Stop Writing Lazy Quest Intros

Rime of the Frostmaiden is the first WOTC book I've ever read. My library of RPG products isn't large by any means, but until now I've restricted myself to OSR or old D&D products, with only a glance at a few 5e books. I've heard plenty about WOTC's products, mostly through reviews and critiques, like the Alexandrian's Remixes, though I've never checked the source material.

Now that I'm running my Icewind Dale campaign, I've got to pay close attention to the book and... yeah I'm not surprised.

Now, let me make clear that the work and skill that went into the module is immense. My own attempts at making a module of much smaller scope and scale have shown me how difficult it is to make a product, let alone one this huge. Those who can, do, and those who can't, write spiteful blog posts, all that jazz.

That being said, there's a whole lot of baffling content in here, and the parts which grate the most are quest introductions.

Consider the boxed text for Foaming Mugs, one of the Chapter 1 quests. It involves retrieving a lost dwarven iron shipment in the tundra, dealing with the elements and some goblins. Standard stuff. 

This is quite possibly my least favorite RPG trope. "Hello there heavily armed stranger, I happen to be in a bit of a pickle and it would be great if you could risk life and limb to help me out. By the way, I have money, possibly in a compact and easily concealed form."

I know why it exists, and I know that in most cases players go along with it because the pathologically trusting NPC is a gateway to wondrous realms of GM-prepped adventure. But if I ever use a hook like this and the NPCs aren't doppelgangers I think I'll choke on my own shoes. 

It's grating in large part because it doesn't fit the frame. If the party were members of a guild with distinctive clothing or marks indicating they were looking for work, it would be perfect. Or if they were in a place and situation where such an approach would be appropriate, such as in the court of a noble being petitioned for aid. 

In this case, that's dubious at best. This hook is built to be given either in the Northlook, a rough-and-tumble tavern, or just out in the street. The former situation is marginally acceptable, but in the street? Mind you, in the game fiction, a street which is in near-perpetual darkness, where nobody is out unless on business and which is in -40 degree cold. Why? 

Yes, yes, that's rhetorical. The honest answer is 'because this is obviously a plot hook.' But if this blog is dedicated to anything, it's dedicated to the idea that one shouldn't settle for the minimum viable experience.

In this precise case, there's a few fixes. I put the dwarves in the local temple, recovering from frostbite, which the party visited to deliver a dead body (yes, it is that sort of campaign). You could also have the dwarves be in a shouting match by the smithy, or just rely on tavern rumors. If the party seeks out the questgiver based on information they've heard, you're already building engagement, not just reskinning a plot hook vending machine.

This issue recurs in a bunch of places, in various forms. In Easthaven, the militia captain sidles up to the party as they're watching a man get burned at the stake, and seeing their rough and tumble demeanor, offers them a job. I have a wonderful image in my head of a party standing transfixed by the agonizing screams of a slowly carbonizing wizard, only for the her to slide next to them and say, 'Soooo... come around here often?'

It's like picking up dates at a funeral. Even if your campaign's tone is dark enough that the experience isn't totally alienating, it's just going to be funny. 

Or, a commonly used example: just as the party is faced with an extremely urgent situation involving a living superweapon, a powerful mage shows up with sled dogs to offer the party a lift. Also, they're transparently a necromancer. If you run this as written, this is the first time the party has ever encountered this NPC. 

These sorts of hooks really require a party that's just looking for today's quest hook, and don't much mind how they get it. And there's hundreds of thousands of game tables that play just like that. Far from me to denigrate a beer and pretzels game. If I get invited to someone's home game and my character gets approached by Grieving Widow ID#0004376, you can bet I'll follow that quest hook as eagerly as everyone else.

But in a published product, let alone a massive campaign book from the titan of contemporary RPG publishing? No. This is not up to snuff. I'd say I expected better, but I've spent the last few years being inculcated in the flaws of 5e products by every other OSR blogger alive. So my expectations were largely met. 

I assume by reputation that this same sort of writing recurs in other WOTC products. I don't want to go overboard without knowing what it's really like to write there, but, really? Are there any WOTC customers who think 'wow, I never would have thought of having a bunch of dwarves just walk up to the party out of nowhere, thank goodness it's included in the module to inspire and elevate my GMing?' 

The conceptual density here approaches zero. The whole thing could be conveyed in a couple of lines, and is. But then a piece of boxed text jumps in front of the reader, taking up a whole paragraph to add only token detail. I daresay it could be removed entirely with no effect. Does this really warrant boxed text?

The only charitable interpretation I can cobble together is that WOTC doesn't think their audience minds this sort of writing, and they don't mind either as a result.

Lest I be accused of just being a big mouth without any creativity of my own, here's a couple alternatives, made in WOTC style.

Three frostbitten shield dwarves lie by the fire on the House of the Morninglord and call the party over.

Three stocky figures soak in the hearthfire under thick fur blankets. Your arrival causes one to rise shakily, a dwarven woman, afflicted by terrible frostbite. She stretches a discolored hand towards you and gasps in a raspy voice, "Beg your pardon friend. My name's Hruna. These here are Korux and Storn. We'd be horribly grateful if you could pass on some news to Garm at the Blackiron."

At the Blackiron Blades, the blacksmith yells at three other dwarves for their loss of an iron shipment.

Angry shouts echo across the northerly street from the Blackiron Blades, where a dwarven blacksmith scolds three of his frostbitten kin. "What will the Battlehammers think of us now? They went to all the trouble to mine and forge and shape that ore for us, and we go and lose it! I don't want to hear a word out of any of you. You'd best find a fix, and fast before this ruins us!"

I think both of these are much more flavorful than the original. I expect to be replacing most of the quest intros like this. And to the canned excuse 'you can always change it,' I give the equally canned reply 'if I was planning on doing it all myself I wouldn't be buying a module.' 

One point strongly in the product's favor though, it's one of the few nontechnical works I've read in years that actually taught me a new word. Did you know the bit of the sundial which sticks up and casts a shadow is called a gnomon? Or that you can use the word 'beard' as a verb meaning 'to boldly confront?' Good stuff.