Welcome to another installment of The Gamemaster. You can read past columns in this series here.
It is a given that if you, as a gamemaster, are prepared for your characters to go South, East, or North, inevitably, they will choose to go West. It’s just a matter of fact. Sometimes you’ll be able to plan for what they have in mind, but more often than not the group of them together will come up with a plan of action that doesn’t resemble anything sensible or that could have been predicted.
Sometimes they’ll take a turn into a tavern for information and head in yet another direction you didn’t intend. As I’ve played, I’ve learned more and more that the players need to feel that they’re controlling the action and what’s going on, but that you need to seem prepared for everything. Every time you can add in an extra detail, whether it’s off the top of your head or not, is going to help them feel safe that your world isn’t just arbitrary nonsense.
Make each place your characters visit different from the last. If they go into that tavern for information, make it that wretched hive of scum and villainy. Have a few patrons passed out at tables, while ugly barmaids try to wake them and kick them out. Put a burly man at the door who’s bigger than they’ve ever seen. Give the bartender a few quick details and when you speak for him, talk in a voice that’s not your own and be very suspicious of the players. “He’s diminutive in stature, has a sharp nose like a rat, and a twisted rope of black mustache. He’s polishing a dirty mug with a rag that doesn’t look as though it’s getting any cleaner, but he’s barely paying attention because he’s squinting suspiciously at you.”
Give the place atmosphere. If it’s daytime, does the tavern have massive windows open to the sun? Are they blacked out with paint with only scratches in the coating to let in stray shards of sunlight? Does it stink of feet and beer and yeast? As they pass by tables of dining adventurers, does the food look delicious? Or like bowls of slop?
I understand it’s incredibly difficult to come up with stuff like this off the top of your head on the fly, especially if the characters made that wrong left turn at Albuquerque and you have no plan whatsoever for what they are. But sprinkling in a few details into the places they visit (even though you’ve pulled them out of your ass) will make them feel as though they’re actually part of a world.
What can you do to be ready for things like that? Well, part of it is just reading a lot and knowing how best to describe something. But another part of it is deciding what feel you want a place to have, and then just layer in details that describe that feeling.
You think a tavern should be unwelcoming and instantly there’s two guards at the door roughing up a patron. They step in and a black cat crosses their pass, hissing at them. They get to the bar and the server, a large man with a scar down his face and a dead white eye, ignores them completely until they have to demand his attention. Up above at the Inn, they can hear a domestic dispute of some manner in progress, raised voices accusing back and forth. The stage where a bard or a band might play is empty, or is occupied by a lute player who stops playing the moment the players come inside and adjusts his strings, adding odd plucking sounds to the background.
What about the home of a non-player character that should feel welcoming? Well, when I think of welcoming, I think of clean. Bright red drapes are drawn on either side of every window, allowing sunlight like honey to pour in. Exotic furs cover over large swaths of floor and the Master of the House has offered beverages and food. Warm smells of baking bread permeate the entire place.
I mean, the examples could go on. But that’s just my strategy. I pick one adjective that describes the feeling I want the players to feel and then just pour descriptions onto that. Part of it is knowing your players and what they would think fits that atmosphere, part of it is being able to think on your feet, and part of it is just good old-fashioned bullshitting.
Also: always have handy a list of a dozen or so names of people that can inhabit your world. If you have a cheat sheet of names and can introduce yourself as a character to the players, they’ll feel more immersed in the world you’re creating for them. Or sometimes those same player characters will be dicks to you and ask for the name of every. single. god-damn. person. in. the. world. Either way, you’ll be prepared for them.
And if you’re prepared in both specific possibilities and in adaptable generalities, they’ll never suspect that you’re just making it up as you go.