Patreon DevBlog #14 | A Dash of Drama

Hey folks! Once again this week, I didn’t have much substantive D&D stuff to work on (I’ve mostly been focusing my time and efforts on recording Dungeon Mentor videos and writing out the history and lore for Re-Reloaded). However, I did watch a new show that left me with some interesting stuff to think about. More on that below!

Designer Commentary: Exposition & Dramatic Questions

I was watching a new show on Netflix called The Diplomat this week, and there was a particular scene that stuck out at me.

The scene itself isn’t anything special. In it, a CIA agent and an MI6 agent meet up clandestinely on an outlook just across the river from the MI6 building. The CIA agent wants to know what the MI6 agent knows, and vice versa; their conversation is largely them coming to a slow realization that neither of them knows what’s going on.

It’s a very functional scene—it exists for the sole purpose of delivering exposition to the audience so that we get an idea of what might come next. And yet, it works; it’s (in my opinion) sincerely entertaining. Why? Because, underlying the plot-related conversation, it’s got a subtle dramatic question: Will the MI6 agent forgive the CIA agent for failing to be impressed by the size of his new office?

This dramatic question has absolutely nothing to do with the plot of the episode itself. The stakes are exceptionally low; while the CIA agent jokingly suggests that the MI6 agent is withholding intelligence from her as punishment for her failure to be impressed, there’s not really an actual threat to the future CIA-MI6 relationship.

Even so, it’s a real, if small slice of narrative uncertainty that lends a three-dimensional heft to an otherwise two-dimensional conversation. By adding interpersonal tension to the scene, the audience is encouraged to keep watching—if only to find out how it ends—which, in the process, ensures that they absorb the exposition necessary to understand what happens next.

(The end of the scene, for what it’s worth, answers this dramatic question in the negative; the MI6 agent decides that the CIA agent is an asshole—somewhat for the office remark, but largely due to how she maneuvers him through the rest of the conversation—and she doesn’t disagree.)

You can see this pattern all throughout modern television; in Game of Thrones, for example, there’s no end to the number of two-character scenes that exist largely to provide exposition and move the plot forward, but which keep the audience engaged by creating narrative tension and drama between the characters involved.

I can’t help but wonder, therefore, if there might not be a way to apply these principles to D&D as well.

As an example, let’s run through some of the more expository scenes of the early Curse of Strahd campaign:

• In the Blood of the Vine tavern in the village of Barovia, the PCs meet Ismark Kolyanovich, who introduces them to Barovia and asks them to escort his sister, Ireena, to the nearby town of Vallaki.
• In the chapel of the Barovian church, the PCs encounter Father Donavich, who can share with them the tragedy of his son, Doru, and the terrible fate that befel the rebellion against Strahd.
• In St. Andral’s Church in Vallaki, the PCs meet Father Lucian Petrovich, who tells them of the theft of the holy bones of Saint Andral, and asks the PCs for their assistance in recovering them.
• In Wachterhaus in Vallaki, the PCs dine with Lady Fiona Wachter, who spins a tale of the great misfortunes that have befallen Vallaki under Baron Vargas Vallakovich’s rule and attempts to determine if the PCs have the will to overthrow him.
• In Kasimir’s hovel in the Vistani Camp, Kasimir, the leader of the sole surviving dusk elves, tells the sad story of the fall of the dusk elves, and of his ambition to resurrect his late sister Patrina by venturing to the Amber Temple.

There’s a word for these kinds of scenes: Loredumps. They’re usually characterized either by (if you’re lucky) the players fastidiously scratching down notes on paper for several minutes on end, or (if you’re not) the players tuning out for several minutes and occasionally making snide comments.

There is, however, a notable exception among these: the meeting with Father Donavich. It’s a rich and fascinating scene that’s often full of meaningful tension. Why? Because a possible dramatic question underlying it is: Will Father Donavich successfully dissuade the PCs from venturing into the undercroft of the chapel to destroy his son? (Notably, when I run the campaign and the players don’t have any interest in killing Doru-the-vampire at the start, this conversation is usually pretty unmemorable!)

A key lesson of exposition is this: You shouldn’t deliver exposition for its own sake, but to fulfill a need that the players already have. Perhaps a corollary to this lesson should be: You shouldn’t deliver exposition in a vacuum, but accompanied by a dramatic question that impacts the players’ ability to understand, appreciate, or receive the exposition in question.

What might this look like in practice? Well, without putting too much thought into it, that might be:

• In the Blood of the Vine Tavern, one of Strahd’s spies is being overly-friendly to the PCs, and Ismark is doing his best to guide them away. (“Can the PCs figure out which Barovian to trust and avoid Strahd’s spy?”)
• In Saint Andral’s Church, Milivoj is very rude and suspicious toward the PCs, and repeatedly suggests to Father Lucian that the “outsiders” might be servants of Strahd. (“Can the PCs rebuff Milivoj’s attempts to get them to leave the church and figure out why he’s so ornery?”)
• In Wachterhaus, Fiona Wachter lies to the PCs that she’s poisoned their wine—and that the only way to convince her to give them the antidote is to answer her questions. (“Can the PCs play Fiona’s game before the poison kills them?”)
• In Kasimir’s hovel, Strahd’s spy Arrigal interrupts the proceedings while Kasimir is sharing the history of the dusk elves, subtly hinting to Kasimir that Strahd wants to ensure that he’s remaining compliant. (“Can the PCs figure out Arrigal’s angle, and avoid leaking any important information before he leaves?”)

Are these the best dramatic questions I can come up with? Probably not. Are they better than the originals—at least insofar as their ability to manufacture player tension and engagement? I think they might be!

I will say that, unlike the example from The Diplomat, it's a bit harder to create low-stakes social tension between the PCs and the loregiver because, well, the PCs don't need any of this exposition! (Or, at least, they don't know that they need it.) In situations where the PCs desperately, actively want to know X, you can and should absolutely manufacture some social tension between them and the person who knows what they want to know. In all other cases, it might be wise to refrain from doing so, and to instead introduce drama through someone who wants to prevent the PCs from learning what they don't know they want to know.

This might all be a bit half-baked at the moment, but hopefully you find it as interesting as I do!