Exchange of Realities

The biggest problem with betrayal plots in games, as readers of yesterday’s article have pointed out, is that for a betrayal to really matter, there needs to be a connection between the traitor and the group. The problem, of course, is that it can be very difficult to get a group attached to an NPC.

This gives us two options. We can learn to get them attached to our characters, a long and challenging process likely to bring as much frustration as success. Or, if we’re in a hurry, we can just use the PCs. After all, they’re already in the group, and unless it’s a rampantly PvP game that’s got to count for something.

So, some tips for the GM looking for a PC traitor (or for a PC wanting to be a traitor, if you care to read it that way).

Know how you want it to end. This is particularly important for the GM to know before the proposal; a player who’s rather attached to his character will probably want some way of recovering his role in the party when it’s over and will therefore need an out of some sort at the end, while someone who wouldn’t mind a shot at a new character won’t be as concerned about killing off the old one. If party unity is important to you, making sure the traitor PC has a very good reason for his betrayal is vital, as is ensuring that the group will have cause to work with him again once he comes clean.

Choose your traitor carefully. It’s important that your first choice is up for the job: once you’ve tried and failed to recruit someone, that person will be expecting you to try again with someone else.

The most important trait for a chosen player is the ability to keep a secret; what’s the point of a betrayal if everyone knows ahead of time? A good poker face is nice, but not necessary. After all, a player who comes off as perpetually nervous can serve just as well; if she’s really jumpy anyway, who’s to guess it’s from making the impending treachery work rather than, say, stage fright? Similarly, someone whom the group isn’t familiar with can make a good choice, as they won’t know her usual style and thus are less likely to recognize the clues. Enthusiasm for conspiracy is also important, as that will predispose your potential traitor to agree; the really enthusiastic may even come to you first.

The best characters for this sort of treachery will probably be driven, one way or another. While “obsessed with one single goal and willing to do anything for it” is the easiest personality type to bring into a betrayal plot, it’s also a rather obvious one; a lack of surety in what’s right can also fit the bill. As noted yesterday, reasons are vital, whether you want the traitor to survive or not.

Of course, be ready for the betrayal to go Not Quite As Planned; these are after all PCs, and there’s no way we can anticipate all of their moves. Your traitor might delay, not sure what to do; she might overdo her task, or follow her instructions until the breakpoint before trying to mitigate the damage; if she’s after a McGuffin for some task, she might try to use the thing herself. But that makes it interesting, right?

Obviously, you’re going to need to figure out how to communicate—not just getting the instructions across, but (if possible) figuring out how to hide your communications. Online, of course, it’s easy; there are plenty of ways to pass notes or ask questions without anyone the wiser. Face to face is a lot harder, as it requires either wireless-capable equipment or physical notes. (Though “too busy playing video games to pay attention” might make an interesting cover for a treacherous player….). Of course, there’s the major camouflage technique of behaving conspiratorially towards everyone—notes, taking them into the corner for a few minutes to tell them something, you name it.

Plot wildly. Conspire closely. And above all, have fun.

Got any suggestions of your own?

Betrayal, by its very nature, is a strong dramatic element. The emotions it sparks run the gamut from sadness to rage, more so than standard conflict would; in addition, it can shape the worldview of those who have been marked by it.

Of course, this makes it an excellent addition to the toolkit for any storyteller of any stripe. But like any tool, it must be used properly.

A betrayal should be unexpected. If the potential traitor has been looking shifty all along, and the hints have had a level of subtlety approximately akin to that of a ten-ton boulder rolling down a snowy slope, it’s not going to be near as powerful as if it comes seemingly from nowhere, and only in retrospect do the odd little bits beforehand start making sense.

The best kind of betrayal isn’t completely out of nowhere, though. It needs to be within the betraying character’s capabilities, one way or another, both physically and emotionally. Moreover, there are probably very small hints that it’s coming. Nothing too obvious, mind you, and it might just fly right by the audience the first time. That’s okay. It’s better that way. If they see it afterwards and go “OH, that’s why!”, you know you’re doing it right.

