Guest Post - Creating Characters by Rich

I recently wrote about connecting your character to the world, and muttered at the end that I'd like to see if I could get my friends to do guest posts. Two of them were very pleased to - here's the first, from someone who more often GM's for me than plays, and he's written from that point of view: making NPC's real. (I didn't play in his GURPS game, but know Noleski and Sam Spade from Pathfinder, and Alastair from Aberrant. Once you've read what he has to say about Alastair, I'd love you to read this post here, because it talks about how I dealt with the emotions a scene he mentions conjured up).

Over to Rich!

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Characters… Christ, where do you start?

From a Storyteller/DM/GM/Ref point of view what can start as a gimmick, has frequently, developed into a staple character of the story. Anyone who has run a game, they have certainly been in the moment where you are put on the spot, the players look at you for what’s next and… the character has a lisp, they’re 5’4”, dresses colourfully, and has eyes that take in too much, a smile never moves past their mouth… Oh you want to know what they’re about… Ermm they’re a warlock, down on their luck and are one disaster from homelessness. From that you know they owe all sorts of cash to all the wrong types of people. So, they’re desperate, hey they just might be willing to help the players out… as for what they want in return depends on who they are… Are they smart, devious, manipulative, straightforward, blunt, several bulbs short of a full metric Blackpool Illumination? Are you starting to see the problem?

Where do you start?

There’s a few characters in my games that have stuck out to me, likely for entirely different reasons than they might for the players. (or one hopes they do anyway)

GURPS, it was my first game, and the short campaign (technically my second campaign using the system), was a pretty big deal for me in formulating how I’d run games in future. The premise of the game was a couple of people were hired by a Ford exec to drive one of the first four door model T Fords to California. The car, however was sentient, and a magnet for the supernatural… From dragging the group into a hair-raising adventure in a town dragged into hell for all of a day, culminating in a rather civilised cup of tea with a demon… Anyway, this was years ago, point was they didn’t find out the car was supernatural, or the reason they were kept alive through a series of convenient happenstances. Point is, my feeling over the game has informed how I tell a story; I like to leave a trail of breadcrumbs that the players only realise was a trail when they look back on it.

Pathfinder. There’s a couple of characters here that really stand out to me. As a “brief” bit of background, the campaign began as the Kingmaker adventure path which was quickly discarded in favour of my own spin on Golarion and its goings on. The advantage of an established world is that you have less work to do, and for a dungeon master with enough to do as it is, having a list of already created characters is a godsend. Noleski Surtova, Regent of New Stetven, was originally written as a cruel and hard person. When I approached the campaign, I knew I wanted him to be present in the story, so I deconstructed the character and started from the ground up. His childhood teacher, Sylvester Malliard, who is an old Wizard who seemed ancient in even his childhood and served as the previous king’s teacher. Then I moved on to how he became regent, the previous king and childhood friend, disappeared mysteriously (still not unveiled in the story, so… as I’m writing this for one of my player’s blogs… You’ll appreciate my reticence) naturally this disappearance tears him apart. Then how does he feel about the Stolen Lands? Noleski sees himself as a caretaker for Brevoy, and her people, therefore reclaiming it from bandits was an exercise in bringing strength to the country in a time of depression. He also is an aging man, old for a bachelor ruler, and his sister (who was supposed to be a Machiavellian manipulator) had attempted to set him up with other prominent members of the court. How does this inform his character? My conclusion was that he was married to his country, to his job, he hadn’t even considered taking the throne until the Stolen Lands had been reclaimed. Those were my thoughts going in. So, who is Noleski? He’s someone that has been influenced by his teacher to show kindness and wisdom in dealing with his people, though he won’t hesitate to make the “right” decision, even if it seems harsh. He knows how to get the most out of people, and will delegate when necessary, and is not afraid of picking up the sword when necessary. That should be enough to work with, right? Yes, and no. Progression makes up everything else. Whether it’s a marriage to one of the players, or the occasional letter, reminding the players of their obligation as rulers of a vassal state.

