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Another lesson in True Mechanical Managery. This one’s about setting a policy for creating new characters in the middle of the game to replace dead characters, retired characters, or to let new players join the game.
In our ongoing discussion about Scenarios players can win and lose, we need to talk about how players often see Goals different from Scenario Designers and why that’s not true and you’re stupid for thinking it is.
Now that you know what Winning and Losing are, actually, correctly, and for reals, I can tell you how gameplay is both continuous and discrete and what the Quest Structure really, truly is.
Last time, I told all y’all you need a more complete, more nuanced understanding of the concepts of Winning and Losing. This time, I’ll give you that understanding. Because I’m awesome.
It’s time to start a whole new True Scenario Designery module. This one’s not about Winning and Losing, but that’s where we’re starting, and boy is that a messy place to start.
It’s time to finish the lesson on Character Death Policies by telling you how to write your own damned policy and not telling you to just steal mine.
We’re taking a short, one-lesson break from the syllabus to talk about your Character Switching Policy and also to talk about making your decisions based on actual frigging reality.
Let’s take a moment here to consider, again, why we’re doing this whole True Scenario Designery thing. Because, listen maties, there be rough waters ahead.
Today, I’m continuing the discussion about game mechanics that wreck campaigns unless you’ve got a plan for them before they come up. Today’s mechanic: Character Death.
Let’s see if I can’t help tie together the last three lessons of random, conceptual, game design bullshit by showing you how a True Scenario Designer comes up with a Design Statement.
It’s time I have a little bit of an intervention because, frankly, some of y’all are starting to scare me with your approach to this whole True Campaign Managery thing.
In this follow-up on Experience and Advancement Systems, I teach you how True Campaign Managers actually evaluate such systems and set a policy that works for their campaign. It’s easier — and harder — than you might think.
When True Campaign Managers decide how to practically implement their game system’s Experience and Advancement System, they’ve got to know what the system’s for and what’s at stake if they implement it wrong. That’s what this half-a-lesson is all about.
It’s time to set up a new True Campaign Managery lesson module. Over the next several lessons, I plan to teach you how to properly manage your game’s mechanics. But first, I’ve got to teach you what that means.
In this last of three parts, I wrap up my introduction to basic, conceptual game design. Now, maybe we can move on to actually designing a Scenario or something. That is if you dunderheads actually grok this crap.
It’s time for the second in this three-part whirlwind tour of what True Scenario Designers know about what makes games games. And this really is all about what makes games games.
The topic so nice, I wrote about it twice. This is the follow up to that first lesson about yelling at your friends for their crappy attendance to your pretend elf game.
It’s time for the first of three hodgepodges of game design concepts that together make a sort-of foundation for this whole True Scenario Design thing.
The Scenario Design cat is out of the bag and clawing up the furniture. Which means it’s time for a real True Scenario Designery introduction. And this is it.
I’ve made a terrible decision. But I can’t tell you what it is until I defend my stance on worlds that level with the characters and get you to sing the game design anthem with me.
True Campaign Managery lesson time! Again. In this lesson, I’m going to teach all y’all how to host a meeting. Any meeting at all. Including game sessions. Which are meetings.
In the second of two office-hours discussions, I rant about what it means to actually exercise good judgment and how it’s got nothing to do with building checklists or worrying about hypotheticals.
We need to have a frank, open, and difficult discussions about why I keep calling Game Consent Surveys horseshit. Or rather, I need to explain and you need to shut up and listen.
In this True Campaign Managery lesson, I explore the idea of a Session Zero and whether it’s worth hosting one? Spoiler alert: usually no.
Let’s keep the Not-Character-Arc Momentum going. Here’s my super secret recipe for executing an absolutely terrible Personal Character Quest Campaign in the least terrible way possible.
This isn’t a Feature about incorporating Character Arcs into tabletop roleplaying games. That would be interesting. This is a boring-ass Feature about players picking their own stupid character quests. Which is a terrible idea.
Now that you’ve decided to start a campaign and ignore your players’ input — you master of selfishness you — it’s time to start having visions.
Time for a little digression on the three kinds of Structure. Just don’t expect a useful lesson.
You can’t run a campaign without starting a campaign. And you can’t start a campaign without making ten thousand choices. And of all those choices, it’s the second one that’ll get you.
You can’t manage a social gaming club that provides your friends with hours of fun unless you’re willing to be a selfish prick. Trust me; if there’s one thing I know, it’s being a selfish prick.