Betrayal should be infrequent, for several reasons. First, its impact depends on shock value. If everyone and the dog is secretly plotting against you, being betrayed stops meaning as much after a few repetitions. This goes double when the same character’s being betrayed by the same person over and over; if it’s a story and the characters’ reactions aren’t under the audience’s control, they’re going to look like idiots, while repeatedly using the same NPC as a traitor in a game (logically enough) will result in decreasing levels of both surprise that it’s happening and opportunity to do so again. People learn from their mistakes, or at least they’re supposed to.

Traitors depend on timing. If you’re going to go turncoat, and get into that amount of trouble, you may as well wait until you’re going to have the maximum impact, right? Or aim for the point at which you’re likeliest to be able to escape. Even the kinds who rather obviously make their true side known in front of the protagonist are probably doing so because that’s the way that leads to the maximum emotional impact; intent to harm should never be underestimated.

Betrayal should mean something, and the closer and more positive connection between betrayer and betrayed, the more it should mean. First off, this means it has to have an impact, not just be something that can be whitewashed over—unless you’ve got a really ineffectual traitor, but do be aware that that’s not going to get the same kinds of emotional results. It’s going to have an emotional impact as well; unless there’s an extremely good reason, the social dynamics aren’t going to go back to the way they were after a betrayal (and even having a good reason won’t necessarily mean things can completely revert).

The most important thing to remember is that for any traitor, the betrayal has to be a, if not the, right choice. Now, betraying people you’ve been spying on, when you’ve been planning it from the start, and you don’t really have any attachment to them—that’s one thing. But hitting the audience where it hurts requires someone who’s been close to the characters. And that means it’s going to be a more difficult decision. Why is the eventual reward of the betrayal more important than what the betraying character has now? Was she magically coerced, blackmailed, offered her heart’s desire? Was the one person he’ll do anything for the one who asked? (A note: betrayal with the impetus being sex should be used exceedingly sparingly. Everyone seems to do it, but very few people do it right. This goes double if the characters in question just plain don’t think with their gonads. We have so many other options; why not use them?) The bigger the betrayal, the more important this question is, and the better the answer needs to be.

So plan your betrayals. It makes them stronger, harsher, and better able to stir up a reaction.

So you’re either the GM or a player, and you want to have a secret. Secrets are tough things to work with; fun, but very prone to backfiring. Here are some questions you might want to ask yourself.

Why does it need to be a secret? Some situations are epically suited for it: if you’re secretly going to betray the party, for instance, keeping it under wraps is optimal. But if the secret is something that isn’t going to get the character beaten up by his teammates, if it’s a problem they might be able to help with, or if it’s something they would probably be interested in knowing, is keeping the secret really worth the irritation when they find out?

Will the secret by virtue of its nature inconvenience party dynamics in character? Sometimes, the very act of hiding something can be a problem within a group itself, even before they find out that it’s being hidden. One really common issue is when you get games where the entire group has powers but one’s hiding having powers even from them. I’ve seen this come up twice in games I’ve been involved with, both Exalted; in the first, I missed the session where the rest of the group first revealed to each other that they were Solars due to a field trip (…let me put it this way: nearly losing a character to one of the other PCs just because I’d chosen the wrong day to be gone was annoying), and the other time, a new player to my game attempted to pass for just-a-mortal—in quite possibly the highest-profile crowd of Celestials Creation had seen at that time. Short version: While situations like this can be amusing, or a challenge, they can also be blasted annoying for either the keepers or the ones who are left in the dark, particularly in a group used to knowing each other’s capabilities and teamworking. Think carefully before you get into them.

Similarly, are you willing to deal with the in-character ramifications when the thing gets out? This is mostly a question about the group; some people don’t react too well with things being hidden from them, whether they’re as small as listening in on someone when you’re saying you’re not and you never would, or as major as semi-voluntary dealings with a creature far beyond the group’s comprehension and possibly inimical to the setting.

How secret is this secret? With some groups, you can get away with out of character knowledge of an in-character secret. With some, you can’t. Sometimes, being able to share out of character information can protect you from a secret severely backfiring, or just allow you to mitigate the IC damage from it by getting it out before it reaches a point of no return.

Moreover, sometimes you don’t want something to be a secret to the group, because it won’t have occurred to them that it’s supposed to be a secret. If this is something you want to keep hidden from the rest of the world in character, it’s best for the people around you to know to keep their mouths shut. Otherwise you’ll find your alter ego introduced by your normal name by someone who doesn’t know any better.

