Exchange of Realities

We have to have beginnings. If we don’t, the story will never start.

Yes, we already know that. But despite the need for beginnings, we often have trouble actually figuring out how to write them, for game or story alike.

The gamers, of course, have it worse. Running around Internet message boards devoted to the topic, one will often find the following quote: “78% of DMs start their games in taverns. If you’re one of the ones who didn’t, copy this and put it in your signature.” While nowadays there is a bit more variety in how people begin, this one is still a cliché because it’s true: the easiest way to begin a D&D game is “A _______, a ________, a _________ and a ________, (known hereafter as “The PCs”) walk into a bar.”

Ouch.

We have no use for beginnings. Particularly not that one. Unless you’re trying to poke fun at opening clichés, skip it.

Perhaps the most common in this day and age is the briefing beginning. This one doesn’t require the characters to know each other, but does require some sort of reason why they would all be in the same place and performing the same task. Preferably, whoever is delivering this briefing is someone they’ve all agreed to work for or with, though I’ve seen a few briefings where the group was rather clearly coerced.

Other popular if cliché beginnings include escaping from prison, waking up in an unfamiliar place with some degree of amnesia, having a mode of transportation break down somewhere, simultaneously arriving at a certain point for different reasons (this works best if something happens a minute later), or combinations of the above. While I don’t think anyone’s done amnesiac jail escapees on motor-scooters all roaring to the same intersection of hallways just as their vehicles break down, I imagine it’s only a matter of time.

What these things all have in common is that they begin at the beginning—where the plot is revealed, where the routine is shaken up. This isn’t the only option, though.

An in medias res beginning is one that begins the story right in the middle of the action. The characters are halfway through a battle to protect whatever they’re escorting, or crouched behind the bar at the tavern as a fight rages in front of them; they might be standing on the hilltop where a building that only appears at certain times has just popped up, or under a rock waiting for something very large and very hungry to pass by… the basic idea is, right now they’re here and things are happening, and you can fill them in on how they got here as you go along. On the plus side, the instant immersion gets them right into the action. The downside is that it can result in a certain amount of character clash. If someone’s concept includes an utter refusal to run away from a fight, hiding under a rock or behind the bar isn’t going to work too well. If nobody knows what brought them to a certain point, they might react in ways that even their players would consider inconsistent with the situation if they knew what they would have known. It’s a risky endeavor even when planned carefully.  (This is, of course, a lot easier in writing.)

I find the best beginnings to have elements of both—the grounding and background of the placid beginning, but the rapid-immersion feel of the in medias res. The best hook gives its audience both a solid surface to stand on and a rapid jerk in the right direction.