In truth, many of Noleski’s traits were designed to make him a useful ally to the players… Though with limits…

Sam Spade, yes, I probably stole the name somewhere, don’t look at me like that. He started out as a gag character to help the players in an investigation when they hit a wall. Sam Spade is a gumshoe, he talks the walk, and walks the talk. When Sam is around, the world is Noir, fading to greyscale. The music is audible, the players and other NPCs around appear in appropriate attire, think those silly long cigarettes and fedoras. Sam is bound to a sentient artefact detective agency that appears “when it is needed”, and he is dragged with it when he is done. Oh, and he narrates everything. So yes, it’s another trope, but the character who has a comical overlay, the somewhat darker side of the coin is the few hints I’ve dropped, hinting that his bound status is less than voluntary. He largely speaks for himself, and everyone else.

Annnnd now for the hard part… Alastair Benedict St John. He’s one of the NPCs from my Aberrant campaign. So, Alastair is the product of two NPCs, the enigmatic Benedict, and the equally mysterious Jennifer St John. He’s a Nova, and for those in the know, a second-generation Nova. His childhood was… brief, due to his nature, both full mental and physical development took a matter of a year or so. Through various circumstances, Benedict died in the line of duty, which prompted Alastair to start considering revealing himself to the world, which would have meant subjecting himself and the team that had been built up over years of effort to extreme danger… I should probably elaborate, in my version of the Aberrant world Novas (evolved humans with super powers, about 6000~ worldwide) the relationship between baselines (humans) and Novas is strained at best. However, with Benedict’s death it meant the shadowy organisation, think of a mix between the X-Men and James Bond, operating under London had suddenly lost much of its protection. This means that the organisation, the Nova Initiative, was very vulnerable, which lead to the kidnapping of one Jennifer St John when things started going wrong. I won’t go into the circumstances, they’re largely irrelevant, times were indeed dire. At his lowest point, when the character was having a crisis of faith and near giving up, the players who had never given up hope that Benedict was indeed alive, (and were very vocal about it in his presence) he stated, “If he’s alive, then where is he?”

It was a protest, imagine if you had mere years to get to know your father, had to deal with the grief of losing them too soon, imagine if you had such a huge burden of responsibility placed upon you (Benedict was a pretty big deal). Imagine the world you’re fighting to protect is resisting your every attempt to help, now imagine two trusted friends fighting the reality you were desperately grappling with. How would that make you feel? Angry? Hurt? Yeah, probably. If you want connections to a world, there you go.

In summary, characters aren’t just a mask you put on for a couple of hours. They’re people, they have lives, they have families and they’re usually complicated, what family isn’t? (for god’s sake don’t do the whole, “I’m an orphan” thing, it’s grossly overdone) I suppose it’s the same with any form of storytelling, for a few hours as a DM you present your players a window to another world. That world has its own history which shapes it and the characters in it, like Noleski. That world has mysteries all over it for players to find, like ol’ Sam. That world has a part of you, which makes it sometimes a little scary. Truth is, of all the characters I’ve written, Alastair has the biggest part of me in him. I’ve felt the loss and frustrations he has. Ok, sure, it’s acting… or drawing on personal experience, you write what you know, all that sort of thing. Ultimately, I don’t think where you start is terribly important, you can write their history to inform the character or have the character inform their history, but humans are the sum of their parts… Take that how you will.

For me it boils down to this, if you can know the shape of your story and commit to it, let the character guide your choices, rather than you guide theirs… Then your character is in the world, rather than just your puppet.

Rich

Pathfinder Interlude - Skull & Spiked Chains (Jvala's Journal)

Corridor was long, getting closer. Led to dead end with large door just before on right. Thick double doors - checked around and seemed safe. Invisible Sam whispered he was going in, left door open and we saw a large room. Some undead types - skeletons, mummies, zombies - meandering round. Altar with 5 robed figures kneeling round. Another robed figure walking around. Writhing guy chained down to altar - thorned chains - chains led to large skull, through the eyes. Fuck, this isn't Rovagug, this is Zon-Kuthon. Could hear the sound of metal against bone.

Zabeel, Tanna and I waited outside. Zabeel really breathing down my neck, way too close. Can feel tendrils of spiked chain crawling up through inside me, wrapping round heart. Tightening, squeezing, piercing. Dimming my fire. Look down and Cinder and Flash are terrified, hissing, hackles up, ears back, whimpering. Try to calm them.

Then Zabeel's all yelling at Tanna just for kneeling down - drew guns on her. Wanted us to leave - leaving sounded good, but would be leaving Sam too.

