Homebrew: Room Prep

My family D&D game forced a reconsideration of my usual GM-ing style. I’m mostly an improv GM, and that style of GM-ing is supported by the kinds of games I design but also in the games I usually run.

D&D requires a certain amount of planning, yes, but the issue was more than that.

Homebrew is going to encompass posts relating to my own gaming rather than gaming products—which will be posted over on the SEP site.

This is a continuation of a discussion of a game I’m running for family.

When we started with D&D 5E at my daughters’ request, I had prepared the “monsters”—the mechanical challenges they would face—but I also wanted to provide them with a dungeon (since there wasn’t going to be any dragons). That meant a map and at least a key.

It should surprise no one to learn I got the map from Dyson Logos’ page. I support the patreon, but there are a ton of maps there for personal use.

But definitely support the patreon.

After visiting Dyson Logos’ page, I had a map and I made a key. That key was basically giving the room a name and then providing a few details about it—it’s purpose, anything of specific interest, the challenges the PCS would find there, and any treasure they might find. This is usually more than enough for me when I GM.

But during the game itself, I was struggling to sufficiently differentiate each room.

I don’t usually run “dungeons” in the D&D sense when I run a game. Few of my games are about locations and most are “mystery box” type games, where the PCs get caught up in something and need to figure it out and put an end to it. Location in those kinds of games is of minimal importance. If the PCs are in a tavern, I can give it a quick narrative description and then go.

I also give lots of narrative control to the players to fill in any blanks as they see fit. If I was describing a Viking lord’s hall, I’d mention it’s a long hall, there’s a hearth (and where it/they are), the tables, and then maybe something like a dais and high table for the lord and his key retinue. Then, if the players wanted to add something about maybe who is at the tables, where the smoke is going, the attitude of some of the people at the high table—anything at all—they would add that.

That’s hardcoded into all my games and how I run games. That’s not a tradition in any of the games of D&D I’ve encountered. To me, it doesn’t seem natural. I honestly see no reason why it couldn’t be adapted, except for the reason I usually get as pushback—it would ruin the DM’s plan. It’s not in the script.

And I’m somewhat sympathetic to that.

It’s not so much about the rules set, it’s more about the mapping and location. If a player decided that this hall ends in a dead end, but the DM intended it to lead to a key part of the dungeon, that’s a problem. If it happens once, it’s not insurmountable, but if happened more regularly, I figure you’d have a real problem—you’d keep moving the site of that key room and even if it all worked out in the end, any logic or theme you had created would be out the window. It might not make sense or it might end up entirely incoherent.

But that specific issue wasn’t my problem. My wife and kids are not seasoned gamers, and have proved hesitant to add details. My youngest added her pet mouse—“Squeak”—but that’s all. They may have watched actual plays where the DM is weaving a wondrous tale and want that.

I would have the general tenor and details of the room, but I was struggling to do justice to the surroundings. I was worried about keeping them engaged, so I fell back on how I would have written dungeons back in the day, back before I broke away from D&D and pursued story-forward, rules-light games.

It’s not a huge deal, but it’s a big shift in how I prepare for a game. As is obvious, it’s a lot more work. It’s a lot more preparation. But that’s fine. Probably a lot of DMs are already doing that.

It also reminded me of my limitations.

I’m a huge believer in knowing your limitations. Not because they define us, but—for me—I sometimes want to relax. When I am cognizant of my limitations, I know when I will struggle and when I can coast.

And it highlights areas for improvement. If I wanted to tackle it, improvisational descriptions of rooms in a dungeon is certainly something I could work on. But that’s not where I’m interested in putting my effort right now, so I prepare a full room description and even expected dialogue in advance—in for a penny . . .

I have time to do that for the two campaigns I’m running—which means I’m not working on other projects right now—and it makes game day a lot easier.

I like making things easier for myself.