Ben Morgan (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ad1066) wrote,@ 2004-04-15 06:37:00 |
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Game stuff: Spectacular use of Director Stance
Just taking a moment to read posts on The Forge, and a memory popped in my head.
This was about a year and a half ago or so, and I was fiending for a game (much like I am now). One group I hooked up with for a short bit played D&D pretty much exclusively.
So I created Kerrick, the Half-Elf Rogue. Kerrick was not a thief, and would take great offense on the occasions he was dismissed as such. No, Kerrick was an entrepreneur, a businessman, and snakeoil salesman. Sure, sometimes his suppliers were less than on-the-level about where they got their goods, but it was none of his business if it fell off the back of a cart. Hey, it's not like he stole it, so he couldn't reasonably be held responsible, right? Kerrick always said he was best at keeping an eye out for the two kinds of people in this world - those who have something, and those who want something - and bringing them together, in a very real and legally binding sense.
Gamewise, Kerrick really kinda needed to start at 4th or 5th level to allow me to properly play the character I had envisioned. For one thing, my vision of the character had included a pre-existing impressive network of contacts. For another, he was supposed to be a crack shot with a hand crossbow. But he started, like EVERY other D&D character ever seems to, at level 1 (which is really more appropiate for Kerrick back when he was in his early teens, living on the streets, and pickpocketing local merchants).
Also, my thematic intentions for this character were that he was going to be a Han Solo kind of guy. He had a checkered past, and wasn't above bending the law to get done what he needed to do. But something (read: game plot) was going to happen, that would cause him to stand up and take notice, and in a pivotal moment, he was going to be faced with a serious moral decision, and for the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing. Cliche, sure, but cliches are cliches for a reason. They work.
But I digress.
Kerrick hooked up with a couple of reprobates (read: PCs) in the local tavern (as is wont to happen in a D&D game), and found himself escorting a caravan to a town up north of the larger city in which he resided. Once we got under way, the DM made several attempts to inject some action into the scenario, which were roundly ignored by all - the others because of their Abused Player Syndrome survival instincts, and me simply because it didn't make sense to investigate a mysterious hole in the ground when I have pressing business in the next town. I felt bad about that, so I decided to help.
At some point, the suggestion was made that someone should scout on ahead. I volunteered, and disappeared over the next hill for a bit, while the other characters bickered over something or other; Kerrick made a mental note to not get roped into any other nonsense by these clowns. The only reason he was going with the caravan was because it was safer than going to the next town alone.
I come back not too long after, and they ask for my report. I looked at the DM and asked, "Is it okay if I have something in mind?" He didn't think to ask what that might be, instead he just said yes. I smiled a big huge toothy grin.
"We might want to get off the road, there's 40 kobolds marching this way. We've got about ten minutes."
Jaws dropped all around the table.
I give the DM credit: he was in no way shape or form accustomed to this sort of player power, but he took it and ran with it, all the way to the endzone. He tossed his notes away for the rest of the session, and winged a whole three-hour subplot involving a gathering kobold army that had been conducting raids on local villages for supplies.
Now, when I tell my players that it's okay for them to throw things in every once in a while, that's a concrete example of exactly what I'm looking for.
-- Ben
Just taking a moment to read posts on The Forge, and a memory popped in my head.
This was about a year and a half ago or so, and I was fiending for a game (much like I am now). One group I hooked up with for a short bit played D&D pretty much exclusively.
So I created Kerrick, the Half-Elf Rogue. Kerrick was not a thief, and would take great offense on the occasions he was dismissed as such. No, Kerrick was an entrepreneur, a businessman, and snakeoil salesman. Sure, sometimes his suppliers were less than on-the-level about where they got their goods, but it was none of his business if it fell off the back of a cart. Hey, it's not like he stole it, so he couldn't reasonably be held responsible, right? Kerrick always said he was best at keeping an eye out for the two kinds of people in this world - those who have something, and those who want something - and bringing them together, in a very real and legally binding sense.
Gamewise, Kerrick really kinda needed to start at 4th or 5th level to allow me to properly play the character I had envisioned. For one thing, my vision of the character had included a pre-existing impressive network of contacts. For another, he was supposed to be a crack shot with a hand crossbow. But he started, like EVERY other D&D character ever seems to, at level 1 (which is really more appropiate for Kerrick back when he was in his early teens, living on the streets, and pickpocketing local merchants).
Also, my thematic intentions for this character were that he was going to be a Han Solo kind of guy. He had a checkered past, and wasn't above bending the law to get done what he needed to do. But something (read: game plot) was going to happen, that would cause him to stand up and take notice, and in a pivotal moment, he was going to be faced with a serious moral decision, and for the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing. Cliche, sure, but cliches are cliches for a reason. They work.
But I digress.
Kerrick hooked up with a couple of reprobates (read: PCs) in the local tavern (as is wont to happen in a D&D game), and found himself escorting a caravan to a town up north of the larger city in which he resided. Once we got under way, the DM made several attempts to inject some action into the scenario, which were roundly ignored by all - the others because of their Abused Player Syndrome survival instincts, and me simply because it didn't make sense to investigate a mysterious hole in the ground when I have pressing business in the next town. I felt bad about that, so I decided to help.
At some point, the suggestion was made that someone should scout on ahead. I volunteered, and disappeared over the next hill for a bit, while the other characters bickered over something or other; Kerrick made a mental note to not get roped into any other nonsense by these clowns. The only reason he was going with the caravan was because it was safer than going to the next town alone.
I come back not too long after, and they ask for my report. I looked at the DM and asked, "Is it okay if I have something in mind?" He didn't think to ask what that might be, instead he just said yes. I smiled a big huge toothy grin.
"We might want to get off the road, there's 40 kobolds marching this way. We've got about ten minutes."
Jaws dropped all around the table.
I give the DM credit: he was in no way shape or form accustomed to this sort of player power, but he took it and ran with it, all the way to the endzone. He tossed his notes away for the rest of the session, and winged a whole three-hour subplot involving a gathering kobold army that had been conducting raids on local villages for supplies.
Now, when I tell my players that it's okay for them to throw things in every once in a while, that's a concrete example of exactly what I'm looking for.
-- Ben
