The Cinematic System

PC Generation: When running a game I think one of the most important things that the players like is their characters. Everything builds from that point on.

That said, it doesn’t mean that you should give in to every request, but only prohibit something if it is completely incompatible with your setting or story, or is seriously unbalanced, otherwise work with and encourage any ideas the players have for their PCs. Even use their ideas to build the areas and places of your setting.

Say for example, you are starting them in Area A, but there are no Satyrs in Area A. Make a note about a lost tribe of Satyrs that have been living secretly in Area A, since the Second Age. (this further develops your setting and also gives the PC something to use for his back story).

This also goes a long way in showing what kind of GM you will be from the very start, the PCs will see from the start that you are being fair, and “on their side” and appreciate it. Later on they will accept rule interpretations without even a second thought (even those that may seem questionable) because in their minds you have been fair and on their side form the very start.  I have written a couple things about GMing that have been published in Dragon and Dungeon Magazines;  in one of them I was making a similar point and wrote something like, “Running a game is a lot like driving a wagon, keep the reigns
lose but know when to jerk them back.”

Pre-Game: I encourage all the PCs to write a character history before the game, and to further encourage this, I offer pre-game XP Awards to anyone who does. The more they write the more XP they earn (in some of my games PCs have started at 2nd or 3rd level). I think a back story is very important to have before the game starts. It gives the GM the knowledge he needs to place each PC in realistic meeting situations for the first game. It also gives the GM the ability to work with the PC on their personal goals and personal quests.

First Session: It is important that each PC has individual goals that they work toward in addition to the party goals. They must have a reason for being where they are and something they are working towards. The trick is to have those goals fall mostly in line with the goals of the other PCs.

The hidden Satyr village has recently been infected with a sickness that has killed a third of its population including the village Shamen. Our Satyr PC has decided to leave his small village and set off for the City of Naric with the hopes of saving himself from the illness and finding a help for the village.

The Half-Dragon, who has been adventuring for over a year now (that PC wrote a nice history) is also coming to the City of Naric to look in the Hall of Records with hopes to find out the name and birth place of his father.

Once in the Naric both characters learn they must head east to the same coastal city.

Writing the actual Game: I break my games out into the following three categories:

Campaigns:  8 + sessions
Adventures:  3 + Sessions
Sessions (a session should usually be about 8 hours of playing)

The Campaigns, Adventures and Session I write basically follow this design: history, introduction, problem, causality/choice, plan, plan enactment, twist/surprise, adjust plan, enact adjustment, climax, resolution.

Writing The Campaign: The first thing you should do is write up the overall Campaign. This will be very short but will be the overall goal for 8 or more sessions. This is the main story arc, this is your summary of your first book. For example: The PCs will discover a map to a hidden Dragon’s lair, along with part of a note that describes the treasure inside. The note explains that the Dragon has died and the lair is isolated on an island and so well hidden that it has not been plundered. Secret: The Dragon has actually died but the lair is now inhabited by a tribe of large winged monkey creatures which will attack as soon as the PCs enter their home. Also the Lair has actually been plundered once, so most of the gems and platinum are gone, but there are still piles of gold and silver.

Everything you write should always have at least one secret attached to it… a “What the PCs don’t know” part.

Next write an outline of the first adventure. My adventure outlines are usually about a page long. An adventure should be something that will take 2 to 4 session of play to complete. Adventures are stories, think of them as writing an essay about the first couple chapters of a book. I won’t write out a page long example adventure, but it should be something like:

PCs 1)get to a village, 2)learn about something, 3)figuring out what to do, 4)travel to a point A to do it, 5)discover a plot twist, 6)adjust their plan, 7)defeat foe and end adventure.

Parts 1, 2 and 3 could be the first session, parts 4 and 5 could be the second session and parts 6 and 7 could be the third and final session of this adventure.

Finally, write the first session. The sessions will be the actual games, the chapters of the  book. These are the specifics of the story, which will be mainly written by the PC but the chapter framework has been provided by you. When I write a session it is usually about 6 to 10 pages. This is what you will have in front of you when you are running. This is all your notes, diagrams, stats, descriptions, dialog, picture, and handouts, everything you will reference during the session.

