In my quest to devise easier campaign development protocols, I’m seeing a lot of good advice about creating scenarios, but not so much about running them. I suspect the reason is because there may not exist a good, objective, universal standard for this: most GMs I know prefer to “wing it,” because they can respond to the players more fluidly than if they were following a set script. Besides, every playing group is different, and what one party eats up, another party will spit out.
But if running an adventure is really just storytelling with dice, then the ability to spin a good yarn should cover most of what a GM needs to do to keep his players entertained and engaged. Devising good adventure hooks and fleshing out your adventure notes are important beginnings; weaving them—along with the PCs—into a good story is easier with some high-level pacing and scripting.
The Well-made Play
In approved literary tradition, I recommend framing your adventures in the well-made play format. Popular in the 19th century, the well-made play was a dramatic structure characterised by the neat resolution of highly complex plots. And I mean really complex, of the “could never happen in real life” variety. As the format grew popular, playwrights would devise increasingly convoluted and hopelessly tangled plots, all the better to show off how clever they were when, after due escalation of suspense, plots were happily resolved by the play’s end.
And happy resolution is important—the well-made play spawns no tragedy. No matter how desperate, dire, or bleak the circumstances, no matter how slim the odds, protagonists in the well-made play tradition always—eventually—come out on top.
But since we’re talking about an interactive game, the players have to participate and get engaged; never just hand over victory as a matter of course. Rather, assume that there’s always a way out, a chance of success, or an option to survive—but only if the PCs work for it through character action and decent roleplaying. If the PCs try their best, feel free to call in the cavalry or twist the plot in the PCs’ favour, but do it only as a reward for devising a clever plan, undertaking a calculated risk, or executing some derring-do. Your PCs, who are the campaign’s perennial protagonists, understand that they won’t always make the right choices, but they should also get some slack if they give 110% and occasionally think outside the box. Trying their damndest in the face of hopeless odds is, after all, what the sagas are all about.
The Three-act Formula
The well-made play was most widely presented in a three-act format (Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest is a popular example). The story’s conflict almost always has its roots in events that occur long before the story begins, but the antagonists’ actions (or the protagonist’s desires) thrust the heroes into the fray, which sets the plot in motion. While plotlines can be freakishly complicated (they always seem contrived, or, at least, uncannily coincidental), there exists an internal consistency that suggests a sensible relationship between cause and effect. Within the context of the story’s setting and characters, everything has an internally feasible and coherent explanation.
Given all this, the three-act format is well suited to RPG adventures:
- RPG adventures are, almost by definition, too crazy to be real, though they require some measure of consistency to keep the players engaged. In other words, you can concoct a ridiculous storyline, so long as it makes internal sense and is interesting to the PCs.
- The tradition’s focus on cause and effect provides a good opportunity to introduce and connect all sorts of seemingly disparate elements of your setting, as characters, monsters, special places, and unusual items all intersect to make a story. Any given aspect of your campaign has a potential role to play in a given plot.
- The format gives hope to protagonists who find themselves in over their head, since some manner of resolution is always just a few acts away. That resolution isn’t always exactly what the PCs are striving for, but the three-act structure allows for nick-of-time rescues, the sudden arrival of the cavalry, and (especially) unforeseen plot twists that work in the protagonists’ favour.
- The three-act template is a tried-and-true storytelling vehicle—naturally, you don’t have to follow the formula exactly, but you won’t go wrong if you do.
Adventures in Three Acts
I’m not suggesting you write a three-act play every time you want to run an adventure. Instead, I’m recommending that you use the three-act template to script the story and pace the action. Assign the major encounters/story elements of your adventure to one of the three acts, and you’ll have a high-level script for running the scenario. Below is a capsule view of what to include in each act:
Act I
Starts off the story with exposition (background history and details), introduction of the protagonist, the conflict defined, and the catalyst (i.e., the event that sets things in motion). In adventuring parlance, the protagonist is the party, the conflict is implied by the adventure hook (fleshed out with appropriate detail), and the catalyst is the start of the action. This can be as simple as the PCs saying, “We set off for Mt. Formidàble,” or as contrived as the GM saying, “The Fish-men of Magog are swarming the wharf now—what do you do?”
Act II
Begins with the first encounter with the antagonist or his minions, actualising the conflict in earnest. Throughout Act II, the conflict follows a path of ever-escalating tension and difficulty, as the protagonist struggles to overcome the antagonist’s steadily increasing resistance. Along the way, the protagonist may acquire new knowledge, gear, and allies; discover clues and secrets (which may prove crucial during the climax); and meet new and unanticipated threats as the antagonist pulls out all the stops to thwart the heroes. Act II invariably ends at the apex of the antagonist’s power, while the protagonist is close to defeat and seemingly incapable of victory.
