Author's Desk: June

Why TTRPGs Changed My Writing for the Better

GM: Alright, [Cleric], you cast water walk and you and your party totally circumvent the magical trap in the sewers by walking on some of the foulest-smelling water known to man. At last, you arrive at what appears to be a large alcove meant as some sort of maintenance area. The light in this area is extremely poor save for the occasional flash of blue light. Anyone who wants to, please roll me a perception check. Bard: 18. Ranger: 15. Warlock: 17. Barbarian: Nat 20, let's go! GM: Fantastic. You all hear it before you see it, a deep rhythmic thrum and the discordant squealing of cogs and machinery grinding against its operator in protest. As your eyes adjust, you notice the missing arcane device you have been searching for along with an artificer tinkering with it. It is a massive thing with brass clockwork rapidly turning rings of arcane sigils below an overheated steam engine. A disturbing pale blue light emanates from the machine with each beating thrum that coincides with the turning of the clockwork rings. In the evanescent light sweeping the room, you notice two other figures: a gruff looking man with large muscles who is cleaving close to a figure you all recognize. It is the pale elf wizard from the tea house, though beneath his trench coat you notice his hands anxiously caressing the hilts of two long elven swords. Party: *Exasperated groans and sighs of annoyance.* Cleric: Not this guy again! GM: *smiles evilly* The elf taps his foot against the sewer bricks in annoyance. "Come on, hurry up! They should be here soon!" The artificer does not look up from his work. "I'm tryin', boss. These things aren't made to purposely explode, you know." Barbarian, you rolled a nat 20 earlier. Can you roll me an investigation check please? Barbarian: Oh, I suck at these... 12? GM: That's enough, I'll give it to you. Thanks to your superb spatial awareness, you surmise that you must be somewhere below the palace in this tunnel. Barbarian: Damn, I had a feeling. Cleric: Well, that's not good. GM: The elf looks up, his right hand gripping one sword pensively. "Strange. I heard the black powder blast from the entrance grate but none of my arcane alarms have been tripped. Interesting..." Alright, we're going to keep your stealth rolls from just before this and he's going to roll another active perception... *rolls dice* The elf turns around and looks right at you. He grins a wicked smile and cocks his head as he takes a careful step forward. Party: *Collective expletives and nail biting.* GM: He begins speaking in the same sort of arrogant nonchalance as he used before. "Oh, bravo, heroes. You are certainly more skilled than I had anticipated, but as you ca-" Cleric: I cast silence over the wizard. Bard: And I cast sleep on the three of them. GM: *Blinks as he comprehends the situation. Shakes his head.* Alright, well, um, you see the elf is attempting to do some sort of menacing monologue but you do not hear a single word of it. Meanwhile, the artificer collapses amidst the machine controls and begins snoring... silently. Party: *Raucous laughter.* GM: However! The machine shows no sign of calming and the elf is silently yelling in anger. Suddenly, he grabs both swords from their sheaths as each blade becomes wreathed in greenish purple fire. Please roll initiative. -An excerpt recovered from the notes of a session of a homebrew D&D session I ran about three years ago using my own setting: Afterfall (see below). It remains one of my favorite sessions to this day.