narrative space
Feb. 18th, 2010 01:08 pmUsing my gaming icon for this post, for reasons that will shortly become obvious, but this is as much about writing as RPGs.
Tonight -- presuming none of my players manage to contract ebola or something in the next eight hours -- I'll start running Once Upon a Time in the West, my oh-so-cleverly titled frontier Scion game. This is the second tabletop game I've run, with Memento being the first. (No, I don't expect this one to turn into a novel, much less a series. Then again, I didn't expect it with Memento, either. But this one will be more heavily based on game materials, so I'd say it's unlikely.) As a result, I've been thinking about games and how I plot them.
One of the hardest parts of running a game is getting it started. Players usually create their own characters, so now you have this wacky and disparate group of personalities, and it's up to you, the game master, to figure out how to wrangle them all into the plot. The stereotypical D&D approach -- which has the merit of both simplicity and silly tradition -- is "you're all sitting in the same tavern when somebody comes running in shouting, 'Orcs are attacking the caravan!'" Or you can try the mystical approach: some crazy old man spouting prophecy that insists Fate wants the player-characters to work together. Both of these, though, are thin disguises for the Hand of the GM coming down and shoving everybody into position. As such, I find myself reluctant to use it. Sure, anything I do will ultimately be the Hand of the GM, but I want to make it feel as natural as possible. So instead of shoving, I'm laying little trails of breadcrumbs, tailoring each one to the individual character, and trusting that my players will obligingly follow the paths toward each other.
There's a fine balance between that and "railroading," which (for those of you unfamiliar with gaming jargon) is when the GM has a predetermined idea of what things the characters should do, in what order, by what means, and resists any attempt on the part of the players to diverge from the tracks. Basically, you want it to stay cooperative. I took the same approach to starting Memento, laying breadcrumbs to lead the PCs toward one another, and not only did my players cooperate, they charged toward each other with rather more gusto than I'd anticipated. Once they were together, then we could open things up and let them decide which direction to go.
The opening challenge is different in writing, even when you're working with multiple pov characters or protagonists. The same mind has created all of the characters, so it's easier to build in reasons why they would encounter and work with one another. And since that one mind is making all the decisions, railroading isn't an issue; so long as you don't force your hero into uncharacteristic actions for the sake of your plot, nobody cares if his solution to the problem is the one you wanted him to use. In fact, that's generally how it works.
But once you have your cast together . . . then I think gaming provides an interesting perspective on writing, when it comes to creating your plot.
I think I borrowed the term "narrative space" from
ancientwisdom, who headed up the Changeling LARP I played in for many years. It applies particularly well to LARPs; a tabletop game generally has somewhere between three and six players, but a live-action game has trouble surviving at less than a dozen, and may go to a hundred or more. You can't design specific plot paths for that many people; it's unmanageable. What you can do is create narrative space for them.
It's a form of worldbuilding, almost. Here are the people in this narrative; here are the things they want, the things they're willing to do, the resources they can offer and the dangers they present. Here are conflicts, which the characters -- PCs or protagonists -- might wander into, witting or unwitting. It's like presenting your D&D adventuring party with a map, and asking them where they want to go, while you the GM have at least a basic sense of what they'll find no matter where they go. And what they'll find is something that can generate plot.
This is the approach that's been informing the Onyx Court books, when I remember (and can muster the will) to do it. Narrative space, admittedly, is labor-intensive to build: you put all this effort into knowing what's out there, and then some of it may never get used. (You must resist the urge to shove it all in there, just because you came up with it.) There's a couple passing references in Deeds of Men and In Ashes Lie to how the Cour du Lys is pissed at the Onyx Court; that's a bit of narrative space I built off some of the events of Midnight Never Come, which has never come into play in the subsequent stories. But the details I worked out for the Irish and Scottish faerie courts did get used, often in ways I didn't anticipate when I first had the ideas.
This does two things. First of all, it creates a sense of realism. The author isn't just laying track six yards ahead of the narrative train; the world goes beyond the boundaries of the page. Second, and more importantly from the plotting perspective, it can save you work (or at least headaches) on the back end, when it comes time to actually plot the story.
Because if you find yourself needing a plot complication, or a bit of timely assistance for your heroes when they're faced with a challenge they can't defeat, you aren't starting from a dead halt. To switch metaphors for a moment, it's like having a well-stocked fridge: when you're hungry and need food NOW, it's a relief to know you don't have to get in the car and drive to the grocery store before you can feed yourself. Instead you can survey your options, and choose the one you like best. Odds are much improved that you might even put together a well-balanced meal, rather than making do with waffles for dinner because that's all you have on hand.
