By request - Cliffhangers, Endings and "Tying It All Together"

Today's post come from a request made on Twitter by @AprilBrownWrite. Her site is here, and worth a look (also she's really nice, and you should say hi.)

If there's something you'd like to talk about, or want to know more about, you can email me a suggestion or send me a tweet - I'm always looking for new content and new ways help you write better.

April had a question about cliffhangers and how to end things. She wrote me a rather nice email about it, with some pretty good examples, but I think it's easier if we just start with broad topics and then work towards specifics.

So let's lay some groundwork.

What is a cliffhanger?

1. A 'cliffhanger' is caused when you break up an action beat and deny immediate resolution. 'Immediate' here means that in sentence A, you set up the situation and then in Sentence B, you resolve it. These are most often very visual or evocative beats (beats are scenes or moments, I'm going to use that word a lot), and other media (like television) has taught us that cliffhangers are great moments to go to commercial. Books, to date, lack commercials, so often people tend to put cliffhangers at the end of chapters (we'll talk more about that in a minute).

2. A 'cliffhanger' is only as good as the setup BEFORE the action, and the intensity of the resolution AFTER. This might be unclear, but there are ways to illustrate it. The thinking behind a cliffhanger is that you want the reader wondering how the character(s) will get out of whatever situation they've entered. Will Mace Hunter escape being kidnapped by Red Shark's goons? Will the damsel in distress ever get off those damned railroad tracks?

But that's the cut-away-to-commercial moment. That's the cliffhanger itself. It doesn't have any meaning as a cliffhanger until we see it in context. We worry about that damsel on the railroad tracks because prior to that, she was kidnapped in the dead of night by the bad guy. We feel tension for Mace because we watched him get overwhelmed by goons and saw him get sapped from behind. The setup to the cliffhanger moment is critical, if you want us to believe the danger is real.

That's half of it.

The other half is what happens when the character acts to get out of the predicament. If all the damsel has to do is roll to her knees and stand up, the danger isn't so great. If all Mace has to do is jump out of the car in order to make good his escape, then it's less perilous than previously indicated. If the resolution to danger/cliffhanger is not well-developed, then the danger wasn't clearly stated, and the reader isn't going to think it's worth getting scared over.

There is an exercise I recommend. You'll need a note card.
1. Turn the notecard vertically (longways)
2. Divide it into thirds (draw horizontal lines)
3. In the middle third, write the cliffhanger
4. In the bottom third, write the resolution
5. In the top third, write the setup.

So, a cliffhanger for a scene with a damsel tied to railroad track looks like this:

I. Woman is kidnapped
----
II. Woman tied to tracks
----
III. Woman escapes (rope use)

This isn't where you detail it all out, this is where you give yourself a little note of reminder to make sure the setup leads naturally to the danger which segues to the resolution. I tend to find it easier to go from danger to resolution and then reverse-engineer (or hack) the setup to make it sufficiently intense or emotional or whatever the scene needs.

Now, if that's what a cliffhanger is, what do we do with it?

The first rule of cliffhangers is - Not everything is going to be a cliffhanger. It just...can't be that intense all the time. Remember this - "When everything is special, nothing is". You do not need a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter, or at the break in every action. Poor is the reader who believes that your story would be made better by doing this. Find them, shake a fist at them, and tell them they've watched too much TV and probably read too much poor writing.

The second rule of cliffhangers is - They're supposed to be risky. There are no "little" cliffhangers. Just like no one is ever "a little bit pregnant" or "the teensiest bit murderous", little actions do not warrant cliffhangers. Cliffhangers should make you gasp and worry and turn the page excitedly to see what happens next. (Note: I learned this rule as "No one gives a shit about Timmy making toast.") Go big or go home on your cliffhangers.

The third rule of cliffhangers is - There should be a cost. To get out of a risky and dangerous situation, the character should be tested. It should exhaust them to have to climb up a sheer mountainside, it should drain them to have to run as fast as they can to save the other character, it should hurt when they got shot, taking the bullet for their loved ones. A cliffhanger without a cost is just another action beat.

If those are the rules, where do we put cliffhangers?

The short version - put them where they best serve the story. For most (90%) of cases, that's usually at the end of Act 2 or just before the highest point of climax.

