Then, you'll need luggage, in the best possible shape. If you haven't got it, you'll have to buy it, or borrow it from a friend or family. Luggage is one of those things that people don't use all the time, but they do tend to store old clothes in such places. Once you have this luggage, you'll need to make lists and start packing. An appropriate wardrobe comes first — Montreal is somewhat damp at the end of September and gets chill in the evenings. This isn't a problem if you're a resident of England, Denmark or Wisconsin ... but if you come from Florida or Mexico, you'll need to buy special clothes for your trip. There's bathroom articles of course, and medication, plus any emergency things you might want to take. You might want a notebook or tablet, or kindle, or an ordinary book, plus other things with which to amuse yourself on the plane. You can at least be sure that if you've forgotten something here, you can buy it in Montreal. We'll still be in civilisation.
And this is key. A trip might be an "adventure," but it's not a threatening one. You're off to a hotel that's managed by people who want your stay to be comfortable and stress-free ... so you needn't worry about food or finding your way around. There's a team of people waiting to help you. Likewise, with your flight, so long as you make yourself ready and available in time to board, the little inconveniences along the way aren't really fearsome. Money has been paid to all the persons involved so that your holiday, which might be scattered with difficulties, shouldn't seriously challenge you.
Not so a D&D adventure, where you're distinctly leaving the company of a medieval town or village that is mostly indifferent to you, for a wilderness where you definitely can't replace your sword, should you misplace it. But before we plunge into the depths to which that might go, let's take a moment and examine the traditional game adventure we've all come to know.
First, you're introduced to the scene by the concierge, who introduces you to the character who will provide all the details you'll need to know before the adventure begins. This person's goal is to provide you with orientation, so that you can buy exactly what you need from the Gary Gygax Pamphlet of Dungeoneering Stuff. Then you'll be assigned a guide, or given a brochure that will help you reach the excursion entrance that you'll be embarking upon this evening.
Once you've reached the entrance, by following your brochure and the organised sequence of corridors that will take you to your adventure, by drips and drabs, you'll enjoy fighting a remarkable collection of beasts that are carefully tailored for your level and ability, so as not to upset or spoil your excusion. However, this may take some time and things are bound to get sticky in spots, so you'll be provided with sufficient bottles and other doo-dads that should mitigate any discomfort you feel along the way. If something untoward and unexpected should happen, like one of your number being turned to stone or unfortunately killed — yes, unfortunately, it has been known to happen — then you may be rest assured that one or more of our staff will arrive in the nick of time to ensure your safe withdrawal from the adventure, with our assurance that any of your number will be raised at no disagreeable cost to you. We here at Coast Wizarding Properties treat this sort of thing very seriously. Our goal is to ensure that you have FUN, and so you may rely on us to live up to that promise.
Now, in this sort of adventure, you the player have plenty of time to dabble and mess with your character's intangible characteristics, since it makes little difference to your survival. It can be fun to view yourself as a member of a cult, a spy, a student of the arcane, a simple peasant, the son of a God who one day will make a call on the Old Man, to let him know, or simply to bear a grudge against the dirty so-and-so that killed your parents. But in fact, none of these fluffy backgrounds have much to do with the adventure that takes place. They are window dressing; somewhat pretty and artistic, but ultimately superficial and misleading.
Let's discuss an adventure that isn't sponsored by Wizardland, Inc.
First of all, sitting in this village and thinking about where you might go, there's no one here to relay the information you need. Those here in this village are not concierges and adventure orienteers, they're people, busy getting the dandelions pulled, the front door patched or the beefsteak pounded, while worrying about getting caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night. They don't stagger themselves out in the hinterland, since hunting beyond the village boundaries and we have none of us days to waste mooning around the wilderness getting ourselves eaten by wolves. So with no idea what's out there, the players don't know what they'll need ... and what they'll need isn't gathered in an easy list tailor-made for dungeon wanderings. No, those things are scattered among tables for the blacksmith and the turner, the silversmith, the grocer, the town market, the armourer's and the leathercrafter, among 1,500 other things that might be useful but then again, might only drag the party down. Hell, there may not even be a dungeon out there, so why would we logically drag along a ten-foot pole?
Who your father is matters not at all. What your father taught you does. See, all that business of my character loves this or believes that, or has joined what now or wears this tag, none of that helps you if the world hasn't been designed with a concierge in mind. The game world isn't Montreal. There's no taxi waiting to take you to the dungeon, no doorman to unload your luggage as you rubberneck your way into the dungeon's front lobby. When you're on your own in the wilderness, without that support mechanism, then what matters is what you firmly know, what you can certainly do and how much resilience you have. All the rest is dingo's kidneys. You have to piece together your own approach to the game world ... because the game world I run has no institutions set up pre-made to help you.
Now, of course my world has institutions ... but to get their support, you have to hope for the luck of the draw the background generator might offer, or you'll have to prove yourself to these places before they may deem you worthy. Proving something demands that you have something to exchange ... and your claim that you're the son of a god doesn't qualify. Neither does any other window dressing you might muster. Nope, you'll have to earn your qualification, in a world will no one, absolutely no one, is invested in showing you how.
Imagine that in nine days, I'm going to club you in the back of the head and then leave you somewhere in the world with clothes, some money and that's all. There's no way you can prepare for that, because I won't be allowing you luggage. It would help, though, if you had some skills. It would also help if you chanced to have your health, your feet and hands ... and your self-reliance.
According to the background generator, you'll no doubt get a little more. A supportive family nearby, maybe, or a friend or two, or some unexpected social privilege. How you manage these quibbling assets is up to you ... and the more assets you have, the better, so getting along with the rest of your party is also going to be important. After all, you may not have a supportive family, but maybe Jean does, or Hal, or Dennis. And maybe Jacqueline is a sailor, so the party can buy a boat, or maybe Isabelle knows how to find her way through an untracked wilderness. Those things matter ... because no one's just going to show up and do it for you.
Yeah. To which someone will say, “hey, when do we get to PLAY already?”
ReplyDeleteThey don’t want to live in a fantasy world. They want to vacation there.
Sometimes it feels like the folks with the self-reliant attitude want to do something besides play D&D.
(I am not writing this to quibble; I’m pointing out what I’ve observed)
I'm originally from New Zealand and when I was younger I used to go hiking there fairly often. I had a boot failure on one trip, luckily on the last day of four when there were no further climbs involved. I finished it in sneakers, an experience I would not want to repeat. Another time, I bought a shitty backpack that kept coming apart. I had a needle and thread and could repair it. Aside from the terrain and occasionally the weather, both of which could be challenging, there were no external threats (no dangerous animals, no orcs, no-one insisting on 3d6+2) and the only gear we needed was well, hiking gear, so we were relatively lightly burdened. It still was not easy. Running that well with players who have never in their actual lives had such an experience, or had to be self reliant in that way would be challenging.
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