Every area designed for a sandbox occurs as part of a larger
whole, and this is no less true for the initial area than for any other. Nothing exists in isolation. Unless your starting area is hermetically
sealed from the rest of your world – in which case, your starting area is the
totality of your world! – this is as true for the game as it is for real
life. Merchant caravans come from
somewhere, pirates sell their goods in some distant port. Even the distant past is part of the larger
picture….Who made that castle whose ruins the player characters are busy
plundering?
It is important, therefore, to have a general overview of
the region that the initial sandbox area is part of.
Two quick notes:
(1) I have recently
been involved in a discussion on DragonsFoot, where one poster seemed to
believe that the “box” was an operative part of the term “sandbox” as it
applies to role-playing games. I reject
this utterly. There is, of necessity, an
edge to the region currently created by the Game Master and/or explored by the
players in a sandbox game – but this edge exists neither to keep the world out,
or to keep the players in. It is just
the edge of the work thus far, a frontier that is always ready for expansion!
(2) Although the last
few blog posts have been written as occurring sequentially, there is no reason
to do the work in this way. So long as
the necessary things get done, it doesn’t matter what order you do them
in. In fact, the work will be better for
as much intersection between steps as possible.
Until the starting area is presented as “ready” by you, the Game Master,
everything is fluid. You should let
yourself be inspired by all parts of the work, and you should be willing to go
back and adjust stuff, add material, and even throw out things to make a more
satisfying whole!
Concentrate first
on immediate needs first.
The purpose of an overview is to have answers ready for the
most obvious questions that the players are going to ask, while also having in
place a vision that both inspires and grounds your imagination. You can draw a sort of vague relationship map
of the surrounding area, noting only major towns, cities, and landscape
features. Feel free to name the country
that the starting area is part of, determine the basic gist of the government,
and name the other countries it is immediately adjacent to (or otherwise in
contact with). Decide if their relations
are currently friendly or not.
You should have some idea of the major religion(s) in the
region your starting area falls within, as well as what type of calendar is in
use. Noting the major holidays is also a
good idea. Make certain you know what
year it is! It is a good idea, as well,
to know what event the year is counted from.
Celestially, you will want to know if there is more than one
sun, or moon, and, if your world uses a system of astrology, what the major
signs of its zodiac are. You may also want
to name other known planets or important astronomical/astrological
features. For example, in the northern
hemisphere on Earth, you would want to mention the Big and Little Dippers,
Polaris, and Orion. I like to include the
phases of the moon(s) on my calendars, as this prevents me from slipping
up. It also helps me keep track of when
creatures such as lycanthropes are more active.
What trade goods are available, and where are they coming
from? You don’t need to know everything
here, but 3-5 samples (good cloth, for example, or wine; ivory, silk, and
gemstones; tobacco; etc.). This will
help you when you are creating treasures, stocking trading posts, and detailing
merchant caravans.
Who lived here in the past?
Name 2-3 ancient peoples who are now gone, and give each one 2-3
defining characteristics. These should
be characteristics that remain persistent in the campaign milieu. For example, in one of my own games, the
ancient Esk made great use of amber beads in their decorative work, and raised
barrows and monoliths now associated with the fey. The Partheloneons, on the other hand, were pseudo-Roman
militants who delved too deeply into Things Man Was Not Meant to Know (i.e., Lovecraftian
mythos stuff).
Not only does this
sort of work add realism to the game, but it allows you to create undead
monsters which really feel like they come from earlier times. Just as, in a contemporary setting, it is
cooler to run into an ancient Aztec vampire or Egyptian mummy than it is to run
into the ghost of Joe Modern, it is cooler in a fantasy milieu to interact with
the past when you encounter such ancient creatures. Likewise, folkloric fey often partake of the
dress and mannerisms of a bygone age…these details help faeries seem different than
contemporary men.
Consider, too, that some player characters might be members
of long-lived races, such as elves, whose starting ages make it possible that
they were alive when the ancient peoples went away!
Your own particular gaming group will have its own special
interests; try to anticipate the questions that the players are likely to
raise, and make sure that you have some form of answer available (even if you
don’t intend to supply it to them right away!).
After immediate
needs are met, do whatever work interests you the most. Or, take a break if nothing is particularly
interesting to you.
This advice never changes….
Every hour of prep
work should result in at least two hours of game time.
……..as long as you keep this advice in mind.
You should assume that your world is mostly Earth-like,
except in those places where you intentionally create differences. Thus, in addition to whatever fantastic trees
you create, there will be oaks, elms, willows, and pines. That there will be trees, even, is something
that the players ought to be able to assume, unless you tell them otherwise.
If you are going to invent other details, make
sure that you use them. On the
Plain of Prax, the grasses are normal, terrestrial grasses, except those
unusual ones that you specify. Those
unusual ones you specify should be noteworthy in some way. They should have an effect on game play (even
if that effect is not, strictly speaking, mechanical). You should get at least twice the time in
play value as you spend in coming up with these details.
If you decide that there is a known symbol associated with
an evil cult, make sure to use that symbol in concrete ways. Knowing that symbol should allow the players
to (potentially) predict the layout of an area, or even of a secret door. For example, a cult that is known to use the
number three repeatedly can have a room with two obvious doors…a clue that
there is another, non-obvious door in the area.
If you spend the time to write it up, also spend the time to use it in
every possible way you can think of!
Get the highest yield you can from your design work.
Conclusion
Finally, you have to decide how much of this information to
pass on to your players. My advice is,
at the start of the game, very little indeed.
Rather, as you write the background of your world, assume that the
players know all the background you do, and refer to it as you would oak trees,
bears, and France. Then let them ask
questions as they become interested.
Put the ball in their court in this way, and they may
actually listen to the answers!
Make the answers useful to know within the context of the
game milieu, and they may actually be eager to learn more.
Next: Initial Adventure Sites.
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