Suspension of Disbelief

There was a moment when suspension of disbelief failed for our group while running through D&D module B4 The Lost City. The party reached the level below the undead infested tombs and found some ogres milling around in a storage room. The players questioned how the ogres - as living creatures - came from and how they survived in a ziggurat in the middle of a desert.

It was a reasonable question.

"I don't know. I didn't write the module." I replied.

Maybe throwing Tom Moldvay under the bus wasn't the most gracious move, but he should have provided an answer in the module if he didn't want to catch the blame. D&D adventure design when B4 The Lost City came out was centered around the dungeon as a series of entertaining challenges for the players. Notions of how these spaces might exist as plausible environments within the game setting weren't a consideration.

Yet.

The pendulum swung the other way later. Games emphasized the unchallenged assumptions of their designers. The word "realism" got waved around like a banner. Things that made the artificial nature of games and their settings caught unkind criticisms.

But the truth of it is: Game mechanics are always as obvious as the books and dice sitting on the table. And fictional settings only hold up to so much scrutiny.

That said...

There really should be a reason why ogres are hanging around a storage room in a ziggurat in the middle of desert.

Fantasy Foods - Tacos Exist in the Forgotten Realms, Learn to Deal With It

This is an opinion piece. I have opinions. This should not come as a surprise.

I believe this is a cropped depiction of the spell "Hero's Feast" for the 2024 version of D&D 5e. I'm not sure because I couldn't care less about that game.

Last week, divorced dude @osgamer74 saw the image above and lost his damn mind. Unable to contain his boundless outrage, he took to X/Twitter and made it everybody else's problem.

This is not a cool, measured response.

Getting this worked up about a halfling eating a taco and sushi existing in a TTRPG fantasy setting is just sad. @osgamer74 wasn't alone in his sad outburst. He also wasn't alone in getting roasted on X/Twitter for it.

In the Bearded Halfling's defense, he wasn't the one who came out swinging.

I have mixed feelings about social media in general and X/Twitter specifically. Still, the post by @osgamer74 is like putting chum in the water. Somebody is gonna smell blood and show up looking to sink their teeth into something fishy. He could have been less emotional and typed out something like: "I don't feel that tacos and sushi fit the vibe in my game, but others are welcome to do whatever they want at their tables." Unfortunately, @osgamer74 posted what he posted and the result was something called engagement.

Many of first wave of responses pointed out that there were many foods and other items pictured along with the "nonsense" that @osgamer74 choose to rant about. Here's a partial list since I'm sure I missed something:

• A pumpkin
• Potatoes
• Peppers
• Tomatoes
• A tea pot
• Samosas
• A paper cocktail umbrella in a drinking glass

The pattern here is that none of these fit into a TTRPG campaign themed around medieval Europe. Most of the foods are native to the Americas. Tea was first recorded as existing in China. And the samosa originated from the Middle East and India. I don't know when paper cocktail umbrellas came into being, but I'm pretty sure they are a modern invention. So - the counterargument went - why single out tacos and sushi given all the things foreign to medieval Europe in the image?

Well...

Open mouth, insert foot.

@osgamer74 makes it clear that historical accuracy wasn't his issue. It's the presence of food that's not "normal" to him. Never mind that a hard shelled taco is about as gringo as a food can get. And that sushi is available in American supermarkets these days.

Having clarified his views, @osgamer74 employed tactics that never fail when one finds their mouth full of their own foot. Personal attacks. Doubling down. And playing the victim. Arguments that make it obvious who has the stronger position.

Playing the victim.

Note that he's gone from the food in question being not "normal" to what "you'd see in the local mall" and I'm sure it'll keep changing to whatever @osgamer74 thinks he needs to win. It also will be everybody else's fault for not understanding his poorly articulated position. And I'm certain that whatever engagement that @osgamer74 was looking for on X/Twitter was not what he ended up receiving.

This is not the first time that anachronisms and other out of place elements have appeared in Dungeons and Dragons. Weapons, armor, and gear from a vast geographic area and ranging from the Bronze Age to the Renaissance have been part of the game for decades. The Monk class was introduced in the 1975 Blackmoor supplement when somebody wanted to emulate martial arts action. More crossing genres date back to 1976, when Expedition to the Barrier Peaks was first played at Origins II. (It was published in 1980 as part of the "S" series of adventure modules.) And people complained back then as well. It's just that it used to be confined to the letters in Dragon Magazine's "Out on a Limb" feature, fanzines, and grumblings in the local hobby store. Frankly, it was narrow minded then and its no better now that it's amplified by social media and the internet.

On the other hand, social media and the internet can spread new ideas, even about established settings. No less than Ed Greenwood used Twitter to answer questions and offer up new lore about the Forgotten Realms. Back in 2020, he responded to an inquiry about the existence of tacos in the setting he created.

