While playing TTRPGs, how do you describe a room? You get one, maybe two sentences to convey what the characters are seeing as they enter a scene. The information that we (as designers and GMs) choose to give to players sets up the ways in which the characters will react to and interact with a scene. In this issue of Ink & Dice, I’ll expound on a couple of ideas that can make our scenes feel more alive.
Inside
FAN EXPO Boston
Setting the Scene
Production Updates
FAN EXPO Boston
This weekend, June 14-16, I’ll be in Artist Alley at FAN EXPO Boston! (Although, from the size of the map, this “alley” is practically a second vendor hall.) If you are planning to go to the con, or you’re in the area and looking for something to do (there are some big name celebs in town and lots of vendors), swing by booth AA1006 in Artist Alley and say hello!
Setting the Scene
In the last issue of Ink & Dice, we talked about how character change is the key to compelling storytelling, and how
a good TTRPG will provide frameworks for character change and
a good TTRPG module will provide opportunities for character change.
This week, I’m going to talk a bit about how we describe a scene, and how we could make those descriptions more compelling for the players. Let’s compare two ways to describe a bedroom:
A large bed and a bulky cedar wardrobe dominate this room, which also has framed paintings of landscapes hanging on the walls. [Dragon of Icespire Peak, D&D 5e Essentials Kit]
vs.
Fine woodwork and textiles, all ruined from weather. Smells like a monkey cage. [Skeleton Point, Pirate Borg]
The first description, technically, does a better job of telling the players what kind of room they have found, in that it mentions a bed. But it stops after listing the contents of the room.
The second description goes further, adding both a comment about the state of the room’s contents (“ruined from weather”) and a note about the smell of the room. All of a sudden, we go from a room that could be any bedroom (in that it contains a bed and a wardrobe) to a very specific room, one that is decrepit and pungent. The second description builds a much more vivid image in our minds, and it does so in about half as many words.
I think the second description works much better than the first. Why? There are two major things done here that we can learn from and expand upon.
1: Use the characters’ perspective.
It is one thing to say:
There are 17 round tables, each 18-inches across, and 33 diners in the restaurant. The room is 15 feet wide and 20 feet long.
It is another to say:
The restaurant is small and crowded. You have to turn sideways to walk between the tables, and to get up from your seat requires apologizing to at least two other guests.
By taking the room and describing it from the characters’ perspective, rather than just describing what we see on a top-down battle map, we have made the room feel more alive. Most people, upon entering a room, do not immediately count the number of tables or bookshelves or coat racks (although they might count the number of obviously hostile individuals). We just get a sense of how full a space is, and then we pick one thing to focus on. In the second description of the restaurant, we have given the players a vibe of how full the space is (very) and how their characters will interact with this space (carefully).
2: Create an opportunity for connection.
Why does adding the smell do so much to our experience of a room? If I’ve learned one thing from deodorant commercials, it’s that smell and memory are closely linked. If we can invoke a smell, then maybe we can trigger a memory. Here is another opportunity to enhance our storytelling. It might be easier to do in solo games (or low player-count games), but it can always be helpful to think about what memories a smell might trigger for a character.
For example, the following description of a room:
The bedroom smelled of urine and cigarettes.
Sure, the players now know that the room smells bad. But what if we could connect that to a character emotionally? In a solo game, I might follow up this statement with:
It smelled like the room my father died in.
All of a sudden, this room has significance. This is triggering memories and emotions for the character, and, hopefully, that will show in how the character behaves in this room.
Maybe two characters walk into that room in the Pirate Borg adventure. One gets hit with the “monkey cage” smell and is disgusted, but nothing more. The other, however, has a backstory of being an abused indentured servant. Maybe the smell triggers a memory of cleaning the cages of their abusive employer’s pets. How will that affect the character’s behavior and decision making while in this room?
Now, if you are playing a game with 6 players, you are not going to go around the table and talk about what memory every scene triggers for every character. And if you are crawling through a 20-room dungeon, you aren’t going to have every room trigger some core memory in every character. But I challenge you to keep this idea in mind. Use it when it matters. Make one room really count. Many modules already include vivid descriptions of their settings, often including smells. This is a great opportunity to think about what connections those settings might have for your characters.
By describing scenes from the characters’ perspective and by creating opportunities for connection between the characters’ emotions/memories and their environments, we can build more dynamic scenes for our characters to interact with and more interesting stories for them to create.
What do you think about the use of smells in TTRPG modules? Do you find that it helps you get more into the scene? Or is it just fluff that doesn’t have an interesting implication for your players?
Production Updates
Even though we’re almost two weeks into the month, this is the first Ink & Dice of June, so here’s the M. Allen Hall games production update!
Project [REDACTED], a module that I am making for a Kickstarter coming later this year, is wrapped up! I’m really excited about this module and this game, and I’ll be sure to share more as the campaign approaches.
Foul had a successful Kickstarter, and I’m pulling together the rewards now. The risograph studio is working on the zine covers and the art prints, and I’ve ordered the proof copy of the interior pages from Mixam. I’m hoping for a digital release by the end of the month, and, barring any catastrophes with getting the full print runs together, shipping should be started and finished by the end of the summer.
I’ve got a couple of modules for The Lost Bay in the works. After some testing, Brine needs a bit of a rewrite, but I’m hoping it will be ready by the end of the summer. A Night on Rose Hill is a solo module that I am planning to release during the October digital convention for The Lost Bay (WIP spread below). Iko has big plans for the convention, and I’ll be sure to link to more details as they become available.
Thank you!
Thanks for reading this issue of Ink & Dice! I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to look at writing villains for your TTRPGs with more lessons from Will Storr’s The Science of Storytelling.
—MAH
Smells are so important in descriptions. It's one of those things (similar to taste) that humans can immediately identify and have a pretty visceral reaction to.
This post smells so good! Awesome post! 👏🏽👌🏾