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Thread: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

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    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    Using the "DramaSystem" created by Robin D. Laws, the Amphitheater is a section where many role-playing scenarios can be realized.

    The DramaSystem places focus on narrative and emotional conflict. In a DramaSystem game, players collectively create a compelling story
    of emotion and conflict within a tightly-knit group of people.

    A tribe in the Iron Age? Norsemen in the days of the Vikings?
    A group of survivors in a zombie apocalypse? Nuclear winter?
    Mercenaries fighting in the 100 Years' War? An interstellar war on a far planet?

    We can role-play them here with the DramaSystem.

    Procedural Action v.s. Dramatic Action
    There are two types of scenes in stories and narratives: Procedural and Dramatic.
    Procedural action is the confrontation and possible overcoming of external obstacles. Opponents are fought, mysteries are investigated, new lands are explored, etc.
    It is where practical goals are sought.
    Dramatic action is where characters confront internal obstacles, seeking emotional reward from people they have connection with, for good or ill.
    Most RPGs and games are simply filled to the brim with procedural action and practical goals without ulterior motive, but in reality (or at least in compelling stories) practical goals often disguise emotional desires and goals.

    I ask you: What is the external action without the internal drama?
    Why do you seek to role-play with others if not to interact as characters with personalities, desires, and conflicts?

    Series
    The Amphitheater is intended to be a stage from which players can role-play any accepted scenario.
    It is intended to suit a vast array of settings, and should be seen as a Theater, which has a series "Now Playing" and many series which have passed.

    Forum Structure Forum: "The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama"
    Description: "A theater where Drama and Narrative rule, and any close-knit scenario is possible."
    Subforum: "Through the Looking Glass"

    Description: "Look and see the wonders of role-playing"
    Subforum: "Anthology"
    Description: "Look and see how far we've come"


    Creating Characters
    Step By Step To create the protagonists who make up the key ensemble of a series, the group follows these
    steps in a moderated sign-up thread. When a step is not quite self-explanatory, a fuller
    description appears in a subsequent section.
    Character Creation thread is not a formal sign-up, but rather a discussion where the details are hammered out.

    1. A Game Moderator briefly encapsulates the series setting and premise, as seen in “The Land and its People” and the example "Hillfolk" setting.

    2. First player to post proclaims his/her character’s name and role in the group. Names should depend on the setting decided above,
    and example names should be included in the Series Pitch.

    3. Second player proclaims his/her character’s name, role in the group, and relationship to first character. Players notate relationships on relationship maps.

    4. Third player proclaims his/her character’s name, role in the group, and relationship to all other proclaimed characters.

    5. All remaining players repeat above step.

    6. Starting after the third player posts their character, players proclaim their characters' desires.

    7. First player defines what his/her character wants from any other
    player’s character.

    8. The player of the other character defines why they can’t get it.

    9. Both players adjust the statement as needed to reflect first character’s understanding
    of the situation.

    10. Repeat steps 7-9 for each remaining player in precedence.

    11. Repeat steps 7-9 until all characters are named as objects of at least two other
    characters’ wants. (Any unaddressed relationships are defined during play.)

    12. The players define their characters’ dramatic poles.

    13. Each player ranks his character’s action types, sorting them into Strong, Middling, and
    Weak.

    14. Players apply “How I Do It” descriptors to any or all action types. Or they may pass on
    defining any or all descriptors until needed in play.

    15. Based on what they now know about their characters, especially their dramatic poles,
    players complete the statement, “My story is of a man/woman who...”

    16. With a renewed order of precedence and an initial scene framing, play begins.

    17. For players who join the game late, they should first see the "NEW PLAYERS LOOK HERE" sticky.

    Unless otherwise stated, there is no precedence, and players may post in the "first come, first serve" format.
    Role in the Band
    The main cast of player characters (PCs) are usually influential members of a grouping of people, be it a tribe, family, or otherwise party of loose companions. The group works as a team in some regard.

    In the Hillfolk example setting, the group is a band of raiders or a tribe.
    "It offers protection and patronage to a dispersed territory of farmers and herders. It attacks and steals from the farmers and herders of other territories.
    Together you probably comprise the leader of the band, and his or her inner circle. You are either related to one another by blood, or so close—for good and ill—that you might as well be. "
    Players are free to define their characters’ role in the group however they choose.
    They decide whether leadership is formalized, with a clear leader and followers, or proceeds by consensus. Role-players normally avoid definite chains of command, but here you’ll find that the emotional bonds of the drama system prevent a leader player from unduly dominating the story.
    The decisions you make about your roles may or may not define the standards of your culture.
    When you meet neighbors and rivals, you decide whether they follow your leadership structure, or obey sharply divergent traditions.
    Some characters might take formal roles, while others are defined by their blood relations to them.

    In a tribal situation, such as in Hillfolk, sample roles might include:
    - Chief
    - Elder
    - Adviser
    - Scout
    - Raid Commander
    - Priest
    - Oracle
    - Mother/Father/Brother/Sister/Son/Daughter to the Chief
    - ...or to any other important figure
    - Husband/Wife/Lover of the Chief
    - ...or to any other important figure
    - Healer
    - Talker
    - Ambitious aspirant to the Chief’s position

    There are sometimes more roles than PCs. You don’t need to fill all of them. Instead, the assortment of roles you choose tells you what roles your group values. You might decide later, as recurring characters are established, that some of the above positions are filled by recurring characters (NPC's controlled by GM's). They might be important but not as crucial to the storyline as the main cast. Or they might not be part of your group structure at all. You answer these questions yourselves, over time, using the collaborative process explained
    later in the rule set.
    Defining Relationships
    When you define your relationship to another PC, you establish a crucial fact about both characters. You can make it any kind of relationship, so long as it’s an important one. Family relationships are the easiest to think of and may prove richest in play. Close friendships also work. By choosing a friendship, you’re establishing that the relationship is strong enough to
    create a powerful emotional bond between the two of you. Bonds of romantic love, past or present, may be the strongest of all.
    As in any strong drama, your most important relationships happen to be fraught with unresolved tension. These are the people your character looks to for emotional fulfillment.
    The struggle for this fulfillment drives your ongoing story. Defining one relationship also determines others, based on what has already been decided.
    Adrian decides that his character, Axehandle, is the husband of Bladesinger (played by Beata).
    Later, Claude specifies his character, Crow, is Axehandle’s brother. That makes Crow Bladesinger’s brother-in-law.
    You can always tighten the web of connections between the characters by specifying multiple relationships to a given character.
    Claude decides that Bladesinger is not only his sister-in-law, but his battle partner.
    They always fight together when they raid, and feel a sense of protectiveness toward one another that transcends their relationship by marriage.
    Players may raise objections to relationship choices of other players that turn their PCs into people they don’t want to play.
    When this occurs, the proposing player makes an alternate suggestion, negotiating with the other player until both are satisfied.
    If needed, a GM assists them in finding a choice that is interesting to the proposing player without imposing unduly on the other.
    Delia says that Axehandle is the lover to her character, Darkeye. This rubs Adrian the wrong way.
    “That’s not my guy,” he says, going on to explain that he wants to play a noble man felled by ambition, not a sneaking betrayer.
    Delia modifies her idea to say that Axehandle is the object of Darkeye’s unshakeable infatuation.
    This preserves a version of her idea while still protecting Adrian’s conception of Axehandle. He agrees to the change, which Delia then enters on her character sheet.
    Keep track of relationships as they are established during character creation with the Relationship Map thread.
    Label relationships with the nature of the relationship. As relationships between other PCs are established, connect and label them as well.

    Your Desire
    A PC’s desire is the broadly stated, strong motivation driving his actions during dramatic scenes. The desire moves him to pursue an inner, emotional goal, which can only be achieved by engaging with other members of the main cast, and, to hopefully rarely, with NPCs run by the GM's. Your desire might be seen as your character’s weakness: it makes him vulnerable to others, placing his happiness in their hands. Because this is a dramatic story, conflict with these central characters prevents him from easily or permanently satisfying his desire. Think of the desire as an emotional reward your character seeks from others.

    The most powerful choices are generally the simplest:
    - approval
    - acceptance
    - forgiveness
    - respect
    - love
    - subservience
    - reassurance
    - power
    - to punish
    - to be punished

    You may be accustomed to thinking of character goals in practical terms, reachable by physical action or by participation in abstract activities.
    The pursuit of these procedural goals may take a key role in the story, but only in so far as it reflects an interior, emotional objective.
    It’s okay to use a practical goal as a starting point, provided you delve past it into the deeper dramatic goal beneath.
    Achieving the practical goal gets you nowhere, until others around you grant you the emotional reward you hope it will pry from them.
    “Axehandle wants to conquer the kingdom of the north,” says Adrian, as he proposes
    his desire.
    “That’s a practical goal,” replies a GM. “Axehandle can certainly want to conquer
    the northern kingdom—that’s a big enough story hook to drive a whole campaign. But
    we need to know the inner reason that drives him to do this. What emotional reward
    does he seek?”
    “When Axehandle was little, they called him a weakling. His older brother was
    supposed to be chieftain. Only when he was killed by a lion did Axehandle win his
    father’s grudging acceptance. He still remembers the taunts, the doubts. By conquering
    what his father failed to conquer, Axehandle will show them all.”
    “So your desire is to win respect?”
    “In a way. Really I want to show them all. To prove them wrong about me.”
    As further examples, here are some other practical goals reconfigured into suitably emotional
    desires:

    Your Dramatic Poles
    Driving any compelling dramatic character in any story form is an internal contradiction. The character is torn between two opposed dramatic poles. Each pole suggests a choice of identities for the character, each at war with the other. Events in the story pull the character from one pole to the next.
    Were your character’s story to conclude, his/her final scenes would definitively establish one of the identities as the definitive, conclusive one. With the help of a GM, make your poles as clear, and strongly opposed, as you can. That makes it easier for you and other participants to create entertaining scenes involving your
    character. They increase your chance of winning bennies (see the Scenes section), granting you additional power in the narrative. These depend on other participant’s perceptions of your character and his/her actions. Favor the emotional over the abstract, the simple over the complicated.

    The dramatic poles of famous fictional characters might be expressed like this:
    - Rick Blaine (Casablanca) selfishness or altruism?
    - Nora (A Doll’s House) subservience or selfhood?
    - Tony Soprano: family man or Family man?
    - Nate Fisher: (Six Feet Under) freedom or responsibility?
    - Frank Gallagher: (Shameless US) dissolution or dignity?
    - Walter White: (Breaking Bad) virtuous weakness or anti-social power?

    Stop here if you prefer to come up with character concepts on your own.
    In many cases, you can conceive your dramatic poles as your desire, on one hand, and, on the other, the character trait that makes you least likely to attain it.
    If your desire is to gain the rightful chieftainship that was snatched away from you, your poles might be expressed as leadership vs. bitterness.

    If you need further inspiration, example dramatic poles for characters in a tribal setting might include:
    - Warrior or peacemaker?
    - King or tyrant?
    - Member of the tribe or destroyer of the tribe?
    - Earner of respect or a demander of respect?
    - Safety or adventure?
    - Loyalty or ambition?
    - Visionary or madman?
    - Upholder of tradition, or upender of tradition?
    - Spirituality or carnality?
    - Wisdom or folly?

