I think the one thing I’ve always wanted from my gaming settings is for them to feel lived in and livable. It’s a difficult proposition on a couple of levels; for one thing, a lot of mainline subgenres of science fiction and fantasy do a very bad job of this. In fantasy the issue is more of pastiche; the villages exist to be attacked by goblins or whatever the monster of the week is, and dwelling on how this would affect their local economy both doesn’t serve the narrative and is a bit of a downer. On the science fiction side you end up more with the yawning gaps and strange assumptions; you went an entire trilogy before seeing a child in Star Wars (weird Ewok movies aside), and Star Trek has at least one series predicated on the same ship that’s getting into fights with the Borg and Romulans also being a place where everyone brings along the entire family, kids included. One thing I give Cyberpunk: Edgerunners a lot of credit for is making a sensible expansion to the setting to anchor what high school would look like in Night City; there is some mention of what a “normal family” looks like in some of the old sourcebooks but it unintentionally creates the same issue that a game like D&D has: the adventuring life is seemingly separated from “normal life” in a way that reduces “normal people” to be silently subject to the vagaries of whatever the ‘main plot’ is.

On another level, which is alluded to in the separation of adventurers you see in a lot of games, players aren’t necessarily interested in domesticity. In some cases this is more literally true; you may have a playgroup who is very explicit about wanting to spend their time in the dungeon, fighting bad guys and disarming traps and getting treasure. That’s what they’re there for. In more narrative-minded groups, though, the structure of games encourages disinterest by framing it as relative interest. There is the presentation of a false choice in a lot of games, the idea that by spending some time in the village or engaging with smaller moments, you’re therefore not spending that time advancing the plot or solving the mystery. I suppose that’s technically true, but what need not be true is the idea that not solving the problem immediately will make the problem worse. Many video game RPGs have, in a way, the opposite problem. They do intend to make the problem seem urgent, and then backpedal on that by seemingly puking side quests at you from every direction. Fallout 4 is likely the most common example given of this phenomena, but it exists at some level in every open world game.

As has historically been the case somewhat frequently, my current counterexample which provides a lived-in, domestic world is Stardew Valley. It would not be wrong to say that a game best known as ‘cozy farming sim’ has more genre and mechanical obligations to feel domestic and lived-in, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that it succeeds at this handily and provides an instructive example. I’ve written about Stardew Valley before, and I think the fact that it aims for depth around a small space is still a defining feature. However, you can look at how this setting and the tasks of the game are presented to you for more indication that there was a lot of thought put towards making Pelican Town and its residents feel real. Some of this is core to the game, like the villagers having their own schedules, the heart events, and the whole gifting mechanic. A lot of it I think also has to do with how the goals of the game are presented. You’re given a vague directive from your grandfather, as well as a nice long timeframe in which to accomplish it (two in-game years). And from there, it’s kind of up to you! Yes, you start with some seeds (on most maps), but the beginning of the game is a deluge of different possibilities and things to do. As you spend more time, you become more familiar with what’s going on in the area around you, and that in turn makes it easier to determine what your goals are (assuming it isn’t your fifteenth playthrough and you’re just collecting each marriage candidate like a polyamorous magpie).

So how am I going to, if this is so instructive, take instruction from it? My next campaign is intended to be big and fantastical, but I also want it to start small and fairly grounded. The way I see it, the campaign will start in the town of Old Cross, essentially a medieval farming village built into the semi-recent ruins of a railroad interchange. While the massive City is only a hundred miles away (if that), it has little impact on the daily lives of the people in Old Cross. There is a smithy, a tavern, and a library. One trader in town runs a general store, but rarely does something more exotic than a necklace or a strange book ever appear in town.

The town, quiet and insular as it may be, is also in danger. For as long as anyone in the town can remember and likely generations before that, the whole world has been suffering from a Dead Sun. If ancient histories can be relied upon, the world’s sun is darker and colder than it once was, making forests cold and farming hard. Old Cross, like many towns in the surrounding area, relies on Sunstones, ancient magical artifacts which make bright light and help plants grow. Sunstones also emit significant amounts of magical energy, which for a long time wasn’t a problem. Now, however, the Dead Sun is waking up. Over the last ten years there’s been a slow but steady increase in the intensity of the sun’s rays. As the world slowly gets warmer (and more magical), things can grow that haven’t grown for centuries. Sometimes, this includes plants. More often, though, it’s been strange, terrifying creatures. The monster attacks have grown more frequent, and last year, for the first time ever, one of the beasts made it all the way to town. The town council does not want to see that happen again, but the thing that’s attracting the monsters is a serious problem. The Sunstones, which are still needed for agriculture to work around the town, are rumored to be attracting monsters with their surfeit of magical energy. Instead of risking turning the Sunstones off, the town council has another idea.

Each year, the town gives a Calling. The Calling calls up everyone without a steady source of work, and, through half religious ritual and half job fair, appoints all of the Called to a new labor. The vast majority of those Called are young; town law says you can receive your Calling as soon as you have lived 6000 days. That said, not everyone is a teenager receiving their first job. This year in particular, the town will be Calling for adventurers, giving them a specific task to go forth and find out how Old Cross can protect itself from the ever-multiplying beasts from beyond the town’s reality.

You can see how my intent will come together. The characters will be residents of Old Cross, and while I don’t want to lock my players into writing 16 year olds (6000 day olds, as it were), I do want to make them consider how and why they’re integrated into the town enough to be part of this yearly ritual. The goal, protect the town from monsters, will be appropriately vague and, given engagement with those in the town, come with multiple different avenues of approach. At bare minimum I do want to give some allusion to what exists if you head away from the City as well as what will be encountered if you head towards it, and try my damndest not to sway that decision (I don’t know if I’ll succeed in that respect). I also want to present an interesting area immediately around the town, so that staying in Old Cross seems like at least a possibility. Knowing real estate prices, though, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep the characters stuck in one town for long.

Another element, here, is that I do want the characters to return to Old Cross. The town may look very different after the party has been, say, in the big city, but I want there to be a throughline. That may be hard to do, but I have some ideas…ideas that may be alluded to in an upcoming Cannibal Halfling article.

All this to say, I want my next game to have a little more breathing room, and the way to do that is going to be to take things more slowly. Give reasons to stay in town as well as reasons to leave, but also make sure there are reasons to go back after the party has gotten their little taste of fame and fortune abroad. I do think this is going to require more time spent on imagining the places in the game, beyond just locations. Each town has its own cast of characters, and the city is going to have dozens of casts all involved in different schemes and conflicts. The key to creating places that my players want to really engage with is that I’m going to have to seed them with more than just adventure hooks. There are a lot of places and personalities in every world, even fictional ones for games. So, at least for now, my plan is to start with one, and then from there figure out what my players really glom onto. Hopefully this can evolve into a large and dynamic campaign world, but most importantly, a campaign world my players want to spend time in.