Where Do We Go From Here? GUMSHOE Open World

 

Alan Parson Project

I always did have a soft spot for Alan Parsons.

GUMSHOE has a habit of producing large open-world style games where you can wander around, like free-range bunnies waiting for Lennie to come home. Dracula Dossier is probably the best example. Armitage Files another. While GUMSHOE isn't the only system that does this, I thought it might be useful to deconstruct the style, and I say this because games like these can be very intimidating for the novice Director.

This is what I said last time:

It's not that it isn't great. It so very much is, but there's so much going on here that, if you haven't got a few years under your belt, you may find it intimidating. Its improvisational nature means that it lacks the structure a new Director may need to get going.

Let me compare it, for a moment, to Horror on the Orient Express, and say why I'd recommend the latest edition of Horror to new Keepers.

Horror is huge. There's tons of things to do, a mountain of stuff to read, and at first glance it seems intimidating. However it has solid internal structure; the Keeper always knows where the campaign is, in the narrative, and can easily determine what's going to happen next. The latest edition in particular is very newbie-friendly, and while there's a lot to absorb, it's not impossible to digest. It would definitely be a challenge for a new Keeper, but it would be a challenge that could be overcome.

I'm not sure the same could be said for the Dossier. Its improvisational nature - which I endorse and enjoy very much - and the metric ton of stuff in it, means that it's very easy to get lost in its labyrinthine innards. For a Director who's had a few years of gaming, this will not be a problem. However as someone who indulges in improv theater from time to time, I can tell you that confidence is key. As an actor, even if you're playing a weak character, you need to be utterly confident in yourself and your ability to play a weak character. That's the only way to convince, and entertain, your audience.

So let's talk about the Armitage Files.

Mystery takes on written form when pages from a disturbing manuscript fall into the investigators’ hands. Can your mind correlate the awful beauty of 10 stunningly distressed handouts realized by acclaimed illustrator Sarah Wroot?

The central concept is simple and strong. Odd pages from a previous investigation - if it is a previous investigation - fall into the characters' hands by way of Dr. Armitage, Miskatonic U, sis boom ba, Bugs Bunny Bugs Bunny rah rah rah. What do they do about it? Where do they go? It's entirely up to them. 

Mechanically speaking, this is the shorter version of something like City of Mist, where the entire city is created by the players on the fly. In Armitage Files the players create what amount to Nodes, places where they go to do stuff. What that stuff is and what they do there is up to them. 

Which is right about the spot where novice Directors tear their hair out. Some prepwork is needed, surely? How do you react to something that might or might not happen? Is this Shrodinger's RPG?

Some prepwork is needed, yes. But not the work you might think.

First, know where you are going.

In the Armitage Files there are several possible options given in the supplement and there are as many other options as you can think of. Probably more than you can ever dream up. 

 

Which is part of the reason why this list exists but it's not the only reason.

Yes, these are all places that the investigators might end up. There's enough information in the text to help you improv an entire scene or two on the fly. But is that what I meant when I said know where you are going?

No. 

What I meant was, know what the end goal is. Know who the Great And Powerful Oz is. That way, as the investigators creep closer and closer to the curtain that they've been warned not to pull, you already know the kind of thing they'll find behind that curtain.

That way every scene you use, every important turning point, leads to that end goal. The Sleazy Nightclub is a waypoint on that journey as is the Sanatorium, the Farm, the Curio Shop. That means they all have to have markers that clearly indicate what they are, and where they might lead.

In the Armitage Files a disparate group of Mythos forces are all stumbling about trying to do A Thing, and the investigators don't know what that thing is. Fine. But you do know what that thing is. 

So, every chance you get, hammer that home. The cultist, the innocent victim, the peculiar item - all those roads lead to one Rome. Make sure that is forefront in everyone's mind.

Second, the enemy has a plan and the means by which to make it happen. 

Dracula Dossier does this very well. The Conspiracy is always up to something. Whether Satanists are working to destroy the Sacred Covenant or Mutants are trying to engineer a nuclear Armageddon so they can pen the remnants of humanity in breeding and feeding pens, they all have a plan. They work towards that plan.

So too do the OPFOR in your campaign. 

This means two things.

First, it means the enemy is always gathering material, putting schemes into motion, launching initiatives. It is always active. 

