World of Darkness - SAS - Users Guide.pdf

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Mission.indd
Drama, instead of telling us the whole of a man’s life, must place him in such a
situation, tie such a knot, that when it is untied, the whole man is visible.
— Leo Tolstoy
White Wolf
Publishing, Inc.
1554 Litton Drive
Stone Mountain,
GA 30083
Written by: Will Hindmarch Layout: Will Hindmarch Original Product Design by: matt milberger SAS created by: White Wolf Game Studio
© 2007 CCP, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews, and for blank character sheets, which may be reproduced for personal use only. White Wolf, Vampire and World of Darkness are registered trademarks of CCP, Inc. All rights reserved. Vampire the
Requiem, Werewolf the Forsaken, Mage the Awakening, Promethean the Created, Storytelling System and the Storytelling Adventure System are trademarks of CCP, Inc. All rights reserved. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by CCP, Inc. The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to
the trademark or copyright concerned. This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised.
Check out White Wolf online at http://www.white-wolf.com | Check out the Storytelling Adventure System online at http://www.white-wolf.com/sas
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Drama, instead of telling us the whole of a mans life, must place
him in such a situation, tie such a knot, that when it is untied, the
whole man is visible.
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How to Use a
Storytelling Adventure
Storytelling Adventure
System Story
System Story
“Drama is based on the Mistake.
I think someone is my friend
when he really is my enemy, that I
am free to marry a woman when
in fact she is my mother, that
this person is a chambermaid
when it is a young nobleman in
disguise, that this well-dressed
young man is rich when he is re-
ally a penniless adventurer, or
that if I do this such and such a
result will follow when in fact
it results in something very dif-
ferent. All good drama has two
movements, first the making of
the mistake, then the discovery
that it was a mistake.”
Think of an Storytelling Adventure System (SAS) product as a story
kit, as if you’d bought a piece of modern furniture and brought it home
in a big flat box. Inside, you’ll find all the parts you need to build a story
at home, through play. The tools you need to put this story together are
in the World of Darkness Rulebook and its supplements. When you
get your troupe together, you’ll use all these parts to build something
together. It might not look quite the picture on the box, but that’s fine.
Your troupe doesn’t get together to look at a story, it gets together to
build one.
So the SAS story is a nuts-and-bolts thing. The parts in each kit are
designed to make the actual job of being a Storyteller easier, to make
the craft of Storytelling fast and fun for you. The heavy artful majesty
you’ve read about — the transcendent game experiences that shock and
satisfy as well as any novel — those come simply from doing a great
job. Everything in an SAS adventure is intended to take up the slack so
you can focus on doing that great job.
The basic parts that make up most SAS stories are simple: Storyteller
characters and scenes. Each of them can be used in different ways to
keep the story building towards its climactic end.
— W.H. Aulden
Characters
The Storyteller characters presented for most SAS stories use the same
format and rules as those in the World of Darkness Rulebook , with a
few elaborations and expansions. The archetypal characters you find in
the main rulebook are intended to be used again and again, whenever
you need someone like them in your story. The characters in an SAS
product contain special advice and notes to help you use them in this
specific story. You’ll find sample descriptions, monologues, tactics and
goals for the most important Storyteller characters in the story. Draw
from them during play as needed.
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How to Use a
Drama is based on the Mistake. I
think someone is my friend when
he really is my enemy, that I am
free to marry a woman when in
fact she is my mother, that this
person is a chambermaid when it
is a young nobleman in disguise,
that this well-dressed young man
is rich when he is really a pen-
niless adventurer, or that if I do
this such and such a result will
follow when in fact it results
in something very different. All
good drama has two movements,
first the making of the mistake,
then the discovery that it was a
mistake.
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Scenes
The scenes that make up the story follow a format you won’t find in
the main rulebook. Each scene is built as a discrete game encounter
(or a collection of game encounters) for the players to play through. As
the players take their characters through these scenes, a story naturally
unfolds.
The scenes in most SAS prodycts are a mix of two types:
Encounters are scenes that occur when the characters initiate them
— they encounter the murderous vampire when they enter the aban-
doned church, for example.
Events are scenes that occur when criteria specific to the story’s
timeline or dramatic arc are met — which is a dry way of saying
“whenever the scene says it happens.” One event, for example, hap-
pens when the characters successfully notice they’re being watched,
the next happens when the story reaches midnight in the World of
Darkness, and another happens whenever you think the story needs a
quick dose of violence.
Pacing and plotting scenes, whether in advance or on the fly, is part
of the fun of being a Storyteller — for some people. If it’s fun for you,
take these scenes apart and use them however you like, maybe even
importing scenes from other stories or creating new scenes for yourself.
If that sounds like a hassle, and you’d rather focus in on the visceral,
in-the-moment details of Storytelling, you’ll find and example of the
scenes already plotted for you in each story’s “Treatment” section.
Reading The Story
There is no story. Not yet. What you have in an SAS product is a collection
of situations and settings that describe the general plot a story could follow,
but the story doesn’t really exist until you and your players tell it.