Tanna closed the door.

Stepped in front of Tanna, but couldn't get my fire to start so had to draw a sword on Zabeel. He'd put his guns away, but clearly going mad. Started creeping back but he stayed right in my face. Swiped at him as he ran in front - got back between him and Tanna. Another drow appeared at the end of the corridor and shot at Tanna - but Zabeel wouldn't let me chase after. Threw gunpowder at me instead. Explosion all around - stop,drop, roll, tell Flash & Cinder same. Put out fire and Zabeel floats just overhead, just out of reach. My weapons have vanished. Did I have weapons? No pets here. Alone. Try snapping at Zabeel and he's gone too. I'm a child - small and alone, cold and seeking comfort. Bundle of clothes had some warmth in, so crept in. Found something harder in them - a body. Stood. Stepped back. Grew an age with every step. Watched as the market burned before me: watched the storeholders try to protect their stock, watching parents try to save their children, watching it all burn.

I remember this. I remember... Oh Desna! What did I do?

I never thought...

Felt a hand on my shoulder, then, and came back to the corridor. It was Tanna's hand. An absence of light behind with the sounds of a gun being cleaned - Zabeel. Once he'd settled enough to drop the darkness, explained we'd suffered some kind of illusion. 

Still feel confused. Hadn't thought about that side of the fire, always just focused on how it felt at my back as I ran with Flash to my chest and Cinder at my side.

It was Zabeel who shot Tanna, under influence of the spell. Tanna says he didn't hurt her - she hurt herself more touching me when it first took effect and I lit up. So I was burning when I thought my fire was out. Some comfort that it hadn't left me after all.

Z&T returned to Sam & the fight, but I needed to calm Flash & Cinder, and took moment to calm - held my butterfly necklace and begged for forgiveness. Will follow up with action when I can. 

Sam dealt with most of undead. The robed guy & the 5 kneeling figures were harder to deal with - was like kneeling people not really there - like slicing through jelly & no response. Sam muttered something about them being on another plane. They held crystals - these could be damaged. Robed guy couldn't be hurt, but realised hitting him damaged crystals faster - Sam said he'd fired arrows at him earlier and they'd hit the mummies til there were no mummies left.

Robed guy summoned some kind of asphyxiating cloud. When it cleared, was gone, kneeling guys were gone, guy on altar was gone. Found some shards of the crystals - carefully collected them. There was a robed guy on floor with throat slit, but not the one we'd fought. Body bereft of blood.

Set the bomb Ezekiel had given & legged it back to hill we arrived on. Explosion - column of fire followed by mushroom-shaped cloud. Shockwave nearly sent us flying.

Malliard came for us. He has magic cloak that can turn into a door to another place. Nice way to travel. Lined with stars when in use. Lovely.

M thinks he's heard of our robed guy by reputation, but doesn't know name. Known associate of cult of Zon-Kuthon. Reckons temple we explored pre-dated the Rovagug temple that had been above. Says the gem shards are from "soul gems" - capable of holding vanquished. Says these must have held powerful souls.

Was the ritual completed?

What was ritual for?

M says trapping of a god will have created a magical conversion ideal for certain rituals. Suspects the kneeling people were each on a different plane. Not many rituals require that; none good. Suspects plan was to corrupt remaining Star Towers.

Hope unsuccessful. No doubt will know soon enough.

M has arranged rooms for us at the palace.

Pathfinder Interlude - The Temple of Rovagug (Jvala's Journal)

Following on from Tanna's Journal covering the session I missed, we return to the remains of Rovagug's temple, as noted by Jvala. Short update because it was a combat heavy session :)

Flash and Cinder finally agreed to enter this creepy place and we joined the others as they reached another door - Zabeel opened it quickly and threw in on of his 'Ezekiel-enhanced' smoke bombs.V. effective: v. loud, lots of lightning. Tanna summoned fecking massive sentient earth - kobolds went 'squish'. There were some others in there, a dwarf and a guy with a snake's head.

Earth elementals v. good at fighting kobolds.

Found more of those ancient coins.

2 doors further down - library opposite room with water sound. Decided to fight library first - some magic-types in there. We made sure they knew they were dead.

