I – In which I have delusions of grandeur.
The other day, I was having a telephone conversation with my closest friend, Darren B. I was telling him about my blog and the plans I was making for my upcoming D&D activities. Many years ago, Darren played Sir Alexian Balthafor in my Kastmaria
campaign, which is the character I used to tell the tale posted in The Sign of the Blue Dragon: A Drop In Locale for your D&D Campaign. (there’s also a follow-up, here.) He hadn’t read the piece at the time and made the remark that he occasionally considered writing some stories using his old character and Kastmaria, but, he felt kind of funny about the idea, because Kastmaria was my world. I assured him that I wouldn’t have any issues with him doing so, and he replied “Yeah, that world was really a collaborative effort on all our parts, anyway. It was almost a subconscious thing.” I knew exactly what he meant, of course, and it’s an idea I’ve been thinking about, recently.
I talk a lot about the DM/Player synergy that develops in a well played game, but, during the past ten years, or so, the aspects of that
idea which apply to world building kind of turned invisible in my mind. When 3e came out and I decided to update Kastmaria, I wanted to present an elaborately detailed campaign setting, one which would awe my players and be worthy of publication; nay, be worthy of sitting upon a shelf beside The Forgotten Realms or World of Greyhawk boxed sets. Something with the depth and breadth of Middle-Earth, but, without the fictional language. I may have been naively over ambitious, but, I wasn’t going to try to go quite that far.
Thousands of hours of actual gameplay and DM design work had developed a lot of history and depth for Kastmaria, but, there were huge chunks of it still undeveloped. Almost the entire western portion of the continent was little more than a few vague notes. The players had never decided to go there, you see.
So, feeling like a poseur as a world designer, I set about updating the world to 3e and creating an encyclopedia, gazetteer, etc. I had very few notes from the original campaign; most of it was in my head. After getting my first draft written out, I started running it, assured in the knowledge that my attention to detail and loving craftsmanship, as well as the history generated by a long-running campaign, would insure a rich, immersive experience for my players.
I had picked up a lot of bullshit ideas, in recent years, about story and the proper way to DM. I never ran a Railroad, but, I was using some ideas that didn’t facilitate Sandbox play very well, and between the approach I was taking, and the 3e oriented approach of my new playing group (after moving to a new city, I was playing with gamers I had recently met,) it was a far cry from the kind of games I used to run.
I wondered why lightening didn’t strike twice and my game didn’t have the same rich level of creativity as past campaigns.
II – A brief interlude from the past.
It was sometime around 1990 and I was sitting on Darren’s couch, jotting down some notes for our game which, would take place later that day. Darren and Joey were having a serious discussion about something D&D related. Then, Joey said something which caught my attention:
“I think James is the best DM in our group,” Joey said.
“I agree,” Darren replied.
I was a bit surprised, very flattered, and wasn’t sure that I agreed, at all. My friends were both very intelligent, creative people, and excellent DM’s themselves. It did a lot for my confidence and self-esteem, at the time.
I now know that I do disagree. Not to take anything away from myself, but, the truth is, that as a group, the six of us were able to find that special place where our combined imagination and creativity, created a synergistic experience that was more than the sum of its parts, giving birth to something magical. It is D&D at its best, and the well of magic we created was enough to sustain the campaign for over five years, during the first two or three of which, we would play between 12 and 18 hours each week. I don’t think I was a better DM than Darren or Joey, it’s just that as a DM, I had learned enough to allow room for the imagination of my players and they had learned enough to take advantage of that fact. Other factors are involved here as well. Most of us were close friends, each bringing our own unique individuality to the table. Doing something with people you love will enrich any experience.
III – Not to whine or anything, but, it’s part of the tale.
There were some other factors working against me as well. A little while after I began my 3e campaign, I developed Type II Diabetes, which went undiagnosed for a while. If you’ve ever had your blood sugar running over 400, you know how hard it can be to concentrate or think clearly in such a state. Then, the gods decided I needed another cross to bear. I developed Depression and an anxiety disorder. Getting out of bed was a herculean task; I damn sure didn’t feel like DMing. Or forcing myself to do the kind of work necessary for running a smooth 3e game. When you’re Depressed, you don’t want to do anything. Usually, I didn’t and relied on the skills I had learned over the years to run the game on the fly. Back in the day, I ran a lot of my sessions this way and often preferred DMing by the seat of my pants. But, this was not an easy task, when I could barely keep my head on straight and felt like crawling under a rock and dying. 3e is enough of a pain in the ass to run, when you’re prepared and feeling well. Sometimes, I pulled it off. Sometimes I didn’t. While my experiences DMing AD&D over the years did wonders for my self-esteem and helped form a positive aspect of my self-image, my experience while DMing 3e left me feeling as if I had lost yet another very important part of my life.
IV – Another walk down memory lane.
“The Cleric’s converted me to his religion. I worship… what’s his name again?”