(Er, not that I've ever done that. Several times.)
I try to approach my GMing in this fashion, because it avoids railroading. I know what kinds of resources are available to the PCs, and what kinds of dangers wait down various paths; and if they go for some option I never thought of (which players are notorious for doing), it's easier for me to adapt from the material already on hand. But I'm also trying to learn to write in this fashion. It's a lot of work on the front end, but once I'm eyeball-deep in the plot, it's a profound relief to be able to stretch out my hand and have a suitable plot development fall into it, without me having to pace and pull on my hair and stare at the walls wondering desperately what could prevent my characters from doing the thing I need them not to do.
Speaking from experience: if you're writing (or running) a political plot, this is especially useful. Because those should have lots of different players and factions, all working toward their own goals, while your characters try to forge a path through that tangle.
I'd be curious to know if other people, be they writers or GMs, conceive of this in the same way. Or if you have different approaches that you prefer. Especially if you're the sort of writer who outlines, instead of plotting as you go: do you think up this kind of material in advance, then use it to build your plot, or do you build the material in response to your plot structure?
Tonight -- presuming none of my players manage to contract ebola or something in the next eight hours -- I'll start running Once Upon a Time in the West, my oh-so-cleverly titled frontier Scion game. This is the second tabletop game I've run, with Memento being the first. (No, I don't expect this one to turn into a novel, much less a series. Then again, I didn't expect it with Memento, either. But this one will be more heavily based on game materials, so I'd say it's unlikely.) As a result, I've been thinking about games and how I plot them.
One of the hardest parts of running a game is getting it started. Players usually create their own characters, so now you have this wacky and disparate group of personalities, and it's up to you, the game master, to figure out how to wrangle them all into the plot. The stereotypical D&D approach -- which has the merit of both simplicity and silly tradition -- is "you're all sitting in the same tavern when somebody comes running in shouting, 'Orcs are attacking the caravan!'" Or you can try the mystical approach: some crazy old man spouting prophecy that insists Fate wants the player-characters to work together. Both of these, though, are thin disguises for the Hand of the GM coming down and shoving everybody into position. As such, I find myself reluctant to use it. Sure, anything I do will ultimately be the Hand of the GM, but I want to make it feel as natural as possible. So instead of shoving, I'm laying little trails of breadcrumbs, tailoring each one to the individual character, and trusting that my players will obligingly follow the paths toward each other.
There's a fine balance between that and "railroading," which (for those of you unfamiliar with gaming jargon) is when the GM has a predetermined idea of what things the characters should do, in what order, by what means, and resists any attempt on the part of the players to diverge from the tracks. Basically, you want it to stay cooperative. I took the same approach to starting Memento, laying breadcrumbs to lead the PCs toward one another, and not only did my players cooperate, they charged toward each other with rather more gusto than I'd anticipated. Once they were together, then we could open things up and let them decide which direction to go.
The opening challenge is different in writing, even when you're working with multiple pov characters or protagonists. The same mind has created all of the characters, so it's easier to build in reasons why they would encounter and work with one another. And since that one mind is making all the decisions, railroading isn't an issue; so long as you don't force your hero into uncharacteristic actions for the sake of your plot, nobody cares if his solution to the problem is the one you wanted him to use. In fact, that's generally how it works.
But once you have your cast together . . . then I think gaming provides an interesting perspective on writing, when it comes to creating your plot.
I think I borrowed the term "narrative space" from
It's a form of worldbuilding, almost. Here are the people in this narrative; here are the things they want, the things they're willing to do, the resources they can offer and the dangers they present. Here are conflicts, which the characters -- PCs or protagonists -- might wander into, witting or unwitting. It's like presenting your D&D adventuring party with a map, and asking them where they want to go, while you the GM have at least a basic sense of what they'll find no matter where they go. And what they'll find is something that can generate plot.
This is the approach that's been informing the Onyx Court books, when I remember (and can muster the will) to do it. Narrative space, admittedly, is labor-intensive to build: you put all this effort into knowing what's out there, and then some of it may never get used. (You must resist the urge to shove it all in there, just because you came up with it.) There's a couple passing references in Deeds of Men and In Ashes Lie to how the Cour du Lys is pissed at the Onyx Court; that's a bit of narrative space I built off some of the events of Midnight Never Come, which has never come into play in the subsequent stories. But the details I worked out for the Irish and Scottish faerie courts did get used, often in ways I didn't anticipate when I first had the ideas.