Battle tired us enough others decided we should rest there - barricadable. Bad idea. Room creepy. Salvaged some books, charts, stuff like that. Sam was reading up on Baphomet's realm. Tanna found book on Sarkozia, before it was the World Wound. Says "the veil" there has always been particularly weak. Doesn't explain "veil". Says barbarians particularly revered "andocurava" - some kind of creature? Makes mention of Arodan's familiar Meioelvea - a "paradigm of the species".

The voices are louder here, more insidious. The others are making me sleep here with the undead bodies. Won't let me burn them - don't realise they could get back up. And many of these books... can't imagine Desnae would be happy with so much evil getting into the world. But they won't let me burn.  

Next ... morning? ... explored other room. Stumbled through door and landed in lake of blood. Blood like a fountain. A room filled with fountain. Person in the blood: black hair, black skin, unnatural glowing beauty. Blood poured down to form armour. Great axe strapped to back - pink crystal turned red as dipped in blood. Countered magic and fought well. Didn't feel like normal body - living or undead - when struck. Blood flowed from lake back up figure and knitted wounds. Eventually my sword struck something in the body - aimed and hit it again. Shattered like glass. Body exploded in shower of blood. No idea what that was - if in Pathfinder Archives, please advise.

*Having a friendly druid nearby is useful when you need showers.* 

Pathfinder Interlude - Tanna's Journal

From the Journal of Tanna Freespirit:

Our latest line of questioning and investigation had us lead by the renowned bard Grayson Silversong right into the main throne room of Brevoy. We arrived using a scribed arcane circle lead by Grayson that caused us to teleport the vast distance far faster than a bird could fly, a method, in hindsight, warranted at least some forewarning and preparation with Brevoy itself. After a brief show of force that reminds me of a wolf snapping its teeth at an intruder, we were lead to a chamber away from the alarmed king.

The wizard Malliard met us in the chamber after a short while and we spoke at length upon the news, about the disappearance of our tome-worthy subjects, the Earls. We soon moved onto the more pressing matter of the corruption and aging of the Star Towers, as outlined in my last journal entries. As expected, this news added burden onto Malliard’s mind and he gave us a little more information about the situation of the towers and their importance in keeping the god Rovagug sealed away. Unless something was done to stop his escape, the best case scenario is the destruction of the world. Given what we know there is little that can be done, but an option has presented itself, to investigate the ruins of a temple to Rovagug to the east. Malliard explained that the place was almost certainly dangerous and that there was no guarantee that we would return alive, but given what is at stake I knew in my heart that I could not ignore the threat and agreed to go.

The next few days blurred into meetings and planning as we prepared for the trip to the ruins. Scrolls of resurrection were provided to me for emergencies, should one of us fall in battle. While this goes against my beliefs of the cycle of life, I reluctantly agreed due to the shear importance of our task. Should the towers fall, the cycle of life across all of the world will end.

With a spell from Malliard we made our way most of the way towards the ruins of the temple, traveling for another few hours east before the forest surrounding the temple came into view, the sight of what still lingers in my mind’s eye. The trees stood black, appearing as if burnt by a colossal fire. It was just in this view that I decided to take the time to commune with nature to establish an understanding of the natural balance of the forest. It was then that I heard the most unsettling responce I have ever received from a commune.

Silence.

With some further communing from around the area I quickly understood what was happening. Sadly it is not a case of going unanswered, but simply the fact that large area around the temple was simply devoid of life. No plants grew, no animals foraged, birds even avoided the area entirely no doubt due to the same gut feeling of ‘wrongness’ that even now remains firmly in my gut, like a disease slowly eating away at the body.

When my attention returned to the rest of the flock found that they were thankfully in better spirits, having occupied their time playing games to keep their skills sharp. After explaining the situation we decided to continue our journey to the ruins to find out what we needed. As our journey took us closer to the forest it soon became clear to me that it was something far more unnatural than a fire that had killed the trees and plantlife in the area, the blackened forms of the trees not burnt, but simply dead, as if the life had been sucked out of them. Not even the usually resilient insect and fungus life had escaped, and I wondered if I too would soon feel the unnatural forces that caused this tugging at my life.

With my unease growing with every step, we eventually arrived at the ruins, a large religious complex that seemed to have been the site of a large explosion. The walls and roof were spread across a wide area, while the massive metal doors had partly melted to the ground. The feline Sam scouted ahead before returning to report to us that he had found a trap door leading underground.