The longer version - put them where they matter. NOT at the end of every chapter, or every third chapter when you switch narrators. Use them too much, and they lose impact. Use the cliffhanger as a tool to make the story matter, and to test the characters, not as a way to force the story along or make/force the reader to keep going in the story.

So what does that make all those other endings? If they're not cliffhangers, what are they?

They're endings. Things can just end. It's okay. I promise. What matters is how you daisy-chain these endings into the startings of whatever comes next (I mean otherwise, what, you're writing 4th edition D&D? - gamer joke) so that you're not writing a series of "bubble scenes" but rather a contiguous stream of actions, reactions, and development to make a single complete big bubble of your story.

If you feel that your endings (the physical ones, the emotional ones, etc) HAVE TO BE cliffhangers in order for them to matter in your work, then, honestly you've failed them. You've let them down as scenes in your story and you're not doing your job as the best writer you can be in telling the best story you can.

A well-crafted story should have lots of things that matter, but not all those things are going to be cliffhangers.

So how many cliffhangers should I have in my story?

I don't know, author. Why don't you tell me how many breaths I should take today? There is no magic number. In some stories, you only need one. In some stories you can have one per character arc. In other stories there's one for every character arc, one of the plot and one for theme (I'm looking at you, hundreds-of-pages-long-fantasy-novel-series).

If you've mapped out the story (not the same as outlining it), then you should be able to see where the arc(s) move(s) should take you and the reader from beginning to end of book.  Tying it all together is NOT the job of the cliffhanger, but the cliffhanger should signal that SOME element(s) of the story is/are about to change.

I hope this has explained cliffhangers a little bit, April and all those other people who don't know what to do with them. If you need more information, just ask.

Happy writing.

Writing/Gaming - Character 101 - Part 6 - The Relationships

This is Part 6 of the Character 101 Series. The previous parts can be found here.

Here's a brief summary:

• Characters exist within a world that defines possibilities and suggest challenges
• Characters have a set of abilities that distinguish them within the world and makes the reader want to inject themselves into the story
• Characters are on a path that leads them through more than the book-plot.
• Characters are more than a physical description, they also have mental and emotional attributes worth depiction.
• Characters have a defined morality and philosophy that influences actions and decision-making, in more than just the plot. 

Today, we could end Character 101 with this post. And it may end, if the recent traffic is any indication (either what I wrote was too deep or too boring), but let's give today a fair shake. 

The last element of Character 101 can be expressed like this:

The character has relationships of varying depths, complexities and degrees so that the reader can see the created-person in a more complete context, and can sympathize/empathize.

It's a little appropriate that it's Valentine's Day as I write this bit about relationships. Today is the day for making mention of your relationships, even though I am of the part of the population that believes that if you're happy with your relationship, every day is/can be Valentine's Day in a new and different way, and that to commercialize love is the lowest form of obnoxious sales tactics and money hungry manipulation. But that's coming from me, so consider your sources......

Characters don't exist in a vacuum, they aren't adrift in some Void-space, they aren't just blobs of ink on the page. (Even if you did hurtle your character into the Void, it's likely you'd still make them think or feel stuff, so there would be some kind of bridge built to other characters). It's about those bridges that I want to focus today.

I am notorious for burning bridges and salting the earth. In the last few weeks, I've been launching an aggressive program to clean that up, because a lot of it comes from this horrifically insecure place and it's all misdirected anger and fear blah blah blah.....but it's really made me take a look at my relationships to other people and see just how I built those connections. (Yes, I did make a chart, shut up. They help).

Some of those connections are great, and I do not want to burn them. Some of these connections are awful, and I should do all that I can to put the past behind me and get some Grand Canyons between me and them.  I say this not to bitch about my personal life, but to point out that through these relationships, you can get a sense of who I am and/or what I do and how I do it. 

Characters are no different. You can look at their relationships and get a sense of who and what they are. Go get a legal pad, let's make a chart.

