Narrative Delivery
When reading a novel, you rarely find it follows one character’s entire life until the end. Novelists write for entertainment, which is what roleplaying is largely about. A good description doesn’t just mean long words – it also has to have structure – which is what I hope to look at in this article.
A novel almost always begins with a bang. They have to, otherwise most readers will become bored and put it back on it’s shelf never to be read again. An adventure which starts in a similar way will also have a similar effect. Imagine, if the DM starts by describing a tavern filled with its usual clientèle, (the adventurers) who at this stage don’t know each other. (At this point the players sigh at the tired literary cliché and stare at the ceiling) the DM carries on:
- DM:
- You sip your ales when a hooded figure enters from the thick sea fog outside… Suddenly there a crashing noise as a clergyman previously sat alone at a table falls to the ground clutching his heart, his hand reaching to the sky.
- PLAYERS:
- We’ll go and investigate.
- DM:
- The man lies on the floor now still, he’s dead. You do all you can, but to no avail, it’s at this point that you feel the hooded figures burning eyes on the back of your neck… literally burning.
- PLAYERS:
- What do you mean? What is he?
- DM:
- The figure pulls back the hood to reveal… a she. She makes a leap for you with the poised grace of a feline. With ease she wraps her arms around Blyton’s head and wrenches it sideways, Suddenly jumping onto a chair back she leaps back down knee first into the back of Rayth, which snaps like tinder-wood as she yanks his shoulder backwards leaving exposed bones…
- (Remaining) PLAYER:
- Waitaminute! I’ll, I’ll..
- DM:
- Too late, she lunges forwards and grabs Hollerman’s neck and with an unholy strength flings his face into the cornerstone of the taverns fire hearth… Hollermans, as you turn your head slowly, spitting teeth and blood you watch in your dying breath as she strides over to the clergyman and searches his pockets, before she pulls out a silver object on a chain… she looks worriedly over at the doorway before striding towards the door but as she gets there her face changes to horror as it opens and the fog spills in… then it goes black. You are all dead.
- PLAYERS:
- Well that wasn’t fair!!
- DM:
- Well, perhaps you should have run when you still had the chance, anyway… you all wake up, in a muddy field, weapons are strewn all over the place partially shrouded by a receding sea mist. What seems to be a tired out old traveler stands over you tending to your wounds. A dim sun appears on the horizon.
- PLAYERS:
- What? I don’t get it!
The players in the above (long!) example although they are not aware of it are probably already hooked and want to know what happened and why (they had actually been taken by the mists to ‘Ravenloft’,). After this, the DM can introduce the less ‘intense/exciting’ activity such as recuperation, questioning, etc. whilst the players are still hungry for answers. The players will eventually tire of investigation (just observations in player attitude can reveal when that happens) which is the DM’s key to introduce a new clue or another exciting scene. This cycle of activity can be found throughout stories worldwide and works very well in adventures.
It doesn’t overwhelm the players with action or too much question asking. It also gives a sense of foreboding important to Ravenloft style horror adventures, i.e. the players start to subconciously see the pattern and so after a particularily long period of little action, they get an inkling that something will happen soon – which is exactly what will happen. You could manipulate this foreboding further by lengthening the ‘lull’ period but introduce red herrings, i.e. give the players what seems to be a great clue or new lead but turns out to be nothing more than local kids messing around in the graveyard or whatever, then when the players completely give up hope, out of the blue, shock them again. i.e. it turns out to be their friendly old landlady…
Using Clichés and Stereotypes
Most English language fanatics, do not approve of the use of clichés (overused phrases and ideas). I on the other hand love them, but not as how many people tend to see them. Clichés can be used to shock by twisting them around into something very different from the norm. The story was full of clichés right up to the point where the players tended to the clergyman, (the ‘tavern setting’, ‘the fog setting a sombre scene’, the extravagant, overacted death by the clergyman) which does actually give the narration a cozy, false sense of security (cliché = done before) It’s then that the twisted cliché was used as the shock, the ‘burning eyes’ which were actually burning. It’s then that the players realize that all is not well. Their reaction in the example was surprise and confusion. Afterwards a stereotype was used, ‘the figure pulls back the hood to reveal a she‘ This probably further confused the players especially as the narration quickly continued without answering their questions. The brief pauses are actually a parallel from the game world as the characters themselves had little time to act which, all in all along with the other techniques, give the players a very good idea of the confusion that their characters were feeling.
The problem with the above narration is that it didn’t matter what the players did, as the outcome would still have been the same and the players would have picked up on this (‘oh I’ll just let it happen… the Narrator knows what he’s doing’), which is why an out of character comment justifying the action can be effective in re-inspiring the fear.
Dealing With A Split Party
Sometimes roleplaying gives characters chance to split up from each other and get on with their own lives, this could include mundane things such as acquisition of property, the paying of debts right up to individual adventure, whatever the PC feels he/she needs personally accomplished he may do. Since this kind of adventure is based on what the player wishes to do rather than what the DM has planned they are usually ad-libbed.
When splitting the party up it invariably means that only one member can be role-played at one time, which leaves the others without anything to do. An obvious answer is to limit the PC’s time in the spotlight before cutting to another player, but the question is when to cut? Below are a couple of different cuts that are often used by authors which also inadvertently benefit the DM.
The Cliffhanger Cut
The DM cuts at the climax to that particular slot before the conclusion is reached…
Vintar the thief is hiding from the high priest in his chamber when he can’t help letting out a squeaky sneeze. The Priest calls out and starts to search the room before he comes up to the tapestry Vintar is hiding behind the DM cuts to the next player.
This leaves the situation tense for the player and also gives both the DM and Player time to think what to do next. When it comes back to his turn, perhaps the player decides to attack or maybe bolt for the window – either way it wont be a spur of the moment decision and so will be less likely to result in serious trouble for the PC. The DM may not know what the priest reaction would be, so would he forgive Vintar – or would he banish him? The DM also gets time to decide.
Conclusion Cut
The opposite of the above, the DM may want to finish off a clause in the characters history before moving on. The advantages of this are the obvious relief for the player as well as a sense of achievement, but also the Narrator is now free to fully concentrate on the next player.

