Writing Every Day 15: Doing the Thing

When I was a teenager, I read a list that outlined a number of different activities the reader should perform to be a "good" Game Master. It had a heavy fantasy, dungeon-delving focus and included items like, "Try to wield a sword in one hand while carrying a torch in the other," and, "Ride a horse bareback." I'm paraphrasing because it's been many, many years, but those are the sorts of items the list contained. The argument the author made was that to understand what common PC activities entailed, the Game Master should go out and do them.

I haven't done most of the things on that old list, but I agree with the general point. Whether writing fiction or running a game, it helps you to describe a situation if you've actually tried to do it. Reading about the activity can give you a starting point, but the actual experience helps give you deeper understanding of how complex or frustrating that task can be.

To that end I've tried my hand at a laundry list of different things, from archery to lock picking to sailing. Learning to do them—and I want to take a moment to differentiate between learning how to do something and being any good at it—has given me a point of reference I can draw on when describing to the players what happens when their PCs attempt a similar task.

When doing this, sometimes close enough is good enough. For instance, a while back I ran a prolonged game set in World War One. A number of the PCs had the ability to pilot the airplanes of the day and several sessions included tense dogfights. Before we started the game I devoured any resource I could find about the planes, weapons, and aerial maneuvers that went into dogfighting at that time. That was well and good for designing the systems that went into the dogfighting rules for our campaign, but it wasn't enough. Reading about the effect to a pilot's body when his or her plane pulls a maneuver doesn't give you an appropriate sense of the experience, and your description of the effect to a player can suffer for it.

Essentially, you're explaining the sensation based on incomplete data, filtering what you've read through your opinion of it to the player. I was fortunate enough that a good friend purchased a flying lesson around that time and let me tag along for the ride. Sitting in the plane as it went through those basic maneuvers, feeling the way it made my stomach lift and fall through minor changes in elevation, and even hearing the rumble of the engine and the sound of the wind over the fuselage all helped me to give my players a slightly more immersive and accurate experience at the table.

Obviously not everyone can afford to go out and take such a lesson, or be lucky enough to have a friend taking one around the time they're preparing for a game. To that end, I suggest a twofold approach. First, figure out the things you can afford to do, either monetarily or with the time you have. Any that mesh with the game you're running help you to gain deeper understanding of the world you control. Running a cyberpunk game? Spend an afternoon on a site that teaches basic coding, or go to a shooting range that rents firearms (your age and local laws permitting). Buy a cheap set of lock picks online and tackle a simple padlock. It's fun and surprisingly intuitive! Pick a handful of skills from your game and try them out, or the closest thing you possibly can.

Second, work the game around your experiences. If you spend an evening playing a good game of cards, consider adding a tense, Casino Royale style gambling scene to your next game. If you visit an interesting town or landmark, work a version of it into your world. Small, out of the way towns have a surprising number of local oddities, customs, and colorful history that you can adapt for your own purposes.

In short, spend some time going out there and doing the thing.