The Character Relationship Chart

note: Yes, you can do this more visually in a web, but I'm just blogging here, so I'll work linearly

1. At the top of the page, put the character's name (we'll call him A)

2. Write the name of the other character in the relationship (we'll call him B)with them (then in parentheses, write down the type of relationship next to the name)

3. List then a few phrases, adjectives, quotes or ideas that demonstrate how the character (A) feels about the other. (B)

Skip a line and repeat steps 2 and 3 until you have the character's relationships mapped out. Here's an example:

Character: Gordon Jeremiah Nevins

Bryan Alfred Nevins (brother)

* "What the hell trouble has he gotten himself into this time?"

* "Stupid dumb naive kid, but he's all I got."

* Begrudingly over-protective

* Only acts tired of the relationship.

Wynona (woman he sleeps with)

* Loves her, can't commit to her

* Would take a bullet for her, but wouldn't tell her that, in case someone has a gun handy

* "You look good" = "I love you"

By mapping out the relationships characters have with each other, you're able to also test their philosophies and see their paths play out over the course of the work. If your characters' relationships don't undergo growth from beginning to end (at least ONE of the parties involved has to change a little, otherwise readers are going to feel like they've wasted time and effort getting invested), then the sandbox they play in isn't testing them sufficiently. 

Here's an example from my life:

When I was feeling very down, disputatious and grumpy I treated other people poorly, and gave many others the impression that I was in fact, a melo-dramatic asshole with delusions of grandeur. (Or something, I don't know, but it wasn't good). After a few rather intense conversations with people who actually gave a damn about me (rather than just giving a damn about the work I could do, or the benefits I could give them), I started to rehab my image and after some rather big-deal admissions of apology and truth, quite a few people came around. So, because I had a particular philosophy, the world I inhabited tested me a certain way, which lead me down a particular path, that brought me to certain experiences and plots. Only when I made an effort to change, to push myself and change my thinking, did I discover and occupy a new path, that led me to new experiences and plots. 

It is through your characters' relationships that readers/players/consumers/others are able to draw a complete picture of the character. Just giving them a description and abilities is nice, but very bland and generic. Even if you throw in a moral code and a path, it's amorphous without a set of relationships to see it explored and strengthened/altered.

The point I'm making here is that all the elements of Character 101 are INTER-RELATED. To make those strong characters for people to gravitate towards, you need lay out all the pieces and get your Frankenstein on (put.the.candle.back.) 

There's no doubt in mind that if you take care to go through each step in Character 101, your characters, big and small will exponentially intensify and be far more satisfying to both create and use. 

Enjoy your Valentine's Day. Happy writing.

Game Design Equation, Part 2

YOUR GAME = Desired Emotion / Experience + Mechanics + Theme/Setting

You're going to want a legal pad by your side when you go through this post. It's meaty.

Today we're going to explore game design at it's core, because in order to understand something, you have to get down to it's most basic unit. We can't talk science without atoms, we can't talk writing without words, and we can't gaming without emotion, mechanics and theme.

When you're designing a game, whether that's a card-trading game, or a board game or a structured tabletop RPG using licensed characters and cinematic plots or something home-brewed, there sits at the heart of it a desired experience. You want the players, and you (presumably as its first GM) have an experience in mind - you want your game to be a certain way, you want the time you spent playing to feel a certain way.

Part I: Desired Emotion & Experience
Because game design is a practical task, take that legal pad next to you and write down some words, concepts or phrases to describe this desired experience. Ask yourself the question, "How do I want the game to be?"

Maybe you've written down things like:

• Fun and easy
• just like [insert favorite movie title here]
• fast-paced
• my players want to do it again

You want to stay away from the mechanics and setting here, because we'll get to those next. For now, think only of the experience of people around the table while playing. The better you can detail this experience, the easier it is for you to put your finger on it, the more evocative and expressive the game will turn out. 

Add to this list, or in a second column, a list of emotions you want the players to experience while playing. This is just a list, you don't have to tie emotions to things you've already written. Do your best to have more 'player' feelings than 'GM' feelings, but don't exclude the GM side of play either. 

I should point out now that there's no 'wrong' length to any of the lists we'll create, and if you only have one item on it, that's fine, in time you can always expand it later. What matters is that you've put something down on paper. 

Your list may have things like:

• excited during combat
• nervous during suspense
• happy to play at all

Now stop and congratulate yourself because you're one-third of the way done with the first draft of this game. Onto part 2.