Second, it means that if they are not interrupted then they will do something. What that something is, and whether it works, can be very interesting. 

Let's take a step back and look at one of the elements of the Files.  

The Carnival.

Children cry out their delight as they charge down the main muddy drag of a traveling carnival. Astride the horses and mythical creatures of a churning merry-go-round, they giggle gleefully ...

Now, let's say that within this Carnival there is a Mythos sect trying to do something. It doesn't matter what that is. It takes time, needs materials, and has a desired end result. That's what counts.

You, as Director, have already decided what that sect is and what it wants to achieve. Fine. However, there are other leads. Other places. The investigators may be tempted.

What if the players don't go to the Carnival right away?

Well, you have two options. One is that the enemy doesn't put its plans into motion until they get there, for whatever reason. The stars weren't right before. They are now.

The other option is to set up a calendar. In January the plot starts. By March it's well under way. In June the big event happens. July/August are fallout times and by the time September and later rolls around the background radiation is ticking away but whatever it was that the sect intended to have happened has happened. The investigators might find the remains and the victims, or the damned, but they didn't get there in time to stop the plot.

Andromeda Strain

There can be a lot of entertainment exploring a town of the dead.

Does this mean the sect always wins? God, no. Experiments fail all the time. When your average deranged necromancer starts fooling around with peculiar substances and occult texts, the result of a failed experiment can be spectacular. And interesting, from a plot POV.

Third, always have a backup plan.

Let's say that you thought the players picked up on Clues X & Y last session and were planning a visit to Kingsport to visit the Yacht Club. Except they didn't. They decide instead to head off to Boston to deal with the Marcuzzos. 

What do you do?

Engage one of your failsafe scenes. It's always useful to have a few moments set aside for times like these, a sleazy nightclub or two, a peculiar curio shop, anything that might grab the investigators' attention for a while. That at least gives you time to work out how your failsafe scene is linked to the Marcuzzos. 

Let's say that the investigators went to that curio shop because they think it's a Marcuzzo front. Fine. It can be a Marcuzzo front. You didn't write it that way; needs must when the devil drives. But it can also have Clues X & Y in there, leading back to the Yacht Club. Now the investigators have two possible ways to go. They can follow up on the Marcuzzo connection, using clues found at the Curio Shop that allow them to do so. Or they can take the lead that brings them back to the Yacht Club. What connection does the Yacht Club have to the Marcuzzos? Time to find out!

Ideally, you'll have at least three or four moments like these which you can sneak into any session, regardless of location. That sleazy nightclub can as easily be in Ohio as Boston. Then, once you've used that backup plan, don't forget that you'll need a new one for the next time the players go off the rails.

Fourth, and finally, always reward, never punish.

This is yes, and.

Not that you want to make it easy for those pesky players, mind you. But if they do go off the rails, that isn't a moment for you to lash out. That's a moment for you to shower them with new clues. Letters that lead to that Ohio social organization, or flyers from the Carnival in New York State. If you want to have a couple mooks walk in the door with guns as well, why not? A little gunshot wound never hurt anyone. But never have the mooks as the be all and end all. The mooks are just the chocolate sprinkles on the whipped cream that is the clue bonanza. 

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Schools and Genre Mixing (RPG All)

Let's say we opt for the Brotherhood of the Pharaoh as the main plot, the destination of this runaway train. The campaign is headed in an Egyptian direction. That doesn't mean you can't have side plots with, say, the Nazis, but after the side plot is over we go straight back to Egypt. In fact - tangent time - it could be a lot of fun to have a Tomb-Hounds of Egypt game running concurrently with the Bookhounds sessions, so the players get to experience the Brotherhood from both ends of the narrative ...

Which begs the question, when are RPGs compatible – or compatible enough that you can pull this trick – and when are they not?

In the example above the Brotherhood is the point of intersection between Bookhounds and Tombhounds. It helps that both games are set in the 1930s but that isn’t absolutely necessary. What is necessary is some kind of compatibility, some link that makes the one a natural fit with the other. If the Brotherhood wasn’t part of the Bookhounds main plot, then it wouldn’t work. With the Brotherhood and its Egyptian themes in the mix, it does.

