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Character Creation

This book provides a simple ruleset for hosting “tabletop” role-playing games in a classic medieval fantasy genre. It utilizes a basic d20 system; you will need a complete dice set to play. A role-playing game is a game where the players assume the role of characters in a fictional setting. These characters act out their roles in a story, told and moderated by a narrator. As the metaplot unfolds, the characters undertake quests with varying objectives. Each character belongs to a class, heroic archetypes possessing unique skills and abilities suitable for adventuring. Characters form parties and use their abilities to overcome obstacles and accomplish story objectives. A good party is one where everyone plays an important role and demonstrates good teamwork and class synergy. A good game is one where the plot is engaging and well-paced, the quests are challenging, and everyone has a good time acting out their role.

Perfect Players

There are lots of books and articles out there to help narrators host tabletop games, and this is natural because most of the work falls onto their shoulders. But being a good player is also a skill requiring thought and effort. It is a SOCIAL SKILL, which means that some people will be naturally talented while others will need to work at it a bit. But the important thing to remember is that it CAN be worked at and cultivated as long as you CARE enough to try and apply yourself. If you can follow all of the rules listed below then congratulations, you are a perfect player. And better than me. 

Rule #1. Active Listening 

Bad players sit around on their cell phones or space out, half-listening to the narrator and waiting for their turn to act while gorging on Frito Lay chips. You know who you are. Often when their turn does come, they don't fully understand what's going on and eat up valuable time being disorganized or declaring actions that are uninformed and harmful, like fireballing the inside of a broom closet the entire party is packed into while hiding from guards. This is bad. It makes the narrator feel unappreciated, and it isn't fair to the other people at the table. Don't do this. 

Also, each class in GSS has abilities that are reactions. Many of these are interrupts that support combat or mitigate damage. If you are not paying attention during combat, you will lose out on your ability to use these skills to benefit the team. They exist so that even when it is not your turn, you are motivated to remain mentally involved. 

Rule #2. Don't Be Toxic

This is a basic life rule, but it also applies at the table. Don't backstab other players (or steal their stuff), don't speak abusively, don't give unwanted romantic attention to pretty girls who are trying to participate in a game overrun with loud immature neckbeards, don't try to distract people by showing off and being the class clown, etc. Toxicity can be game breaking, especially if nobody has the courage to confront a player about their toxic behavior so they just...stop showing up. And please, do NOT develop an adversarial relationship with the narrator. Good games are not Player vs Narrator. By that same token, narrators who pride themselves on abusing players and making up nonsense to foil and frustrate them at every turn are not doing their jobs either. You should expect to be reasonably challenged, perhaps even stiffly challenged. Not bullied by a weirdo on a power trip. 

Rule #3. Know The Rules

Seriously, learn the stupid rules. Especially those pertaining to your own character. The narrator already has their hands full managing a metaplot and an entire world. If they can do that, the least you can do is learn the rules that apply to your character so you aren't eating up valuable game time bickering or looking things up. This is called making a good faith effort, and games don't work out without good faith. 

Rule #4. Help The Narrator

Storytelling is a collaborative exercise. If you do things to mess up the flow of the campaign or place an unnecessary burden on your narrator, things will slow to a crawl and frustration will set in. If you take it upon yourself to be predictably competent, respect plot hooks (even if you don't follow all of them exactly the way the narrator hoped), don't do crazy plot-derailing things that no sane person mindful of natural life consequences would do (like randomly killing or robbing people), and try to keep the action rolling by not devolving into endless opinion swirl and debate, you are HELPING rather than HINDERING the game. Occasionally stop to ask yourself: am I helping or hindering this game? Be honest about this self-analysis, and if you discover it is the latter just silently self-correct. It's that easy. 

Rule #5. Be Organized

Keep track of your characters equipment, rations, arrows, spells, mana, and other stuff that rightfully SHOULD be your responsibility. Be honest about these things, and don't fudge them. This removes the burden of these tasks from the narrator, who will thank you for it. If you do a good job of this you can often get away with things you couldn't otherwise. 

Rule #6. Support One Another

Adventurers are supposed to be "Ride Or Die" heroes who trust one another with their lives. This is a powerful bond, and representing it after the party gets a few adventures under their belt is realistic. If people describe your adventuring party as "those dysfunctional assholes who blunder their way through adventures acting impulsively, sabotaging one another, and not acting like friends", then something is wrong. Some players take an odd sort of pride in being wild, rude, and abrasive, but that isn't really gaming: it's horsing around. If you support the other players at the table by thinking about them, working out your tactics, learning how THEIR abilities work, respecting their backstories and role-playing goals (as long as they aren't too awkward, corny, or attention-devouring), and similar stuff then you will have a good party dynamic. And stay friends. 

Rule #7. Little Gestures

Doing small kindnesses for the narrator and your fellow players has a powerful effect on game quality. Bringing food, giving headrubs (assuming you have that sort of relationship), asking if anyone else wants something when you go to the fridge for a drink, and so forth all support a positive gaming environment. These things may be subtle, but make no mistake: they are important deposits in the emotional bank account you maintain with everyone else at the table. If a time comes when you need to make a withdrawal (stress, misfortune, etc) then they will be invested in you too. This may seem odd, but it is true. Sometimes people have hard lives, so a regular game with friends becomes something they look forward to as a form of escapism (which is fine as long as it doesn't become addictive) and emotional support (which is also fine as long as it doesn't turn into needy manipulative emotional vampirism). For little gestures to achieve their truest benefit, they must be MUTUAL. Don't be one of those people who only takes and never gives back. 

Rule #8. Pretend You're Well Adjusted 

In a perfect world, everyone at the table would be just assertive enough to speak their mind and listen to one another like well-adjusted adults.  There would be no silent withdrawn people, no bored boyfriends who are only there because they got dragged along by their girlfriend and don't really care about the game, no pushy loudmouths who hog all the attention, no boastful neckbeards who like to rules-lawyer, no twilight girls waiting for the chance to get ravished by a vampire, no physics majors who want to slowly amass magic and narrator concessions until they can justify building an Abrams tank, no assholes who want to play a druid just to drop whales on people in the desert, and so forth. Sadly, we do not live in a perfect world. But we should TRY to maintain the ILLUSION that we do by being self-aware and moderating any antisocial or overbearing impulses we have. 

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