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Mix one part Flash Gordon, one part Western, one part World War 2, one part Errol Flynn and
one part Toshiro Mifune. Add a cup of ancient myth and a dash of romance. Sprinkle sugar
on top for the kids. Bake for six to twelve hours. Serves millions.
It's a simple enough recipe, but one that's easy to get wrong. Some cooks are merely inexperienced, while others don't understand their ingredients, or worse, try to make substitutions and end up with something entirely different. There are plenty of resources to help the gamemaster or author learn the craft of telling good stories. This article offers some specific, practical advice on how to tell good STAR WARS stories. More will follow in the next issue of the Online Journal. Heroes They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naturally, they became heroes. -- Princess Leia Organa, The Journal of the Whills While it is certainly possible to run a morally-ambiguous "fringe" campaign in the STAR WARS setting, the evidence of the movies suggests that once characters get swept up in the larger conflicts that seem to regularly engulf the Galaxy, they must either choose sides or get run over for standing in the middle of the road (e.g. Lando). It helps to have powerful friends when some Hutt wants to make you his new dancing girl or a Dark Lord decides to alter the deal. Of course, it's not easy being a hero either. Heroes are constantly faced with trials and obstacles to overcome, both external and internal. Each test is an opportunity for triumph or a tragic fall, and the higher one climbs, the farther it is to the bottom. Lucas' saga presents us with both outcomes: first the father, then the son. Heroes do not have to be uninteresting cutouts who never have impure thoughts. The most obvious counter-example is Han Solo, a scoundrel and rogue, but apparently even Jedi Knights are not above telling a white lie or cheating a cheater if they believe it to be for the greater good. This does not mean that "heroic" PCs can do whatever they like and let the ends justify the means; that kind of hubris is what allowed Anakin Skywalker to be seduced by the Dark Side. The moment when Luke strikes off his father's hand and realizes how close he is to the edge himself perfectly illustrates Nietzsche's warning: "He who fights monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster.
Test and tempt your heroes, allowing them to demonstrate the strength of their hearts as well as their marksmanship or piloting skills. (As Yoda commented, being a "great warrior" isn't enough.) Don't let them become complacent in their roles or the rightness of their cause. Present them with cautionary examples of how easy it is to do the wrong thing for the right reason -- fallen Jedi, Rebels turned terrorists, an ally who betrays them to the enemy to save his own family, the old war hero with a dark secret. It's okay for your heroes to suffer setbacks now and then. Without risk, there is no drama, and a victory won without effort or cost is a hollow one. Most of ESB is, at best, a draw for the Good Guys; they escape to fight another day, minus one of their own, with new knowledge and character development (some of it painful). Things looked pretty bad at Yavin, Endor and Naboo for a while, too. But in the end, the heroes succeeded despite the odds -- because that's STAR WARS. Such dramatic reversals of fortune are harder to engineer in an unscripted game with random dice rolls. However, elements like Force Points, the Wild Die and allies appearing unexpectedly (like the Millennium Falcon diving out of the sun to save Luke at the last moment) can certainly help. Finally, if your players have done everything right all night, it would really suck to have the last torpedo miss the exhaust port due to a lousy roll. Do everything short of blatant cheating to make sure letdowns like that don't happen. Villains "His Excellency hopes that you will die honorably. But should any of you wish to beg for mercy, the great Jabba the Hutt will now listen to your pleas." The faces of evil are many. Some antagonists are redeemable or misguided; others may just be selfish and mercenary, or intimidated or otherwise coerced into doing the bidding of their dark masters. The real villains, however, are always rotten to the core. The SW:RPG classifies characters as extras, supporting characters, and lead characters. In villain organizations, this translates into a pyramid with goons (also known as mooks, thugs, minions, grunts, etc.) on the bottom, one or more levels of henchmen and advisors in the middle, along with bounty hunters and others who work with/for the organization but aren't really part of it, and an Evil Overlord™ at the top. In ANH, Vader and Tarkin shared this role; then, in the next movie, we learned that they answered to an even bigger, badder Overlord. Goons come in many varieties: faceless, hired, out-of-town, dirty, loyal, disloyal, efficient, incompetent, fanatical, cowardly. They tend to be dressed and armed similarly, except in the special case of