His name was Kuekar. A lot of player’s have a favorite class and/or race. Joey tended to play Thieves or Dwarven Fighters. He played the best damned dwarf I’ve ever seen, and I was lucky that he was playing one in my campaign. Balston, whom I usually refer to as Balston the Usurper, Balston Wizard-slayer, or, Balston Wizard-lover, was chaotic and more than a little deranged. Brian’s Cleric served a Barbarian Warrior god, which was right up Balston’s alley. The demi-humans in the campaign worshipped different aspects of the same divinities as the humans. I had originally planned that the dwarves worshipped a version of Metrane, a LG Deity of War, Honor, Chivalry and
Protection. After Brian and Joey’s characters developed their new found attachment, and since we hadn’t yet figured out exactly where Brian’s character came from, the picture changed. Now, a group of barbarians lived in the Wolf Mountains, near Korocia, the Dwarven Kingdom. Also, worship of a dwarven aspect of Keukar was prevalent amongst the inhabitants of Korocia and the barbarians and dwarves were allied. Balston’s “getting religion” had a major impact on the game, leading to the quest for The Axe of the Dwarven Lords (which was a very different thing than the DMG version) and Balston getting involved in the Dwarven Civil War, usurping the throne in the process. Later, he decided to betray his god, which took the campaign in yet another direction.
I don’t remember just how much of the backstory the players directly suggested in the instance related above, and how much was me working off of their ideas. I always took cues from the suggestions, actions and ideas of the players, either directly, or, working their ideas into the campaign. Their imagination was of paramount importance. If there was something in particular they wanted to experience, they would tell me, and I would make sure they did. Even when they didn’t relate it directly, with every conversation, every moment playing, every round of speculation the player’s engaged in, I would glean the information I needed, to know what they wanted, what excited them, what kinds of events to throw across their path, what sort of thing they would enjoy finding when they decided to go off and explore a new section of the map. My interaction with the players was often like an endless, Random Table, giving me ideas, a springboard for my imagination, and churning fresh creativity into the game, constantly.
When the player’s would ask a question about an undeveloped area of the world, they would throw in their own ideas and speculations, usually unsure as to whether or not I had an answer yet. After a brief discussion, I would make a decision, tying everything together neatly, hopefully so, anyway. A nice, DMy way of handling it, but, I wish I would have involved them in a more active way. Maybe even giving them each a little design homework. I’m not sure how many players would want to take such an active hand in things, but, I think the idea is worth further exploration.
V – Back to more recent times.
During my 3e days, I didn’t forget everything I had learned. Also, my state of health most definitely had a deleterious effect on my game. But a campaign world with so much already decided and set in stone, restricted the feedback and interaction I feel is important to the kind of game I want to play. Even if I’m willing to make changes, and alter the landscape, so to speak, the very existence of so much detail can curtail creativity and predetermines a lot of the in-game action. With the original Kastmaria campaign, I created a map, wrote down the political divisions (for the most part, having little more detail than the name,) made up some gods, and made a town, with just enough detail of the surrounding area to get things started. And one organization, The Arcane Order. I now think I don’t quite need that much, but, I still like the idea of knowing what the world looks like.
VI – You Can’t Go Home Again.
So, my conclusion is, that Kastmaria’s days as an active campaign world are done. By using it in my 3e game, I foisted a played out world on my group, one in which too much history had gone down to let us create the experience of making it our world (I now remember my wife making the joking remark that I was handing them a Used World. I think it was a joking remark.) Not without letting go of that history and my feelings about the place, scrapping it all and going back to a village, dungeon, and surrounding wilderness. At that point, why use the same world at all? If I did what was necessary, it would, at most, only superficially resemble the previous incarnation. Way too much gameplay had taken place there, even with so much still undone, after the end of the original campaign. The world had a character all its own. The players, being new to the setting, were trapped in a world that wasn’t made for them. They could learn about it, come to appreciate it, even embrace it in the way a player might embrace Greyhawk or The Forgotten Realms. If, it was their cup of tea. Eventually. But it would never be a world made just for them, with their input, their needs in mind, their personality and gameplay helping to shape the very fundamentals.
I don’t mean to knock anyone who enjoys Greyhawk, or any other setting. Running a well loved, famous campaign world can be special for DM and Players, alike. It’s a different experience, with a different approach. Adventuring in a world that is truly alive inside the imagination is the key, here, and it’s a fantastic experience, whether it’s a place like Greyhawk, known and loved by many, or, a place the players help nurture and create themselves.
VII – So, where am I going from here?
A much more bare bones approach. I’m doing the world map. A hexmap of the starting area; a town, megadungeon, wilderness, a few other features. An idea of the nearby political divisions; a little more detailed than what the characters would know. Some basic background and history, a page worth, or so. A few gods, but, I’ll let the players design their own, if they want to. Or, import a divinity from elsewhere, if they so desire. The rest, we’ll flesh out during play. I’ll see just how far the players want to be involved in designing the setting. They can’t know everything, of course. If we’re talking, and the group thinks it’s a cool idea that a nearby country is a Magocracy, and a player wants to be a low level member of that Magical Order, we can all flesh the idea out, even going into details of the hierarchy, etc. Of course, they won’t be privy to the knowledge that the Archmage is actually a secret worshipper of Orcus, or, that certain members are plotting a coup.
You can’t go home again, but, home is where the heart is. If I invite my players to make a creative investment in the campaign, maybe we can steal some fire from heaven and feel it burn.