Tag Archives: world building


We are, if you can believe it, going to take this blog into even dorkier territory this week. A little while ago I started RPG-ing again. Role-playing games are a hobby I enjoyed a lot in high school and university, but in more recent years there hasn’t been time to do it. I tried playing over internet forums but it really wasn’t at all the same and I had sort of assumed my RPG days were over.

However, some friends of mine suggested giving it a shot again (we’re using voice chat, which removes a lot of obstacles) and so I am once again running a game of Star Wars: The Role-playing Game. The specific game doesn’t really matter so much; the experience has been an interesting one from a writing perspective.

As the game master (or whatever a particular game labels the role I have), it’s my job to create the scenarios the other players will encounter, populate the game world with interesting characters, and give them compelling enemies to fight against and (hopefully) overcome. There’s more to it than that, but I guess obviously this all sounds a lot like writing fiction, and it is, in a lot of ways.

However, as I was also reminded (I feel like much-younger me would have known this) that there are some big differences as well. For our first scenario I created a whole bunch of stuff that, to me, would have been an interesting, reasonably suspenseful story to start out the new game. I made up characters and created detailed backgrounds and motivations for them all. I carefully thought out the right sequence of events for the scenario’s plot and what the hooks for the next story would be.

And then we played. And (as any experienced GMs will of course already be expecting) the players went off in entirely different direction skirting most of what I had plotted out. Most of those characters never got met, and the bulk of the plotline got (actually fairly skilfully) avoided. I thought the game went fine, but I had to make up a fair bit on the fly (an essential GMing skill at the best of times) and a lot of material i had prepped went unused. (By the way, to my players who may be reading this, please don’t take this as a complaint – I’m just thinking things through.)

You can avoid this – RPG players call it ‘railroading’ and you can write things such that the players have to go in the direction you want them to. (i.e., you set things up so the game runs ‘on rails’ with no real ability for the players to steer where they might want to go) Especially for newer players it’s sometimes the thing to do, and some players are fine with being told where to head next, but my experience has been that more experienced players tend to chafe against it pretty quickly. The whole attraction of an RPG is that you get to explore an imaginary world of wide-open possibility. Hey, what’s that? Let’s go check out over there.

So to some degree this is unavoidable, especially if you have creative players (which are the kind you want). What this is reminding me is that writing as a game-master is a very different jam than writing as a fiction author, despite those superficial similarities, primarily because I’m not the only person telling the story. Because I can’t necessarily predict what the players are going to do, improvisation is always going to be a part of it, but just as obviously I can’t prepare nothing … somewhere there’s a sweet spot of preparing enough material to be able to have the session go smoothly without working up a bunch of stuff that never gets used to find again.

(And, honestly, a lot of stuff that doesn’t get used when I expect it do can be scavenged for parts later anyway)

I like to hope that what I’ve learned as a fiction writer does help me in creating compelling elements for the RPG, but I also feel like this whole experience gives me some useful stuff to think about and take back to fiction writing. Although I do get to tell the whole story there, there’s also still a balance to be struck in terms of how much background and fleshing out everything needs for the story to be convincing and interesting. Fictional worlds need to seem plausible and fully-realized, but that (in my opinion) should also be an illusion; you can waste a lot of time on ‘world building’ that serves no purpose to the story and, in some examples of writing I’ve seen, actually gets in its way. Write the story first, decide if you actually need a detailed political history of the kingdom later.

I know that part of why I have always liked role-playing games is the storytelling element. I love to tell stories and that’s essentially what the games are about, whether you’re a player or the game-master. What I’m re-learning again the last while is that it is a very different kind of storytelling than I get to do when I’m writing my own fiction, and while the lack of control is something that requires adjustment, it’s also really cool because the group is working together to tell the story rather than it being the creation of any one person. I also think that while I’m probably a much better writer than I was when I was last running an RPG, that doesn’t necessarily or immediately translate to being a better game-master.

I’m not really sure that’s something you get in any other setting than a role-playing game group, where creative people collaborate in real time on a story that can (depending on the group, and the game) go on for years. I think what I’m actually re-learning as a game-master is that it isn’t my story at all. My job is to help the players tell the story of their characters, the imaginary people they’ve created and are sending out on adventures. It’s very cool and it is a role I enjoy very much, I’ve just got to get good at it again.

That’s all very much just me thinking out loud about things, but it’s what I’ve got for you this week.

Thanks for reading.

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Loose Ends

I have started to get some very useful feedback from the Eager Volunteers about Bonhomme Sept-Heures as I work on getting it ready to share with you. I also had an interesting question; without spoiling anything, one of my readers asked about a detail in one of the scenes (I think it’s safe to say that it’s a crack in the ceiling) and asked what the significance of it was.

I told him the truth – it’s one of those things I put in my stories that I want the reader to interpret for themselves. Maybe it symbolizes something. Maybe it’s a plot point. Maybe it’s just a crack in the ceiling. Whenever I write, I like to leave things in the story that a reader can look at and decide for themselves what they mean, if they mean anything at all. Some people would call these loose ends, I guess, and I know some would argue that everything should get an explanation. I guess I like the idea of that explanation coming from the reader, rather than me, at least some of the time.

I think maybe this goes back to my English lit background; I spent years getting trained to interpret parts of stories and figure out what they mean, and it’s become something I enjoy. Really, historical analysis is often much the same deal – you have a small piece of evidence, and have to determine what it may signify, or if it may mean nothing at all beyond being an interesting factoid. So I imagine putting these interpret-able bits in my stories is me (once again) being a selfish writer and doing things that I would enjoy reading.

I think it’s also true that many people enjoy having a puzzle to solve, and salting in a few bits and pieces that readers can have a think over and try to decide how they fit in hopefully adds a bit of extra added amusement value to the story. Hopefully.

In thinking about that answer, I also thought about whether I always enjoy it, as a reader, when there are pieces of a story that aren’t entirely explained and left to me to figure out. Generally I think that I do, although there’s a difference between leaving parts of your story for the reader to interpret and just having unfinished parts of your plot or setting.

I think it’s entirely reasonable to not answer absolutely every question about a fictional world. Your characters probably don’t know the answers themselves, and may not care, and so leaving some information out may actually enhance the feeling of viewing things from a particular character’s viewpoint. I think some stories do get sidetracked into world-building at the expense of the story; if your reader doesn’t really need to know all the details of a fictional economy (for example), it may be better to get to telling them the story instead. If it’s not relevant to the plot, I don’t always think I need to know exactly how the political system of the Kingdom of X came to be.

On the other hand, I know there are people who lap this stuff up, so I think this is another case where there’s risks you take as an author – how much of this material do I put in, and how much of a potential audience will I appeal to, or alienate, by that decision. I guess you can either strive for some perfect middle road, or just do what I suspect I do, write whatever I was going to write anyway, and hope that someone likes it.

This is straying fairly far off from the idea of leaving little nuggets in the story for readers to interpret for themselves, though, so perhaps I’ll call it here. I’d love to hear what you think (as readers or writers) about having stories contain things that the reader is meant to answer for themselves.

Thanks for reading.


This weekend is Ottawa’s spring Geek Market, and Renaissance Press will be there! I will be at the booth Friday evening and through the day Saturday, if you want to come and say hello. There’s quite a good deal where you and a friend can get in for $5 Friday night, leaving you loads of money to spend on books.

I’m mostly kidding.

More seriously I am very excited to be getting back out doing some events, and there are plenty more coming up this summer that I’ll tell you about as details firm up.

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