    Or borrow the dramatic poles of any established dramatic character, perhaps even those listed above.
    After transposing them into the specific setting and bouncing them off the rest of the cast, your character will quickly develop into a unique creation, leaving your original inspiration
    behind. Your dramatic poles may redefine themselves during play, as your character develops away from your original conception, or as you deliberately steer your PC on a new course after exhausting the possibilities of the old. Change them at any time by announcing the change to the rest of the group.
    If you find yourself wanting to change them often, seek a GM’s aid in arriving at a deeper choice that will last through changing circumstances and many sessions of play.
    What You Want From Others
    Now bring your dramatic poles into specific focus by declaring what they lead you to seek from particular other PCs.


    (Your character might find it easy to earn the desired emotional reward from other people around him—perhaps even other PCs. But we don’t bother to note this on the character sheet, because there’s no drama in it. This step is about finding the most acute sources of dramatic conflict between your character and the other key ensemble members.)

    For example, you might seek:
    - approval from your father
    - love from your mother
    - to punish your brother
    - to be punished by the ex-lover you betrayed
    - to achieve dominance over a competitive rival

    You then confer with the player of the other character to work out why it’s hard for you to gain this emotional reward.
    The easiest way for the other player to do this is to draw on her own character’s desire and contradiction.
    This process fills in the troubled history you share with another cast member.

    The other player in each of the above examples might say:
    - “I withhold approval because I want you to keep striving.”
    - “I could never love you as I should have, because when you were born I was still in
    mourning for your brother.”
    - “Who wants to be punished? I’ll resist your madness, as anyone would.”
    - “Even if you were to best me, which you never will, I’d rather be struck mute than admit
    it."
    The sooner you define a want, the more important it is to you. The first and second PCs you name as your withholders of emotional reward are your fraught relationships.

    The importance of your fraught relationships may fade during play, in favor of others. Still, the process of defining them will help flesh out your character initially, which is very important. You may want your character sheet to reflect changes in your fraught relationships, or just keep track of them in your head.
    More than two characters may wind up wanting something from yours.
    Action Types
    Although Hillfolk focuses primarily on dramatic scenes, you’ll still occasionally want your characters to achieve practical goals in the external world. The game breaks practical actions down into seven broad types.
    In this stage of character generation, you designate two of them as your Strong types and two as Weak. The rest are Middling.

    Here’s what you can do with each of the Action Types:
    - Enduring: You resist physical ill-effects of all sorts. Wins with this ability allow you to overcome, or at least reduce the impact of, exhaustion, injury,
    sleep deprivation, hunger, poisoning, thirst, heat stroke and the like.
    - Fighting: You overcome others in physical combat, and avoid injury in other dangerous athletic situations.
    - Knowing: Your head buzzes with useful information.
    - Making: You build, craft, and repair physical objects.
    - Moving: Under difficult circumstances, you run, climb, jump and swim and otherwise travel from place to place, over distances long and short.
    - Talking: When seeking practical advantage from negotiations and other verbal interactions (as opposed to dramatic conflicts, where you seek emotional reward), your skill at reading and playing to other’s desires allows you to prevail.
    - Sneaking: You’re good at skulking around, hiding items, concealing your activities and moving in a manner that minimizes the chances of observation.

    You can create your own, narrower action type and make it one of your Strong types.
    Do this to make a clearer, more specific statement about your character. The type name should be one or two words long.
    Run it by the rest of the group or at least the GM's to make sure everyone finds it readily understandable.
    Examples might include:
    - Horses
    - Archery
    - Religion
    - Hunting
    - Myths
    - Reedbeards

    A custom type allows you to overlap several of the existing types, though only when the action directly relates to your specialty.
    Horses might allow you to talk about horses, ride horses, and sneak well while on a horse. A Reedbeards ability would allow you to talk to these particular foreigners, operate their strange chariots, and recount their odd myths.
    When you take a custom action type, 3 instead of 2 of the standard action types are treated as Weak types.

    For each of your strong action types, write a short phrase (or single word) describing your specialty within the type.
    In a situation where it fits to describe yourself as employing your distinctive talent, you gain an additional advantage.
    Use specific detail; don’t just find a synonym for the broad category. A GM may ask you to adjust an overly vague, broad, or dull action descriptor.
    Descriptors distinguish main cast members from one another. If two players pick similar descriptors, negotiate to decide who keeps the current idea and who picks a new one.

    Enduring examples: needs little sleep, doesn’t eat much, heals quickly, resists disease
    Fighting examples: sword, spear, unarmed fighting, martial riding, climbing, swinging from ropes.
    Knowing: tides, animals, ruins, weather, Tridentians, enemy gods, farming, herding
    Making: rugs, clothing, armor, weapons, wine, ale, dried meat, bridles, bowls, tools
    Moving: speedy, graceful, powerful, finds best paths, unpredictable
    Talking: flattery, intimidation, trickery, inspiration, gossip, bribery, joking, reassurance
    Sneaking: silent creeping, hiding items, pickpocketing, impersonation, disguise
    Your Story

    Given what you’ve now discovered about your character, complete the sentence: My story is of a man/woman who...

    The sentence should evoke your desire, and possibly your central relationships and contradiction.
    It serves as a reminder to keep you focused on the story you, taking into account the collaboration of other group members, have resolved to tell.
    If your sentence is more than 25 words long, your idea isn't simple enough. Adjust the introductory clause a little if it makes for a clearer, shorter sentence.

    My story is of a man who would be king.
    My story is of a woman who yearns for revenge.
    My story is of a fighter with a man of peace hidden inside him.
    My story is of a woman who sees no difference between what is good for her, and what is good for the people.
    Expect character generation to take quite some time. Don’t be surprised if players start slipping into character and speaking in dialogue, especially when explaining why they’re not prepared to grant desires. In the DramaSystem, character generation is play—the group is collaboratively creating, and discovering, a main cast and a world.
    They enjoy the chance to imagine and become comfortable with their characters before jumping into the drama.
    Episodes
    Story-line in the DramaSystem is divided into Episodes, which can be thought of as large chapters in an epic book.They are series of loosely connected scenes, during which the characters advance their emotional goals, perhaps also performing procedural tasks that grant them dramatic leverage in further dramatic scenes.
    Themes
    Distinguishing each episode is a theme for participants to weave, loosely or obviously, into its events.The GM(s) in particular look for ways to bring the story back to the themes as the episode develops.
    A theme is a broad, simple, abstract concept evoking some aspect of the human condition. It might directly call out a desire or wanted emotional reward. Alternately, it might be a lateral idea, requiring the players to think in new ways to connect it to the ongoing saga.

    Sample Themes
    Ancestral Sins
    Betrayal
    Blood Ties
    Buzzards Circle
    Cages
    Change Is Hard
    Charity
    Choosing Sides
    Condemned to Freedom
    Dying Well
    False Smiles
    Fear
    Fear of the Unknown
    Forgiveness
    Gold
    Guilt
    Heartache
    Heating Up
    Home
    Justice
    Knowing Too Much
    Lion’s Den
    Losing
    Losing Control
    Loyalty
    Masks
    The Morning After
    New Beginnings
    Night Games
    Old Memories
    Outsiders
    Predator and Prey
    Progress
    Rebirth
    Reckonings
    Redemption
    Ritual
    Secrets
    Small Details
    The Spear of Truth
    Thresholds
    Ties that Bind
    Trust
    Two Wrongs Don’t
    Make a Right
    Unity
    Vengeance
    What Price Victory?
    What’s In a Name?


    The opening episode of a series should take a simple theme and is called by the GMs
    For Hillfolk, the example setting, it is: Hunger.

    At the end of the first session, the GMs create a precedence order. It sets out the order in which players choose the themes for the following episodes.
    The first player in the precedence order chooses the theme for the second episode, the second choose for the third episode, and so on.
    Once everyone has had a chance to pick a theme, start over again, continuing in this order until the series comes to its conclusion (if it does).
    Scenes
    Each episode consists of a number of scenes:
    - an opener that introduces the theme
    - an indeterminate number of development scenes that riff on and refer to the theme in various ways
    - a closer that somehow completes the theme—or ends organically, on a cliffhanger, conclusive line, or other exciting moment

    Calling Scenes
    Each scene begins by throwing to a player who then calls the scene, laying out the parameters under which it unfolds.
    These are:
    - Cast: names the main or recurring characters taking part in the scene. To cast a scene your player character is not in costs you a drama token.
    - Setting: where the scene takes place (at least at its outset; a scene can shift in time and place as it unfolds)
    - Time break (if any): by default, scenes are assumed to take place shortly after, or concurrently with, the previous scene.
    If you want to jump ahead in time, say so, and by how much. Time breaks are susceptible to challenge (see below.)
    - Mode: Indicate whether this is a primarily dramatic scene, in which a PC or recurring character pursues an emotional reward from a PC or NPC, or a procedural scene,
    in which one or more PCs (possibly aided by supporting characters) pursues an external, practical goal. Dramatic scenes are the default; when the group becomes comfortable with the structure, you’ll find yourselves just casting scenes without having to explicitly identify the mode. Only much rarer procedural scenes need to be called out by name.
    - Situation: a brief description of what’s happening at the scene’s outset. The caller can vividly narrate the location, the activities of the characters involved, and other vivid
    backgrounds. Sometimes it’s smoother just to cut right to the dialogue and work out supporting details as they become relevant. Caller narration may be challenged if players
    object to what you describe them as doing, or if they feel that you’ve assumed a plot advancement that ought to be played out instead. Other players cast in the scene may
    bounce off your description to describe what they’re doing or other details.
    Often, you’ll find it more natural to describe these elements in another order than the one given above.

    Calling Order
    Before the episode’s first scene, the GMs pick the precedence order.
    The player choosing the episode’s theme always calls first. Then comes the player who actually appeared first, in your precedence order.
    The GMs insert themselves into the order, replacing the player who chose the theme.
    Scenes are then called according to this altered order.
    It is Beata’s turn to choose the theme. She selects lust, and will call the first scene. A GM shuffles the precedence and, conveniently for the clarity of this example, draw the players’ names in alphabetical sequence: Adrian, Beata, Claude, Delia, Edward, and Franca. The GM substitutes himself for Beata’s appearance in the
    precedence order. The order in which participants will call scenes this week is: Beata, Adrian, The GM ,Claude, Delia, Edward, and Franca.
    Once you reach the end of a calling order, it rolls over, continuing the already established precedence order.
    In the above order, after Franca's first scene concludes, Beata calls her second scene of the evening, then Adrian, then the GM, and so on.
    Alternatively, scenes might be called just randomly/organically.
    Challenges
    Challenges
    Players may request adjustments to called scene parameters by announcing a challenge. How they do this depends on the element they object to.
    Except where otherwise indicated, challenges resolve through a vote. All players side with the caller or the challenger.
    Players may see that a scene might justifiably be challenged, but elect not to do it.
    In most groups, callers adjust their choices as soon as someone raises an objection, without having to go to challenge. The threat of a challenge leads to resolution without it.