Is someone going to have issues with this both in and out of character? I’ve seen secrets that could blow up like this, mainly because they were dealing with concept-deep damage, striking a blow against who and what the character’s supposed to be and possibly rendering characters unplayable or close to. Some people enjoy this sort of issue, but some just get frustrated, and a frustrated player can make life extremely difficult. Be very careful if the answer’s yes; the damage might not be worth it.

What are you going to get out of it? Secrets are powerful things, and there will be benefits. But how do they compare to the potential problems?

Think carefully. Make sure your factors balance. It will save you a lot of trouble.

Recorded live from a presentation by the Generic Villain at this year’s EvilCon.

All right, ladies, listen up.

I just got a note from PR saying that women in evil are still having issues with their intimidation quotient, particularly among secret agents, the educated, and snarky accidental rulers of major geographic locations.

Something’s got to change here.

First off, the dress code. I understand why so many of you seem to think leaving nothing to the imagination is a valid strategy. Many of you are from the Succubus school of villainy, and firmly entrenched in the idea that the way to defeat every hero is to get him out of his… armor. Others seem to be clinging to that outdated principle that the less you wear, the harder you are to hit.

To the first group, I would like to point out that the guys in the field have been doing it with considerably more success, for two reasons. One, they don’t depend on seduction as a tactic; it’s more a secondary thing. Two, they often appeal to things other than the immediate “SKIN!”, with the added bonus that they can do that particular job and still wear pants, and that people looking for the “SKIN!” tactic are less likely to figure out that they’re bad news. But even leaving that aside, the strategy only has a 5% success chance, and is even less likely to succeed among protagonists with Designated Love Interests. And since protagonists with Designated Love Interests are becoming more common by the day… let’s just say it isn’t going to work too well.

To the second: The Inverse Female Armor principle is a myth. While we do not have an actual time period for it, the current perception was that it was first begun by the perverted bard known as Amato the Red as a way of making his job more… satisfying. If his ghost is found, you will be the first to know.

In sum: For the love of all that’s unholy, GET DRESSED!

Next item!

This one goes out to the flirty fighters. There are limits to what we do. Teasing your protagonists is all very well, but do you really have to turn it into an extended sexual metaphor? Particularly when it’s always going through the same few lines about fire users, magic swords, and prowess? I can see a little leeway for teasing someone about how compensatory his four-loaf cleaver is, and I love witty flirty banter as much as the next dark megalomaniac, but if you’re going to use this tactic, at least make sure you’re good at it first. Research those who have come before you. Focus on the ones who were clearly respected, and emulate them. And whatever you do, if a line crops up more than four or five times in one research session, DO NOT USE IT. It’s long past the day it should have died. Instead, record it and send it along so it’s eradicated from the banter files.

This goes double for the BDSM crowd. Look, I know not everyone gets their kicks the same way. I know some of you have even managed to turn your skill with whips and chains and how you interact with pain into a source of power in combat. But then you take your proclivities there as well, and start engaging in lines that… well, I suppose if the object of the game is to scare the really innocent ones off the battlefield or confuse them, you might be on to something, but the rest of your foes are just rolling their eyes and deciding they’ll kill you first so they don’t have to listen to you.  Again, make it witty or don’t do it.

Unfortunately, the individual on the ground with the recorder was discovered by the guards at this point and had to change locations, interrupting the relay. Further portions of this presentation will be relayed Sunday if all goes well. Until then, GV speaks here.

Earlier this week, I talked about references: how to use them, how not to use them. Like I said, the best reference is a subtle one, or at least one that isn’t completely in your face. Such was the case with Farren and Wallis.

Farren was a friend of the group’s, or rather, a friend of a friend, and Wallis was her god-tiger familiar. They were first introduced at the beginning of my political arc. See, Farren’s place was the arena for a game known as the Sport Which, an experimental game whose rules were in a constant state of flux, and she’d decided she was going to test the people who were jockeying for a recently opened position by getting them into the game.

So midway through the party, the group finds themselves faced with a young woman with spiky blond hair and red striped robes, asking them if they’d be interested in joining her game. Of course, they say yes. What else would you expect them to do?

