An article by Steve Hatherley

(Submitted to arcane; the second, shorter version published in issue #5 is also available.)

"I have a problem with your character."

Actually, I had two. One was a motivation issue, but by far the biggest problem was simply keeping Jody's character alive. While the other characters were gods, she was a humble gypsy and was unlikely to surviving the upcoming conflict - when squabbling with each other, gods don't pull their punches. While I didn't mind if she died (and I explained that she probably would), it did not seem altogether fair.

As for motivation, Jody's gypsy had been guiding the gods. Now that they finally knew what had brought them back to life, they could get on with battling Morden, their evil brother. The gypsy, then, had no need to stick with the group. Frankly, given the gods' recent behaviour, I think I would have wanted to put as much distance between me and them as possible.

So, what was I going to do with the gypsy?

I had another problem: Morden himself. The group was finally going to meet the villain of the game, their nemesis, a rogue god. This was the climax of the campaign, this was it - the game would end tonight, one way or another. My problem was portraying Morden convincingly. To be honest, I do not play non-player characters well. I am usually juggling too much in my head to pay them the attention they deserve. I had a feeling Morden was going to suffer.

I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I explained my problem to Jody, and suggested that she play Morden for me. A bit of negotiating (she wanted a satisfying ending for her gypsy, which I arranged) and she agreed. So I outlined what I wanted her to do - gave her a brief rundown of what Morden was up to and how he planned to do it. Then I left her to it.

So Jody played Morden, devoting her skills to making him much more sinister and believable than I could. As a result, we created a far more satisfying ending than I think we would have achieved had I been playing Morden alone.

While I have occasionally given my non-player characters to other players to have fun with, I have rarely seen other gamemaster's doing anything similar. Yet from what I have seen players revel in the temporary roles I've handed them. They enjoy playing bit parts now and again, it makes a change from the usual. So why aren't more gamemasters doing it?

If nothing else, creating bit parts for players helps cure that eternal game-killer: boredom. Boredom increases as the number of players rises. I have occasionally seen large groups entertain themselves, but in a group of four or more players there is usually at least one person away from the action, and bored. I blame the "adventure party," an artificial gaming construct that has but one justification: to allow a bunch of friends to roleplay together. However, as soon as players start developing complex motivations for their characters, they start to stretch the constraints of the "group."

Something has to snap and usually it's the party. (Even the Fellowship of the Ring didn't last long.) At its simplest, the fighters rush off to pursue some random monster while everyone else hangs around. At its worse, characters leave the party for weeks at a time and you can quickly end up with bored players. And bored players kill games. I've seen it happen.

Active players do not have time to be bored. Providing players with bit parts while their characters are off-camera gives them have something to do. They have a part to play in the unfolding story.

I was once running a low-key Call of Cthulhu investigation and I knew that the investigators would be outclassed if bullets started flying. To assist our heroes, I introduced an old friend of one of the characters: Christian, shell-shocked veteran of the Great War (and another of my undeveloped NPCs). Being an old friend of an investigator is usually a lethal occupation in Cthulhu, and I fully expected Christian to die. But, things didn't quite work out that way.

The investigators (there were only two) had a minor falling out and Tony's character decided that he couldn't justify spending any more time away from his business. This could have been a big problem as the investigation certainly wasn't over! But had the investigator stayed it would not have been true to his character. So we agreed on a compromise - the investigator would leave and Tony would take over Christian for a short while.

As Tony had already seen Christian's flaky state of mind in action, he already knew how he acted and I let him take control unassisted. Had I planned something specific for Christian, then I would have given Tony some appropriate guidelines. As it was, Tony took liberties that he probably wouldn't have with his own character and enjoyed the game much more than if he had continued playing his character or just sat and waited it out.

Tony's portrayal of Christian was then invaluable to me for when he returned (and when I was playing him). Quirks and references I wouldn't have thought of were all ready and waiting for me to call on. An unexpected advantage was that Tony returned to his character refreshed and enthusiastic for more - the change being as good as a rest in his case.

Taking on the roles of friends and allies is one thing; letting them get their hands on antagonists and villains is another matter altogether. I do not usually allow my players anywhere near these important characters. My initial example of Jody playing Morden was a special case. That particular campaign was coming to an end, and Jody was playing Morden for the last scene only. Had Morden appeared earlier, before the characters were prepared for him, I would not have let anyone else play him.

While it is easy for a player to temporarily play another character while theirs is indisposed, what happens when a small segment of the group is separated or has personal business? Unless there is treachery afoot I have never asked players to leave just because their characters are not present. Yet it happens. Why? Why not let them stay? Better, why not give them something to do - a role to play?

