"What to do in the case of a TPK"

A series of recent posts (Tenkar asking whether people prefer one-sheet adventures or longer modules, Billy talking about the problem of running mysteries[1], and Beedo's review of Peter Spahn's The Stealer of Children) led me to think about *my* ideal adventure format.

On the question of length, I'm definitely in favour of adventures that can be contained in a small-ish number of pages (probably 8-16). This isn't about the length of the adventure itself, but the number of pages over which the information is spread. As a GM I find that having the material spread over 64 pages (or more) makes it difficult to master the logic of the moving parts of the adventure; what the NPCs want, what will happen if the PCs do nothing, what will happen once they intervene, how actions in one location will affect the rest of the world, and so on. Adventures are, after all, a set of [analogue] moving parts into which the PCs intervene, and given that the advantage of a role-playing game over a CRPG or a gamebook is that the PCs are granted the freedom which means that their interventions cannot be predicted or limited, the key task of a GM is having a working model of these moving parts running in his or her head.

So, my ideal adventure would set about providing the 'logic' of the adventure in a comprehensible format designed for ready reference. Indeed, the whole adventure module should be designed as a reference guide, an instruction manual even, not as an entertaining read. The first few pages should detail the adventure locations and timeline, with the next few describing the the NPCs and organisations. Everything should be in a game-able format. This should probably be in the form of bullet points, listing key words and phrases that enable the GM to quickly grasp things such:

• Physical Description
• Characterful Phrases
• Personality 
• Motivations
• Relationships

As well as the likely actions / responses of the NPCs or organisations (or any other aspect of the world) to PC action. PCs do not take the optimum path through the adventure. In my ideal adventure, the writer should not encourage the GM to forbid PC action, or render player choice meaningless. So many (very good[2]) adventures contain lines such as "make sure that the PCs spend the night in the inn. If the PCs try to leave, have X happen. If they persist, have Y happen". The world should shift in response to PC actions, but in the way that a world would, not to render PC action irrelevant. 

Instead of lines such as these, by presenting the elements of the adventure as a series of moving parts, not as a path or as a series of scenes, and by presenting such information in a readily 'game-able' manner, the GM can quickly build the model of the adventure in his or her mind and by having such a model, accommodate player choice and PC action. 

Of course, some of these actions will produce a 'pathetic' outcome - the PCs will fail to solve the mystery, or will accidentally-on-purpose kill the main suspect within the first few minutes, or will find some way to otherwise disconnect the moving parts of the adventure. And that is fine, as you have a world so rich in adventure that the next adventure hook is right around the corner. Don't you?

And that is the other thing that would be an integral part of my ideal adventure format, advice on what to do when the PCs fail, lose interest, chase a red herring, or suffer a Total Party Kill. The PCs should be allowed to fail, but the world should keep moving. And the way that is might keep moving, and producing adventure, should be explicitly labelled - why not have a section titled "What to do in the case of a TPK"? My ideal adventure format is more 8-16 page 'instruction manual' than 64-128 page 'fantasy encyclopedia' [3].

[1] Zak S described what appears to be a very good approach to running mysteries that doesn't rely on 'PCs give up, go raid dungeon (after burning down the town)': Hunter/Hunted.

[2] Quite a lot of perfectly good adventures begin with several 'passages' of play in which player choice is severely restricted, all in order to get the PCs in the right situation for the adventure proper to begin. If this is necessary, play should not begin until the choices of the players are meaningful. In my experience as a player, when the opening passages of play are obvious railroads I lose confidence in the capacity of the adventure to allow me to make meaningful choices for my character/s. If it is absolutely necessary, begin in media res rather than engage in false 'play'. 

[3] Lots of my favourite adventures are in no way presented in 'my ideal adventure format'. They are my favourites in spite of this, though, and when I prepare for a game using these adventures I find myself either working several times as hard as I ought to have to master the 'working parts', or rewriting the adventure in order to ensure that I have made the ways in which the parts fit together explicit.

First Options

So, the plan is that by presenting the players with, at first, a small number of choices for their characters, we will slowly build the world through play. As we build a common understanding of the people, factions, locations, and logic of this world, the players will, naturally enough, be able to see a wider range of possibilities for action. Unfortunately, I've been very busy lately, so these three adventure seeds have been taken from published adventures (no point having a couple of cupboards of stuff if you're not going to use it). Names have barely been changed, if at all, but what actually happen might vary. *Will* vary, if for nothing else that all three were written for quite different systems. Here's what I presented to the players: 

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With your last silvers, you have formed the Respectful Companye of Gentlemen Adventurers. While dossing about in the various dives that serve as social clubs and job centres for 'resting' 'professional' adventurers, you hear a variety of rumours.

A notice is pinned to the board in the Copper Bottom Inn in Docktown. It reads, 'Capable persons required to protect valuables. Well paid, food and board supplied. Contact Utho the Landlord.' Asking a few questions, you find the notorious inventor Wolfgang van der Kugel (great-grandson of Wilhelm van der Kugel, pirate/engineer and builder of the harbour barrage) is being harassed by extortionists, and in keen to employ 'adventurers' to put an end to this problem. He is offering 100 silver pieces per adventurer, payable when the problem is solved.

Widow Thanato, of Docktown, is complaining of demons in her house. She insists that something is eating the contents of her root cellar. She says that she can hear it moving about and growling at night. Widow Thanato is poor – there is no reward for dealing with her problem – but she is a popular, well-known figure in Docktown. And she is a close friend of your landlady, the Spinster Grunhilde.

Sariedo, a merchant of some repute, is known to be looking for adventurers. He is offering a large amount, 500 silver pieces per person, for a party to recover an item from the Belch for him. He warns repeatedly of the risks that adventurers might face, but always jingles his purse as he speaks of danger. When pressed, he tells more; he wants the party to recover a fist-sized amber gem that he believes is hidden in the cellars beneath the ruined storehouses in the Monastery of Righteous Revelation. He offers to pay 250 silver pieces to the party up front, and the adventurers can keep anything else they find. 

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My players, however, appear to lack the mercenary instinct. Of the four, two have so far replied - the barbarian acrobat (played by S) and the warrrior from the Contemplative Empire of the Egg (played by A) - and both have opted to help the widow.