pirates, spaceport scum and other rabble, who look alike only in that they all seem to have gotten their mismatched equipment from the local dump. Goons can be quite effective against other NPCs, but against the heroes, there's really no contest. As extras, goons rarely have lines or even names (unless some overeager author mines them for a Tales From anthology). Stormtroopers are the quintessential STAR WARS goons. For lack of talent, ambition, or both, many never make it out of the minor leagues of villainy. (This is a matter of scale: when the leads are blowing up planets, even Admirals and Generals are just supporting characters. If your campaign is less epic in scope, one of these would make a fine main villain.) This category covers everything from swoop gang leaders and pirate captains to Trade Federation viceroys and Imperial officers. They usually have a number of goons under them and report in turn to a superior, whether that's the local Hutt crime boss or the Emperor himself. Henchmen are more colorful than extras, but not as complex as lead characters; they are usually identified by a single personality trait (bullying, scheming, greedy, spineless, smug, cold, sadistic) or habit (always wears white, loves his pet nashtah, spice addict, plays with a knife, can't resist a game of sabaac), or both -- consider Boba Fett, who is just a name, a suit of Mandalorean armor and a hard-case attitude. Evil Overlords are the ones who pull the strings of all the rest, commanding their Legions of Terror from their Impenetrable Fortress (which must, nevertheless, be penetrated). They always have their own theme music. They are demanding of their subordinates and failure is dealt with harshly -- Vader is notorious for this, and as he says, "the Emperor is not as forgiving as I am." They are mannerly but not kind: their charm is born of arrogant confidence, and if they offer mercy, it's merely a ploy. They enjoy these cat-and-mouse games, never believing (until it's too late) that their latest victims might turn the tables on them. The surest way to earn their full and terrible wrath is to not die conveniently and/or to foil their Master Plan. Every Villain has a Master Plan; it's part of what makes them a Villain. Break this plan down into small, clearly-definable goals/tasks for the villain and his minions. For example, perhaps the first step in becoming Emperor is being elected to the office of Supreme Chancellor, which in turn might require arranging a crisis on one's home planet to gain sympathy from the bleeding-hearts in the Senate. A good villain is never idle, nor does he simply react to what the heroes do: he anticipates them, like Vader and Fett at Cloud City. Underlings may have their own agendas as well, separate from or even in opposition to their master's. Court intrigues are everywhere in STAR WARS, from Jabba's cronies to the corrupt Senate. The Emperor kept his lackeys plotting against each other so that they would not unite against him, and both he and Vader tried to use Luke against the other. In villain circles, a show of weakness is an opportunity, practically an invitation. Looking over your shoulder for the knife comes with the job. A final word: perhaps the hardest part of playing a STAR WARS villain is making them properly cinematic and Evil-with-a-capital-E without straying into camp. Goons and other small fry can be jokes, but the villain must be truly menacing. A villain that isn't feared or taken seriously loses much of his effectiveness. You want Darth Vader, not Dark Helmet. So... alternate ruthless brutality with polished subtlety. Lay your web to ensnare the heroes. Find out their weaknesses (in-character; no cheating) and exploit them. Tempt them with what they most desire, or threaten things they hold dear. Get those they trust to betray them. Dangle hope and then snatch it away. Be smart and dangerous, though not infallible. Make them hate you enough to do anything to bring you down -- maybe even compromise their own principles (because if they do that, you've won). And always, always, be dramatic and memorable. Mysticism "Life creates it. Makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us, and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter." Spirituality is quite literally a Force in the STAR WARS universe, with clearly defined Light and Dark aspects. Though intangible, it grants very real benefits to its champions on each side. To the vast majority of beings in the Galaxy, however, it remains mysterious and ineffable -- something to be sworn by or scoffed at, but not truly understood. Han Solo once boasted that no mystical energy field controlled his destiny, and even Obi-Wan Kenobi noted that while the Force partially controls the actions of those attuned to it, it also obeys their commands. When Jedi speak of "the will of the Force," they refer not to an actual consciousness, but the flow of events as shaped by all living things. Free will is not negated; each person's fate is still theirs to make, for good or ill. The Force merely guides or nudges and places more power in