They met Wallis at the door of Farren’s place. Or rather, Luath did. If one can call being tackled by a mass of anthropomorphic tiger as soon as the door opens “meeting”. It didn’t last long, of course; he picked himself up, helped Luath up, and snapped immediately into greeter mode, inviting them in and leading them to where the other participants were waiting.

Soon enough, they found themselves on the field, flags in hand, masks over eyes, towels tied around waists and ready to face the ten other participants. And the game began; the dust flew, the fur flew, and the rules changed constantly. (Including a “New rule! NEW RULE! No glomping the referee!” from Wallis after Ruby got a little distracted. Guy doesn’t take it as good as he gives it, apparently.)

I enjoyed the game—the crazy rules, the crazy interpretations of the rules, and the goofy dialogue—but more, I enjoyed the joke that everyone was in whether they knew it or not. There’s something absolutely hilarious about fourteen demigods in a high-powered, no-limits game of Calvinball.

You know the best part? Despite the flags and the masks, the spiky hair and the tackling reception, and the tiger whose name was that of a philosopher, I had at least one who didn’t realize what I’d done until a week later. The look on his face when I told him was pretty priceless.

What worked for me was just making it part of the characterization. I touched on the appearances, tossed in the tackle; it was all something that could have happened anyway, or could just drift by. The Calvinball-clone was the biggest indicator, but with its “buggies” and its lack of some of the normal equipment used, it managed to squeak by. The big thing was that it wasn’t obvious it was a joke; it was just there.

It’s amazing how blatant one can be, isn’t it?

The best skill of a writer is being able to look at something, or someone, or somewhere and see something else entirely. I could tell you how it works, but I don’t have to; I can show you instead. See if you can tell me what this poem’s really about.

Demon’s Bargain

I knew a girl, once.

She’d sold her soul to a demon with twelve eyes.

By day it slept in her pocket,

Waking only to cry for her attention.

By night it rested at her bedside,

Feeding from her wall,

Watching her dreams.

Her devotion to it was total.

If it called to her while reading,

The book was soon forgotten;

If it needed her while she was among friends,

Her friends would have to do without her.

Its summons could pull her from her cooking,

From meals, from cleaning, even from the shower.

Only for her professor would it be silent

(Are all professors demon-slayers?)—

And even then,

She looked to it constantly,

Apologetically,

Silently begging its forgiveness.

We worked at the same place, that summer;

I hoped the work would free her.

But its elder brother made its claim on her,

Chaining her to the desk with a spiral cord.

Its calls were even more insistent,

Its demands stronger.

Even its younger sibling was silenced.

She hated it even as she served it.

 

All around me are those demons,

Leering from people’s pockets,

Tucked safely in their purses;

Clinging with a deathgrip to their belts,

Or in a place of honor over their hearts.

One has made its lair in my home:

It perches on the wall, an ivory spider,

Flinging out its web during dinner.

One has taken over my sister’s room,

And I sit outside and wonder—

What unholy bargains is she making?

What temptations does it offer?

 

Three months into college…

I have avoided the lure of the demon on my wall,

But my parents have fallen,

And given me a little one of my own.

It curls up in a small, silver carapace;

It is small, but that makes it more dangerous.

They say it will watch over me,

Tell them when I’m in trouble…

What price will it exact?

My friends rejoice that I have joined the possessed;

They teach me to make its siren song more to my liking,

Show me the delights it offers to steal my minutes.

How the mighty have fallen.

 

But then, one day…

Lunch an eternity alone,

It purrs in my pocket,

Tells me my attention is needed.

Lets me speak to a friend, while away the time…

And I think that perhaps…

Perhaps a soul is not such a high price after all.

Holidays are always better with a little bit of “did you know?” And one of the best “did you know?”s is what happens when holidays or parts of holidays go missing.

It’s a pretty simple process. Some parts of a holiday have more ritual associated with them than other parts, and people tend to remember those. Or there are parts people just plain have more fun with. Sometimes, particularly with religious holidays, there are parts that don’t necessarily accompany the religion portion, and end up being appropriated by the more secular neighbors of those who celebrate them.