    Ducking
    You may challenge your casting in a scene you do not want your character to take part in. Remember, however, that in drama, characters frequently take part in confrontations they’d sooner avoid. DramaSystem challenges the traditional roleplayer’s credo of complete control over his character at all times.
    Be prepared to detach, and allow your character to be pulled by emotions and obligations beyond willful control—just as we so often are in real life.
    The caller may then acquiesce to your objection, and call the scene without you, or may further describe the scene so that your character’s desire and poles compel your participation. You can duck this compulsion by spending a drama token, which goes to the caller.
    After you successfully duck a scene with a cast of two, leaving nothing to play, the caller starts over, calling a new scene that does not include your character.

    In practice, players rarely duck scenes. They’re much more likely to try the following:

    Rushing
    To insert your character into a scene the caller has not cast you in, and actively wants to keep you out of, spend a drama token or a bennie.
    The caller receives the token or bennie.
    It costs nothing to join a scene if the caller consents to your joining.
    A caller may block your unwanted entrance into a scene by spending a bennie.
    (This is not a challenge, per se, but mirrors the procedure for ducking a scene, making this the logical place to present this rule.)


    Challenging a Time Jump
    Players may object to jumps in time when they preclude them from taking actions they see their characters as wanting to take in the nearer term.
    Resolve a challenge to a time break with a vote.
    You can always jump back in time to play flashback scenes. If you’re reasonably sure your scene won’t change the outcome of the one at hand, you needn’t feel compelled to challenge it.

    Challenging a Plot Jump
    Players may object to a situation on the grounds that it advances an ongoing plot element that would be more satisfying if played out in full.
    Alternately, they might feel that you’re cutting into the middle of a brand new situation, and that it’s unbelievable that their characters would not have intervened in it sooner.
    If the caller loses the challenge, he/she must then revise their situation description to meet the objections of the challenging player, and the voters who supported him/her.

    Challenging for Novelty
    Players may object to a situation on the grounds that it is an attempt to retry an earlier scene the caller’s character lost.
    If the scene seems too similar to the GMs, they invite the caller to point to a change since the previous scene that puts the situation in a new light.
    The best defense against this challenge is to point to an intervening scene that changed the situation.
    Prevailing in a dramatic scene with a third character may change the complexion of an emotional conflict enough to justify a second attempt.
    If the player can’t point to a changed situation, the GMs resolve the challenge by requiring the caller to call an entirely different scene.
    In the first scene Delia calls in the current episode, her character Darkeye seeks Axehandle’s forgiveness for letting her love for him come to the attention of his
    recalcitrant wife, Bladesinger. Axehandle’s player, Adrian, decides that he will reject her petition.
    When her turn to call comes up, Delia says, “I go back and beg Axehandle for forgiveness again.”
    The telltale word again tips off the other players, who want to see this story thread develop in a more interesting way.
    Edward plays spoiler, pointing out that Delia’s call is a repeat.

    Delia instead elects to call a scene in which she goes to Bladesinger to assure her of Axehandle’s steadfastness.
    Beata, Bladesinger’s player, grants her petition, and reassures Darkeye in turn.

    With the situation now altered, Delia can now call as her third scene a repeat of the scene with Axehandle, arguing if challenged that the situation has changed since the
    previous go-round. This doesn’t mean that Adrian is now obligated to grant her forgiveness—he might equally be enraged by Darkeye’s approach to his wife—but it does let her try again.
    Like many of the grounds for challenge, this problem is more theoretical than actual. Players
    don’t want to repeat themselves.

    Going to Procedural
    If a player describes his/her character successfully performing a difficult practical task, any participant, the GMs included, may demand that a procedural resolution instead be
    performed to see if they successfully do it. Unlike other challenges, it takes only one objector to trigger a procedural resolution. The narrating player may avoid the procedural resolution by either withdrawing the description entirely, or adjusting it to satisfy the objector(s).

    The Right to Describe
    Players with characters present in the current scene may at any point narrate details, including:
    - physical circumstances (“I look up and see vultures circling overhead.”)
    - the behavior of walk-on characters (“The Tridents are getting restless.”)
    - their own characters actions and what comes of them (“I pick up an axe and smash the idol.”)
    When someone objects to a bit of narration, they can either adjust what they’re describing or let it go to challenge.
    Dramatic Scenes
    In a dramatic scene, characters engage in verbal conflict over the granting or withholding of a desired emotional reward.
    The character seeking the reward is the petitioner. This role is more often than not taken by the scene’s caller.
    The character deciding whether or not to extend it is the granter.
    Drama Tokens
    All participants collect and spend drama tokens throughout the course of an episode.
    Everyone starts each episode with zero tokens.
    Tokens left unspent at the end of a session contribute to a player’s chance of winning bennies, then revert to the zero.
    They do not carry over to the next episode.

    Tokens do not represent or simulate anything in the fictional reality you’re collectively depicting. Instead they bend events toward a satisfying literary rhythm, where characters
    sometimes prevail and are sometimes defeated in emotional confrontations. They overcome gamers’ natural tendency to always dig in when challenged, forcing them to play their characters like real people, impelled by emotional need and obligation.
    Calling Dramatic Scenes
    Call a dramatic scene by specifying: - the cast
    - the location
    - how much time has passed since the previous scene (if any)
    The final ingredient for a dramatic scene is intent—what the petitioner wants, consciously or otherwise, from the granter.
    If you are calling a scene in which your character acts as petitioner, as is the norm, simply go ahead and enter into the scene, without announcing your intent.
    You don’t have to make your character the petitioner, although it costs you a drama token if he or she isn’t present at all.
    You can designate an NPC, or another PC, as the petitioner. When doing this, suggest what it is that the petitioner wants.
    The participant playing the character may ask for an adjustment, or allow the character’s intent to drift as the scene plays out and the granter responds.
    Never call a dramatic scene between two recurring characters.
    Playing and Resolving Dramatic Scenes
    Players portray their characters through dialogue until the petition is either granted, or it becomes apparent that it has been conclusively rebuffed, or is losing tension and energy.
    This occurs when the players in the scene start to repeat themselves, or players not taking part in the scene grow visibly bored or restless. Where necessary, a GM steps in to declare the scene concluded, by asking the petitioner if she thinks she got a significant concession.
    If the answer is yes, the petition is considered granted, even if other players feel that the petitioner didn’t get everything he or she wanted.
    Neither the caller or the other players in general may gainsay the petitioner’s player on this point.
    If the answer is no, and the rest of the group agrees with the petitioner’s assessment, the petition is considered to have been refused.
    If the answer is no, but other participants feel that a significant shift in emotional power from granter to petitioner occurred, the group votes.
    The scene’s caller gets an extra tie-breaking vote, where necessary.
    Gaining Drama Tokens
    Any dramatic scene ends with an exchange of one or more drama tokens. If the petition is willingly granted by the participant, the granter earns a drama token - taking a token from the petitioner if they have any.
    If the granter refuses, the petitioner gains the token - taking a token from the granter if they have any.
    Forcing
    If the player playing the granter chooses not to relent, the petitioner may, by spending two drama tokens, force the granter to grant a significant emotional concession. This may still withhold some part of what the petitioner seeks, but must nonetheless represent a meaningful shift of emotional power from the granter to the petitioner.
    The forced granter receives the two drama tokens from the petitioner.
    The granter’s player may cancel a force by spending three drama tokens. These are paid to the petitioner.
    After a force occurs or is canceled, the same characters may not, for the duration of the episode, be called into similar scenes intended to reverse the original result.
    Some significant new element, as judged by challenge voting if need be, must be added to make the scene a true new development, and not just another kick at the can.

    Supporting or Blocking a Force
    Players not directly involved in a scene may support an attempt to force, or cancel a force, by
    giving their drama tokens to the current petitioner or granter—provided their character is
    present in the scene. They describe what they say or do to make the force more or less likely

    A grant needn’t give the petitioner everything he wanted in exactly the terms he wanted. Any major shift in emotional power from granter to petitioner counts as a grant.
    Sometimes you'll reach clear consensus on what constitutes a major shift; in a few cases you’ll have to vote.
    Even a force must respect the bounds of the granter’s established character. You can’t, and shouldn’t expect to, turn an avowed enemy into a loyal friend in a single scene.
    Forced petitions represent the character giving in for the moment, not undergoing a life-changing epiphany. They certainly don’t play like hypnosis or mind control.
    A force causes the subject to grudgingly act in a friendly, or friendlier than usual, manner in this particular instance.
    Axehandle (Adrian) meets with the Slipper (NPC), a representative of the northern king.
    He barges into the scene demanding respect, even though Slipper has never met him before and considers him an ignorant barbarian.
    Slipper goads and insults him throughout the interview. In the end, though (after Adrian pays two tokens to force a grant), he offers Axehandle a position in the king’s command—

    while continuing to subtly mock him. Adrian protests that he wanted more from Slipper: he wanted true respect and a better practical offer.
    You argue that the Slipper has already made a major concession: he now treats Axehandle as a useful ignorant barbarian instead of a useless one.
    To, on first meeting, embrace Axehandle as an equal would be completely outside this wily northerner’s character.

    Although Adrian continues to feel that he should have gotten more from his force, the other players agree with your argument, and pronounce the scene and force to have
    been fairly played.
    If he wants Slipper to admire Axehandle as a peer, he’ll have to keep working on him over the course of many episodes, until the shift from his initial attitude seems

    plausible in the storyline. One scene does not a turnaround make.
    Dramatic Scene Example
    It’s Delia’s turn to call. She has a drama token and could call a scene without her character in it. However, she knows what she wants Darkeye to do next and so calls a scene accordingly. In an earlier scene, Darkeye discovered that people in the clan have begun to gossip about her poorly concealed affection for Axehandle.

    If she does not somehow address this potential scandal, it could lead to her being shunned by the others. Darkeye will act as petitioner, so she simply thinks of her intent, keeping it to herself, and starts the scene: “I catch up with Bladesinger as she leaves the sparring grounds.”
    Delia refers to a location already described in past episodes, so it requires no further explanation.
    She doesn’t specify a time, which by implication means that it takes place shortly after the previous scene.

    “Can I be at the sparring grounds?” asks Claude (playing Crow.)
    “Sure, but I want a private talk with Bladesinger, so I’ll do my best to pull her away from prying eyes before we speak.”
    “Fair enough,” says Claude. “Crow will know you pulled her aside, but for the moment at least will keep sparring, with Grasslander."
    Darkeye’s intention, which Delia is not required to state, is to reassure Bladesinger.
    Delia: (as Darkeye, except where noted): Have you a moment to speak?
    Beata: (as Bladesinger) I suppose.
    Delia: (pointing) Let’s go over there.
    Beata: Are these not words we can openly express, without fear of prying eyes?
    Delia: Please, Bladesinger. Humor me.
    Beata: Very well.
    Delia: (OOC) Okay, now we’re off in one of the natural craggy alcoves near the
    fortress. (as Darkeye) You spoke of prying eyes. I come to warn you of a troubling situation, and assure you that it is not of my making.
    Beata: Ah. The wagging tongues. I have heard them.
    Delia: You have?
    Beata: But perhaps I have not heard the same waggings as you.