While you’re reading the product, you’ll infer a story — or several
stories — from the scenes and characters within. That story you read
is just one possible story, which can serve as a guide for you to follow
when you get together with your troupe to play. The story you all tell
together around the game table is another story, with no obligation to
imitate the story you imagined when you read the guide or the story we
imagined when we wrote it.
Though most SAS products are broken down into acts, which have
an important and intuitive order to them, the scenes within do not have
to occur in exactly the order you read them. This is another way that
the story you read here may be different from the story you tell around
the table. The acts occur in order almost naturally, from the beginning
through the middle to the end, but the order and the outcome of each
scene depends on the choices your players make.
Watch out for the assumptions you make when reading an SAS product.
Each of those assumptions is one way your players might interpret the
story, too. But don’t hold the players to any preconceptions you make
about the story they’ll play.
Remember that each SAS product is a blueprint, and blueprints aren’t
subtle. Although you should imply, hint and allude when you tell your
story, it’s not in your best interest for us to be coy when talking about
the story. You get an insider’s look at what the story is. Blueprints should
be clear.
Don’t be put off by the functional voice of this guide. Don’t let it spoil
the mood. This is a behind-the-scenes look at the stories you’re going
to get to enjoy for real later on, when you play. Be sure not to let this
tone seep into your story when you tell it. You’ll find plenty of ways to
maintain the mood in every scene. Use them.
What’s A Treatment?
treatment: n. In Hollywood parlance, a treatment
is a short prose description of a movie’s story, written
before production begins. A treatment describes all the
major dramatic “beats” of the story and sometimes
includes directorial or developmental information, too
(i.e., it doesn’t necessarily restrict itself to relating the
story).
In Storytelling terms, the treatment is the Storyteller’s
core overview of the story, from authorial notes on
subtext all the way to frank narrative tips. Nothing is
implied in a Storytelling treatment; this is where the
author breaks it all down in brief for the Storyteller
at home.
Reflecting on these complex rela-
tionships between reader and story,
fiction and life, can constitute a form
of therapy against the sleep of rea-
son, which generates monsters.
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Reflecting on these complex relationships
between reader and story, fiction and life, can
constitute a form of therapy against the sleep
of reason, which generates monsters.
— Umberto Eco
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Telling The Story
Stories are about characters making important decisions. Games are
about players making important decisions. Storytelling games are about
both.
If you want your story to be truly meaningful when you and your
troupe tell it, the players must be given a chance to make meaning-
ful decisions. Making a blind choice between two unmarked doors
isn’t interesting. It’s not fun, and it’s certainly not dramatic. Clarity
is vital to good gameplay. Players need information for a decision
to be important. Knowing that the reek of rot coming from behind
one of those unmarked doors might be from the corpse of your dead
brother makes the decision more interesting.
Deciding how to confront an enemy or accomplish a goal is fun,
because something clearly meaningful is at stake. It might be justice,
money, a family’s safety or a friend’s honor — it might be anything.
When the consequences of the players’ decisions are known, at least
to some degree, choices become more interesting, more dramatic.
If the antagonist isn’t dissuaded (or caught, or killed, or whatever),
then that family is still in danger, or the money is lost, or a friend
goes unavenged. Something is at stake.
A World of Darkness story isn’t just about making choices, though. It’s
about making difficult choices and living with the consequences.
So what is a difficult decision? In short, a dilemma: A choice be-
tween two equally unwelcome outcomes. You only have time to save
one of your brothers, who do you choose? Would you kill someone
yourself to prevent your child from becoming a murderer? Would
you risk jail to stop a supernatural force that you’re not absolutely
sure is real?
Tough choices can be put before players or their characters. It may
not matter much to the player whether or not an imaginary grandmother
gets hit by a bus, but it should matter a great deal to her character. (If
you do a good job of bringing the character of that grandmother to life,
though, it’ll matter to both the player and her character.)
For example, a character can be confronted with the choice between
stealing or going hungry. This decision might not be too difficult for a
starving character, but at the same time the player can be confronted
with the choice of risking some damage to the character in exchange
for fulfilling his Virtue of Fortitude. A player might not be interested
solely in thinking like her character, after all, but also to contributing
to the themes of the story. In this case, for example, she might choose
to have her character steal just to play up the theme of desperation
being evoked at the table that night.
It is absolutely fair game to use game mechanics to make tough choices
real for the player. This is built into the Morality mechanism. A player may
have no problem with imaginary arson, for example, without the risk of
a substantial personal consequence, like a derangement. (Not to mention
police action.) One of the easiest ways to do this is with bonus or penalty
dice to actions that follow as the consequences of a tough choice later on.
Think about it: this is the kind of tough choice a player is making when
she’s deciding what items her character brings with him. The motorist,
stranded on the side of the road in a freakish rain, can only carry so many
items on the hike back to civilization; does she choose the rifle (and its
Damage dice) or the flashlight (and its equipment bonus)?