This is where you must prepare for multiple contingencies and paths the characters may take. This is difficult, because you never want to seem like you are influencing what the PCs can or can’t do, but you obviously can’t spend hours upon hours preparing for every possibility. Just as important as the Players liking their characters is that it does not appear that you are influencing their decisions at all.

The trick here (with a linear game design) is to develop a story that has limited realistic choices as it progresses forward. To do this you will have to understand the motivations of the PCs. Are they evil and after wealth or power? Are they looking to become famous? Are they out to do good acts and help the world?

Imagine a funnel, the wide end is the start of the session, as the characters start to learn about what is going on around them and start to interact with their environment, there appears to be endless possibilities, but once they “get into it” the adventure should be designed so that their choices get narrower and narrower without them realizing it. You know their alignment and you know their back stories and (most of the time) you know the people who are playing the characters. Deciding what to prepare will also come from experience behind the screen, which you will quickly gain. Also, sessions should always have some type of resolution. Session should be designed so that, even if it is not the end of that particular Adventure, there is some type of story resolution at the end of each.

Here’s some additional tips: Don’t mimic any other GM you have played under. Do things the way you want and develop your own “style” from the very first time you run.

Always be consistent and follow the rules of the system. If you are changing a rule, tell the PCs as soon as you make the change and tell them why and how it will affect them and the game. Being consistent is very important. If you are not sure of a rule, ask someone to look it up while you interact with another player.

Don’t get bogged down with details concerning behind the scenes actions. For example: don’t make the PCs sit there while you roll out combat between NPCs, just decide who wins and give a brief description of how one NPC killed the other and move on.

If you have to make up something during a game, write it down so it can be incorporated into your setting/next session/etc.

For each session, throw in a few “random” things. By this I mean put things into each session that the PCs can’t explain. For example, in Session II the party comes up from the Underdark into the middle of huge forest, after a few minutes of walking they find a chess board in the middle of the forest, they investigate, find nothing and move on. Now they will have NO idea why a chess board is in the middle of the forest, and YOU don’t have to have any idea why its there either, BUT in the future, you will be writing Session 7, and you will be able to make a relevant connection to a chess board and the PCs will think you are a genius rp game designer.

Have something individual prepared for each PC each session. Advance the PC’s personal goals, at least a little, each session. If a PC is causing a distraction, or looks distracted, do something to bring him back to the game immediately. Maybe he notices something related to personal goal in the bar, maybe someone spills ale on him by accident, anything, as soon as a PC’s mind starts to drift, hit him with some type of in game interaction.

Combat for a purpose. All combat should have a purpose. Don’t use combat as something you do when you’re out of material. Use combat realistically.

In real life, not everything is super difficult and not everything is easy. Some GMs design every part of every session to be very difficult and very challenging for the PCs. I disagree with this. Sometimes the PCs escape from the dungeon of a castle and find that all of their captors had been killed the day before and the entire castle is theirs to loot. Other times they work very hard, even have a death or two and finally make it to the tomb and find out it has already been completely looted.

Use what you have. When I have important NPC dialog, I frequently have a player read for one of the NPCs. If the Party’s lantern goes out, turn of the lights until they get it lit would be another example. If I were running an all Humanoid party, I would play off the natural superstitious nature of Humanoids, I would use racism against them on occasion, and I would put them in situations where their strength won’t help them.