This does two things. First of all, it creates a sense of realism. The author isn't just laying track six yards ahead of the narrative train; the world goes beyond the boundaries of the page. Second, and more importantly from the plotting perspective, it can save you work (or at least headaches) on the back end, when it comes time to actually plot the story.
Because if you find yourself needing a plot complication, or a bit of timely assistance for your heroes when they're faced with a challenge they can't defeat, you aren't starting from a dead halt. To switch metaphors for a moment, it's like having a well-stocked fridge: when you're hungry and need food NOW, it's a relief to know you don't have to get in the car and drive to the grocery store before you can feed yourself. Instead you can survey your options, and choose the one you like best. Odds are much improved that you might even put together a well-balanced meal, rather than making do with waffles for dinner because that's all you have on hand.
(Er, not that I've ever done that. Several times.)
I try to approach my GMing in this fashion, because it avoids railroading. I know what kinds of resources are available to the PCs, and what kinds of dangers wait down various paths; and if they go for some option I never thought of (which players are notorious for doing), it's easier for me to adapt from the material already on hand. But I'm also trying to learn to write in this fashion. It's a lot of work on the front end, but once I'm eyeball-deep in the plot, it's a profound relief to be able to stretch out my hand and have a suitable plot development fall into it, without me having to pace and pull on my hair and stare at the walls wondering desperately what could prevent my characters from doing the thing I need them not to do.
Speaking from experience: if you're writing (or running) a political plot, this is especially useful. Because those should have lots of different players and factions, all working toward their own goals, while your characters try to forge a path through that tangle.
I'd be curious to know if other people, be they writers or GMs, conceive of this in the same way. Or if you have different approaches that you prefer. Especially if you're the sort of writer who outlines, instead of plotting as you go: do you think up this kind of material in advance, then use it to build your plot, or do you build the material in response to your plot structure?
no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:34 pm (UTC)By the way, I love how you approach problems as a GM and am now even more annoyed that you no longer live in Boston, becuase I would be bribing you with anything under the sun to play in your games!
no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 07:51 pm (UTC)I'm actually starting the PCs in San Francisco, with a dead body and a stolen cargo. Didn't quite manage to draw them into a single group in the first session, but they're in two parties at the moment, and will meet up soon enough.
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Date: 2010-02-18 09:54 pm (UTC)As to your question...I certainly try to do it this way, but I don't always succeed. I have the idea of narrative space from the same source as you, of course, but my problem is that I'll be halfway through something when I suddenly think of a brand new player who really should have been doing X, Y, and Z all along. Needless to say, this causes me problems. :)
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Date: 2010-02-19 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 10:05 pm (UTC)The big difference to me is the impact players can have on plot. They come up with avenues and ideas that I haven't thought of, they develop quirks and form relationships with npcs in all sorts of ways that tend to both thicken the world and (sometimes) baffle the ref. And you have to let them, and think on your feet, even if it causes brain-ache. Mostly it turns out good, often it's interesting, and sometimes it's howlingly funny. That happens less in writing, I'm (mostly) relieved to say.
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Date: 2010-02-19 08:20 pm (UTC)As for the well-defined worlds -- I'm trying to strike a happy balance with that for this game. It's the nineteenth-century Old West, but (for reasons of my own) I encouraged my players to go for diversity in their characters; the result is that out of five, there's only one non-minority (a white male). The others are Chinese, Mexican, a white woman doctor, and an Irishman (who doesn't count as white for the period). As a result, it didn't really work to say they all knew each other ahead of time; I'm having to create reasons for them to work together. Which is a problem I knew I was making for myself, but hey.
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Date: 2010-02-20 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-20 07:06 pm (UTC)[notes on stuff that may or may not happen]
[chunk of prose]
[more notes]
[another chunk of prose]
[another chunk of prose that goes after the previous one but not immediately after]
[more notes]
[notes about factions, calendars, items of historical relevance, etc.]
And the two kinds of notes may not be as well separated as they are here, especially if something wants explaining: it may go:
INTRODUCE FACTION A FIRST
[chunk of prose]
SPLINTER GROUP B DOES THEIR THING
[notes on splinter group B]
[chunk of prose]
I yell at myself with some of the plot stuff, especially if I think that I may not notice, scrolling through, that there is something I wanted to remember there. Notes rarely get yelling.