The ladder led us to a long corridor of steps that lead deeper underground, lit by eery blue ‘flames’ in sconces on the walls that lit up as we approached, a few traps set to try and stop intruders but these were luckily not too much of a problem. The corridor eventually opened out into a fairly large chamber, an archway to our left opening out into an imposing room featuring some kind of religious undertones and what appeared to be a sacrificial altar in one end. Two doors were also present in the room, one dead ahead and one to our right.

We investigated the room with the altar first, warily inspecting throned chains that connected from the roof and lead into the altar itself. The altar was clearly for some kind of blood or life sacrifice, as throned manacles were present in four locations, tracks present on the surface of the altar’s slab to channel the blood of the victim. After finding a lever, we found the entire altar raises up into the air along the chains, but the cuffs themselves had no give, and I believe the act of raising the altar would cause these bindings to tear into flesh, no doubt to lead to the victim’s demise.

With the feeling of dread growing in my mind, we left the altar and moved to the door opposite the entrance, listening by it for a moment before quietly confirming that we could hear voices within. Sam volunteered to go ahead to check it out, and despite my concerns on what may be on the other side, his lack of response was an indication he had decided to go forth anyway. With a moment of brief preparation, we waited. When we heard the sounds of weapons being readied and brisk movements, we pushed open the door and rushed in to help. The fight lasted all but a few seconds, after which Sam responded in an almost childlike manner. It turns out that he had attempted a ploy to get the people within to fight one another, but since we did not know this, we had interrupted their fight with our rescue.

I resisted the urge to point out that he should havelet us know first, as I know how proud and independent he likes to appear, although I am sure he has some kind of insecurity hidden within judging by the way he avoids notice and even denies his very appearance, often choosing to appear as a halfling rather than a feline. One day I will ask him about the reason for his denial of self, but for now it was the wrong time.

After a brief sulk we checked the bodies and the room to find some strange, and somewhat worrying things. The people had been playing with cards that had nothing I could see on them, appearing to be gambling for coins that seemed far older than even some of the trees I had seen in my travels. If they could talk, I wondered what tales they could tell us of their existence. Something seemed odd about the people themselves however, and upon close inspection I spotted horrific marks around each of their ankles and wrists, as if thorned cuffs has been attached, most likely from the altar we saw before.

Further investigation lead us to the conclusion that the people in the room were some kind of undead that seemed to be tasked with cleaning the main room and alter, for signs of dust and signs of footprints showed that they had been in their final room for some time but ventured out, while the area beyond the door was spotlessly clean. After some brief discussions we then decided to take the remaining door back in the room adjoining the altar room.

The doorway lead us into a spotless corridor, lit with more of the eerie self lighting flames. This corridor quickly put myself and the rest of flock on edge as soft whisperings just outside the edges of our hearing started to taunt us. Zabeel seemed most unsettled, and speaking out from his normally calm and quiet composure, he began to accuse me to being the one causing the whispering. After a few attempts to explain to him that it was not my doing, I decided to say nothing, hoping that having someone more tangible to blame than whatever unnatural balance bleeds from these walls will help him in keeping himself ready. I will keep an eye on him however, as it would upset me for him to grow so frustrated by these perceived irritations on my part that it would impact the flock’s trust of one another and put turbulence in our flight.

The corridor’s walls soon gave way to a doorway but inside all we could find is a small cold room full of fresh supplies. Given the age of the other things in this unnatural place this surprised me, but we decided not to linger too long and continued on. The next room we found was the most puzzling we found so far, the room a perfectly round room with a domed roof, the walls covered in slaps of paint that have formed the shapes of strange arcane script and runes. The source of the paint was most puzzling of all, a shirtless man wielding a large paintbrush, not seeming to care or even notice our presence as he feveriously painted, wielding his brush with each stroke as if it was a natural part of himself, in the way a squirrel wields its tail to keep its balance.

In his usual quiet and mischievous manner, Sam stole the paintbrush away from the man and cast it aside with what I am sure was a feeling of glee, but such jubilation quickly faded as the man thrust out a hand, causing the paintbrush to return to his hand in the blink of an eye so he could resume his task, still not taking any notice of us as if he was lost in his own world. The marks on his wrists and ankles matches those of the ‘people’ we saw before, giving us a little more insight into the state these people must of been left in after their ordeal.