    Delia: Some say I have eyes for your husband. I am here to say I have done nothing dishonorable, and to assure you that I never will.
    Beata: You don’t quite deny the gossip, then.
    Delia: What?
    Beata: You promise that you won’t act on your desires, and I believe you. But you do desire him.
    Delia: I... I...
    Beata: Do not fear, girl. I question your taste, not your honor.
    Delia: Um... thanks?
    Beata: I’ve more important concerns than making trouble for you.
    Delia: Uh, good then.
    Beata: (cupping hand over mouth as if calling after her.) If it were up to me, you could have him.

    The scene clearly over as a GM leads the outcome determination.
    “So, Delia, did Darkeye get what she wanted?”
    “Hmm, that’s a tough one. On one hand, she did assure me that she wouldn’t make trouble.”
    “But on the other,” suggests Beata, “I totally shut you out.”
    “Yes,” says Delia. “That was a totally unreassuring reassurance. Well, if you go by who had the emotional power in the scene, she started out with it and never gave it up.
    I think Darkeye feels worse after the talk than she did going in. So no, I don’t feel like Bladesinger granted.”

    “Do you agree?” The GM asked Beata.
    “Absolutely. I was not conceding anything of importance to me.”
    Delia has no tokens. Beata has 1. Having refused a petition, she gives that token to Delia, and now has none.
    This example is written as if the players were in the same room with one another in a tabletop setting.
    In effect, here on TWC's forums, players are expected to write a whole lot more than just dialogue lines most of the time.
    Special Cases
    This section presents rules for unusual situations that crop up in and around drama scenes.

    No Contest Scenes
    When you act as granter, you may find, as a scene plays out, that your character has no reason to oppose a petitioner’s request.
    If so, you can declare this a no-contest scene, bringing it to a quick conclusion. The caller may then call a new scene—hopefully one in which real conflict does occur.
    If at a loss for a replacement scene, the caller may choose to pass to the next caller in the established precedence order.

    Two-Way Exchanges
    At the end of a dramatic scene, the participants might conclude that it was a two-way exchange, in which each character sought an emotional payoff, which either was or wasn't granted. If both participants were a) denied or b) got the payoffs they sought, each receives a drama token.

    If one petition was granted and the other denied, the granting player gains 2 tokens - taking from the denying player if they have any.
    Two-way exchanges may prove particularly common in scenes started with a soft open.

    Multiple Petitioners
    Sometimes more than two characters will take part in one dramatic exchange—or several dramatic exchanges will overlap and interweave with one another.
    This might happen when:
    - a player jumps into a dramatic scene
    - a dramatic scene arises organically from a conference scene

    After the various discussions come to ahead and appear to resolve themselves, ask whether this was a dramatic scene at all. Do one or more players feel that their characters sought an emotional payoff?
    - If not, it was an expository scene setting up future events, probably of a procedural nature. No drama tokens are exchanged. Call the next scene.
    - If only one player answers in the affirmative, this is an ordinary drama scene with onlookers. Determine the distribution of tokens as usual.
    This is the most common case: even in a group scene, one character’s petition usually dominates, to a degree that all participants instinctively acknowledge.
    - If multiple players feel they sought emotional reward, the group continues as follows.

    The GMs quiz each participating player, in a newly drawn precedence order, asking:
    - what they most wanted, emotionally, in the scene
    - who they wanted it from
    - and whether they got it
    If they got what they wanted, the specified player granted their petition and earns a drama token—from the petitioning player if he or she has one.
    If they didn’t get what they wanted, the specified player refused their petition. The petitioner earns a drama token—from the refuser of the grant if he or she has one.
    A group scene might easily come to one overall conclusion about a practical course of action, with various different emotional ramifications for the those taking part.

    Petitioning For Practical Favors
    Any scene involving a main cast member or recurring character is by definition dramatic.
    Even if the granter seems to be asking for a practical favor, the subtext of the scene is always emotional. Depending on how self-aware the characters are, they may or may not realize this, but it’s true all the same.
    The scene counts as a grant if the promise to perform the favor feels like a significant concession to either the petitioner, or to the group at large. Whether the favor is later performed to the petitioner’s satisfaction does not retroactively alter the outcome of the scene—but probably provokes a new scene in which the disappointed petitioner returns to the granter to express a grievance.
    Organic Creation and Balanced Input
    Expect scenes to spontaneously head in directions unanticipated by the caller. These bursts of spontaneous group creation will often comprise the standout moments of your collective story. In allowing players this freedom, the GMs should ensure that everyone gets an equal chance to push the story forward, especially when their turn to call comes around. In some gaming groups, a dominant player grows accustomed to driving the narrative and seizing an undue share of spotlight time, whatever game they’re playing. Often this is the most inventive player in the group. As such, he may try to hijack every scene, without even realizing he’s doing it.
    The GMs should intervene to bring out the contributions of other participants, balancing the input of the bold and shy alike.
    Soft Opens
    You can start a scene without specifying a situation. Instead the characters cast in the scene simply start talking to one another, and the scene works organically toward a dramatic conflict. This is called a soft open. It’s up to you to make sure that the scene goes somewhere interesting after a bit of casting about, so make sure your character is in the scene. A GM may guide the participants by asking them questions that help them crystallize the soft open into a true scene.
    When the scene arising from a soft open winds to a natural close, it may be self-evident to all concerned who the petitioner and granter were, and whether the petition was granted or withheld. If not, the GM questions the players involved, and if appropriate the wider group, to determine who gets a token out of it.
    Soft opens tend to become rarer as players grasp dramatic scene construction. Players over-relying on them should give their characters stronger motivations and/or goals in conflict with the rest of the cast.

    Conference Scenes
    On occasion you’ll want to call a particular type of soft open, the conference scene, in which all or most of the main characters discuss the issues currently before them.
    This might or might not resolve into a dramatic scene. It may instead simply work as an establishing scene, setting up subsequent dramatic and/or procedural scenes.
    When drama breaks out in a conference scene, the GM follows the multiple petitioners rules to see who gets or gives drama tokens.
    One or more NPCs may also be present, pitching in opinions or answering questions. Try to avoid situations where multiple NPCs take main focus.
    Calling a conference scene costs you a drama token only if your character is not present.
    Conference scenes are most effective when used sparingly. On one hand, they help to focus the series and re-establish the cast’s various agendas.
    On the other, they tend to go on for a good while without really moving the story forward.
    Procedural Scenes

    In procedural scenes, characters pursue practical, external goals.
    These may allow them to petition for emotional rewards in subsequent scenes, but at the moment of success or failure are matters of practical effort.
    For example, you might:
    - Battle defenders of a neighboring territory with swords and spears, as you try to steal their cattle
    - Journey across an arid desert
    - Know where to find a prophet who leads a hermit’s existence on the desert’s other side
    - Make a magnificent staff, to replace his damaged walking stick
    - Convince him (a man you have no emotional hold over and seek only a practical benefit from) to reveal to you his latest vision
    - Avoid detection by scouts sent by the people you raided, skipping a confrontation in which you have nothing to gain
    Drama v.s. Talking
    Where any scene between a PC and another character is by definition dramatic, with emotional stakes at play, all dialogue interactions with minor characters are procedural, and resolved with the Talking ability. They can never grant meaningful dramatic concessions, because the PCs have no emotional investment in them. They can only grant—or refuse—practical favors. Drama tokens are never awarded or spent as the result of a Talking scene.

    Expect players to periodically call speech-making scenes, in which their characters petition the clan as a collective, hoping to sway it in a certain direction.
    Treat these as dramatic scenes, in which the crowd acts as granter. In this setting (and almost any other) people maintain a strong emotional stake in the actions of their community.
    This distinction might seem tricky, but you won’t have to wrestle with it often if at all. Players rarely bother to call scenes involving minor characters.
    Procedural Resolution
    This section shows you how to determine what happens when the main characters pursue a practical goal.

    This section presents simple starter rules to resolve procedural actions. Use these when the group is new to the game.
    Experienced hands can later move on to the more versatile advanced resolution system (see Appendix).
    If no one ever expresses a desire for the additional choices it provides, stick with this version.
    Procedural Tokens
    Each player starts the game with three procedural tokens: one green, one yellow, one red. When you spend a token, set it aside. The others remain unspent.
    When you've spent all three of them, they immediately refresh. All three of them return to your pile of unspent tokens, and become once again available for use.
    Playing Cards
    Procedural resolutions also require a deck of standard playing cards, from which the jokers are removed. The GM always shuffles the deck before launching into any new resolution.
    (The forum uses Random.org's Playing Cards, taking out the jokers of course)
    Calling a Procedural Scene
    To establish a procedural scene, the caller describes the basic situation. While adding as much evocative narration as possible, they specify: - The scene’s location
    - Which characters are present
    - What they’re trying to achieve, and how
    Most of the time, you’ll ask players if they want their characters to take part, and frame the scene so that those who want to participate get to.
    You may break this natural etiquette if you want to, either casting unwilling characters or keeping others out, requiring players to officially dodge or rush the scene.
    To call a procedural scene your character is not in, spend a green token.
    Once you get the hang of this, procedural scene resolution becomes an exercise in free-flowing joint narration, as other players add details of what their characters are doing.
    They may add details of the environment and situation as needed. If the caller feels that these added details undermine the intent of the scene, they may adjust them to fit.
    Step One: Difficulty

    Just like the Procedural Tokens, there are Difficulty Tokens for the group. The GM(s) spend them to determine difficulty of procedural scenes.
    We start the game with 1 Strong, 1 Middling, and 1 Weak. When any individual one is spent, the other still remain unspent.
    When all three are spent, they immediately refresh. All three of them return to the pile of unspent tokens, and become once again available for use.
    The pile carries over through the entire game, across scenes and episodes.

    The GM(s) determine the difficulty of the procedural action by picking a token.
    Strong, Middling, or Weak.

    Difficulty can only be chosen from available Difficulty Tokens.

    How To Assign Difficulties
    When there is more than one available Difficulty Token, the GM(s) decide how to place the Difficulty using the following criteria (in rough order of priority, from highest to lowest):
    - Creative Instinct: If you have an instinctive sense of how hard this should be without being able to articulate why, go with that.
    - Story Possibility: If you can see more possible story branches from a success than a failure, assign the most forgiving Difficulty available. If failure seems to offer more story
    possibilities, assigns the least favorable Difficulty you can afford.
    - Emotional Rhythm: If the primary actor’s most recent scenes (including dramatic ones) have resolved in the primary actor’s favor, assign the most challenging Difficulty you can
    afford. If recent events have gone against him, assign the least challenging Difficulty available. Sometimes a player’s mood runs contrary to an objective rendering of his
    success or failure. Go with the subjective impression over your detached assessment of how well he’s been faring lately.
    - Foreshadowing: If prior events have established a success as more likely than a failure, assign the most forgiving Difficulty available. If the reverse is true, assign the toughest Difficulty you can.
    - Literal logic: If success seems unlikely based on historical precedent, your knowledge of physics, the relative strengths of various weapons, or some other factor tangential to the
    construction of a compelling story, assign the hardest available Difficulty. If it seems likely based on those factors, assign the easiest available. Take the players’ descriptions of their
    tactics into account. Spend high for ludicrous plans and low for brilliant ones.
    Step Two: The Target Card
    After shuffling the deck, the GM(s) cut it and draw a card. This is the target card.
    Step Three: Players Spend and Draw
    GM(s) do the card drawing for the players!
    Drawn cards should be public knowledge.