Possibly one of the nastiest things I have ever done to a player is to marry his character off. It wasn't the wedding, or the bride that was particularly nasty - it was the village elders' grilling. It was the only thing the character had to do right. And if he wanted to marry the girl (and he did), then he had to endure the elders' questioning. If he didn't meet their lofty expectations, then there would be no wedding.

I could not face playing all of the elders, and if I wasn't careful the other players were going to be sitting around, kicking their heels while the elders were probing and prying. And I didn't want that. (Okay, so I could have rolled some dice. Yawn.) So I sent the groom's player to the bar, and told everyone else that they were playing the elders. I explained who the elders were (a bunch of very nosy people) and that I wanted them to approve of the wedding. But they were to give the groom a hard time in the meantime.

It went excellently, the groom was thoroughly questioned and spent an uncomfortable half-hour squirming as his health, background, politics, family and sexual orientation were subject to close scrutiny. Me? I sat back and enjoyed the show - and was rewarded with a sullen I'll-get-you-for-this glare for my trouble.

Although I explained to the players that I wanted the elders to approve of the groom, things could have gone differently. I had no guarantee that things would work out the way I hoped. This gives such moments a delightful air of uncertainty and can set events rolling on unexpected paths.

And none of it required any effort from the poor, overworked gamemaster. Once I had the situation set up, I had nothing to do but watch the poor groom suffer. Definitely the easiest gamemastering I had in a long time!

You can have too much of a good thing. If a player knows that there is a bit-part available, they may engineer events such that their character is always 'elsewhere' when anything hazardous appears. My first reaction is "So what?" If they are having fun and you're having fun, what does it matter? If it becomes a problem, you can always do something unfortunate to their character while they are "off-camera." Not lethal. Just inconvenient.

You could also argue that if players take on bit parts too often, they may play those parts to further their characters' means. However, experience has shown me that this is not usually the case.

Take, for instance, the Trial. The trial took place after one character foolishly wandered off on his own and was caught spying on some soldiers. Under a random military law I made up on the spur of the moment, the character was entitled to a trial before being sentenced. While I could have skipped straight to the exciting rescue scene, I decided that a proper trial, with judges, a prosecutor and defence would be entertaining.

One character took the burden of defence, and I picked another to be prosecution. The other two players were judges, like myself. (I also played the assorted witnesses.) While the defence and the accused sorted their story, I briefed the others. One judge thought the accused was guilty, one thought him innocent, and the other had not decided. It would all rest on the trial.

I had in my mind that the accused player would eventually be found innocent - but the trial went against all my expectations when his story fell apart under scrutiny. There was nothing for it - the accused was sentenced to death.

When players take on other roles, strange things occur. The trial also led to complications that certainly would not have arisen had I merely rolled the dice. For example, one of the judges took a shine to the character defending the accused. This unexpected turn of events presented the players with an avenue to explore while considering how best to rescue their doomed colleague.

This might not be suitable for some games. This particular game was a loose fantasy where I wasn't too worried about mood and effect. Had I been playing something a little more serious, I might not have chosen the trial as an option. Or if I had, I would have exercised greater control, making it a more sober affair.

After you have let the players use bit parts for a while, you may consider the next stage: scenes where everyone plays a bit part. I once played in a routine science fiction bug-hunt game with lots of combat. We had been playing for a few weeks, when we were given a completely different situation. An alien ship was orbiting Earth, and the gamemaster wanted us to play human diplomats visiting the ship. How we reacted and the events that occurred would influence our next mission. (Which might be rescuing the diplomats, destroying the aliens, or whatever. Maybe, if things went well, there would even be an alien marine with us next time.)

If you are running a living, breathing world, there may be occasions in which kings and heads of state meet, corporations negotiate, or mafia conspire. None of these might have an immediate relevance to what the characters are doing, but may well affect the world around them. If there is opportunity, why not let the players act out those parts? Let them see firsthand what happens when the king chooses a new bride. Let them take part in the events that will shape the future of your world. And who knows, perhaps the events that unfold send your world spinning in directions you had never considered.

As well as curing campaign-killing boredom, providing bit parts for the players opens a wealth of new possibilities. Not only do the players create new avenues to explore, but everybody enjoys a change now and again. Best of all, you can get all this creative energy for nothing - the players do it all for you. All you need to do is recognise the opportunities, cast your players - and stand well back!

Copyright © 1996 Steve Hatherley

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