Part II: Mechanics

Games can live and die by their mechanics, since it is lifeblood of play. Mechanics are the practical application of creative desire, and should be relatively codified in such a way as to answer basic questions and promote imagination about future issues. 

Basically - mechanics should be 'how' the things you want to do get done but they aren't meant to be everything to everyone. Remember that play is a collaborative event, and no game is ever going to be able to account for all the potential things a player can do (or not do, depending). No game should be a Swiss Army knife, constantly trying to do everything, as that sounds and feels desperate, like a child begging a parent to pay attention to them. Don't be a desperate designer. 

Likewise, don't swing the pendulum the other way and over-specialize. Your game might do one thing well, it may have one or two strong building blocks at the base, but by no means is your game just about the rolling of dice or the playing of one specific card in one specific context is it? Yes, the game can be driven/railroaded towards that situation time and again, but there's a decided lack of emotion and fun in always going back to rolling that die just because it's the only part of the game that you know works. 

When talking and thinking about your game, those elements you get really excited about, or the ideas you want other people to be excited about should have mechanics. Also, if your game is "about" something, that "about"ness should be mechanized too. It's really hard to have a game where players are police who catch robbers if there's no way for them to find and/or catch robbers. 

But how much is too much? Does EVERYTHING need a rule? No. You have to let the game be collaborative, remember? You have to trust those GMs and players to take what you've given them, and use it their way...so long as their way doesn't absolute ruin your intention...but if it does, so what? You cannot ultimately control that. All you can do is provide them a skeleton with some meat on the bones, and it's up to them to Frankenstein it to life.

Your best mechanics should be the clearest to understand, not the most convoluted. And you should be able to distill explanations of mechanics down to easy-to-grasp sentences. To practice this (and develop the critical skill of being able to explain your game), get that legal pad again, and write out first the mechanic and then an explanation.

It might look like this:

* Roll Fudge Dice and add your [Attribute] to the result.

* Roll Fudge Dice and count the plusses. To this number, add your [Attribute] score. The end number is the number used for [whatever mechanical issue we're talking about].

Or maybe this:

*Roll d100, subtract X% for difficulty.

* A percentile die is rolled, and from the result a penalty is assessed. The result is the percent chance of [whatever mechanical issue we're talking about]

Yes, it's going to be clunky if you're new to thinking this way. Yes, it's not going to be pretty writing. But that's why the world has editors (Hello. My 2012 calendar open, and we should talk.) But just like all your other favorite skills and habits, you got better at it over time with practice. 

Mechanics are dictated by the story and they also dictate the story ahead. The GM will take the players through the imagined/created story and at some point will turn to the mechanics because the story got them there. If we're telling the story of conquistadors encountering natives, then at some point, we're likely going to have mechanical instances of combat. The story has brought the players and GM to that experience, and the mechanics will walk us through the parts of the experience where chance/risk/luck/The Force plays a role.  

Also, the resolution of those mechanical situations will shape the story going forward. In the above conquistadors versus natives example, if the conquistadors get walloped by the indians, then the story will advance differently than if both parties fought to a standstill or if one side ran away. The story will ALWAYS move forward, it may not move forward in a way that you or the GM intended. But adaptability is a good thing. Both designer and GM need some amount of adaptability in their thinking, because it will have profound and positive impacts on the experience of play. (Note: If the game is supposed to have a certain situation go a specific way, it should be narrative, not mechanical)

We end now with the top of the pyramid.

Part III: Theme/Setting

I've talked previously about finding your theme. You're going to want to do that exercise now before going further. Now let's look at what the theme can do. 

Theme and Setting (which is the theme objectified) are where the meal that is your emotion and mechanics are eaten. Up until this point, your game is nebulous and can occur anywhere. This is where you place a firm stamp on where the game occurs, how it occurs and to a deeper level, why it must occur. 

A game's setting dictates parameters for the players. A game that occurs in 1492 won't have planes in it. A game that occurs in deep space likely won't have American politics at its core. The setting gives you a playground to explore, and the mechanics are the swingset thereupon. The theme is the...lax supervision that allows you to run from the slide to the monkey bars and tease that one kid for his pants falling down. (Not that I'm bitter about my pants falling down, but I was sensitive and stuck on those damn bars for five minutes until you were done laughing) Theme cooperates with emotion you want to express to cohere the mechanics and setting together into a game. 

