This is RPG-ology #89: Characterization, for April 2025.
Our thanks to Regis Pannier and the team at the Places to Go, People to Be French edition for locating a copy of this and a number of other lost Game Ideas Unlimited articles. This was originally Game Ideas Unlimited: Characterization, and is reposted here with minor editing [bracketed].
If you’ve been running games for any time at all, someone has probably asked you how to run a game. I don’t mean that they want you to teach them the rules or tell them how to roll dice and read books. What they want is to know how to do the things which make the game run smoothly. The tough thing is that most of us do these things without ever thinking about it; we probably couldn’t make a list of all the things we do–not, at least, without spending a very long time analyzing it. It isn’t until we come into a situation in which we can’t do them, or we observe someone else not doing them, that we realize what these are.
I came into such a situation a couple of years back when I started running Multiverser online in a chat room on AOL. I had no idea how much different it would be. I didn’t realize how frequently I look things up while talking, keeping the game flow going while finding information I need. Glancing at a map or a character paper cut me off from what was being said, because I couldn’t do one thing with my ears and another with my eyes. The simple concept of looking at a player when you speak to him has to be converted to typing his name (not to mention remembering it) every time you need to address him. Dice rolling becomes an intricate part of what you’re doing, and not something that happens behind the screens or off to the side. There were scores of ways in which playing online was entirely different from playing at my dining room table.
Perhaps the biggest loss was characterization. There are many ways to implement this, and it can be one of the most useful referee shortcuts available.
When I create a non-player character who is going to be involved in more than a couple of scenes, I generally try to give him a few identifying bits. My preference is for voice cues–I can do a variety of voices and voice tricks. The innkeeper in the village which served as base for years of adventures for several different player groups speaks with an Irish brogue (and it has never mattered why), so everyone knows it’s him speaking when that voice is used. The gnome Guljor has a rapid-patter delivery which his party members know to ignore, while his friend Thuliar, who rarely speaks and then only in low, slow tones, always has everyone’s full attention. In creating human non-player characters for Bah Ke’gehn (in Multiverser: The Second Book of Worlds), I made a point of giving each a distinctive nationality so that in play each would have a recognizable accent.
It isn’t just referees who can make use of this. Apart from Multiverser, I’ve seldom run or played a game in which at least some of the players weren’t handling more than one character. Whether this was a matter of the player controlling one of the NPC’s for the referee or because the referee decided the player would be able to bring more than one role to life, the practical problem is devising cues that let everyone at the table know which of the characters is speaking at the moment. One of my first and best players handled both the party leader and the party thief, and frequently entertained us with arguments between the two of them. No one ever had any trouble telling which was who.
I never realized how much difference this made until I was running the chat room game. There it was necessary to precede every statement with something on the order of the gnome says to Bob….
And it isn’t just the voices that communicate. Often in driving the character forward I would incorporate body language into the delivery. Much of what the character is saying or even thinking can be put into my face. It is I who gives the cold, hard stare, or the blank look, or the earnest expression or nervous glance or disinterested gaze. When one character reaches out to engage another, I am the one who fixes his eyes on the player and draws him in to what is being said. Sitting at the table, I am acting on the stage, playing the part of the character. Yes, it’s important to convey what the character is saying; but it is also important to deliver how he is saying it.
Not everyone can do voices well; even those who can may wish to expand their range. Lynette Cowper (of SJGames) says that she usually assigns peculiar mannerisms to her characters. One always plays with his drink when he talks, while another raps his knuckles on the table, and a third arches his fingers. One leans back in his chair, another slouches, another comes forward very intensely. A character might have an annoying laugh that comes up whenever he talks, or might always stare out the window while speaking to anyone.
The only tricks are remembering which character has which traits, and being able to switch between them easily. For voices, I find that using a stereotypical name which matches the voice is a big help–one which works both ways. I remember that the innkeeper with the Irish brogue is McGrell, and the Englishman in Bah Ke’gehn is Claude Winston Bevridge the Third, partly because the name reminds me of the voice and partly because the voice reminds me of the name. It also helps to have a character phrase that you can say which will get you into voice (have several for characters who are around a lot so they’re not always saying the same thing). Mais, non always gets me into my French accent, although qu’est ce qu’on dit works as well. It helps if the cues are worked in as part of the character identity. But it isn’t necessary to have them make complete sense. There is no Ireland in the world in which McGrell tends the inn; he’s the only person in that entire world, at least so far, who has that accent. But it serves its function well, and no one ever worries about it.
There are more complicated ways to do this. Props and costume scraps are helpful, although a bit awkward in practice. Some characters can get away with a pet phrase–one who always says y’know, another who begins every sentence with um or duh, or who always says things in a more complicated way than necessary, or who throws bits of poetry in his speech constantly–a clever approach, but a bit more demanding. However you do it, characterization makes play run more smoothly–and conveys volumes about the characters themselves which would take a much longer time to describe.
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