    In turn, according to a freshly-determined precedence order, each player may now spend a procedural token and draw a corresponding number of cards.
    To succeed, at least one of the players must, when all cards have been played, have a card that matches the target.
    Depending on the strength of the opposing force—which the players do not yet know—they may need to match only its color, or perhaps its suit, or even its number.
    So if the target card is a King of Clubs, they know that black cards are good, clubs are better, but kings of the other three suits are the best of all.

    - A player spending a green token draws two cards.
    - A player spending a yellow token draws one card.
    - A player spending a red token draws one card - after which the GM removes from play a single card held by any player.
    If none of the cards on the table match the target’s color, suit or value, the GM waits, instead knocking out the next card that does, as soon as a player draws it.

    Players whose characters are present must spend a token and make the corresponding card draw.
    Players whose characters are not present may alter the odds in the group’s favor by spending a yellow or green token. If they have neither of these tokens to spend, they can’t influence the outcome.

    Knocking Out Cards
    When a player spends a red token, the GM always removes from play the best available match, prioritizing as follows:
    1. cards with the same number
    2. cards of the same suit
    3. cards of the same color
    If two or more cards are equally good matches, it doesn’t matter which of them the GM chooses. They do so based on what seems easiest to narrate.
    Step Four: Final Result
    When all of the players have acted or (if absent) passed on acting, the GM reveals the target card to the group and checks to see if any of their cards match the target card.

    On a match, the characters prevail. Without one, they fail. A card matching the target’s value always wins, no matter the difficulty.
    Step Five: Personal Consequences
    Players who drew face cards (even if they were later knocked out by the GM) may face a personal consequence which matters in a future scene.
    -If you drew the face card when playing a green token, introduce an advantage your character can take advantage of in an upcoming scene.
    -If you drew the face card when playing a red token, introduce an additional obstacle your character must resolve in an upcoming scene.

    The GM(s) may step in to adjust advantages that seem out of proportion with the stakes of the scene or otherwise break narrative plausibility.
    Likewise, if you create a problem for yourself that isn't serious enough or acts as an advantage in disguise, the GM will help you to find an appropriately genuine and entertaining problem.

    (In the DramaSystem, Aces are considered Face Cards, along with the Jack, Queen, and King)
    Narrating the Ups and Downs


    While performing the rule actions described above, the players describe the smaller advances and setbacks the participants undergo on their way to victory or defeat.
    Here’s how it all fits together:
    - The players kick off the scene by describing what their characters are trying to do.
    - The GM(s) describes whatever it is they’re trying to overcome. They may choose to accurately portray the strength of the opposing force, or set up the players for a surprise by making a tough obstacle seem initially easy, or a weak one strong.
    - With each card drawn, the relevant player describes his character taking action. The extent of the match colors the description:


    - When the GM knocks out a card, the player who spent the red token has suffered a reversal that erases a previous advantage.
    When learning the system, concentrate on getting the rules stuff right first. Fold in narration as you grow comfortable with it. It’s more important to describe events in a fun and exciting way than to puzzle out precise interpretations of every single card drawn or removed.
    Multiple Resolutions
    Scenes never include more than one procedural resolution. Fold additional or side actions into the main narrative, or wait and call a new scene, making it a flashback where necessary.
    Procedural Resolutions in Dramatic Scenes
    On occasion, a player may wish to have her character take on a practical goal during a scene called as a dramatic. Conversely, drama may spontaneously break out during a procedural scene.
    Allow scene modes to intermix as seems organic to the story. When everyone seems to be happy with the results, GMs, as arbiters of pacing, sit back and let this happen. When these shifts feel more like sidetracks than positive developments, the GM intervenes to refocus them back to their original intent. When deciding whether to intervene, they gauge the reactions of all players, granting some extra weight to the scene’s caller.
    Success By Narration
    Often you can describe your characters, in concert with others or alone, as undertaking successful practical action, without submitting yourself to the vagaries of procedural resolution. You can do this at the top of a scene, while setting the scene, or as it unfolds. You needn't be the caller to describe your character’s practical successes.
    If no participant objects to your narration, what you describe becomes part of the narrative.
    If any participant objects, you must play out a procedural to see if your pursuit of a practical goal succeeds.
    You aren’t obligated to start a procedural when an objection is raised. Instead you can delay the attempt, or give up on it entirely.
    In the second case, your character probably sees that the action is more difficult than it at first appeared.
    In the first, you’ll likely go on to bring other players in on your action—which is the best assurance of success under the simple procedural system.
    When you call a procedural scene, and the GM doesn’t see any good story reason for you to face resistance, she’ll ask if anyone else objects to your success. If not, you describe your action as having succeeded, and then call a reframed scene arising from that.
    Adrian wants his character, Axehandle, to impress a rival chieftain, Many Words. He proposes a procedural scene in which Axehandle rescues Many Words’ daughter from a sandstorm. You, as GM, see no story reason why he shouldn’t be able to do this. Why not give him the win, and move on?
    You ask the other players if they have any objections. None of them do.

    “How do you rescue her?” you prompt.
    Adrian describes his daring plunge into the maw of the whirling storm, and his
    emergence with the girl in his arms.
    “Now what scene do you call?”
    “I take her to Many Words,” he says.
    Taking the part of Many Words, you start the dramatic scene, in which Axehandle is clearly petitioning him for a show of respect.
    Procedural Tips
    The simple procedural system rewards you for persuading as many of your fellow players as possible to participate, and to spend their best tokens.
    This underlines the game’s emphasis on the personal interactions of the main cast. Success in the practical realm follows one or more successful dramatic petitions.
    This is where the the dramatic and procedural token economies intersect—you spend drama tokens to get others to spend procedural tokens on your behalf.
    Actions undertaken alone face tough odds, even when you spend your best token. When you want your character to do something on his own, you’re almost certainly better off trying for a Success Through Narration, and hoping no one objects. If they do, you'll need allies.
    For a system where ability ranks matter, graduate to the Advanced Procedural.
    Player vs. Player


    Two main cast characters can oppose each other in achieving a practical goal. For example:
    - an arm-wrestling contest
    - a punch-up
    - one character tries to remove another forcibly from a scene; the other resists
    - competing to impress a supporting character
    Before proceeding, check the two contesting characters’ action types. If one primary is using a Strong ability and another a Weak ability, the Strong character automatically wins, no resolution system required. Each player announces the ability his character is using and what he is trying to achieve.
    Players may challenge stated goals on the grounds that they are implausible or move the story too far forward in a single action. In the event of a successful challenge, the GM suggests a modified goal that satisfies all concerned.
    If a strong ability contests against a weak ability, the character using the strong ability automatically wins.
    Otherwise, each player spends a procedural token. The outcome is then decided through a series of card draws. The maximum number of cards the player draws depends on the token
    spent: 3 for green, 2 for yellow, 1 for red. A player using a strong ability may draw an additional card if his opponent is using a middling ability.
    The GM decides which of the characters seems to have started the contest, whatever it may be.
    That player draws the first card.
    The other player draws the second.
    The first player may then draw an additional card, if he has one left.
    Then the second player may do the same.
    This continues until both players have either run out of card draws, or choose not to draw any
    more.
    The player with the highest card overcomes the other, achieving his goal
    To resolve ties between cards of the same value, use the suit order (from best to worst): spades, hearts, diamonds, clubs.

    Players who at any time drew a face card and spent a green token introduce an advantage their characters can take advantage of in an upcoming scene.
    Players who at any time drew a face card and spent a red token introduce an additional obstacle their characters must resolve in an upcoming scene.

    Assisting in Player vs. Player Contests
    Player vs. player contests may involve more than two main characters.
    The assisting player announces which contestant his character is trying to help, how he’s doing that, and what ability he’s using. Players can intervene at any time, and don’t have to
    announce this at the top of a contest. He spends a token, allowing the assisted character a number of redraws equivalent to the token spent: 3 for green, 2 for yellow, 1 for red.
    If he’s using a strong ability and everyone acting on the other side is using a weak ability, he adds an additional draw to that number.
    The assisting player draws those extra cards, as necessary, and narrates what his character is doing to bring victory for his chosen side.
    Even in what seems like a disorganized rumble between two sets of main characters, it’s always neatest to designate a primary contestant on each side. When it’s not clear who this might be, the GM chooses. Usually this will be obvious—the first character to act on one side, and the first character acted upon on the other.
    Consequences are handed out by the winning original contestant, regardless of whose token paid for the final card drawn.

    Solo Actions
    The standard procedural rules make it easier to succeed by bringing other players into your action attempt.
    Where it makes sense for a player to act on his own without undue risk of failure, the GM may decide to instead use the Player vs. Player rules, acting as the opposing supporting
    character or impersonal obstacles. The GM spends a procedural token, getting the usual 3 redraws for green, 2 for yellow, and 1 for red. If the supporting character has been established as being especially formidable in the action type used to oppose the PC, the GM gains an additional redraw.

    Use Only When Needed
    Dramatic scenes dominate DramaSystem play, even though they’re simpler and thus briefer than the procedural rules.
    Most groups start out calling lots of procedural scenes, because that’s what they’re used to playing.
    They find them easier to conceptualize, at first. As they find their legs with the system, procedural sequences begin to fall away.
    After a while, a group may all but drop them, tending instead to accept jumps ahead in time where procedural activities take place offstage, to a mutually-agreed outcome.
    This is exactly the play pattern that is meant to emerge over time.
    That said, groups develop their own internal cultures. A group that continues to call and enjoy plenty of procedural scenes is also doing it right: they’re having fun and building the story they collectively want to tell.
    Resolving Consequences
    When a character earns or suffers a consequence during a procedural scene, GM and player each make a note of it. Consequences are typically too ephemeral to include on the character sheet.
    Players should then attempt to work their consequences into an upcoming scene. If they don’t, the GM will.
    You can invoke a consequence in more than one scene. Eventually some new consequence will arise, and the old one will fade into the background.
    Eager’s new tie to Blunt Helmet resolves as soon as it appears.
    But he might well draw on it in a subsequent dramatic scene he calls with Blunt Helmet, seeking another concession from him.
    The rule of novelty will prevent his player, Edward, from drawing on it again and again without interruption.
    Over time, the relationship with Blunt Helmet will likely resolve in a way that moves past the consequence—either solidifying, so that its origin is forgotten, or becoming strained once more.
    Supporting Characters
    Supporting characters are created and fleshed out during the game by any participant, and portrayed by GMs as NPCs. They break into two types: minor and recurring. This is mostly a bookkeeping distinction, sorting the tangential figures from those who will play an important ongoing role in the series.
    The GM, or a player given bookkeeping responsibilities, should keep a list of characters appearing in the series, updating it as necessary. Separate them into the two categories, with
    special attention paid to the recurring characters.

    Minor Characters
    Minor characters provide obstacles during procedural scenes. They do not tie into the desires of main cast members or satisfy their emotional needs.
    Alternately, they may be mentioned in passing, without taking a central role in the scene.
    They’re the equivalent of Shakespearean spear-carriers.
    Many recurring characters start out as minor, then become more important when a PC develops an emotional need they can fulfill.
    Introducing Minor Characters
    Characters are introduced for the first time either by the caller, at the top of a scene, or by any participant, while a scene is already in progress.
    When bringing in a new character, give him or her a name and a brief description, no more than two or three clauses long. The brief description indicates the minor character’s role in the world or story, giving the GM enough of a starting point to portray him.