As you can probably guess from my choosing today to write about it, Christmas is practically dripping with lost holiday elements.

First, there’s when the holiday is celebrated. Functionally, the Christmas season is supposed to begin on Christmas Day, and continue for twelve days. But somehow, we’re hearing Christmas music as early as Thanksgiving (believe you me, four hours of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” when you’re fogged into an airport on Thanksgiving morning is no picnic, but that’s another story) and seeing decorations and ads and all that good stuff right up until the 25^th, at which point they all disappear. Three guesses who’s responsible for that one, right?

Overall, it’s a season issue. Merchant-types are very good at leading up to endings—raising excitement, pushing sentiment, making everything bigger and bigger and more and more—and then bringing everything to a stop so they can start pushing the next big day. We see it with Halloween (speaking of lost holidays, Halloween was originally just an evening-before celebration. Who here remembers All Saints’ Day—or should I say, All Hallows’ Day?), and with Thanksgiving, and with Valentine’s Day and the parents’ days and all those holidays you buy things for. But Christmas beginning its season makes things really awkward for the merchant model, so what do they do? They ignore it, and everyone follows them.

Speaking of which, remember the twelve days of Christmas? As you’ve probably guessed from the prior comment, they aren’t really supposed to begin on the thirteenth and go to the twenty-fifth. Instead, they start on Christmas Day and go until the sixth of January.

And speaking of that sixth day of January, it’s a missing holiday in its own right, something even a lot of churchgoers don’t realize. Does Epiphany ring any bells? You didn’t think everything happened on Christmas night, now, did you?

This missing holiday is a case of the ritual factor. Aside from the churches, nobody’s entirely sure what to do with Epiphany. It’s big in the liturgical calendar—in fact, Epiphany, or what is now Epiphany, was the Christian winter holiday before Christmas was. Even now, there are a lot of places that still celebrate it: in France, it begins the Mardi Gras season; in Spain and several countries colonized thereby (including the Philippines, Mexico and Argentina), that’s the day in which people leave footwear (shoes this time) overnight for presents….  But most of the people I see forget about it, even the churchgoers; I mainly know because my parents’ old college buddies would always hold a feast around that time.

Interesting, isn’t it? Do you have anything to add to any of the missing holidays, or your own things to which this can be applied?

Not every personality is cut out for intrigues, political games, and other contests of wit and manipulation. Some, for various reasons, are just better suited to the job than others. These are some of the personality types that often fit well with manipulation-games.

• Unflappable: This one’s a good one because they’re very hard to score against. You could hit them with the most grievous insult imaginable, and they’d probably chuckle a bit and suggest you work on your subtlety. (As an added bonus, this makes an excellent personality for an antagonist because getting such a person to lose his temper is almost as satisfying as killing him.)
• Quick-witted: These sorts of verbal duelists are hard to keep an advantage on, as they can respond almost immediately to just about anything. Granted, their responses may not be the best ripostes, but they usually buy enough time to come up with a truly scathing follow-up. They’re also hard to catch out when they provoke others, as they will quickly come up with an excuse for almost anything.
• Observant: This one notices everything—particularly the little details. If you had to go and do something, and your hair’s just the slightest bit different when you come back, she’ll notice. Talk to someone with a different tone than you usually use? She’ll notice. And anything she notices will be used at some point. The best way to sidestep this kind is to throw out so many small details that there’s no room for the big picture (or that they come to an entirely different conclusion), but even that’s not completely reliable. On the plus side, some of them will jump to conclusions from what they do learn….
• Erudite: Yes, scholars can engage in these games too. They’re slightly more predictable, as their main advantage is their greater spectrum of learning, but even when you see the scholar-talk coming it can still be wildly overwhelming. And it’s easy to underestimate them, because who has time to both learn in their field as extensively as they have and still learn to play social games?
• Arrogant: They know the rules, they know the game, and they’re in charge. You could cut the condescension around them with a knife—though if you were to try it, they’d probably arch an eyebrow and ask just what it was you thought you were doing in a tone that says they already know and no reason’s going to be good enough. When paired up with an unflappable demeanor, this creates someone who irritates the living daylights out of the audience by existing; it’s excellent for antagonists, and even more so for red herring antagonists.
• Melodramatic: Whether this kind actually loses the game most of the time or not is hard to say. But people certainly think he does. Every time someone tries something on him, he takes loud and impressive offense, drawing the attention of everyone around and painting himself as an innocent victim. Even the people who see through his game will try to avoid setting him off just to keep from dealing with the scene.
• Mind elsewhere: This is usually camouflage. And what a camouflage it is! It’s easy to underestimate someone who seems to be hanging around in cloud-cuckoo land, who’s losing her mind due to age, or who can’t remember complex social systems to save her life. But every now and then you run into someone who’s only faking it, but doing so utterly convincingly. They’re easily underestimated, and it’s hard to tell what they understand and what they don’t; this makes them the most dangerous of all.
• Sympathetic: Sure, being heartless helps in this sort of game. But who says you have to act heartless as well? The one person anyone can trust in this game is probably the one person anyone shouldn’t trust; he’ll listen, sure, but he’ll remember what he hears. Are you sure all your secrets will stop there?
• Mind like a trap: This one never forgets a single thing anyone does or says. This stands her in good stead when either maintaining a deceit or poking holes in someone else’s, as she knows exactly what was said when and will cheerfully invoke it at the most inconvenient possible time. These people make amazing allies, but should be treated carefully, as their memories do include slights and offenses.