the hands of its students. It is not a religion, as many outsiders assume, nor is it a god. The Force just is. Both the Light and the Dark exact a price from their servants. The Jedi is required to put her own passions and desires aside, to serve the common good before herself. Even "positive" emotions like love can be dangerous if they keep her from thinking and acting clearly. The Light Side requires patience, serenity and discipline. The Sith, by contrast, is encouraged to indulge his every selfish whim at the expense of those weaker than himself. His appetites and hatreds, rather than being sated, grow ever stronger until he is their slave rather than their master. The Dark Side offers instant gratification at the cost of never knowing peace or contentment. Characters and places associated with the Light should embody calm, quiet, wisdom, balance and grace; purity, openness, light, growth, natural beauty and/or perfectly arranged spareness, like a Zen garden. Their presence relaxes, refreshes, and promotes thought. Cool water (clear and deep, flowing or still) and fresh air are the elements of life. The Dark Side is, well, dark: blackness, shadows, lies and false appearances, hidden things that avoid the light. The cold touch of death or terror. Anger and manic energy. Unclean things, glistening, dripping, festering. Decadence, decay, corruption, gluttony and lust. Fire, hot or cold, is the element of destruction, burning all it touches (including those who handle it carelessly). Deathtraps "They must be dead by now. Destroy what's left." Walls that close in, planks to be walked, machines that freeze heroes into wall ornaments for the villain's lair, pits where the hero must fight the pet monster -- about the only thing missing from this list is Luke being strapped to a laser table while the Emperor cackles, "But before I kill you, Mr. Skywalker..." Some old favorites work just fine as-is: the compartment that locks and starts filling with water or sand or poison gas, the floor that slowly retracts into the wall, the inexorably descending ceiling (with or without spikes), the ticking bomb in the same room as the tied-up PC. Others can be given new life by adding a twist: say, walking the plank above a sea of dunes instead of brine. Or the heroes awaken/escape from their cells only to find that the ship is locked on course for some navigational hazard like a moon or a meteor storm. Naturally, all of the escape pods are missing. Of course, any good deathtrap has a means of escape for our heroes. Sometimes it's having a friend on the outside to come to your rescue, perhaps in disguise as one of the villain's men (or droids); sometimes it's defeating the mechanism of the trap through cleverness, finding a flaw that the creator overlooked. Sometimes it's just a matter of waiting until the gloating villain isn't looking, or having some concealed gadget or weapon that he doesn't know about. One tip is to put the PCs into the trap at the end of a session (in true Saturday-matinee cliffhanger fashion) so that your players have until next time to think of a way out. Besides, it's more exciting that way. Duels "The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master."
In STAR WARS, duels are not fought with blasters at ten paces (not on-screen, anyway -- however, see the original Han Solo Trilogy by Brian Daley), but with the flashing blades of lightsabers. A proper site for a lightsaber duel must have at least one convenient bottomless pit, precipice, or narrow catwalk without safety handrails. Dim lighting or back-lighting is also appropriate. Blast doors or force fields may close off avenues of escape. Chasms, multiple levels and loose objects allow the duelists to show off their leaping and telekinetic abilities. Some ideas for dueling locations that haven't appeared in the movies (yet):
For still more ideas, watch old swashbuckling movies. Lucas did. Little People "Yub yub!" Jawas and Ugnauts and Ewoks, oh my! Little people are a staple of STAR WARS, mostly because they are comical to "big folk." RotJ had more little people in the cast than The Wizard of Oz and made Warwick Davis a small star (pun intended); not only did he get the title role in Willow, he appeared again in the Ewok TV movies and was a walk-on in TPM. Kenny Baker has been with us since the beginning as the man inside R2-D2. Back in 1977, the children of some of the crew dressed up as Jawas; today, computers are used to create chittering pit droids and their Trade Federation counterparts. Jar Jar Binks is something of a very tall little person, in terms of his function in the story. Even wise Master Yoda first appears to be just a peculiar green gnome, chuckling at his own jokes and wrestling with R2 over trinkets. To make a long story short: if you're looking for some quick physical comedy, find a way to include some little people getting into mischief. It's not politically correct, but it's very STAR WARS. Or, as with Yoda and the Ewoks, you can fool the PCs into not taking a short character seriously and then surprise them. "Judge me by my size, do