    Recurring Characters
    A player can promote a minor character to recurring status by making him or her the object of his character’s emotional needs.
    Some characters start out as recurring, when their first appearance is a dramatic scene in which they are called upon to grant a PCs’ petition.
    Players may establish relationships to recurring characters promoted by other players. Do this during any scene featuring both your character and the recurring character.
    Recurring characters may act as petitioners, seeking grants from players, but never other recurring characters.
    Introducing Locations
    Any participant can introduce a new location in which a scene can take place, or to which a scene in progress can logically shift.
    (For example, a scene that takes place during a journey might start on a road and end up in a swamp.)
    The caller, or any participant during a shift in location, provides an introductory description of the place, which other participants can then elaborate on.
    They can do this as the scene progresses, or in a later scene set in the same place.
    Once you establish a few basic locations, you'll find the story often returning to them, like the regular sets in a TV show.

    A participant who feels that an introduced location detail is out of bounds can challenge it on one of the following grounds:
    - Consistency: The description is anachronistic or otherwise unsuited to the established setting and genre.
    - Continuity: The description is inconsistent with what has already been established.
    - Tone: The description is somehow ridiculous.
    - Believability: The description defies common sense.
    If the GM agrees that the detail fails one of the above tests, they allow a challenge, as per the Challenge rules.
    Bennies
    DramaSystem rewards the players who most consistently and entertainingly enact their dramatic poles.

    Gaining Bennies
    At the end of each episode, each player may make a brief statement, highlighting how he entertainingly brought out his character’s dramatic poles over the course of
    the session, in relation to the episode’s theme. Any story with a theme inherently includes the opposite of that theme. A story about war is also about peace; a story about hunger is also about nourishment; and a story about love also threatens the possibility of lost love. Therefore, you can describe your character as either reinforcing or undermining the theme.
    You might describe yourself moving from one pole to the other, or bringing both poles into your characterization at different points.

    For example, in a episode with the theme of Power:
    - “I demonstrated my warrior side when I led the raid, and my peacemaker side when I argued to spare the prisoners. In both cases I demonstrated my personal power.”
    - “This time I became less of a leader and more of a tyrant, when I demanded that Fated accept my power.”
    - “I argued for tradition when Axehandle wanted to add to the temple, and against it when the women demanded greater respect. I maintained the power of male authority.”
    - “As Axehandle became more of a tyrant, I shifted from loyalty to ambition, seeking to grab some power for myself before he locks it all down. And that scene where I struck a deal with Blunt Helmet was pretty awesome, you have to admit.”

    When a player is unable to articulate a case, the GM makes it for him.

    All participants then vote, ranking the other players in order, with #1 the best score, #2 second best and so on.
    The argument is just a reminder: voters base their rankings on how well the players brought out their dramatic poles in relation to the theme, not how skillfully they made
    their cases. Moving from one pole to another in the course of an episode is a good thing. Vote against players who, episode in and episode out, stress a particular pole and ignore the other. Players do not rank themselves.
    The GM then totals each player’s vote tally. The number of drama tokens the player has in hand is then subtracted from this number.
    The two players with the lowest scores gain one bennie each.

    If two players are tied for the lowest score, each gets a bennie. The second place finisher(s) does not.
    If two players tie for second place, both of them gain bennies, as does the player in first.
    If three or more players tie for first, all gain bennies.

    Spending Bennies
    When you have a bennie, you can spend it for, as the name suggests, narrative benefits that kick in during play.
    Once spent, you remove the bennie from your character sheet. They don’t refresh; you can replace a spent bennie only by earning a new one, as above.

    Cash in a bennie for any one of the following:
    - a dramatic token
    - a procedural token
    - to draw an additional card in a procedural scene
    - the right to jump the queue and call a scene immediately after any other scene. The queue-jumper’s next scene is skipped, after which the existing calling order is observed as per usual.
    - to jump into a scene the caller wants to keep you out of
    - to block another player’s attempt to jump into a scene you've called
    - the right to burn any 1 token held by another player.

    You may spend only one bennie per scene.
    Adaptation
    The DramaSystem rules can be changed and adapted for different settings, and specific rulesets can be derived from it for specific settings, but the original rule set should never be forgotten or lost.
    More importantly, always make sure everything is dramatic!


    All credit and ownership for the DramaSystem and the accompanying text goes to Robin D. Laws and Pelgrane Press.
    Last edited by Dirty Chai; April 04, 2014 at 11:05 PM.

  2. #2
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    The Land And Its People

    The DramaSystem comes with an example setting known as Hillfolk. Follow its example on creating settings.

    Hillfolk provides a loosely sketched setting for its dramatic saga of Iron Age banditry.
    It gives your group a foundation of choices to build on. After a few episodes, each Hillfolk setting will have diverged from this basic starting point to its own sharply divergent combination of elements.

    Introducing Background Details
    As with details of established location, facts about the cultures, histories, politics and geography that forms the context for your saga can be introduced and built upon by any participant. These details can be player-driven or GM-prompted.
    Player-Driven Background Details
    Introduce a player-driven background detail by making an assertion in dialogue or description.
    In a scene set in an encampment of the enemy Trident people, Axehandle is served a sumptuous feast. “I pretend that it tastes good,” says Adrian, “although the food of the Tridents is notoriously salty.”
    Exposition Challenges
    Any participant can challenge a newly introduced player-driven background detail. The GM allows the challenge if the detail fails any of the following tests:
    - Consistency: The detail is out of keeping with a non-fantastical, if ahistorical, Iron Age culture. It might:
    - indisputably establish the existence of fantastic magic or creatures (as opposed to distant rumors of same, which are acceptable)
    - include post-Iron Age technology
    - include elements from other genres: aliens, time travelers, superheroes (this would likely also fail the tone test, below)
    - Continuity: The description clearly contradicts a previously introduced background detail in a way that can’t be written off to imperfect knowledge. (See below.)
    - Tone: The description is somehow ridiculous.
    - Believability: The description defies common sense.

    Imperfect Knowledge
    The characters are well aware of their own culture, including the essentially similar ways of their northern neighbors.
    However, their acquaintance with other cultures is glancing and distorted by fear and hostility.
    Players introducing new facts about foreign cultures that seem out of continuity may fend off challenges by arguing that the previous fact was a mistaken belief, born of ignorance and prejudice. To contradict an already established detail on grounds of imperfect knowledge, the player must show her character discovering the deeper truth.
    If the GM buys the player’s reconciliation of the discrepancy, no challenge occurs.
    A previous episode demonstrated that the sacred prostitutes of the Trident people must sleep with any man who asks them. Delia now wishes to specify that they are only obligated under particular ritual circumstances, which Axehandle just happened to invoke when he drunkenly stumbled into a priestess’ arms on festival night. She calls a scene in which she extracts holy secrets by Talking to Nala, a Trident novitiate she has befriended.
    Beata, who introduced the prior fact, would like to challenge this, but Delia has covered her bases.
    The GM rules that the fact, as she introduced it, reflected imperfect knowledge.

    GM-Prompted Background Details
    When introducing new information about the setting, the GM prompts player engagement by asking them to answer basic questions about it. These questions appear throughout the rest of this section, indicated by boldface italics. These are called prompts.
    The GM poses each question when it first arises in play. The initial question is posed to the caller of the current scene.
    After the caller answers, introducing that fact into your collective version of the Hillfolk setting, the GM invites the player sitting to the left of the caller to supply an additional amplifying detail. As usual, both answer and amplifying detail should be brief: a single sentence consisting of no more than two or three clauses.
    For the first time, cast members travel to the inland sea, cuing you to ask its associated prompt: The sea is named for a famous, extraordinary quality. What is it?
    You pose the question to Franca, the current caller.
    “It is known as the Sea of Ghosts, for fearsome spirits sometimes rise from its depths at night, to assail the guilty,” says Franca.
    If taken as literal truth, this detail is more fantastical than the setting supports. As is nearly always the case, it can be chalked up to mistaken belief of characters who
    attribute all kinds of phenomena to supernatural forces.
    You write down “Sea of Ghosts” in your setting notes, and on your area map.
    Ditching the Prompts
    After using the prompt system to get players started, you may find that the group finds its own natural groove in introducing new information about the world.
    When this happens, set the prompt device aside in favor of the organic process. Use this section as inspiration for scenes and situations to call when and if the main cast goes exploring. When a player description contradicts information given here, but which has not been introduced into play, go with that and ignore the text. Adjust details given here as needed to fit what’s already been established by the group.
    For example, the players in the in-house playtest established the Kingdom and its central town as much grander than the text below suggests, after setting the northerners up as the series’ key threat. Your group might do the same, or instead make the Tridents or Reedbeards the most important external rival.
    Geography
    This section briefly outlines the physical conditions that spur your people to a life of banditry.

    The Southlands
    You live in the rugged southern highlands, where the strong and self-reliant prosper. Jagged hills cut them off from the rest of the world. They shelter you and daunt your pursuers.
    A distinctive natural formation marks the hill on which your band’s fortress is built. It lends its name to both your band, and to the fortress itself.
    What does the formation look
    like, and what is that name?
    A narrow strip of flat land, raised on a plateau, sits in the middle of these hills. Your farmers work its poor soil.
    Uncertain rainfall soaks their fields one year, and leaves them to parch the next. In the rolling zones between hill and flatland, your herders pasture hardy sheep, scrawny
    cattle, and impudent goats. They graze on its weeds and grasses. The land begrudgingly grants you grains and meat sufficient to a meager existence.
    To enrich yourself, it demands that you go elsewhere, to raid. In bad times, like now, you raid each other. In good times, when a strong chieftain unites the hillfolk, you band together to raid more distant neighbors. Many clans like yours inhabit the Southlands, each with its own distinct variations on a set of common customs and beliefs.
    Who are your toughest local rivals?

    The Desert
    To the east the hills drop away to an arid plain where nothing grows. No one lives here but crazy hermits. Nothing grows here but dry and stunted weeds.

    The Inland Sea
    To the east of the desert lies a large inland sea.
    It is named for a famous, extraordinary quality. What is it?

    The Kingdom
    To the north lies the so-called kingdom. Sometimes you call it the northlands, to deprive it of the glory its boastful residents claim.
    It is a little flatter and a much more fertile than the southlands.
    It is famous for its big town, which the puffed-chest northlanders call a city.
    The town is named for its most famous physical feature. What is it?

    The Belt
    To the west, the land grows flatter and wetter as it slopes down to the great ocean. The middle zone is called the belt.
    For several generations, it has been controlled by the Trident People.
    Farmers live here. They retreat to forts and walled villages when you come raiding.