Here is a link to Ed Greenwood's post on X/Twitter.

For those unable to access X/Twitter or can't see the thread in its entirety because Elon Musk broke the thing he bought, the whole thing is archived here.

Finally, here is a copy/paste of the thread:

From @LeslieCourtne14:

Dear Ed, are there tacos in Faerun, or something like them at least? If so, where would someone find them and what culture would they be in? Asking for my taco loving players.

Reply from @TheEdVerse, edited for this format:

“Taco” is not a name known on Toril, but fried hardcrust roundbreads (what some real-worlders might call pitas, but fried crispy-hard) that have been stuffed with a hot cooked mix of minced-meat, spices, vegetables (diced and fried onions and/or potatoes, and/or Brussels sprouts, and/or asparagus, and/or leeks, and/or artichoke hearts, and/or radishes, and/or mushrooms) and sauces ARE known and devoured eagerly in many eateries, especially in the Vilhon, the lands south of there to the Shaar and beyond (so, places like Innarlith and south to include Luiren and Var the Golden), and are slowly spreading along the trade routes in all directions, to Chessenta and eastern Tethyr and Amn, to Calimshan and the Lake of Steam cities, and to Scornubel. You can even order them in some inns and taverns (yes, they’re becoming “the new thing” in tavern fare) in Secomber.

The meat tends to be whatever’s plentiful and cheap locally, from lamb to rabbit and all manner of small scurrying things, from “tree-cats” [squirrels] to rats, and the flavor profile varies from merely savory to hot-spiced; most establishments will ask “hot” or “warming” (= fiery or mild) when you order.

So, a folded-over, exposed-spilling-edge taco is a rare thing indeed, and cheese-drenched tacos are a special variant version anywhere they can be had, but the same sort of ingredients in essentially the same combination (so, a flat, closed taco, which varies from a “handpie” in that it was never full of gravy, and its outer pastry is thin and fried crispy-hard) can now be had in many places.

What it’s called varies from place to place; along the Sword Coast it tends to be called a “fryhard,” in the Vilhon, a “crunchtart,” in the South, a “hotbite,” and along the trade-routes, any of these three or even something else.

Elminster and the Seven all like “handfry pies” made with six or seven sorts of mushrooms, parsnips, leeks or spring onions (all diced), and strong cheeses (no meat).

The shell of a Torilian taco, whatever it’s called, is often rather like cornbread in its composition. Or a crisp naan (and is sometimes made by “gluing” two round-tortilla-like discs together with cheese).

- Ed Greenwood, November 13 2020

So what we have here is something not called a taco, but is totally a taco. And it exists in a published Dungeons and Dragons setting. Of course, all we have is Ed Greenwood's word for it, but that's good enough for me.

I've found these matters are ultimately a matter of taste. Take pizza toppings, for example. I enjoy certain ingredients and I don't enjoy others. There is a temptation to label disliked toppings as "bad" or "nonsense" or worse. And to take offense when others push back against those terms. Rather than escalate, it's best to use such misunderstandings as an opportunity for growth. Learn what others like and why they like those things. Even if it's not to my taste, there's no reason to waste time and energy fighting about it. If I'm sharing a pizza, I'm happy to order the toppings everybody can agree on. It might turn out to be a cheese pizza, but that tastes better than a bitter fight and a spoiled time with friends. If we're all ordering for ourselves, they can do whatever they want with their pizzas and I can get a proper pizza with the correct toppings.

And now I'm craving pizza, tacos, sushi, samosas, and a drink with a cocktail umbrella in it. Not all in one sitting, though. But certainly all in one setting.

Why Are Adventure Modules So Bad?

I've never had a great experience running published adventure modules. From "The Keep on the Borderlands" back when I was a wee lad of a Dungeon Master to "The Pit of Kutallu" one shot I ran over a month ago, I've always run into problems with the things. What's the source of these problems? Is there a better way? Is this just a middle aged man yelling at a cloud? How does this influence my own adventure writing?

Yeah, I'm criticizing a classic. I could run in this thing in my sleep. And I probably have. It's a solid D&D adventure, but it's questionable as an introductory module. Gygax didn't name anybody, forcing people running their first game to make names for NPCs up on the spot. Gygax described the details of politics within the Caves of Chaos without also providing ways for the player characters to find out or act on that information. Both of these things could have been teachable moments for those new to the hobby.

The Problems of Prose and Narrative

Modules are generally written as if they are telling a story rather than documenting a process. Someone reading prose fiction like a novel doesn't usually have to go back and look up key details. (There are exceptions like "fair play" mysteries and certain experimental works, but these meet different expectations.) Editors prefer to avoid walls of text in prose fiction because they can turn off readers. On the other hand, a gamemaster has to quickly understand how a module is intended to work and reference information from that module while running it. Skimming blocks of narration looking for a needed detail buried in the middle of a long paragraph takes up valuable time at the table. Having the information available at a glance would be more efficient, but involves a presentation and layout that borrows from technical writing.