That means you can mix genres, but more importantly, it means you can mix plots. Characters. Even whole locations. Say you had a major Brotherhood temple set up in London, with all the pharaonic symbolism that implies, tended by ancient mummies and spirits from beyond. Why not have a mirror image of that temple in Egypt for the Tombhounds to find? Why shouldn’t it be the same temple, linking one location to the other by means of a Gate? 

It also helps that the two settings have a common theme: illicit knowledge. The Bookhounds sell it, the Tombhounds uncover it. The Tombhounds might want to catch the Orient Express up to London to have their latest find evaluated. The Bookhounds might want to learn more about these curious Dynasty XIII papyri they’ve purchased. There’s a reason why both groups might want to talk to each other, to draw on the others’ skillset.

On the other hand, let’s say you were trying to pull a similar trick with a different system – Esoterrorists, say. Does that work?

On its own, probably not, for two reasons.

First, there’s no element of compatibility. In the Tombhounds example the point of compatibility was the Brotherhood. In theory there could be an Esoterrorist element there; the Brotherhood could be Esoterrorists. So there’s a means of creating compatibility, if you wanted to force it. But Egypt is central to the idea of Tombhounds and is the main motivator of the Brotherhood. It is fundamental to both games. There’s no fundamental connection between Esoterrorists and Bookhounds unless you, as Keeper, care to force it.

There’s no common theme either. Bookhounds is about illicit knowledge. Esoterrorists is about fighting off the Outer Black. They’re both horror games, but that’s the only link between them and it’s not a strong thematic connection. There’s plenty of horror games out there. You could make an equally valid case for, say, Wraith. Or Werewolf.  Or Dungeons and Dragons: Ravenloft.

None of that is to say it can’t be done. However, to do it you’d have to go some lengths to make it happen. Ideally that’s the kind of thing you want to avoid, if only because that means more work on your part and the whole point is to avoid extra work. You have enough to do. 

Let’s explore the concept to see how it functions.

Say you’re planning a game of School of Night. Is that compatible with Bookhounds?

Well, you’re looking for an element of compatibility and a common theme. 

School of Night is an Elizabethan-era horror game about defending the Realm against ‘occult forces ... You study those forces at the risk of torture — at the risk of your soul — but you must hold them at bay or see England destroyed …’ You’re walking alongside John Dee, Christopher Marlowe, Shakespeare and Sir Walter Raleigh. Bookhounds is a 1930s-era game about buying and selling occult tomes. You’re a contemporary of Agatha Christie, M.R. James, J.R.R. Tolkien and Aleister Crowley.  On the face of it, the two seem very different games. 

However, there is an element of compatibility.  Both games involve literature; School of Night is literally about playwrights, poets and scholars pitted against occult forces. These people generate those same grimoires which the Bookhounds will later sell. You could even make a case for a common prop for both games – the book. A copy of, say, the Revenger’s Tragedy with its o-so-useful disputed authorship which can be battered about, annotated, have fake blood split on it, whatever, during play in School of Night, and then handed over to the Bookhounds. 

Also, there is a common theme: illicit knowledge. With the added benefit that, if you start talking about Elizabethan spies and alchemists, you could make a case for cryptography and hidden secrets within the text. That generates new secrets which the Bookhounds then spend their time unravelling. The School of Night players could literally inscribe the Revenger’s Tragedy with peculiar codes which the Bookhounds players break.

Why do this?

Because it’s fun, silly.

That, and one other reason: it’s instant backstory. Most games involve a certain amount of backstory, and you don’t want to be in the position of having to read out chunks of text or giving the players a prop they may never give a second glance to. 

I love Dracula Dossier to death; I think the Armitage Files is one of the best props in any game ever. I wonder, though: how many players actually look through the Dracula Dossier prop and pick out the particular annotation they want to follow up?

But if you’re playing two settings concurrently then the players will know what happened in the way-back-when, because they’re the ones who did the thing that happened in the way-back-when. The duel that Sir Walter Raleigh fought in 1608 is that same duel you played out at the table. The peculiar history of that scarab your Bookhound is using as a paperweight is something that your Tombhounds were caught up in two years prior. That peculiar fellow who plays chess every day at a club at the Elephant and Castle who strongly resembles Thomas Middleton might actually be Thomas Middleton – and because your School of Night players had that adventure they know why Thomas Middleton is condemned to remain at that spot forever and ever, amen.  

That’s it for this week. Enjoy!