Just to give you a sense of things to come, have a look at the following wild surge table produced by the infamous Lothlorien Van Ness, my (amazing) wife. Whenever childhood toy memes, deadly and cuddly anthropomorphic cartoon characters, or something out of Dr. Seuss arrives in a D&D session I’m DMing, usually they stem from a wild magic table Lothlorien wrote. In our particular house-ruled version of wild magic and wild mages, when a spell “surges” we roll on our extensive library of wild magic tables; the “intended spell” usually happens unless the text of the wild surge says otherwise…

Lothlorien’s Wild Surge Table III [roll d10]

01:       The intended spell goes off normally. However, the caster suddenly believes he or she is being followed by “super secret ninja spies.” There is a d100% chance that these spies are real (in some way), but even if they are they will be incredibly hard to detect. The motivation of these spies is one of the following: [roll d12]…[1] assassination, [2] to “save” the caster and return him or her to her rightful place, [3] theatrical reenactment, [4] to award the caster with a 20,000 gp check, “Ed McMahon style”, [5] to return the caster’s lost sheep, [6] to arrest the caster for crimes against animals, [7] to arrest the caster for using wild magic, [8] to inject the caster with an anti-paranoia drug, [9] to paddle the caster with a wooden spoon, [10] to learn the arts of wild magic covertly, [11] they believe the caster is telepathically contacting them, [12] because the caster is infested with a parasitic colony of “royal creatures” that need to be returned to their Ninja school.

02:       Intended spell fails as the energy instead generates a summoning. Appearing within d6 rounds, in a DM-determined location within d100m of the intended spell’s center, is an anthropomorphic snowman (essentially a “snow elemental”): The snowman’s alignment shifts as it physically touches non-ground, material objects that have been worked by sentient beings: its alignment becomes that of the object’s former owner. The snowman is immune to all physical attacks except: boiling water, fire, and the intended spell. The snowman can be made eternally good if someone of neutral or good alignment makes him a heart made of ice and shoves it into his chest. The snow man has whatever game statistics the DM feels are appropriate, but should have a CR of at least +d4 over that of the wild mage.

03:       Intended spell goes off. Appearing within 10’ of the wild mage is a magical door. Everyone viewing the door sees it according to their own aesthetic preferences as a slightly macabre yet artistic door. The door can be opened regularly – beyond which is a blinding blue light. It opens by itself after d4 rounds. Anyone leaping into the blue light is planeshifted to a parallel earth – San Francisco 1974. At the time the door opens by itself Jim Morrison projects out of the door and asks, in the primary language of the wild mage, “have you got the time?” If anyone answers “yes” they are double hasted (as the spell, double effects) for d20 rounds, during this time they perceive the world as having slowed down considerably. They must answer yes immediately. If anyone engages Mr. Morrison in conversation, he responds in the manner of a mysterious “djini-trickster,” able to create magical effects to match the tone of the conversation. If threatened he jumps down a rabbit hole and vanishes and is thereby immune to all attacks.

04:       Intended spell fails. For the next d12 rounds whenever the caster opens his or her mouth to speak, angry bees swarm out of their mouth, attacking as a swarm, moving away from the caster’s body yet attacking random targets. The caster has no advance warning of the effects of this surge, so the bees might well be a nasty surprise. The bees have one of the following immunities: [roll d12]: [1] fire, [2] cold, [3] magic, [4] non-magical weapons, [5] magical weapons, [6] fear, [7] elemental water spells, [8] amphibians, [9] magical spells, [10] sonic attack, [11] evocations, [12] the wild mage’s spells and attacks.

05:       Intended spell functions normally. However, 4 random anthropomorphic monsters dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles appear and demand “pizza” in an intelligible language. If they are not fed, they go on an all out killing spree rampage with no regard for sentient life, starting with those who will not feed them. They know how to use their ninja weapons. If they are fed (referring to any food as “pizza”), they instead attempt to ally with the party until someone in the party utters the words “dude,” “narly,” “cowabunga,” “turbuloso,” “radical,” (etc.) at which time they act dejected for a few moments before…[roll d10]…[1] they simply fade away, [2] they explode, [3] they turn into the real ninja turtles, [4] they transmute into action figures, [5] as some other entry on this chart: the character uttering the trigger word now speaks like Michaelangelo the turtle forevermore, [6] a manhole cover appears on the ground, leading to another area which the turtles now enter, [7] they remove their costumes and stomp off, [8] they remove their costumes and act normally, [9] they immediately die, [10] they sprout wings and fly away.