Why Buy Adventure Modules?

I'm aware of two basic markets for adventure modules. The first are gamemasters who outsource creating the scenario, mechanics, and other aspects of an evening's adventure to a publisher. The reasons for this decision often comes down to a lack of time or familiarity with a given game or system. In order to be used to meet this need, using an adventure module should be less work than making one from scratch. Ideally, it should be as modular as the name "module" suggests - an adventure that can be slotted into an ongoing campaign with minimal preparation or adjustment. The second market are those who purchase modules as reading material. Presenting a module's contents as a narrative isn't a problem for them - it's actually a positive feature. They want to be told a story. The technical aspects of gamemastering don't concern them. Unfortunately, this runs counter to the needs of those using modules as adventures.


Background - How Much Is Too Much?

One sticking point for me is extensive background information with little or no application to the adventure. It may develop the setting and be a pleasant read, but is it needed to run the module? The motivations of an NPC and their relationships to the other NPCs in an adventure don't really matter if that NPC only serves as an XP piñata during a combat encounter. The depths of that NPC will never come up in play and become known to the players. The gamemaster doesn't need that information to run the NPC in a fight. It's space that could be better used for things more directly related to running the adventure.

Our group had a great time with this one, as I mention here. One question, though: What happens if nobody starts drowning when the player characters go overboard? The module mentions keeping things "action-packed and quick-moving" while calling for multiple tests while swimming for shore, but doesn't actually tell the gamemaster how many tests are needed or how often to call for them. One? Five? Every round? How many rounds until they get to the shore? The module doesn't say, but the process of how to handle a player character that starts drowning after failing a test while swimming for shore is described in detail.

Old School Solutions

When I ran adventure modules more often, I would thoroughly research each one before showing up with it on game night. This involved going through the contents, making notes as needed, and often running the adventure from my notes rather than the module itself. A simple read through just wouldn't provide enough familiarity with the module for a smooth experience at the table.

A notable change I would make while adapting a module is boiling down long descriptions. This seems to be where some module writers feel free to indulge in maximum verbosity. The eyes of many of my players would glaze over during a long reading of boxed text. I typically cut such descriptions down to the most important elements or used a highlighter on key phrases to use while paraphrasing at the table.

That process didn't cover the time needed to customize the module to fit into our campaign. Many modules recommend that gamemasters do this. Some provide specific advice on where and when the adventure might take place in officially supported settings. This fine tuning takes relatively little time and is an understandable limitation of adventure modules. A publisher can't take the specifics of everybody's campaign setting into account.

I soon gave up on the process as a waste of time. It was essentially rewriting the module into a form that would be easier for me to use. Why bother? Writing an adventure from scratch took roughly the same amount of time and effort. I acquired modules as part of bundles and picked up Free RPG Day adventures since then, but rarely ran them. Most of the modules I own are sources of spare parts. Encounters, NPCs, plot elements, and anything else that caught my eye would be used to inspire things in my own adventures.


The Arcane Library

The adventure modules written by Kelsey Dionne and published by The Arcane Library show a possible way forward. Many of the improvements used in these modules appear in products by others. However, The Arcane Library modules incorporates more of them in one place than I've seen elsewhere. The Arcane Library modules are dungeon adventures for a certain prominent fantasy RPG and use a streamlined presentation well suited for a location based adventure.

• Each module begins with a synopsis of the adventure and the minimum background necessary to understand its context. This information gives gamemasters a roadmap they can use to navigate the contents of the module. It shows how the adventure is intended to go, which elements connect, where they connect, and what interactions might take place. Of course, things may go off the rails, but knowing where the tracks were headed is helpful.
• The opening encounter is designed to quickly involve the players and their characters. A selection of motivations for the player characters is provided. This avoids the issues of slow starts and may short circuit "why does my character care" conversations.
• Each encounter takes up exactly one page and starts by asking a dramatic question. The outcome of the encounter answers that question. Not all encounters pose a question, but it provides a direction for things to go when it appears. The encounter wraps up with a transition describing how things move towards the next encounter. The flow from question to answer to transition helps to maintain the pace of the adventure.
• The aftermath section provides ways to tie off any remaining plot threads and offers the player characters their rewards. Hooks for future adventures building on the just concluded one are also presented.
• Descriptions are short. Lengthy boxed text is avoided in favor of lists of key details that gamemasters can work into their own narration.
• The layout is used to make the important stuff easier to find.
• There's a table of contents.
• Bold text is used for key details, making them stand out from the rest of the text.
• Bullet points are used for descriptive details and other information best presented in list format.
• Things like maps and new monsters are placed in the appendices instead of cluttering up the encounter entries.

