventure narratives generally have their protagonists hit some “lowest point” just short of the climax, where all hope seems abandoned, darkest before the dawn, yada yada yada. However, this sort of dive in fortunes clashes with the mechanical inevitability of the party getting increasingly powerful as the journey proceeds, alongside the necessity of maintaining a degree of player agency as conflicts arise. Given all that, one way to square increasing party strength with the need for a narrative dive is to offer a false victory like this, where the achievement of the party’s goals only reveals a second, scale-shifting threat that they must rise to challenge, frequently without the aid of the companions that accompanied them in achieving their false victory. Properly seeded, such a twist respects both player agency and dramatic necessity, making it little surprise that “and now the true threat reveals itself” is such a staple of tabletop play and videogames alike.
As for my own DnD adventures, we just yesterday ran the first section of my frontier town module, and dear lord did that take a lot of out of me. My generally linear quest structure was indeed something of a crutch; with the party free to roam this town as they will, I had to spend the vast majority of the session “on” in terms of spontaneous invention and character acting, conducting emergent drama one hard-fought minute at a time. But nothing in DMing comes easy, and so far my actual players seem to be having a wonderful time lurking in saloons and fixing card games and generally making a nosy nuisance of themselves. I’ll let you know how that proceeds, but for now, we’re back to the action!
The Legend of Vox Machina S3 – Episode 9
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re returning to Vox Machina in a moment of absolute catastrophe, which seems at this point to be the default state of our luckless party. Percival has straight-up died, which I must confess I never saw coming. Character death is the most extreme dramatic tool in the entire DnD kit, and as I’ve said in the past, more often tends to be narratively destructive than useful. Sure, you can always roll a new character, but that character won’t have the same connection to the campaign as your deceased hero, and premature character death can leave someone’s personal arc awkwardly unfulfilled. These issues can be mitigated through effective DM-player discussion (or ignored, if you’re just a bunch of interchangeable murder hobos), but nonetheless make character death a naturally fraught, generally discouraged possibility.
Beyond that, the team have also at last gathered their allies and sprung their trap on Thordak, only to learn that his trap involved manipulating their trap, thanks to that dastardly double agent Raishan. As such, their hard-won allies are now cooking in dragonfire while they assess a newly sealed secret entrance, having gambled their hopes on a dragon’s loyalty. It’s a fairly sticky situation!
As for my own DnD adventures, we went through a bit of a hibernation period over the end of the year, but that left me plenty of time to construct my next major questline. Having mostly written straightforward adventures that are pretty close to linear roller coasters, I decided to push myself to write something more open-ended, which resulted in the creation of a frontier town packed with four different intersecting subquests, culminating in a Seven Samurai-style town defense bringing all those subquests’ characters back into play. As a storytelling perfectionist who overwrites everything, I fear I may have simply created a different kind of linear narrative with lots of linking steps, but I’m doing my best to facilitate more unscripted, emergent drama, and I’m eager to see how this experiment plays out. Anyway, enough about me – let’s get back to the dragon fight!
Misadventures in Dungeons & Dragons: Part Three
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today my buffer of reader bounties is so well-stocked that it would be an act of supreme hubris to write any further ahead, so I figured I’d instead check back in on my early adventures in Dungeons & Dragons, and see if we can sift some lessons out of my early mistakes. It’s been over a year since I last published one of these pieces, meaning looking back is only getting more embarrassing as I get more practice – but of course, improvement comes in much greater leaps and bounds early on, when there’s so much more you don’t know, but could easily learn through experience. It’s true of most things, but especially true for the mix of preparation, performance, and improvisation that is DnD: until you’ve actually hosted a live table session, there’s really no way of knowing precisely what you will and won’t need prepped to support you.
That’s the primary divide we’ll today be reaching, as we charge past the end of The Festival of Saint Agatha, and on into The Dreadful Tale of Castle Blackmire. Saint Agatha was my first adventure ever, save precisely one session of guest DMing our prior campaign, and thus I was basically guessing regarding the level of detail I needed to write into every quest. My first takeaway was a clear “need more prep,” meaning Blackmire would include more fully realized expository copy to more easily set scenes, and also more clear mechanical definition for conflicts I had previously, foolishly assumed I could “just figure out on the fly.” I am not a master of swift improvisation; my DnD work demands preparation to come alive, and balancing that level of preparation is something I’m still working on today.
When last we left off with this endeavor, our party of Dante the tiefling sorcerer, Arachne the half-elf/half-spider ranger, Garu the human rogue, and Dylan the crustacean paladin had successfully derailed some kind of sacrificial ritual, preventing the emergence of a dark harvest god and saving their friend Lugdug in the process. With both my main side quests for the town of Nettlebarn resolved, I figured it was time to pull the trigger on the town’s concluding drama, and get the team marching towards the city of Yhaunn, which would ultimately become their home for the trials ahead.
Misadventures in Dungeons & Dragons: Part Two
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m still in the process of unpacking the diverse refuse of my life into my new apartment, and thereby admiring the mix of grids, maps, borrowed miniatures, plastic dinosaurs, and legos with which I’ve been furnishing my playing party’s D&D campaign. That in turn got me thinking back to how all this nonsense began, with a handful of sample quests and vague aspirations of some eventual regional conflict. I wouldn’t be able to sustain my writing output this long if I weren’t translating my every idle thought into Content, so I guess what I’m saying is to take a seat folks, as we once again delve into the triumphs and tribulations of my dubious dungeon mastering!
Misadventures in Dungeons & Dragons
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m trying something a little different from our usual fare, building off my recent articles on the continuing adventures of Vox Machina. A few readers have expressed interest in reflections on my own misadventures with tabletop gaming, and so that’s what I’d like to bring you today: an earnest, undoubtedly embarrassing look into my own attempt at collaborative storytelling, complete with both the original text I was working off and my own retrospective reflections on how it all went down. If that doesn’t sound like your jam, don’t worry, I’ll be back to our regularly scheduled reviews and essays next time. But if you are interested in tabletop storytelling, or at least eager to laugh at how bad I am at it, feel free to stick around!
The Legend of Vox Machina S2 – Episode 7
Hello folks, and welcome the heck back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am eager to dive back into The Legend of Vox Machina, and follow up on the chilling conclusion of last episode. After over half a season of gradually nurturing the “Grog is wielding a cursed sword” narrative, all those bad dreams and grim portents were finally paid off, with Grog stabbing right through his best buddy Pike. And with a member of the Chroma Conclave literally breathing (acid) down their necks, Keyleth was forced to cast a hasty teleportation spell, leaving our heroes stranded across multiple realms.
All that made for some delightfully crunchy mechanical drama, and I’m eager to see how these smaller sub-parties illustrate their unique relational dynamics. Though splitting the party can be risky, Mercer’s players are clearly perfectly comfortable riffing off each other in smaller groups – and at this point, I’ve gained enough experience as a DM myself to appreciate just how much flexibility splitting the group provides, as well as its potential for letting individual players shine. Two sessions ago, my team conducted a heist that involved an interrogation on one floor, an infiltration on another, and a charismatic distraction on a third, and it was probably one of the best sessions we’ve ever had. As it turns out, structural ambition is only really limited by confidence – if you can keep the flow going and make sure everyone’s engaged, there’s no limit to what stories you can construct. I’m eager to steal more of Mercer’s excellent ideas, so let’s see what drama’s cooking in the Fey Realm!