Likewise theme gives you a different axis of parameters for players. A "serious thrilling" game should not have too many moments of slapstick humor. A "fun rainy day" board game should not result in arguments about the nation's death penalty. Codifying and expressing your theme are critical if you want your game to feel unified. 

Note: We're going to talk more about this soon

But that's enough for now. Happy writing.

More Game Design Goodies: A B structure

I originally taught this with note cards, but have found you can also do this in two columns on a piece of paper. Designate one column (or card) 'A' and the other 'B'.  (Or some cards 'A' and some 'B') Put them aside.

Now, the theory - for creating shorter (and slightly more intensive) direct experiences, there is a basic mechanic at work. It can be expressed and explained in three variations. I will detail them below.

Note: All of these can situationally operate 'backwards' as B:A B/A and B-A

A / B
Here we have two tracks of action, an A and B, and they work oppositionally. Time is not necessarily a factor here, but this is best expressed as 'nearly simultaneous'. Conceptually, this means that while A acts, so does B. While the good guys act, so do the bad guys. Their agendas need not mesh, although at some point, they should intersect (at plot climax ideally). This setup works best in larger scale campaigns, where players (often A) can operate under a wide variety of designs and are only vaguely aware of B's actions. (If that is the case, this is called a 'Blind A' or 'Blind B' scenario). Taken a step further, you may even withhold the existence of the one side from the other, although that tends to rob the players of the satisfaction of knowing the stakes they face and therefore projecting possible reward/praise.

Note: The majority of game experiences fall under 'Blind A' conditions, as the party operates mostly unaware of what their foes are directly doing (even though they might know about the goals). 

A:B
This is more a traditional cause-and-effect situation, and is stated as "If A, therefore B" In this case, A and B need not be opposing sides, they could be action and consequence, move and counter-move, or any like-bonded pair. The majority of two player board games operate under this theory. (If he moves his pawn, I will move my knight -- if the rogue checks for traps, I will guard the door, etc) In multiplayer contexts, this serves a lot masters - individual characters follow cause-and-effect, players have an expectation of having their actions 'A' have in-world consequences 'B', and NPCs assume that 'B' is the reward for their plot. In this model, the tension surrounding "what will happen next" serves the desire to move things forward, as players will naturally want to know "what happens next". 

A-B (-C)
This is the most open-ended and often most subtle expression of the structure, and is stated as 'A to B'. This is not a direct relationship (that's A:B), this is more about the option of the path from one item to the next. In a linear context, this is going from a quest giver to a location, or moving from one room to the next. What is not stated here is 'C', which is often defined as a larger goal (clear out the dungeon, win the election, do my errands, etc) and that 'A' and 'B' are items on a to-do list or instructional template that lead towards C's realization. 

Now, let's see how they all blend together. Let's assume you have two players (the actual number doesn't matter), and that you're starting them in a room with a body.

1. Two players are in a room, with a body. (It is natural that they will want to explore/examine both the room and the body, although more likely the body, as they will assume it possesses more potential) [A-B]
2. Two players will speculate as to who they are and why they are here [A:B]
3. While this is occurring, the world exists OUTSIDE this room [A/B]
4. The players will discover some plot elements (they have to, else the game stalls out) [B:A]
5. The players must cooperate to leave the room [A-B]

Ideally yes, the whole game should blend together these elements on a moment-by-moment scale, and yes, in theory you should be able to chart the 'beats' (the scenes, the 'things') by this shorthand. 

Now as an overall game experience, we can see a larger A and B relationship. In two-session play, the first session is 'A', and the second 'B'. The variation in relationship is dependent upon the way the sessions link together, which is an expression of the desired plot (either via game or via GM). Likewise, you may designate the players 'A' and the antagonist 'B' and determine their relationship accordingly. Going further, you may see all PCs (heroes and villains) as 'A' and the world they operate in as 'B'. 