    The Coast
    The coast is the heartland of the Trident People, home to their great cities. (A city is a wondrous thing to behold! It can house up to a thousand people!)
    The Hillfolk
    Whenever you have to lump the northerners and southerners together, you simply call them “the people.”
    In other languages you are collectively known by various names, all of which mean “Hillfolk”, or sometimes “the rude ones.”
    Pacing Cultural Exposition Because each Hillfolk game group defines its own culture, most of this section consists of questions. GMs should space them out, asking questions only when they relate to the context of a scene.
    Think of the way a TV series set in another period or reality slowly doles out information about its setting over many episodes, giving you only the information you need to follow the current episode. Groups may be tempted to hash out everything about their culture right away. Although this can be fun, it shouldn’t shoulder aside the process of revealing character through dramatic action. That's where the lasting emotional connection comes in, and it’s what participants will take home with them, longer after the anthropological exploration has faded from memory. The questions given here will naturally lead to others. Follow the player's lead in figuring out which follow-up questions they most want to explore.
    Answering a question to suit the current moment is not only acceptable. It’s how storytelling works.

    Although differences of detail separate you from your northern brothers, you follow the same religion.



    1. Who do you worship?
    2. Do you worship one god or many?
    3. Are the gods of other peoples real?
    (a) If they’re not real, do they exist at all, or are they demons in disguise?
    (b) If they are real, is it okay for foreigners to worship them, or would it be better if they worshiped your god instead?
    i. If foreigners should worship your god, is it your business to convince them?
    A. If yes, is it right to force the reluctant?
    4. Whose job is it to lead worship?
    (a) What are their duties?
    (b) What authority do they command?
    5. Can you communicate with divine forces? If so, how does that work?
    6. What holy stories do you tell about:
    (a) how the world came to be?
    (b) how people came to be?
    (c) the right way to behave?
    (d) who your enemies are?
    1. What weapons are you famous for wielding?
    (a) Is this the signature weapon of all hillfolk, or just your band?
    2. What design or insignia symbolizes your band?
    (a) Where does it appear?

    Your band is like an extended family. You run your household according to the eternal customs of your people.
    Some foreigners write down their knowledge, which is stupid. It is better to just remember.
    We Didn't Call It Hillmen, Did We? At this stage of the cultural creation process, nearly every group will dismiss all historical precedent to create a gender-egalitarian society for the main characters. Count on this to comprise the greatest point of divergence between your fanciful imagined history and the period from which we take our inspiration. Do not fight this, even if you feel purist rumblings stirring in your breast. We may not live in a completely equal society, but we want to imagine that we do in our escapist entertainment. Few women playing the game will want to face the vicarious oppression entailed in a realistic portrayal of ancient patriarchies. If we weren’t decontextualizing our history already, this is where we’d have to start.


    1. Do men and women share authority?
    (a) If not, who’s in charge?
    2. Do tasks divide into women’s work and men’s work, or do people learn to do what they are best at?
    (a) If tasks are divided, who does what?
    3. When a couple gets married, does the groom move into the bride’s mother’s household, or does the bride move into the groom’s father’s household?
    4. Which family line is of primary importance—paternal or maternal?

    A bandit chieftain sees to the welfare of his people, by distributing goods between them. All goods belong to the band, through the person of the chieftain.
    You own what the chieftain gives you. Once the chieftain gives you something, he can’t take it back.




    1. When you die, who gets your goods?
    (a) Whoever you designate in advance
    (b) The chieftain
    (c) Your first-born child
    (d) Your first-born daughter
    (e) Your first-born son
    (f) Some other arrangement
    2. How are chieftains chosen?
    3. Can chieftainship be taken away, while the chieftain still lives? If so, how?
    4. Does custom limit the chieftain’s authority, or are all decisions made at his/her whim?
    (a) Does custom or political reality require the chieftain to consult with others before making important decisions?
    5. Is the chieftain the leading authority in all matters, or is power distributed among leaders with various areas of responsibility?
    (a) If the latter, who are those leaders and what are their areas?

    (Some of these answers may already be implicitly answered by roles players assign to their hillfolk during character creation. If a player declares her character the counselor, she’s
    establishing that there such a position, and that it’s somehow important. Modify these queries accordingly.)
    Rivals
    You share a worship, language and a way of life with the other Southlanders, but that does not mean they are your friends. They raid you, and you raid them.
    If you united, you would be stronger, and could raid further and more effectively. To hear the elders tell it, unity comes to the Southlands when a strong chieftain forces the others to bow down to him.

    Northlanders talk like you do, though with a funny accent. You worship as they do and share the same holy stories—though they sometimes stray from the true rituals and get the details of the stories wrong. They claim that the holiest place is in or near their town. They would say that, of course.
    What is the place, and why is it holy?
    They organize themselves differently than the southlanders, though. They have a king, for one thing.
    In what other way does the social organization of the north differ from the south?
    Outlanders
    While you share a religion and language with the northern kingdom, other lands around you are populated by people whose languages, customs and gods are very different from yours.

    Shell-Grinders
    The Shell-Grinders live in fortified cities on the coast, from which they launch great fleets of white-sailed vessels. Some trade, others raid ships from places so far away they aren’t worth caring about. When they write something down, it is not with the little pictures of the Reedbeards or the squiggles of the Brick-Squarers, but with something called an alphabet.
    The ruler of each city styles himself a king. Sometimes they act together, sometimes against each other. Just like us, in other words, but on a bigger scale.
    What is the name of the most famous Shell-Grinder city, and what is it known for?
    Who is its king, and what is he famous for?
    Shell-Grinders acknowledge more gods than anyone else. Each is worshiped in a different way.
    Some are not worshiped at all.
    Describe the most terrible of the Shell-Grinder gods.
    They sacrifice babies to this god. Most of the time they sacrifice captured babies, or the children of captured women forced to breed in their slave pens. When times are dire, they
    sacrifice a royal child. Shell-Grinders raid only by sea, so they are a danger only to the Tridents. Occasionally one of
    our people will wind up in their hands after first being enslaved by the Tridents, and then traded or stolen away from them.
    They speak their own language, but we think it sounds like the Tridents; the Tridents disagree. If you ever have to deal with them, they also speak Domer.
    Though they are evil, they make many beautiful things, from pots to statues.
    One of your band’s treasures is a Shell-Grinder artifact. What is it?


    Domers
    The Domers are named for the rounded helmets they wear when they go raiding. They do not share your ways, gods, or language, but are in other ways similar to you. Some of them farm, others roam about, driving herds of cattle or sheep. Each domer follows a king, who protects them from the raids of other kings, and shares with them the spoils of their own raids. Some dwell in half-ruined cities, built when they were enslaved by the Eye-Burners, and allowed to crumble when the Eye-Burners retreated.
    What strange custom are the Domers most known for?
    Who do the Domers worship, and how?
    Though Domer life is much like yours, there’s a big difference in the way families govern themselves. What would that be?
    Their raiding tactics differ from yours in one notable way. What would that be?
    Their language is foreign but easy to learn, so everyone around here knows it. When you talk to someone else whose language is not yours, and does not resemble yours, you undoubtedly talk in Domer, whether it is to a Trident or a Shell-Grinder. Sometimes it is easier to talk Domer to a Rockhead or Thresher than it is to talk their weird version of your language.

    Iron-Makers
    The Iron-Makers have no land of their own. Instead they are servants, vassals and wanderers in the lands of other peoples.
    They used to run everything around here. From their land to the north of the Shell-Grinders, they conquered it all, thanks to their invention of iron.
    Five or six generations ago, their empire died. It either fell apart, rent by internal disunity, or was taken apart, by their rivals, the Eye-Burners.
    Whatever happened, the Eye-Burners took over the Iron-Maker homeland, murdering and enslaving its people. Some escaped south, where they persist as a landless remnant.
    Their story is a fable against pride, or the pursuit of power, or trying to make an empire, or something like that.
    They’ve lost their own language and now speak the tongue of whatever place they live, and usually Domer besides. A few of them worship their old bull god, but most have converted to local religions. Despite the name, only a few of today’s Iron-Makers are blacksmiths. More often they’re swords for hire.
    A few Iron-Makers live among the Southlanders. They are never allowed to lead a band, but are sometimes its strongest warriors.
    If an Iron-Maker came to you and asked to be allowed to worship as you do, would you let him, or consider it wrong?




    Rockheads
    The Rockheads control the land to the west of the Northlands. As long as there have been people, the Rockheads have been your enemies.
    Your earliest stories tell of their antagonism toward you. What made them your enemies?
    Their language is a strange and corrupt version of your own. You can understand each other when you talk, but with difficulty.
    What do you know of the Rockhead religion?
    They are named for their quarrying activities. The stones of the Rocklands are coveted by builders from all the big distant empires.
    What other goods are they famous for?
    Who rules the Rockheads, and what is the root of their authority?
    How is a Rockhead household set up?

    Saltmen
    The Saltmen are raiders and traders united under a single king.
    You know the king by his nickname, which refers to his most famous personality trait. Who is he?
    Saltmen are named for the salt plains that form a protective border around their more fertile central lands.
    They speak their own strange language amongst themselves and the Domer tongue among outsiders.
    They maintain their unity even in hard times and never let you forget it. Saltmen say that they were civilized when everyone else around here was living in caves.
    Their wise folk know more than everything else, but of course they see things from their own skewed saltman point of view.
    Who are their strange gods?
    Through what weird rite are they worshiped?
    Because they are traders, saltmen will befriend anyone and rip off anyone. Their king is sometimes allied with the Tridents, and sometimes with the Threshers, but never with us.
    They say we have nothing to offer them. Yet they will accept our goods when we have them.
    Your band remembers a terrible slight received the last time they sought audience with the Saltman king. What was it?
    Aside from their general haughtiness and unfamiliar gods, a major gulf separates your culture from theirs. What big difference divides you?

    Threshers
    The Threshers live to the east of the Inland Sea. Rivers cut through their flat plateau, feeding vast fields of wheat and barley. Their grain vaults are good to raid, if you can make it through the intervening desert and back in one piece. The Threshers have always hated you. When you come to raid them, they attack you with spears and flails.
    Why, according to your ancient stories, are the grainbacks set against you?
    They do not worship as you do.
    Who do the Threshers worship, and how?
    They stole your language and remade it, so you can understand them, when you have to.
    How are they Threshers ruled?
    What do you know of Thresher households?
    When the Eye-Burners came to conquer the land, the Threshers befriended them. That tells you what kind of people they are.
    They still trade with the Eye-Burners.


    Tridents
    Your richest and closest foreign enemies are the Tridents. They arrived here only four or five generations ago, quickly settling the rich coastal lands to the west of you.
    Anyone could do that, especially with outside help from the mighty Reedbeard Empire.
    The Tridents worship three gods: the sky king, the ocean king, and the earth whore. Men there worship by visiting sacred prostitutes.
    Trident religion is famous for something else, too. What is it?
    Just because they’re enemies doesn’t mean you can’t team up with them when it suits your purposes. The grandfather of your band chieftain allied with the Tridents and used their help to raid his neighbors, both in the south and north. Your neighbors sometimes throw this ancient fact in your face, as if there is something wrong about being clever and making yourself stronger.
    Each Trident town is ruled by its own king, who also protects and taxes the surrounding countryside.
    How do Trident kings resolve disputes among themselves?
    What does the power of a Trident king rest on?
    Who else is powerful among the Tridents?


