On NPCs
"An epic featuring a cast of thousands!"
- Cecil B. DeMille
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more..."
- Shakespeare (Macbeth)
The various player characters who call Elcea home do not live in a vacuum,of course. The world around them is populated by a cast of thousands, even millions. While each PC is guided and controlled by the imagination of hisor her player, everyone else in the world has their strings pulled by a single individual - me. Creating and portraying all of the people and creatures that the group meets is one of any Game Master's greatest challenges. Nothing that a GM does has a bigger impact on bringing a campaign world to life. Designing the terrain, the cities and towns, and the castles and dungeons and traps all takes more time and, I think, usually gets more attention than creating NPCs, but it is the NPCs who make the campaign world seem like a real place.
Many of the players in the Elcea campaign could name dozens, maybe a hundred or more, of the NPCs their characters have met with just a little thought. I estimate that I have created and placed well over a thousand of them. Many of them not even I remember, although I have records for all of them somewhere. Others of them have had major parts in the history of the campaign. All of them help form the tapestry that is the backdrop to the adventures and activities of the player characters.
Each NPC goes through a design process very much like that for creating a character, but very much condensed. Sometimes I roll their stats, and sometimes I just write down what seems right. All of them get a brief description, their armor, weapons, and items (if any), and most get a little background information. This information can range from a single sentence to several paragraphs. I try to give even peasants met alongside the road a brief character sketch. Just a little information can make a huge difference to me when it comes time to portray them. Those without this information tend to be merely place-holders, basic caricatures of whatever type of person they portray. With even a little information, though, they acquire their own motivations and personality. This background may never come to light in the campaign, but it adds a depth to the player character's interactions with them that I think really contributes to the flavor of the campaign, which in turn helps make Elcea seem like a real place.
One technique that I try to employ is to give each NPC one "secret". This can be almost anything, from the fact that the carpenter in one town is really a were-rat, to the fact that the milkmaid at a nearby farm saw a procession of skulking figures go up a hill just before dawn one night last week. Most of these never come out, but they are there as background material, or as plot hooks, or as resources for the players to uncover and use as the situation demands. Even the ones that seem really mundane when I create them, such as the fact that a certain wizard has an irresistible craving for cheese, can turn into something interesting in the right circumstances. I tend to let my subconscious crank these things out and not really think about them too much until later. The results are usually much more random (and thus, realistic) and interesting than if I really try to plot and plan and fit things together.
I rarely have the luxury of time to develop all NPCs to the depth I would like, though. Even a small village, for example, might have half a dozen people that I think the PCs might interact with as they pass through. In a village where the group spends some time, that number can jump to 20 or more. I'd like to claim that all of them will have completely developed personalities, but that is rarely the case. Sometimes I'm lucky if I have their names jotted down.
Coming up with all those names, by the way, is a challenge in itself. Early in the campaign I really struggled to come up with names. That seems to have been a talent that has developed over time, though, because I can now come up with dozens of names at the drop of a hat. Not just any name will do, of course. Coming up with appropriate names is very important. Ideally, a name will both sound good and give some clue about the character and role of the NPC. Sometimes I'm successful, other times I'm not. I do, however, have some favorites from over the years.
One of my all-time favorite names is Clawbone Hakkle. Clawbone was a cleric who adventured with the group back in the early days of the campaign, and recently made a cameo appearance in the Bloodhawk campaign. She was a cantankerous, sly older woman, and I always liked the way her name rolled off the tongue. At any rate, it suited her much more than a name like, say, "Rosebud Havens" would have.
Many of my best names have belonged to villains, come to think of it. Horrib Rothak, the evil wizard from Soroth, was one of the nastiest bad guy in the history of the campaign, and I always really liked his name. Other good "bad" names include the evil priestess Ehrin Cindu, and the nemesis of the early Heroes of Telemarch group, the Eyeless Priest. I didn't name him the Eyeless Priest because he was blind, by the way. The name popped into my head one day and I worked backwards from there.
Contrast these names with some of my favorite paladin names. Jeddian Friendly, of course, is almost a caricature of a paladin's name, but it always seemed appropriate to me, as Jeddian is something of a caricature of a paladin. The name Stargoth has become so familiar to me that it seems as everyday as Fred, or Bob, but I've always really liked the name. It is noble and heroic without being pretentious, rather like Stargoth himself. Stephan of Mandor is another paladin's name that does the job without going overboard (though Stephan himself frequently does, in his zeal to battle evil).
Other names seem especially suited to the NPCs they depict. There was the officious, yet competent, Lieutenant Pephist, for example, who variously harassed or aided the old Heroes of Telemarch group. The name sounds officious, and has echoes of "pest" in it. Another name that seems to me perfectly suited to its owner is Slivner, the horse-wrangler hireling of the Bloodhawks. Ignoring the occasional renderings of it by certain players as "Sniveler", the name has always seemed to me to be appropriate to an earnest young man who is good at his job, and who has no aspirations to be an adventurer himself.