06:       Intended spell functions normally. For the next d100 rounds anyone within a 20’ radius of the caster (including the caster) can only communicate by singing bad opera (in character), unless they succeed in a DC 12 + [wild mage’s effective level] will save.

07:       Intended spell fails d100% chance. In a radius of d100 feet of the intended spell center a cute puppy dog appears. It attempts to adopt the caster as its master. While the dog is unusually brave and intelligent, it is but a normal dog.

08:       Intended spell temporarily fails, materializing into a heap of painted wooden puzzle pieces. The wild mage is aware that once the pieces are assembled, the intended spell will go off. It takes d12 successful DC 13 intelligence checks to assemble the puzzle, with d4 attempts per round being allowed. If no intelligence checks are missed, the spell goes off at 200% power.

09:       Intended spell goes off as the caster is covered in head-to-toe body art: tattoos, piercings, etc., taking 1d4 points of damage per intended spell level in the process. If the wild mage’s charisma is 14 or higher, this effect raises their comeliness score by d4 points. Otherwise, it lowers it by as many.

10:       Intended spell goes off as planned. All characters within a d10 yard radius of the intended spell center loose all hair on their body forever as it transmutes to Argon gas.

I stumbled across this blog article while wandering across the electroscapes of the net: Dave Who? Arneson Gameday Celebrates Other D&D Creator. For those of you who have never heard of Dave Arneson, he's rather like the Edward de Vere of the early tabletop role-playing gaming movement. Dave's role in the history of gaming is captured by the following excerpt from my (ancient) thesis prospectus..

     All role-playing games are creative collages or bricolage [18]. Dungeons and Dragons was creatively constructed from three major sources: war gaming generally, which the co-creators Dave Arneson and Gary Gygax were quite familiar with (Fine 1983: 13-14) [19], a specific type of war game called Chainmail which Gary Gygax helped to create – which was in many ways similar to the original Dungeons & Dragons [20], and an Avalon Hill Gaming Company board game/RPG-prototype called Outdoor Survival. The influence of this game is most interesting; nowhere have I seen Outdoor Survival mentioned in the literature’s treatment of the history of role-playing games, and I would not have stumbled across its role were it not for a trip through the web in search of early versions of D & D.

     Outdoor Survival was first published in 1972 – two years before D & D’s debut in 1974 – and “Men and Magic,” one of the three rule books to come with the first printing of D & D, cites Outdoor Survival as a required game supplement [21] useful for its detailed hex-terrain maps [22]. Consider that the playing pieces of Outdoor Survival were meant to represent individual people with distinct skills. Arneson and Gygax necessarily had to employ a focus on the individual (unlike the focus of war gaming, which at the time was on units – collections of individuals) if they were to have a game where people could imagine being someone else, a character exploring and overcoming dangerous environments. Outdoor Survival’s somewhat open-ended game play, in which players pitted hikers and hunters (different types of proto-characters you might say) against a harsh textual environment using a variety of scenarios [23] embodies many aspects of tabletop role-playing. Outdoor Survival even featured a type of “hit point” system (a quantitative measure of a character’s life – a universal characteristic of later RPGs), based on wounds suffered and resources acquired, which affected the movement rates of the “lost” proto-characters (they were not the detailed individuals seen in later D & D but they did have their own skills and abilities). Thus, the existence of Outdoor Survival may have had a profound impact on the formation of D & D.

     War games and the Chainmail rules provided D & D with a referee (called the Dungeon Master or DM) as well as metal miniatures (which are fun to use), along with a series of rules or game mechanics oriented around these miniatures. The movement of characters and the ranges of in-game magical effects, for example, were given in inches on the tabletop, not just in “actual” fantasy-world-level length units. This practice persisted into later editions of D & D, until being temporarily abandoned in the second edition of the game. The most recent corporation to own the rights to D & D, Hasbro, has re-integrated and revived the role of miniatures once more as a gaming aid (or profit making strategy): while it is possible to play D & D 3.5 edition without miniatures and a large, dry erase marker grid-mat it is currently neither aesthetically (thus culturally) pleasing or easy to do so. In the current thesis project I should not ignore the role of economics on the structures of tabletop role-playing, as it has shaped the practice throughout its history.