Kelsey Dionne's approach requires modification for use with other games. It is optimized for an adventure in a confined environment that limits player choice. The outline of an investigative adventure might need a flowchart rather than a synopsis to show the gamemaster where things are going. A political intrigue adventure may not be able to be divided neatly into distinct encounters. The factions involved will each advance their own plans and modify them based on events. Instead, each faction could get their own section describing their resources, motivations, and how they intend to use any opportunities to achieve their goals.

The Problem of Scale

The Arcane Library modules are an example of how things can be improved, but their short length means that they don't run into the organizational problems found in longer works. A module from The Arcane Library already has a table of contents. This is plenty for an adventure intended to be run in a single session. But as the page count of a book goes up, locating specific information becomes more difficult.

Both a table of contents and a comprehensive index would make navigating a longer module easier. I'm not sure where the cut off between "just a table of contents is fine" and "needs an index too" exists. However, I'm sure that an adventure hardcover with a page count in the triple digits would certainly need both.

This is one of my favorite AD&D modules - to read. There's so much drama and detail presented about the people and inner workings of the slavers' organization.  Unfortunately, the player characters will never experience any of it as they steamroller through the place. I've thought of making the player characters go in and have to put up with the backbiting and office politics while undercover, but I don't think that's the intended way of running this adventure.

Art in Adventure Modules

Artwork may seem to be a waste of space in an adventure module, but it can have useful functions.

• An illustration of an area or encounter can be a handy tool, especially if it can be shown to the players without also revealing the text detailing the encounter. Some classic D&D and AD&D modules have separate booklets for this purpose.
• A piece of art that is connected to the text can serve as a mental bookmark. The most common example is a description of an NPC or monster with an illustration of that NPC or monster on the same page. If gamemasters can find the picture, they can find the related description.
• Memorable art can serve as landmarks while navigating a book. Page numbers might be difficult to recall, but knowing that a particular section is near that eye-catching picture may not be.
• If nothing else, small pieces of artwork can break up walls of text and larger ones can signal the beginning or end of a section.

Writing My Own Adventures

I tended to over-prepare for adventures. The process of rewriting modules had left a mark. There was way too much unnecessary detail and not enough focus on what I needed while sitting at the table. Everything was in one cumbersome outline and I worried too much about the ending.

There's a new process that I'm still refining. I don't worry about planning every detail or beyond the current session. What I'm mainly interested in is having ready access to the information I have prepared.

What I include in my session notes is still a work in progress.

• A sequence of events that will get derailed due to player character intervention. Key details are in bold.
• Scene descriptions (details below). Descriptive details are lists of phrases that I work in extemporaneously.
• Key NPCs. Only the ones that the player characters are likely to fight, interact with socially, or otherwise engage with mechanically have full stats. These include any special rules or notes. Again, key details are in bold. Other entries are just so that I can remember the name of the shopkeeper or other minor NPC.
• Reference sheets for any rules that I might have trouble remembering the exact mechanics of at the table.

As the workhorse of many an adventure, scenes need their share of focus. I haven't gone as far as put each on its own page, but I'm seeing the appeal. I break scenes down into three basic parts.

• How things are at the start of the scene. Example: The guy they are looking for is here.
• What might happen during the scene. Example: Do they confront the guy? Follow him around while keeping out of sight? What are the complications involved with either approach? Let's assume that they fumble their approach and they end up chasing the guy. Where does he go? Does local law enforcement get involved?
• Handling the outcome, including what the next scene might be and how to get there from here. Example: Do they catch the guy? Does he get away? Let's assume that they get their man. What information do they get out of him? How could they make use of what they've learned?

Each category (sequence of events, NPCs, scenes, etc.) gets its own document file. Right now, the docs are .pdfs on my tablet, but I'm considering uploading them to Google Docs or transferring them to Google Keep so I can access everything on my phone. That allows me to work on them while away from my tablet or PC.

I also have a pad and pen in front of me when running the game. I've yet to find a more practical way of taking notes at the table. Most of the notes are on how the players are changing the narrative during play or about things the players have taken an interest in. These notes get transcribed a day or week later. In theory.

One of the adventures in this book involves catching up with an out of control spaceship. The process of intercepting it is a dice rolling contest. When I ran it a few years ago, I couldn't find the number I needed on a page full of text. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour combined with the mental load of running the game and fatigue from a rough week at work, but I kept scanning the page and not seeing what I was looking for. Simply printing the target number in bold or having the information in a more easily digestible format - a chart summarizing the skill checks needed to get through the scene, for example - would have helped my poor, tired brain find it.

Wrapping Up

There are great adventure modules in my collection and there are some duds I hang on to for various reasons. Even the best of them have certain flaws that make them harder to run at the table. Possible solutions involve different lay outs and ways to present key information without radically altering what an adventure module is supposed to do. As an added benefit, gamemasters can borrow these methods to improve their own adventure writing.