ABSTRACT: Much thought goes into a new campaign: a GM may spend weeks, months, or even years coming up with a backstory for a campaign. Players and GMs alike may spend a considerable amount of time reading or writing material for the game. Yet, from my experiences, very little time or effort is spent on determining what kind of game people want to play. Rather, a GM announces that they are starting a campaign and are looking for players. Interested persons ask a few nominal questions: what system? What universe? What power level? But aside from these superficial questions, the real determination of what a campaign will be like is left to be discovered, along with in-game knowledge, at run time.In this paper, I propose ways of constructively discussing and negotiating the meta parameters of a new campaign, so that players and GMs alike will have the same set of expectations of a campaign from a relatively short discussion. I presume that this relatively shorter span of several focused hours of discussion is vastly preferable to spending an even larger amount of time, spread out over several months, fumbling along and discovering these parameters for oneself, with the possibility of realizing that the campaign that one is in is, in fact, not desired by the player (and/or possibly the GM).
Some definitions:
The troupe refers to the collection of the GM and the players. While the person who will be the GM should probably focus the discussion, this discussion must be a meeting of equals; to do otherwise invites the disastrous possibility of having one person (the GM) speak for others (the players), which reduces us to our original problem! This problem, to put it bluntly, is that a lack of critical thinking about how we want our game to run in an abstract sense can (and usually does) lead to a bad set of expectations for players. For some people, they will be able to adapt their expectations. For others, they will only feel a sense of frustration at having wasted their time and effort on a game that they only came to realize later wasn't what they were looking for.
I'll make references to hack-and-slash D&D campaigns. This is meant to refer to the stereotype of "open a door, kill a monster" D&D campaigns that your prototypical group of 14-year olds play. Nothing more complicated than combat and treasure, with a thin veneer of plot. I am not trying to pass judgement on this style of play: if this is what people want, then by all means, play the game this way. For instance, this is a great way to hang out and relax with some friends ("Woohoo! The door opened? I drop the hammer and charge!").
I also make reference to simulation games, with the implication that the paramount concern is attention to accuracy. In these games, staying true to character is of foremost concern.
The axes are (this list is in a great amount of flux):
The first example is lifted straight from the hack-and-slash D&D campaign stereotype. The second example leads directly to pure chaos. Ideally, with a set of players who are mature (and preferably experienced in roleplaying), plots are advanced by all members of the Troupe. There are two models for this: players pursue plots, and players run plots.
In the first case, players assume partial responsibility for the development of plot and take an active role in the campaign. They find out what's out there and follow it as befits their characters.
In the second example, players write plot and weave it into the game with the other plots. One person in the Troupe may need to be an Alpha storyguide: someone who oversees all plot. The extant of overseeing will vary, and should be discussed: will it be necessary to reveal the entirety of the plot to the Alpha? If so, this probably precludes the Alpha from playing in the story. If not, how much can be kept out, such that it's still entertaining for the Alpha to play without foreknowledge, and yet still be able to give input (both suggestions and vetoes) such that the Alpha dispenses their overseer responsibility?
The other extreme: you're playing Battletech, and if your Mech's head gets shot off, your character is dead. Here, death is subject to dice whim: if you roll badly, your character is dead.
Note that this axis is about the deterrence of death: does death cause characters to take fewer risks? Does the probability of death cause players to not invest themselves into their characters?
The tricky balance to achieve here is that the threat of death should be real: characters should fear death. Yet, the realization of death should not be so omnipresent that characters do not develop. The amount of character development vs the threat of death is one that the Troupe will have to agree upon in advance. ("We're playing a Battletech simulation, so don't get too attached to your characters." or "We're playing a bunch of mages in the Middle Ages, so unless you do something stupid, you won't get killed.")
The other extreme is where you're playing D&D, and you're playing a 4th level Ranger, wielding 2 +5 swords, magical armor, etc.
Obviously, playing at a high power level will dramatically affect the solutions players design. Too high power levels means that everything can be solved via the system's mechanics, with little or no investiture of player cunning.
There's not really an "other" extreme here: you have multiple axes shooting off into politics, intrigue, romance, and probably a lot of other interactions that exist but that I don't find interesting.
The other extreme: play whoever you want, stay in character, and if the 6 people in the party go 6 different ways, so be it.