Whatever name they end up with, once they meet the player characters the NPCs frequently develop in unexpected ways. Sometimes NPCs that I intend to play an important role will end up being quickly dropped from sight. At other times one that I intend to keep in the background will step forward and take on a role far beyond the one I originally envisioned. A classic example of this happening would be Ox. Ox was created 20 years ago as the teenage son of an Ossana coppersmith. Mike's character Dindel (the Silent Horror) decided to bump off the coppersmith in order to marry his widow. I had decided that the couple had a son, just to complicate things a little bit for Mike, and rolled up the son's statistics randomly, as I had no preconception of what he should be like. I discovered that the kid was very strong and monumentally stupid, and named him Ox as a result. Dindel found Ox to a useful tool, so Ox ended up getting more playing time than I first thought he would. When the MSU campaign ended Ox went back into the NPC card file, where he languished for nearly a decade.
When the Heroes of Telemarch tried to hire some extra fighters to make up for a temporary shortage, Ox came to my mind for some reason. He applied, and was hired, though none of the players at the time remembered him (Pete was the only one who might have, but he had graduated before Ox made his debut). He remained with the group for an entire adventure and did a good job, being no brighter but even stronger than in his youth. He was killed at the conclusion of the adventure, but the group brought him back before bidding him farewell. Ox went back into the box for another 10 years. He remained there until the Swords and Scrolls group was started. As I read Patkhin's background information it occurred to me that Patkhin's mother might just hire a couple of bodyguards to keep Patkhin safe, against his will. It further occurred to me that if these bodyguards were excellent fighters but inept thinkers the possibilities for fun were almost endless. Once I decided that, the selection of Ox as one of the bodyguards was almost inevitable.
Ox's stint as Patkhin's bodyguard is over now, but I know that he remains in the Ossana area, doing odd jobs and looking for his next payday. The only adventuring group in the entire campaign that has never met him is the Bloodhawks, and it occurs to me as I write this that they are entering that area. Hmmm....
Another good illustration of someone developing far beyond their original role is the case of Tammy Zilgwog. I can't say anything about this name, by the way, except for the fact that it struck me somehow, probably just behind my right ear. Tammy was at first just a name in a rumor (the Bloodhawks had heard that this 11-year-old girl had been chased by giant toads, a way of illustrating the fact that monsters were beginning to plague the village the PCs were in). The PCs ended up meeting her, briefly, though, and she must have struck a sympathetic chord, because Kim's character Mherlee ended up corresponding with her, and the group has slowly followed her progress over the last couple of years as Tammy strives to become like the heroes that she once met. Another example, again from the Bloodhawks chronicles, is Big Ellie, who runs a general store for adventurers in Ustil. Ellie has a booming voice, a take-no-prisoners attitude, and a collection of petrified hands she has taken from various thieves and shoplifters over the years. The players liked her, and a genuine friendship has developed between Ellie and the Bloodhawks. I think the Bloodhawks like her attitude and that Ellie sees in them a bit of herself at a younger age.
Since I don't have the time to devote to an NPC that players do to their characters, the best and most memorable ones are those who are drawn with a few quick, vivid brushstrokes. This results in creations such as Vikk, the huge female fighter (note the name, short and strong, ending with a hard consonant). She adventured with the Heroes of Telemarch towards the end of their campaign, and no one who knew her can forget her frequent bellows of "I'll tear them apart with my bare hands!". Less admired, perhaps, but equally vivid is the character of Kleekex, Big Toes McKracken's goblin henchman. Kleekex's mangling of the Common Tongue, combined with his wildly inappropriate yearnings towards the attractive female members of the Bloodhawks (which, come to think of it, is all of them), make him a memorable, though perhaps not loveable, character.
One kind of character that adds an extra dimension to the campaign is that of the foil. This is an NPC who is designed to thwart, frustrate, and engage the player characters. The best of these become the NPCs that players love to hate. A long-running example, dating back to the MSU days, is Clindroc Ironsword. The handsome Clindroc gets his jollies from challenging lesser fighters to duels and then robbing them after they lose, and most groups in the campaign have run afoul of him at one time or another. His ability to wriggle out of battles that do not favor him is infuriating. He is portrayed with enough panache to keep him from being a complete villain, but the players would still love to get the best of him. Another NPC of the same type is the sinister and fierce Bereta, whose path has crossed that of the Bloodhawks on a pair of occasions, and may do so again in the future. The players may not like them, but they certainly remember them, and always look forward to a rematch.