     We might even include the use of finite game turns simulating larger chunks of real-world time – particularly relevant to combat rules – as a carry over from war gaming, but I am not sure how else the progenitors of D & D would have transfigured battle into a manageable game event. But aside form these speculations, there were some specific human interactions which facilitated the masterwork that was to be D & D which the following text lays out…

“Kuntz (1977: 51) suggests the creation of D & D was a multistage process. If we exclude the discovery of role-playing, characteristic of children’s games (playing sheriff or photographer or soldier), then fantasy role-playing gaming was created recently. Dave Arneson, one of the D & D co-authors, credits his original insight to a war gamer in the Minneapolis-Saint Paul area in 1968:

I would have to give a lot of the credit to another local gamer, Dave Wesley. He was the first one to input role-playing…the first game that stands out in my mind is little medieval games, a very dull period of war games. He had a dull set of rules and after our second game, we were bored. To spice it up, Dave, who had been doing the set-ups and refereeing [for miniature battles], gave each of us a little personal goal in the battle. [personal interview]

Players were motivated to change as a result of frustration with the inadequacy of a well-established system of play (“normal gaming”). Arneson continues:

Well, that kind of got us all thinking about “wasn’t that neat,” and we did a couple of other games with various people. “Let’s have a big medieval campaign with half a dozen different people playing with little powers with fifty or sixty men, and then you’re king or the knight or whatever.” And it developed from there. That got us into role-playing. As far as the fantasy part, I was the first one to come up with a violation of the basic concept of warfare of the period. We were fighting an ancient game. Very dull again. And I’d given the defending brigands a Druid high priest, and in the middle of the battle, the dull battle, the Roman war elephant charged the Britains and looked like he was going to trample half their army flat, the druidic high priest waved his hands and pointed this funny little box out of one hand and turned the elephant into so much barbeque meat. This upset all of the participants in game a great deal and the fellow playing the Druidic high priest was, well, he was laughing his head off in a corner. That was absolutely the only thing in the game that was out of the ordinary, but they weren’t expecting it and it was of course, Star Trek was then playing, firing a phaser was adding science fiction to an Ancient game". (Fine 1983: 13-14)

     Arneson was bored with the game, and although he had thought of the possibility before the game began, his decision was not premeditated. He continued with minor variations, but the first game in which fantasy was dominant occurred in 1970 or 1971 when Arneson organized the Blackmoor dungeon campaign, which he claims was a fantasy role-playing game as we know it today:

All the fellows had come over for a traditional Napoleonic battle, and saw the table with this huge keep or castle on it. [They] wondered where this had come from in the plains of Poland or wherever we were playing at the time, and they shortly found out that they were going to go down in the deep, dark, dank dungeon [personal interview; for more details see Arneson 1979]

Arneson and E. Gary Gygax at that time were members of the Castles and Crusades society, an informal organization whose members shared an interest in medieval warfare. During the early 1970s Gygax and Arneson corresponded and both play-tested what was to become the rules for Dungeons and Dragons, which included innovations from both men. D & D appeared commercially in 1974, published by Gygax’s gaming company, TSR Hobbies, Inc.” (Fine 1983: 13-14) [24]

     That the first (recorded and recognized) deviation from war gaming involved a Star Trek phaser is a wonderful example of how innovations are constructed out of existing languacultural [25] constructs. The history of role-playing games are intimately associated with works of science-fantasy fiction. I am reminded of the music video of The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins as performed by Leonard Nemoy, in which the groovy dancers – with Vulcan ears – perform the hobbit dance [26]. There was something going on in American cultural history that fit with science-fantasy, Star Trek, Tolkien, and war gaming in such a way as to allow a Druid to melt an Oliphant [27], which the following text nicely captures…

[18]: A full discussion of bricolage appears in the theory section of this prospectus. The web site http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bricolage explains that...