Return to your paper or note cards. On 'A' list the appropriate beats or characters. Number them as well, so that you can cross reference. Do the same for 'B'. See below

A
1. The players are in a room with a body
2. Gary, player #1, has an Aspect of 'Don't Take Me For Granted'
3. The villain buys the election.

B. 
1. The players must cooperate to escape.
2. Engineer the situation so that Gary is compelled.
3. Therefore, he's set to become comptroller in two months. 

(Using note cards is easier, since you can create note card pairs like A-1 & B-1, but side-by-side columns are effective if you have space for them)


In game design (as in storycraft of a novel) you should be able to chart out even the most open-ended experiences (hi Skyrim!) because the opportunities need not be linear, but they can be plotted (If the story/characters go to Location #1, that's an A:B, at Location #19 that's B-A).


I hope this sets some creative fires burning.


Happy writing.


Note: I realize that I make use of the term "beats" so perhaps I'll do a second post about what those beats are....

The Three Act Exercise For Game Design

You're going to want a piece of paper for this. I like legal pads, but you'll definitely want to see the work outside of a monitor.

Divide the paper into thirds (horizontally).

Act 1
Act 2
Act 3

We're going to chart the basic player's experience (ideally) in-game. This isn't a strict adventure outline, so we can be fast and loose with a plot, but there need to be key beats each Act has.

Act 1 - This is all things creation and introductory. Players should in theory develop themselves (conceptually, and mechanically) and learn about the basics of the world. Immersion here is critical, as no one wants to play a game where the rules are either too vague, too restrictive or too discouraging (i.e. railroading). In story context, this is where adventure/campaign plots are hatched and world-base concepts ("the feel of the world") is born. Act 1 ends when the Players enter the most intense and forward-progressive drive in the plot.

Act 2 - Characters by this point are INTO a plot/campaign, and are developing forward according to their brought-in goals (things they brought to the table) as well as open-goals (things the game offers). Combat here is more common, and risk is also introduced. This is also the largest Act of play, generally being 1.5 or 2 times larger than Act 1. Should the game be episodic, serialized or weekly, it will be so because of a long Act 2 that offers either complexity (lots of small steps put together) or intensity (there's so much to do and it takes time) or potential (lots to do, of mixed length). Act 2 ends when they feel prepared to finish the plot or wrap up significant material in the campaign.

Act 3 - This endgame is the shortest but is often the most mechanically driven of all the acts. It begins when the characters make that final push towards resolution, and ends when the conflict(s) introduced in Act 1 are resolved. They may not, and need not be resolved in a way satisfying to the character, (although the player will be satisfied in all but the most power-gamer circumstances). Act 3 is also the only Act that bears a formula:

The mechanics/world-building of Act 1 + the plot-building of Act 2 = Act 3

Now, return to your paper and do some simple bullet points.

Act 1 - What sort of things will the players discover, both in terms of the world/setting as well as the individual plot? What sort of things do you, game designer want to deliver to them at the start of this journey for them? Refer often to any Feel Documents you have, as well as any mechanics you want to show off.

Act 2 - How does the plot unfold? Are they key discoveries the players have to make? Are there contingencies for when they don't? How much latitude is given to the GM to improvise? Are there clear boundaries for a GM to play within, that at the very least define the "feel" (There's that word again) and themes of the game, even if they eschew the presented material? Note too that this is where many GMs will fracture or diverge from plot to tell their own stories - is that encouraged? Is a structure (mechanically and expositively) in place for the GM to move the characters towards resolution?

Act 3 - How can characters reach this point? Once they reach this point, can they go backwards to Act 2 without penalty or a change in experience (note: the experience of the badguy defeating the heroes and them trying again later is NOT endgame)? Do the mechanics developed in Act 1 and tested in Act 2 support resolving the plot in Act 3? Does the story (plot-wise) present enough reward to justify moving forward and resolving the character desires? What happens AFTER resolution?

Whatever you put on the paper is yours, and is subject to your change at any time, so there's no danger of being wrong. Likewise, you don't have to worry about missing material or "not thinking of something", because that's what playtest and homebrew rules are for. For now, focus on mapping out the experience, according to the ideas, theme and goals you want players to discover and worry about the finer points later. (Yes there are substantial finer points ahead, but that's what other pieces of paper are for.)

Start there. Happy designing.