As the book progresses, the notes that do not get directly incorporated into the book get moved into a separate file--usually about 10-30K into the book I will do this, less for a YA. The book is still "beginning" at that point, but it's clear that it is a book, and it's starting to get unwieldy to deal with the thing all in one file, and it's much more useful to be able to tab back and forth.
But in terms of political factions in particular, that comes out of relationship, which is what I write from. In What We Did to Save the Kingdom, for example, some of the central relationships I knew about earliest were Yaritte and Linne, Yaritte and Agithe, and Yaritte and the king. Each of those dictated the existence of various other political forces just by the shape of them. Linne would not relate to Yaritte as she does if not for her awful aunt and her awful aunt's faction; if her awful aunt's faction was all the opposition there was, Yaritte's relationship with Agithe would be completely different, and if those two factions were all there was, the king would be up the proverbial creek in a different way from the way in which he's actually up the proverbial creek. (I hope this makes sense even when people have no idea who these characters are.)
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Date: 2010-02-18 10:25 pm (UTC)And, yeah, I love throwing in those little details about the world in my writing. It gives a sort of effect that this is a real world, and things happen outside of the viewpoints of the narrators (and that can lead to story seeds, and look like foreshadowing even when it's just 'huh, I can use that' later.)
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Date: 2010-02-18 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-20 01:58 am (UTC)* I played Scion once. Or tried -- I think we got through one character's intro before the game fell apart, but I still have my sheet.
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Date: 2010-02-18 11:44 pm (UTC)Character group... probably something to be said for shared character building, and having the players deliberately make ties to each other's PC. Of course, some games get this more naturally: the wizards of an Ars Magica covenant, the members of an SG-1 or any other mission team[1], a Dragon-Blooded family or sworn brotherhood.
[1] I've seen suggestions for earlier versions of that. A "lance": knight, squire, archers, pages. Or Judge Dee; magistrate and helpers. Knight or magistrate might or might not be a GMPC, depending.
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Date: 2010-02-19 08:26 pm (UTC)Some game types lend themselves much better to pre-organized groups. Scion doesn't build in much at all toward that end, though; the books don't even give much in the way of suggestions as to how a Band comes together. Given that their sample characters include one from each original pantheon, it might have been nice to see a section on why all these different people decide to work toward the same goal.
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Date: 2010-02-19 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 09:37 pm (UTC)I admit that things like the nWoD sourcebook on Boston don't interest me a great deal, because it's usually too specific for my tastes. But books that provide me with fodder for my own ideas? Those are excellent. In fact, I think it would be fair to point at that as exactly the sort of thing I was talking about in this post: narrative space that can be used to generate conflict and plot.
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Date: 2010-02-19 12:46 am (UTC)For keeping the campaign going, I started with my primary villain - figured out his goals and how he planned to accomplish them. Then I locked him in a magic mirror and stranded it on the burned out husk of a different world. Then I gave the party a threat to their village, one they had to go searching for an answer to. As they finished each story, I always had two or three hooks for them to choose from and let them decide which to pursue. Then, between sessions, I scrambled to flesh out that hook into a new story. Eventually, resolving the threat brought them into contact with the mirror my villain was stuck in and, naturally, they let him out, starting the second phase of the campaign.
Of course, to do that at all, I had to build the world first and find the plot from there. Lots of work on the front end, but it paid off over the five or six years we played. (We really only stalled out because one of the key players moved out of town and can only get back on rare occasions.)
no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 07:50 am (UTC)That being said, I've been writing something for the past ten years and for whatever reason, years ago made the protagonist my primary role play character. As such, I'm incorporating some elements from the role play into the story (and have permission from the main person I was playing with). There are issues because of the nature of the role play, kinks I'm still working out.
With my other stories, one of them I've no idea where I was going with it, and another I'm re-writing parts. For the most part though, an idea forms and from there I just go with it. If I happen to think of a plot point I tend to write it down and work it in somewhere.
Probably not the most constructive way to write, but I've found that if I over-analyze the plot, I get stuck in a rut.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 09:05 pm (UTC)"An idea forms and from there I just go with it" is also how I started off with writing. It's still a fair description of my current process, although I'll often have one or two plot points I know I want to aim for somewhere further along in the book. But I have definitely started putting more work into stocking the narrative fridge at the start, less with specific plot in mind, and more to give myself material to work with as I invent the plot later.