    Distant Outlanders
    Some Outlanders are so foreign you have only heard about them. Their lands, which you can only imagine, are so far away they do not appear on your map.
    To the north and east is found the terrifying empire of the Eye-Burners, known for their grim habit of blinding conquered foes. They worship an eagle god and live in huge cities. Luckily their power is now in decline, though many fear that they’ll rise again.

    The Reedbeards, also known as the Sisterers (because their kings marry their sisters), dwell in a fabulous land to the south and west of Tridentia.
    There, the fortresses of living kings are dwarfed by monuments to dead ones. Stories of Reedbeard riches must surely be exaggerated.
    They used to be even mightier than they are now. Supposedly the Tridents live where they do today because the Sisterers conquered and resettled them.

    To the south and east lie the monumental cities of the Brick-Squarers. They say they’re the oldest civilization, older even than the Reedbeards.
    Brick-Squarers take credit for inventing numbers, writing, and the study of the stars. A lot of good that did them when the empire of the Iron-Makers crushed them and installed foreign kings over them. Since the Iron-Makers were themselves crushed, the Brick-Squarers are now again ruled by their own kings.
    Sample Names
    Hillfolk names are metonyms: descriptive words that tell you something about the people who bear them. As such they should be easy to think up on the fly.
    When stuck for inspiration, resort to the following list.

    Afflicted
    Answer
    Ascension
    Attacker
    Baldhead
    Bashful
    Beholder
    Blessed
    Boar
    Breath
    Cactus
    Calf
    Carrier
    Changer
    Charger
    Cloud
    Copperhair
    Crown
    Daisy
    Defender
    Delight
    Demure
    Dog
    Eagle
    Endurance
    Establisher
    Exalted
    Faith
    Fig
    Fire
    Firstborn
    Firstson
    Forsaken
    Fragrant
    Fruitful
    Gift
    Glory
    Goat
    Goldpurse
    Goodbride
    Grace
    Grapevine
    Greenshoot
    Grower
    Happy
    Healer
    Helper
    Hewer
    Hill
    Hillwalker
    Holiday
    Horn
    Horse
    Joy
    Judge
    Jug
    Kinsman
    Lefthand
    Light
    Lion
    Longhair
    Lucky
    Masterer
    Memory
    Mole
    Mountain
    Myrtle
    Nationmaker
    Nectar
    Nightdew
    Oathkeeper
    Olive
    Palmgrove
    Pious
    Priest
    Raider
    Raven
    Red
    Reliable
    Righthand
    Rope
    Runner
    Shaggy
    Sheaf
    Shepherd
    Silvertongue
    Slender
    Southerner
    Spear
    Star
    Stone
    Stout
    Strongthew
    Swift
    Sword
    Talker
    Tree
    Trouble
    Trunk
    Unity
    Victor
    Vigilance
    Wander
    Watcher
    Water
    Whitetooth
    Wild
    Willow
    Wind
    Wolf
    Worthless
    Worthy
    Why a Fictionalized 10th century BCE Levant?
    Hillfolk encourages you to take a fascinating and underexposed period of human history and use it as the basis for your own invented imaginary world. The result will bear about as much historical fidelity to the original as George R. R. Martin’s Westeros does to Tudor-era England. Through his act of imaginative transformation, any resemblance to the foundational events of Western faith will become strictly coincidental.
    What happens in your Hillfolk game tells you about your own sense of invention, not about what really happened at that time. It becomes a comment on the origins of Western faith only if you all decide to make it that—which most groups won’t.
    GMs sensing that their players will find the parallel, as obscured as it is, uncomfortable, can easily remove it by remaking the map.
    I chose the period for its balance of the familiar and the exotic. The fuzzy sense most gamers will have of this era is a feature—the typical group knows enough to riff on details and make stuff up, but not so much to be tied down to specific details. Many basic facts of the period remain opaque even to archaeologists, leaving even expert players wide latitude to invent. Finally, the period offers multiple potential conflicts, giving each group freedom to choose between plot possibilities. Four great empires at various stages of their vaunted histories perch on the margins of the map, threatening the scrappy tribesmen in the center. They might ally with their cousins to the north, fight with them, or oscillate between the two. Minor cultures on their borders might be lorded over. A smaller but potent enemy encroaches from nearer shores.
    Additional Settings
    The Hillfolk setting is designed to give your group an ideal first experience with DramaSystem. By cutting out the fantastical, supernatural elements roleplaying fans tend to
    gravitate toward, it gets you quickly to grips with the dramatic core of the system, lessening the temptation to invoke the procedural elements that characterize other games but are less important here. The isolation of the characters in their badlands home village keeps the players interacting mostly with one another, another central component of the game experience. Once the group gets into the habit of privileging dramatic over procedural scenes and intra-PC interaction over scenes with supporting characters, they’ll be able to import those assumptions into settings featuring aliens, monsters, costumed heroes and other geek-culture staples. The fantastical elements may feature in descriptions during procedural scenes, but the main event will remain the emotional exchanges between central characters.

    Series Pitches
    This section presents Series Pitches, inspiring you to run DramaSystem games in other times and places. Some are fantastical, others not. The pitches appearing in this section come from some of our favorite game designers. Think of a Series Pitch as a proposal for the types of characters the players might portray, and the sorts of events that might unfold as the story arises during play. Once the series gets rolling, you may periodically reach to the pitch for inspiration, or set it aside entirely, in favor of moments created spontaneously at the table. You don’t need to compose a Series Pitch to launch a DramaSystem series of your own creation. All you require is enough of a verbal description to get the players started. However, especially where your series departs from familiar time periods and genre tropes, you may find it useful to compose notes to help your players along.
    If so, the loose format you'll find here for Series Pitches shows you the factors you'll need to consider. Series Pitch authors have been encouraged to adjust the order in which entries appear, and the relative weight given to each, as the needs of their concept dictates. Give yourself the same freedom when creating your own.
    The key entries are:
    Nutshell
    (This always comes first.)
    The exciting and dynamic one-sentence logline you'll use to introduce your series to players. If your game were a TV show, this would be the description that shows up in the preview listings. Examples from real shows might read as follows:
    - A mobster prone to panic attacks navigates the tensions between his family and The Family. (The Sopranos)
    - In a poor Chicago neighborhood, a young woman saddled with a spectacularly irresponsible father struggles to care for her fractious brood of siblings. (Shameless)
    - A loosely connected group of New Orleans residents tries to rebuild their lives after theKatrina disaster. (Treme.)

    - Through intrigue and warfare, members of various noble families fight for control of a fantastic kingdom. (Game of Thrones.)
    Characters
    Indicate to players the sorts of roles the characters might take on within the ensemble cast.
    These can be quick phrases arranged in simple bullet points or (as in historical series where players might take on the roles of actual figures) lengthier descriptions.
    Be aware that players may combine and alter the concepts you come up with. Really you’re selling them on the fun and possibility inherent in the basic concept, and letting them go off in their own direction with it. If one or more specific characters has to be present for the concept to work, note that they are obligatory. Keep the number of obligatory characters as low as possible. Zero is best; one or two is okay. More than that and you’re encroaching too much on player freedom. Even with specific characters, leave room for the players to define what makes them tick. Some relationships between must-have characters might be inherent in what you establish. Dictate relationships as sparingly as you can. DramaSystem characters are primarily defined by dramatic poles—an internal conflict or paradox that drives behavior and makes pivots in emotional position credible. Always leave these for the players to define.
    Setting
    Describe the qualities of your pitch’s time and place that will most directly impact the action. Always leave elements open for the players to define as they set scenes in the course of play. You can format these as bold-faced questions interleaved with your text:

    The rival spice mine is called the Leviathan.
    What quirk is its unscrupulous manager known for?

    In play, the GM uses these questions to prompt the players to sketch in details of the setting as relevant scenes unfold.
    The most economical way to keep details open is to simply leave them unaddressed.
    Themes
    In bullet points, list likely themes for episodes of your series, with or without explanatory notes indicating how they might be expressed in play.
    Although each Pitch implies certain obvious themes, many themes will recur in any setting. There are only so many classic, powerful themes in narrative literature.
    Tightening the Screws
    Describe situations the GM might introduce during scenes to reignite tensions within the main cast.
    Here you might describe recurring characters (NPCs) that advance or personify these events, in loose detail.
    Names
    Provide a list of sample names for people, places, and (where appropriate) things in the series.
    Participants use these when stumped for suitable names when inventing people and places on the fly.
    Additional Elements
    If you need to add another element to this format to make your Series Pitch work, do it.


    Getting there. Roughly 30 more pages to convert.

    To Do Appendices
    Last edited by Dirty Chai; April 04, 2014 at 01:15 AM.

  3. #3
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    I am game and you know I will moderator this.
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  4. #4
    Ace_General's Avatar Praeses
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    100 years war, lets do this as these guys
    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisowczycy

    The Lisowczycy, or lost men, The polish riders of the apocalypse, arguably the baddest dudes to come out of eastern europe. They left a path of Death, destruction, rape, and Plunder form moscow to the rhine.

    Call the game "The Ride of the Damned". Now tell me that isnt the most badass thing you ever heard.
    Low speed, High Drag

  5. #5
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    I already got Lord of the Rings and Elder Scrolls setting proposals in mind for this forum. If you wanna help me out, you are more than welcomed to!

    Of course I will have to follow procedure and get these settings voted upon before they can be available in the Amphitheater
    Last edited by Lucius Malfoy; April 03, 2014 at 09:05 PM.
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  6. #6
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    Pretty much done. No joke.
    This could be considered finished and ready for a forum if people want it.
    What's left for me to add is actually just optional.

  7. #7
    The Stig's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    I like this bizz
    Quote Originally Posted by Ancient Aliens
    Yes. The Stig is Jesus.
    People's Republic of Cascadia

  8. #8
    Ganbarenippon's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    I'd be game to at least experiment with a new system. Yggdrasil will lend itself nicely to this, especially whilst we iron out the kinks.

  9. #9
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    It's hard to get people on board with this, mostly due to it using a completely new type of ruleset (which is admittedly awkward for some players) and it being a new method to conduct RPGs in the CRPG (which in turn might completely change the CRPG).
    The only thing I can do is encourage players to at least give it a good long try before making their final judgements.

  10. #10

    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    From the cursory look through that I have given the ruleset so far, this sounds interesting enough and I would be happy to give it a try. You really can't make a good judgement about this ruleset without actually experimenting on it firsthand as it may play very well to certain settings but fall short in others. I will look over the rules in detail later but it seems that we might be able to create something very interesting out of this game.


  11. #11
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    We could try an experiment in another thread. Just do character creation and/or test play all in one thread.

  12. #12
    Ganbarenippon's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    Sure why not?

  13. #13
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    We could just use the Hillfolk setting, which is explained in the "The Land And Its People" section in the second post.

  14. #14
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    I just realized tons of tables I had made in the rules are gone.
    Are tables broken on TWC?

  15. #15

    Default Re: The Amphitheater: A Place of Drama

    Quote Originally Posted by Skjöldr View Post
    I just realized tons of tables I had made in the rules are gone.
    Are tables broken on TWC?
    I'm not sure if they are. I have had trouble with tables before but I have also gotten them to work as well so I wonder if it requires some kind of special formatting to get them to work.

    http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showt...-Tables-in-TWC

    Check this thread as it seems that someone has managed to get tables to work.


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