The Fun Bits of RPGs
Someone from the internet once told me that Gary Gygax said nobody would buy adventure modules, and I believe them. Gygax’ objected that “nobody wants someone else to do their imagining for them”. Today I am your someone from the internet, and you can believe me when I say there’s a lot more that can go into GMing than needs to go into GMing. It’s a hobby with a lot of hats, even if you’ve never painted a miniature, done a single funny voice or written a blog post (which has become a growing necessity, if the internet is to be believed). Best not to wear hats which don’t fit right.
One such blogger enjoys creating off-the-cuff descriptions; you can tell because they tell people that boxtext is bad. The angry blogger quotes some classic boxtext from an adventure module written by Gygax, tells us that this particular boxtext is good insofar as boxtext goes, then gives an excellent description of boxtext:
[Boxtext] saves the Game Master the trouble of generating scene-setting narration on the fly and ensures the players get all the information they need about what their characters see, hear, perceive, and know. Basically, it’s idiot-proofing. Game Masters who struggle to paint good word pictures or who tend to forget to describe important details can’t ruin the scene by failing to set it right.
This sounds good to me, but Angry has problems. The first part of the ‘problem’ is:
It’s not like the module writer can help with any of the other boxes [which Game Masters manage].
Perhaps module writers could help out more, by adding some plot and statblocks for the non-player characters, instead of writing modules with nothing but boxtext? But first, Angry’s main problem with boxtext:
Well, that’s the other part of the problem. Scene-setting is the biggest, heaviest, strongest box. Consequently, it’s the one that has to sit at the bottom of the pile. It’s foundational.
Cutting to the points:
- Reading aloud doesn’t engage the brain quite like actively envisioning a scene.
- The boxtext might have to be changed to fit what has occurred (which will demand adjusting the text by actively envisioning the scene).
- Game Masters should learn to narrate by live narration, always; prepared practice helps nobody.
- Reading aloud bores people.
The first three points are true but pointless. Game Masters feel full brain-engagement all the time, so they should take every bit of help they can get. If a Game Master burns out too soon, they’ll slow down then start muttering to themselves while leafing through the various indices spread around them.
Reading like this might ‘dull the mind’, just as people who own books don’t have quite the fantabulous memory that they might have if only they’d memorized those books. Perhaps Gygax had it right - perhaps we should do away with module writers and remind everyone that real Game Masters compose their fantastic worlds with the power of the mind alone. Proper Game Masters should compose and memorize full worlds while live narrating them, and keeping them consistent. Consistency is what separates us from the crazy people who pester crowds by yelling that Jesus loves everyone except gay people.1
Angry is not alone in feeling this way. Boxtext has become dreadfully unfashionable with men from the internet, perhaps because of the first three points above, perhaps.
Angry’s last point is false. People often enjoy hearing others reading aloud, e.g. with an audio book.
Presumably people write this kind of thing because of their passion and need to spread the joy. So I won’t argue with Angry’s points, but I’ll happily display my boxtext-crutches. I write lots of boxtext. I even roll random encounters before a session and write boxtext next to it.
Here’s the random encounter roll:
- Weather: mist
- Encounter: 2 griffins
And the boxtext I add:
This morning brings a milky-white world. Taller people can see a little farther than shorter people, but nobody sees well.
I can read this sentence faster than I can roll dice while checking a chart, and I can read fast enough that I don’t need to look at the page more than a glance. The result isn’t reading aloud, it looks just like real GMing.
The next one has three sentences:
- Weather: rain
- Encounter: 60 auroch
Rain turns the ground to mince. Walking requires focus. But the wagons roll on, and the beasts seem undisturbed by the rain, but keep looking to their right.
The players might investigate. They might make kill a couple of bulls and sell the bodies in the nearest bailey. They might sneak around the back of the herd, cause a stampede, and destroy every wagon in their caravan. Or they might move on quietly…
The boxtext helps me rattle off a load of encounters along a five-day journey, so the world has life supported by thought-out descriptions without waiting for the dice-thunk and chart-consultations.
And for my last crutch, I present this chonky box from the Missions in Maitavale Chronicle.
The player characters are travelling through a forest, without a path
You can always tell elven music by a sort of off-beat, where the beat goes wrong in a regular way. This one is soft and high-pitched, and interrupted by the sound of snapping twigs. More crackles come from in front. The setting Sun casts a red shimmer over the armoured bodies of a dozen man-sized black-clad, crawling creatures. The trees drop a small platoon of arachnids, and in a moment a hundred eyes are calculating how you taste.
On a nearby branch a little gnome sits, rhythmically giggling to himself without even looking at you.
This box sets the scene for a number of facts:
- An old elf/dryad/whatever has three giant spiders as pets.
- She casts an illusion of 27 more giant spiders, to let the real ones hide among the illusions.
- The illusions are mediocre.
- The elf also casts an illusion of a giggling gnome in a tree, hoping to put the player characters off-guard.
- The players should receive some hints about what’s real (elven song-spells and branches cracking under many legs) and what’s not real (the gnome and most giant spiders).
While the player characters get a dice-roll to spot the illusions, I try to always smuggle a hint into the description for the players.
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‘But they have a book’, you might be yell-thinking at your phone, ‘so that’s not similar to a Platonic Game Master’. But you are wrong, because they memorize the book without ever reading it. ↩︎