Watching again the fabulously cheesy and entertaining TV series “Spartacus”, it’s hard to not be reminded of what make a hero heroic.
At least in the eyes of the crowd, stories are what make heroes and deeds are what make legends. This has some application in the realm of roleplaying.
What is it that makes a character really worth the play? In my view it’s their story, their deeds, and the growth of their legend.
Proving the Hero
Some gamers, nay many, prefer to design a character whole-cloth and ready for adventure. To be fair, this is the way I have tended to encourage those who sit at my table: create a concept; flesh out their backstory; have them enter the story already a champion. Meh.
Watching the first three episodes of “Spartacus”, I was reminded of the way we used to do things. Here is a chap who has a minimal backstory, who is thrust into the action, and whom we learn about through his deeds and decisions.
The Thracian is seen arguing to destroy his enemies through the alliance with Rome: he is impetuous. Once betrayed, he seeks vengeance and sparks a revolt. Heading home, he defeats the raiders and then is captured by the Romans. He is thrust into the arena to die. Only his passion for his wife saves him. From his deeds we learn that he is a fighter and potentially a hero. But none of this is the test.
As a hero, Spartacus is proven in the Ludus – the gladiator school – by defeating Crixus (the champion of Capua) in single combat. The character is blooded, almost defeated… yet proven.
It should be like this with our gaming.
One of the enduring things that makes me Old School is my preference to see a lowly beginning character prove themselves a hero. It’s what appeals most about the not-quite ridiculous DCC RPG‘s “funnel”, in which a player rolls up several would-be heroes and then sees which one makes it to 1st Level.
Instead of designing the hero, and then knowing that we can’t afford to let him fall to fickle Fate in the game, we create a character who must prove him or herself worthy of being our hero. If they die, then so be it. If they live, the tale of their survival will be the basis of their story.
Story from the Game
One of the varieties of roleplaying encourages us to think of the game as a vehicle for the story. That is to say, there is a story which (together with friends) we are going to tell; the game is merely the methodology and means in telling that story. Many of the narrative RPG systems out there are based on this silent assumption.
The fathers of roleplaying, however, shared a different vision. Theirs was the contention that the story will arise out of the playing of the game. Gygax has a reputation as a GM who applied the rules of the game with some ruthless determination; characters who rose above the often brutal odds of OD&D were worthy of the title, “Hero”.
For me, this latter way of thinking is growing in its appeal. I feel that, as long as I can quickly create them, it’s a lot more fun to test the character through the lens of the game. It’s in the adventures that are told together around the table that heroes are forged and, sometimes, legends arise.
The deeds of my heroes are what are remembered. My long-time personal thief-Halfling hero of ages back is remembered only for the action of slaying a Balrog using a shortsword; virtually none of his other exploits, of which there were many, are remembered these 25 years or so later. Why? Because only the deeds make a character a hero.
Setting Up to Forge Legends
I’m influenced by my personal distaste for our modern cult of personality; a chap who prefers the “character” of a person over their perceived personality, I would like my heroic gaming to reflect my own ideals.
Cultures past knew the truth that a man’s (or woman’s) deeds reveal their character. That is to say, you can know a person by how closely their deeds match their words. Ideals are paramount, and the striving towards those ideals is of great importance. In my gaming, I’d like to set up the game to breed real characters. Not paper-thin personalities with zippy qualities and quirky traits, but real characters.
To this end, I believe that it’s worth asking your players to suggest a character ideal that they’d like to pursue: honourable warrior, you say, and I will nod approvingly; power-hungry mage you suggest, and I will smile at the challenge.
Keep your concept simple and concise. D&D5e has introduced the four characterising elements of Traits, Ideals, Bonds, and Flaws – I like these because they sketch the character you seek to play, but don’t bog you down into writing reams of background to explain it.
Whether you roll them up or design them, make your character quickly and get them into play. Let’s not sit around endlessly refining the fellow: let’s get them struggling with the adventure and see what they’re made of.
Did they survive and entertain us in the struggle? Then they are worthy of our continuing time and attention. Did they fall at the first trial, like the hapless and instantly forgotten trainee gladiator? Forget them. Make up another.
Tell Their Tales
All the hero asks of you is that you tell their tale.
Of all the good gaming you can enjoy, what’s the point if you don’t get to occasionally swap tales around the meeting place, beer (or whatever is your chosen beverage) in hand? Tell their tales.
If, like me, you only have one or two heroes worthy of mention then let them live again through the stories you tell of their exploits. If you have many, then you are blessed with choices. Tell their tales.
The Melanasian culture believes that people who fall into the hands of death are only granted an afterlife should they complete the dangerous journey into that realm… and that they must be remembered by the living. If their stories are not told, they cease to be in the afterlife. For me, that’s how it is with our roleplaying heroes: if they make the long and dangerous journey into “storydom”, the least we can do is honour them with the re-telling of their exploits to get there. Tell their tales.
Yes, you’ll have lots of characters who die. You’ll replace them. Some will rise to greatness.
The play’s the thing. Don’t waste your time plotting narratives. Go and play.