you?" Monsters "Oh no, the Rancor!" Big ugly things with sharp pointy teeth. ANH had the Dianoga in the trash compactor, ESB the Wampa and the giant space slug, and RotJ the Rancor and the almighty Sarlaac. Even TPM has the Opee Sea Killer and the other denizens of the ocean depths. Like most things in STAR WARS, the monsters are big: the smallest are two or three times as large as a man, and the largest is literally big enough to be mistaken for part of the terrain and to swallow spaceships whole. Their motivation is simple bestial hunger; they are often too fearsome to face head-on and must be outmaneuvered or out-thought. The PCs may have to be content with getting just a piece of the monster -- an arm, a tentacle -- and driving it off long enough to escape. In fact, they may never see the whole thing... and perhaps that's for the best. Travel "Kid, I've flown from one side of this Galaxy to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff..." It's a big Galaxy, and with each act of the story, your players should get to see a new part of it. Different locales on the same planet will do, but the miracle of hyperdrive allows you to send them to two or three different worlds in the course of a single adventure. If the purpose of a journey is just to get the heroes to the next location, you can gloss over it with some starlines and a brief interlude of what's happening elsewhere. If you'd like to make things more complicated, though, here are some ideas:
Travel plus action equals a chase. All of the movies have chases: the very first scene of the original trilogy is the Tantive IV failing to outrun a Star Destroyer. We then race through the corridors of the first Death Star and the girders of the second; the white concourses of Cloud City and the green forests of Endor; the sandstone canyons of the Boonta Classic and, perhaps most famously, the drifting mountains of an asteroid belt near Hoth. The terrain may be hazardous, the pursuers armed, or both. The characters may split up or be separated; they may find themselves faced with an impassable obstacle like a cave-in or an air shaft and have to find another route. They may also discover (too late?) that they are being led, pursued or herded into a trap. The most important thing about chases is to keep them moving. Don't let the players stop to think -- force them to respond quickly when asked what they do. Omit unnecessary die rolls whenever possible; nothing slows a scene down like rolling for every pod racer or TIE fighter. Concentrate on the ones "on screen" at any moment. Make up a cheat sheet with relevant stats for all the participants so that you don't have to stop to check your notes or the rulebook. Romance "I love you!"
Ah, romance. It can be one of the most rewarding experiences in roleplaying -- who doesn't enjoy being in love? But it is also one of the hardest things to do right in a game (and the most embarrassingly awful if it isn't). Luke's infatuation with the recorded image of the Princess propels him into the story, and the triangle between him, Leia and Han is a major subplot for the rest of the trilogy -- just as some say a triangle of Anakin, Amidala and Obi-Wan will figure in the prequels. Love can be a source of strength for characters, as well as making them do "crazy" things like sneaking into the villain's fortress to free their loved one. First of all, it helps to have one or more female players in your group. As a rule, ladies tend to be more interested in and comfortable with romance plots than the usual pack of snickering teenaged boys (ages 13 to 30). On the other hand, it's just as possible that your most serious and romantic roleplayer is a guy, and the girl is playing a ruthless bounty hunter who only cares about money and killing. Beware stereotypes. Whatever the gender of your players, it is important that you not force a romance upon them; they may be uncomfortable with this sort of plot, or just not interested. Wait for them to let you know they're looking, either by telling you straight out or by pursuing a likely NPC. You can also raise the issue yourself by talking with your players outside the game. What matters is that everyone in a romance should be a willing participant. (You can stretch consent a little to saddle a PC with an unwanted suitor -- someone who follows them around professing his/her undying love, sending them gifts, and generally being a nuisance. Don't keep it going past the point where the player isn't having fun, though.) It may be that one PC takes a fancy to another. The risk here is that sometimes the player is using the game to flirt with someone else at the table, which crosses character lines and is usually a bad idea. Again, this works only if both players are willing and can keep game events separate from real life. Finally, keep in mind that it's about romance, not sex. Kissing should be as far as it goes. Further events, if they occur at all, happen off-screen. If your players cannot handle this subject maturely, it's best to avoid it entirely. |
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