Bricolage, from the French bricoler "to tinker" or "to fiddle", is that language's equivalent of the English phrase "do-it-yourself". In art, bricolage is a technique where works are constructed from various materials available or on hand, and is seen as a characteristic of postmodern works. These materials may be mass-produced or "junk". See also: Merz, polystylism, collage. In biology the biologist François Jacob uses the term bricolage to describe the apparently cobbled-together character of much biological structure, and views it as a consequence of the evolutionary history of the organism. (Molino 2000, p.169) In cultural studies bricolage is used to mean the processes by which people acquire objects from across social divisions to create new cultural identities. In particular, it is a feature of subcultures such as the punk movement. Here, objects that posess one meaning (or no meaning) in the dominant culture are acquired and given a new, often subversive meaning. For example, the safety pin became a form of decoration in punk culture. [back up]

[19]: Fine explains that “Arneson and E. Gary Gygax at that time were members of the Castles and Crusades society, an informal organization whose members shared an interest in medieval warfare.” (1983: 14). [back up]

[20]: Before the rules for D & D were play tested, Gygax co-authored Chainmail: Rules for medieval miniatures, which was first published in 1971. While there is some disagreement over the impact this had on D & D, Gygax at least emphasizes its importance. Consider the following excerpt…

“Chainmail. The progenitor of Dungeons & Dragons. Ostensibly a straight-wargaming rulebook for miniatures, its "Fantasy Supplement" sparked a phenomenon Whether the "Fantasy Supplement" to Chainmail formed the basis of D&D is a matter of some disagreement between D & D's co-creators, Dave Arneson and Gary Gygax. Arneson claims in Heroic Worlds that the influence of Chainmail in the development of the Original D & D rules was in the Combat Matrix only (i.e., giving RPG characters and monsters "hard statistics"). According to Arneson, Chainmail bears little resemblance to D&D whatsoever; "not a hit point, character class, level, or armor class" anywhere. Furthermore, Arneson states that a series of naval combat scenarios, "The Braunsteins", were the critical foundation of his Blackmoor campaign, and later, D & D. Gygax disagrees. In Best of Dragon Volume 1, he notes: "...when the whole appeared in Chainmail, Dave (Arneson) began using the fantasy rules for his campaign and he reported a number of these actions to the C & C Society by way of articles. I thought that this usage was quite interesting and a few months later when Dave came to visit me we played a game of his amended Chainmail fantasy campaign. A few weeks after his visit, I received 18 or so handwritten pages of rules and notes pertaining to his campaign and I immediately began work on a brand new manuscript. About three weeks later, I had some 100 typewritten pages, and we began serious play testing... Dungeons & Dragons had been born." Gygax quickly goes on to say that Arneson was only given co-authorship of D&D for his "valuable idea kernels", and that D&D bears little resemblance to the Blackmoor campaign. Further, as contributor Bruce Robertson notes, "I don't see how you can argue that D&D doesn't draw heavily on Chainmail... 'fireball', 'lightning bolt', 'conjure elemental', 'phantasmal force', and all the core monsters are in the 1971 edition -- along with an armor sequence that exactly matches the one in D&D." The argument between Gygax and Arneson, we believe, stems from a lawsuit Arneson brought against TSR in 1979, demanding royalties from the AD&D line of products. Arneson was listed as the co-author of the Original D&D rules, and as such, he believed he was owed a portion of the proceeds from all things derived from that work. It was certainly not advantageous for Arneson to claim inspiration from Chainmail, a product authored by Gygax! The outcome of that lawsuit was never made public, but rumor has it that Arneson received a lump sum in exchange for ceasing legal action. Regardless to the degree Chainmail guided Arneson in his campaign, the influence of this little yellow booklet on the eventual development of D&D is undeniable.”