Looking for answers I decided to take a glimpse into the magic of the room and activated my nature’s gift of sight of the magical thermals of the room. Expecting the swirling magical sights and winds I normally see, I was taken completely off guard by the runes that seemed to blast into life, filling my vision with them no matter where I looked or how tightly I closed my eyes. I could feel searing pain of the runes and was overwhelmed by it. For how long I was like that I do not know, but thankfully Zabeel was able to snap me out of it and helped me calm down enough to see normally once more. Despite this, I am still hesitant to close my eyes, as I still see glimpses of those runes like the fleeting glance of the sun leaves a lasting mark upon your vision.

I could not tell if it was because he sensed my unease, or because the man had failed to be upset by his theft of the brush, but Sam suggested the next step would, logically be to kill the man and continue on our way. Normally I would have asked for more of a reason to do such but given the devastation and unnatural blight this place had caused, I found myself agreeing with him almost immediately and so I stepped back to watch as he skillfully wielded his weapon and ended his life in a smooth strike.

I feared that the visions from before were returning however as his blood struck the wall as all the runes began to move in a sinister manner. Not wanting to see for what purpose, I flew from the room with the rest of the flock, just in time it seems as the entire room was consumed by whatever chaotic powers had been painted on its walls, nothing visible to betray the fact we had just left a room, only a smooth wall that seemed different from its surroundings that prevented me from disbelieving my memory entirely. Thankfully, the paintbrush was nowhere to be seen.

After a few uneasy moments of silence broken only by the continued whispering on the edge of our senses, we decided to continue along the corridor and soon found ourselves at a fork in our path. We chose to take the left and followed the corridor around into what seemed to be a much more lived area of the underground. Moving carefully, we found what seemed to be bedrooms of the people who ‘lived’ here, if living was the right word for it, and found more of the ancient coins. I looked forward to showing the coins to Jvala when she meets with us again, her delay caused by the unease of her pack who, understandably were not keen on the idea of entering these devoid lands. In a way I am thankful that poor Skydancer did not have to see this place, as I am certain it would haveruffled his feathers and upset his spirit to see sky denied to his wings by whatever fell force wards off the other birds of the area.

We continued to follow the corridor past the rooms until we reached a set of double doors, and after a quick check we guessed we had found a combined food and training room. Sam had been able to identify someone who appeared to be in charge of the pack within. After a moment to prepare we decided the best approach would be for Sam to enter the room and dispatch the leader and anyone else he can before we hear the sounds of alarm, at what point Zabeel and I were to charge into the room, draw attention and start working together to strike down our prey.

The moment we heard sounds that Sam’s prey had been noticed, Zabeel and I charged into the room. I was unable to resist calling out to our foes in a manner that I am sure would have earned a grin from Vernus, and within moments the room a blur of blades and blood. After taking a few painful strikes from the enemys I realised the cause, both Sam and Zabeel out of sight as they used their natural born and skillfully honed abilities to keep themselves out of the enemy’s sights, while I stood at the forefront of the combat like a stranded buffalo facing a pack of wolves, unable to hide behind Vernus and Jvala as normal due to circumstance.

Sam and Zabeel were still there however, and it quickly became apparent to me that they were striking down anyone who came to strike me. Unwilling to become pray myself and spurred on by the help and memories of my friends, I decided to channel my ‘Inner Vernus’ and attempted to take up a posture similar to the ones I had seen him use. With a bellow that sent my cloak into a frenzy despite the still air I attempted to draw the attention of the foes to leave them exposed. In a manner that I hoped would make Vernus laugh I called,

“Is there anyone else?!” I called out, standing before the bodies of three others. Three more charged, surprising me with the speed a ferocity of their strikes before they too fell down.

“Is that it?!” I called out once more, in a tone I had heard him use before, only to be answered immediately by a blade in the back, causing me to yelp like a wounded cub. Clearly, I lacked the viper like reflexes that Vernus always displayed, and so I decided enough was enough and helped dispatch the remaining foes before licking my wounds.

I think in the future, I will leave the hissing and thumping of the ground to those that are better suited for it, but it will still be a fun story to tell the others once we meet with them again.