Act III
This is the climax—the final showdown where the conflict is resolved. The protagonists—at the edge of defeat—manage to exploit some obscure advantage or fortuitous twist of fate (possibly foreshadowed in Act II) and accomplish their goal. The denouement, or aftermath of the climax, doles out everyone’s just rewards: the antagonist defeated (either through death, incarceration, exile, or dismissal), and the heroes rewarded for their efforts. Because the well-made play is unambiguous about winners and losers, the identity of the victor is a black-and-white issue; while the antagonist may be only temporarily defeated, it should be clear that the party has won this round.
For Example
Using an adventure familiar to most of us, The Keep on the Borderlands, here’s how a particular scenario might be scripted in the three-act format:
Act I – The PCs start their adventure
- Exposition: The forces of chaos have long threatened the peace of law-abiding people, blah, blah, blah.
- Introduction of protagonists: The PCs, who have arrived at the Keep.
- Adventure hook: Most likely some rumour the PCs overhear in the tavern; let’s say they learn about a reward for rescuing a merchant imprisoned in the Caves.
- Catalyst: The PCs, lusty for gold, venture forth to find the merchant and return him safely to the Keep.
Act II – The PCs struggle against their antagonist
- Protagonists’ struggle: The PCs arrive at the Caves of Chaos, where they must locate the merchant and battle his captors.
- Antagonist’s resistance: The Caves are numerous and difficult to reach; the merchant could be in any one of them. Plus, there’s a crapload of humanoids defending the Caves; the one where the merchant is captive is itself populated by a half-crapload of hobgoblins, who know the caves inside and out. They use the terrain to their advantage: setting up ambushes, flanking the party, and cutting off their escape route.
- Protagonists’ near-defeat: While the PCs find and free the merchant, getting out of the Caves alive is no easy feat: by turns, the PCs find themselves wounded, lost, and ultimately surrounded by a stout horde of angry hobgoblins, all bent on using their spears for a serious poking.
Act III – The PCs accomplish their goal
- Climax: Somehow, the PCs manage to defeat the stout horde of spear-poking hobgoblins. How? Well, it’s possible they took the old-fashioned approach and hacked their way out. But that’s not nearly as interesting as…(1) the skulking PC thief found a secret passage leading out; (2) the mighty PC fighter blows a horn he found in another part of the Caves, and the hobgoblins scatter; (3) the PC magic-user comes up with a cunning plan involving floating disc, 4 iron spikes, and a length of rope…; (4) the PC dwarf challenges and defeats the hobgoblin chieftain in single combat, causing the rest of the tribe to stand down; (5) one of the hobgoblins recognises the PC cleric’s holy symbol, which forces a morale check the humanoids fail; or (6) the PCs are saved by the cavalry, in the form of soldiers from the Keep, a mutual enemy of the hobgoblins, or a band of elves who tracked the party.
- Denouement: The PCs return to the Keep, deliver the merchant, collect their reward, and earn some local fame.
As a GM, you rinse and repeat with the next adventure. If you’re thinking just a little bit ahead, you can use the climax to inspire the next adventure hook. For example: Why do the hobgoblins run like sissies when the horn is blown? What’s the connection between the hobgoblins and the cleric’s holy symbol? What were soldiers from the Keep doing in the Caves? Who are the hobgoblins’ mutual enemy and how do they react to the PCs? Why were those elves tracking the party?
Five Acts?
The five-act format has been around since people started writing plays. In terms of story flow, it’s largely identical to the three-act template, except that certain elements are more clearly separated:
- Act I: Exposition and adventure hook
- Act II: Catalyst
- Act III: Struggle toward resolution
- Act IV: Climax
- Act V: Denouement
Arguably, the transition between each act is smoother than with the more formulaic three-act model, but the story arc is essentially the same. Since the PCs will embark on another adventure as soon as the current one ends, the choice between five- and three-act is largely a personal preference: it all depends on how you want to delineate each segment of the plot (i.e., it’s more about your bookkeeping than how the players will experience the adventure).
Final Words
The three-act template is a formulaic approach to scripting adventures, but it’s easy to use and it works. That said, it doesn’t mean that you have to write a three-act play every time you want to create an adventure—this is just a template for spinning a good yarn. In fact, it’s still a reliable formula for a lot of TV and film, where the pattern is still at work. Ever notice how the hero is always at his lowest point just before his highest? It was the same way in 19th century theatre—don’t fix what ain’t broke.