This text derives from http://www.acaeum.com/DDIndexes/SetPages/Chainmail.html (a valid link in 2005) And has been stylistically edited to accommodate this format (without changing its meaning). I was unable to locate any mention of Chainmail’s influence in the academic literature, although Fine discusses a lawsuit and rift between Arneson and Gygax (Fine 1983: 255, endnote 11) that the author of the web-text above cites as the reason why Arneson refutes the influence of Chainmail. In the mythology of the “gaming community” (or rather the collective consciousness of people who are experienced role players – such as I), it is widely known/suspected that Chainmail was the “grandfather” of D & D. [back up]

[21]: I do not have access to this rare text; see the source of these insights, http://www.acaeum.com/DDIndexes/MiscPages/OutSurvival.html (a valid link in 2005) for a more complete description. Yes, drawing on the web for insight is problematic, but that acaeum.com is devoted to documenting the history and value of gaming accessories (as opposed to random banter) adds to its credibility. I trust its content. The author of this site also explains that: “The other rumor I've heard about Outdoor Survival is that it remained in print as long as it did because the original Dungeons and Dragons rules suggested using an Outdoor Survival board as a campaign map.” Apparently, unless players wanted to use the “optional” combat rules of this edition of D & D they would also need Chainmail to play. [back up]

[22]: Most of the Avalon Hill war games used what are referred to as hex maps, which are simply maps divided into adjacent hexagonal divisions. See http://mywebpages.comcast.net/thinlines/hexmaps/ for some examples… [back up]

[23]: http://www.gameroom.com/gamebits/RULES/Outdoor_Survival_Rules.html (a valid link in 2005) explains that…

“OUTDOOR SURVIVAL is a simulation of the essential conditions for staying alive when unprotected man is beset by his environment. It recreates real world conditions of the wilderness, and places trained and untrained people in emergency situations. The players have varying abilities to make the necessary decisions for survival. This is done through a number of scenario situations of increasing complexity, which state the abilities of the Player(s) to survive, and their objectives.

Each scenario contains a “To Win” section explaining the goal of that particular game. These may be solo (for one person) or competitive (for more than one player). Each turn in the game represents one day; each hexagon on the mapboard represents a width of five kilometers (three miles).

OUTDOOR SURVIVAL is actually five different games. LOST is the “basic” game in which you must get out of the wilderness before lack of food and water ends your survival ability. In SURVIVAL you must get across a large wilderness area before your opponent. In SEARCH you must find someone who’s lost before the other search parties do. In RESCUE you must not only find the lost party, but by using your survival skills, get them out of the wilderness. In PURSUE you must, as the escapee, get out of the wilderness into a neutral country or, as the pursuer capture the escapee. Or, in an adaptation of this scenario, one or more players can take the part of hunters while one player assumes the role of their quarry.” [back up]

I offer the universe a new English gaming term: Hyperpaucidity: a Game Mastering (or Dungeon Mastering) disorder in which the in-game environment is unusually and painfully spartan and lacking, particularly in ambient technology and potential treasures. I'm sure you've been there - your extremely-detailed character enters another room in a building in a city, its dimensions are given ("..about X feet wide by Y feet long.."), some part of your mind ponders which sides of the room "wide" and "long" were meant to describe, and again, nothing...some furniture maybe, but no personal items, nothing in drawers, under beds, nada. Typically, in these shared fantasies, architecture is unremarkable, art items become little more than modernist copies of stale life, and the unusual contents of vessels are easily divided into "coins" and "things found in the DMG". Of course, I've seen the opposite as well: where everyplace the PCs wander into looks like a set taken from D&D the movie (complete with taxidermy cats)...not sure what to call the opposing disorder. Any thoughts?

Welcome to the home of the Cinematic System, an open-source 3.5 D&D expansion! Here you will find all sorts of gaming debitage direct from the archives of Michael Van Ness [and Matt Enga], including wild magic tables, random-rolling charts, odd rule errata, quotes from old campaigns, a character graveyard, etc.

Some of the pages herein originate from the last gaming web site I created, the 2005 version of www.rpgresearch.org (the old logo rests at the top of each of these pages).

Ok, I fell prey to my ID and purchased that domain name back…