There are less sinister foils who exist mostly to be annoying. It is fun for me to reintroduce them into the campaign from time to time just to watch the reaction of the players. This includes people like Musty the halfling, who though completely harmless talked virtually nonstop (and at great speed), and Jeddian Friendly the paladin, who has already been mentioned. Jeddian is kind of an interesting case, actually. When I created him I knew that he would be annoying. What I hadn't counted on was the depth of the antipathy that he would arouse in most of the players. This ended up changing his role as time went on, to the point where he was the (albeit unintentional) villain of the whole "kidnapping of Savannah" adventure. This is another example of something I have discussed before, my belief that I do not guide events so much as follow them.
There is a level below that of foil, which is best described as comic relief. This can certainly be overdone, and I might be guilty of that on occasion. My sense of humor sometimes gets the better of my GM's instincts. The example of this sort of character that leaps to mind is Simon Sournote, the inept bard. Again, look at the name - there's no way this is a serious character. Kleekex the goblin comes perilously close to this, but he has become a real enough character that he has a valid role within the campaign.
Creating NPCs is only half of the job, of course. The other half is depicting them. I feel at times as though I'm my own road company, with the actors dashing off the stage, changing costume, and dashing back on with different wigs and new accents. Usually, though not always, the players can tell which NPC is speaking just by my posture and tone of voice, which tells me that I do at least a halfway good job of characterizing them. Many of them have their own "voices", as well. I don't have an inexhaustible supply of different speaking voices, so some voices tend to get used over and over again. Sometimes, between playing sessions, I forget which voice I used for a particular NPC. If the players notice that the innkeeper sounded breathy and obsequious when they checked in to an inn and booming and hearty when they left, they are usually kind enough not to mention it.
Some characterizations work better than others. Like actors and comics, I can sometimes tell when a depiction is bombing; the reactions that I want just aren't there. Other times they are very successful. One of my favorites was always Warren the giant weasel, who became an "associate" of Wrinkled Wendy's. Warren was a lot of fun to do, and the players always seemed to enjoy him. Another NPC I enjoyed playing was Oldtimer, the ancient man the Bloodhawks hired to guide them to the Green Monastery. Oldtimer was very slow, in word and deed, a direct contrast to the quick and nervous Warren, but both worked well.
Sometimes I'm called upon to depict things that go way beyond the bounds of what are usually thought of as NPCs. Intelligent doors, trees, shrubs, swords, and even moss have all been "NPCs" at one time or another. Some of these can be very challenging. Generally, when I assume the role of someone I drop into that character, if only for a moment. How do you drop into the character of moss? What point of view does moss have? What is it aware of, and what does it care about? These things usually happen suddenly, too. "Let's talk to this moss!" say the players. "Maybe someone walked over it!" They cast a speak with plants spell and there I am, portraying a patch of moss. I enjoy the challenge, but worry that my performance can be a little patchy (heh-heh).
The idea of getting into a role is very important for GMs, I think. If you can't assume the character to some degree, if you can't get inside the NPC's head, then all NPCs the players encounter are going to have essentially the same viewpoint, the GM's own. All of the clever voices and accents in the world won't hide from the players the fact that the entire world they are in has one voice and one agenda, that of the Game Master. I believe that in the end this fatally damages the illusion of the campaign world for the players, and makes the campaign a two-dimensional experience.
That empathy is one of the reasons I feel a pang when even the most wretched of NPCs is dispatched. Turgi D'Spawn (another of my favorite names, it practically drips slime), the halfling thief recently killed by Mherlee and the Bloodhawks in their battle against Wennith, was as nasty a person as you'd never want to meet. I mean, he was thoroughly, disgustingly, irredeemably rotten. Yet the real reason I felt bad when he died wasn't that it meant the players had won that round. Having created and run him, it was a bit like having a player character of mine die. I understood him, even if I didn't like him. Fortunately, I don't think that I often let this sympathy for my creations interfere with the course of the game. Game balance is a stern taskmaster, and I'm willing to sacrifice better people than Turgi to preserve it.
Carrying all of these people around inside my head might become confusing, if I let it. In fact, it just might be an invitation to schizophrenia. It's one of the most difficult jobs a GM has, and one of the most entertaining. I'm not always satisfied with the job I do. Still, I have a lot of fun trying. I think I'll end this by letting some of my creations speak for me on the subject:
Emar: I'm not sure I'm up to the job.
Acatel: Don't think about the job, just do it!
Stargoth: If we do the job to the best of our abilities, we shouldn't judge our failings too harshly.
Ox: Huh?
Jeddian: Nonsense! We must succeed or die gloriously in the attempt!
Raven: Go ahead, idiot. Just leave your valuables with me for safekeeping, why don't you?
Raang: I like the way you think, girl. Are you doing anything after this is over?
Ox: Huh?
Vikk: Let's just get in there and do the job with OUR BARE HANDS!
Ozub: If friends need Ozub's help, Ozub will try to do job.
Tiny: Woof!
Ox: Huh?
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