Not every challenge should necessarily be reduced to an either/or di-
lemma, of course. Deadlines, for example, automatically create situations
in which decisions become important because every choice uses up the
precious resource of time, but the actions a character can take between
the start of the countdown and the end aren’t limited to binary choices.
Any limited resource can be used to lend weight to any situation, to make
any choice into a tough choice. The police will be here in two minutes,
what do you do with the body? You can only go four or five more miles
before the car runs out of gas, where do you go? There are ten bullets and
twelve zombies in the house, how do you survive the night?
While you’re telling this story with your troupe, remember the Story-
teller’s mantra:
Difficult choices make drama.
Strive to confront the players with at least one meaningful decision to
make every thirty minutes.
The Cardinal Sins of Storytelling
1. Boredom
2. Confusion
1. Boredom Is Poison. If players are bored, the story will die. If the
story dies, the chronicle is likely to wither and perish, too. “But it’s es-
sential for the slow build!” or “But it makes the pacing more dramatic!”
are not excuses for boredom. Don’t kill the story for the sake of pretend-
ing to legitimize it — that’s crazy. Remembering, if it’s boring, it’s not
suspense. You know how you can tell? Suspense isn’t boring.
Raymond Chandler said, “When in doubt, have two men come through
the door with guns in their hands.” If it was good enough for Chandler,
it’s good enough for us, too.
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2. Confusion Kills Fun. Being mystified isn’t the same as being
confused. A puzzle or a riddle can be fun because you’re not sure how
to solve it, but that’s not the same as being confused about just what the
hell to do with it.
You know what to do with a puzzle: you put it together. You know
what to do with a riddle: you look it up in a book and then tell people
you figured it out on your own. Or whatever. The point is, once you’re
no longer sure what you’re supposed to be doing, your fun begins to
erode.
Clarity in every scene is important, whether that clarity comes from
the big picture (“We have to get out of this room before midnight so we
can save Daphne!”) or the little picture (“We have to break down this
door so we can get out of this room!”).
Raymond Chandler’s gunmen trick is also a viable trick to avoid
momentary confusion in a Storytelling game: when two guys with guns
bust into the room to kill the PCs, confusion is dispelled. The players
now know, “We have to stop these guys so we can live!”
Cheap Tricks: We’re not above cheap tricks and neither are you, the
Storyteller. Just because you think a cheap physical conflict is weak
plotting doesn’t mean it isn’t fair play in the game. Players come to
be entertained in the hours they sit at the table. They shouldn’t have to
wait around for the end of the second act to get a dose of excitement
just because you resent Hollywood action tropes.
If you, the Storyteller, are out there in a bind, facing a lethal dose of
boredom, get the story back in motion if you have to use duct tape and
a mallet to get the drama back into shape.
Developer Notes on the SAS
“Storytelling is a skill, which means you can get better at it.”
by Will Hindmarch, Storytelling Adventure System Co-Developer and
Vampire: The Requiem Developer
About flexibility and adaptability...
Flexibility and adaptability, without sacrificing quality color text and
mechanical systems worthy of quoting and reappropriating in your
own home stories, is what our scene-based structure is all about. The
regular, but versatile, format of the scenes is meant to make it as easy
as possible for you to jettison one part of a story without a bunch of
other stuff unraveling. Even better, you can add in other scenes from
other stories to easily dial-up the amount of investigation or action (or
whatever else) in your stories.
It’s what we’re essentially all doing when we adapt published ad-
ventures for our own games anyway, right? We’re trying to scratch out
the stuff we don’t want and squeeze in our own stuff, whether we do it
before play or in the thick of the game. I’m just trying to create some
common language for how we do it. We want to systematize it so the
process is easier to talk about and easier to share.
This ties into the community building idea. Community building is
another one of the big goals of these new adventures, and one of my
particular missions. This common language makes it that much easier
to talk about how you ran an adventure, or how you’re thinking about
running it.
To use an example from Chicago Workings , you might move the
foot-chase scene elsewhere, or basically run it twice if the characters
have multiple encounters with the, uh, perpetrators in that scene. (I say,
trying to avoid spoilers.) I might cut that scene out entirely.
We could compare notes, share advice and appreciate each other’s
“this is how my story turned out” anecdotes by comparing the flow of
scenes (and substituting scene names for the shorthands here):
“When I ran Parlor Games, it ended up going…
Musings on the SAS
When we released the first SAS products — Chicago Workings,
Parlor Games and The Resurrectionists — we immediately sought
out feedback and questions from fans and customers. And, of course, the
fastest way to do that was to tour some internet forums. In the course of
that electronic tour, and answering questions, we put some of the ideas
behind the SAS into frank, conversational writing that we thought was
worth sharing with you here.
What follows are some of the musings we shared online, and just a
couple of the questions we answered from fans and customers. We’d
like to thank everyone who took the time to gab with us online, and
everyone who asked us the really provocative questions.
Enjoy.
Scenes A > B > E > F > C
…then I tossed in scene G from this other adventure, and ended with
a climactic scene of my own design.”
“What scene is that?” I ask.
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