“She says ‘Stay.’ Not to me. To someone behind me.”
Never ask “Can I do this?” Ask “Is this interesting if I succeed? Is it more interesting if I fail?” If the answer to both is no, stop playing that scene. Move on. Cut the boring cord. yensyfrp blogspot
“Turn around. There’s a child made of wet clay standing in the muck. It has her eyes. It asks: ‘Did you bring the key?’ You don’t have a key. What do you do?” “She says ‘Stay
“I throw my broken lockpick at the child’s feet. ‘That’s the only key I’ve ever known,’ I lie.” Move on
When a fight broke out, I asked: “What do you do that makes the swordsman hesitate?” The player didn’t roll to hit. They described the way their character spat a mouthful of rust onto the floor and smiled with crooked teeth. The swordsman hesitated. Combat resolved.
Every character must have a flaw that actively hurts them in play. Not a cute quirk. Not “clumsy.” A real flaw: “I believe everyone is lying to me, even when they aren’t.” That’s a mirror with a crack in it. The crack is where the story pours out.
And remember: the map is not the territory. The map is honey. You are the bee. Get sticky.