If you need random characters for a court scene, a party, a political plot or anything involving a lot of social maneuvering, one thing you can do is mix and match these traits. There are a lot of combinations, and they give you a good way to differentiate between characters and figure out their strengths and weaknesses.

And this is only a sampling. Do you have any personality types of your own?

When you’re dealing with court intrigues, tightly-run organizations, or general polite society, staying out of trouble can be complicated. One of the biggest facets is making it look like the other guy made the first move in a squabble, and the most important way to do that is delivering insults that don’t necessarily look like they’re meant to be insults.

How do we do that?

A good subtle insult is like a concealed weapon—you use it with very close precision, and make sure nobody catches you doing so. The key here is to make sure that while the target catches that he’s been insulted, he can’t actually respond without making a scene, and that if he does, you’ve got some innocuous explanation for what just happened. The results, when the techniques are properly applied, are devastating.

One important element is innocuous phrasing. Consider the following sentences: “Everyone knows you don’t know how to do your job” vs. “Everyone understands why you’re having so much difficulty with this task.” Both of them imply that the target is floundering. However, in the first case, it’s very clearly an insult—the target is being explicitly accused of incompetence, and humiliated into the bargain with the idea that everyone’s familiar with said incompetence. The latter example, on the other hand, is far more subtle. Instead of “You don’t know how to do your job”, it comes across as “Clearly you’re having trouble”; moreover, the “everyone” being invoked is being portrayed as sympathetic, making getting angry seem even more unreasonable. As an added bonus, it also preys on the target’s insecurities; there’s probably something he’s ashamed of regarding his performance on the project in question, and it’s just been implied that everyone knows exactly what it is. Lot of impact for one sentence, isn’t it?

False sympathy is also a powerful technique. You’d be amazed by how cutting a remark (usually casting aspersions on someone’s competence) can be disguised as sympathetic just by careful choice of phrasing. The target will probably get it, sure, but she can’t make a fuss over it; to do so, she has to start ranting about a remark that was just dripping friendliness and concern, and looks downright hysterical in the process.

“But you said to….” This tactic is particularly clever in that it uses the target’s own stated preferences against her. Say you’ve got a newly coronated ruler who, for various reasons, still isn’t comfortable with her title and prefers that her friends address her by her name in most situations. The key word, however, is most. Now, one rather enterprising noble comes up during a Grand Audience and addresses her by her name. In a situation where she needs to keep the appearance of power in a way that most situations don’t. In front of her entire court. See where this is going? And if she reams him out for it, all he has to say is “But didn’t you prefer to be addressed by your name?”

While it’s not as reliable, deliberately misconstruing rank can be scathing in its own right. It mainly requires either the target to be new to his position or the speaker to be a. theoretically unfamiliar with the rank system she’s dealing with or b. known for being a bit of a ditz about little things like titles. Referring to the ambassador with the wrong title, or the general as a commander, or conveniently forgetting that Brashard is now a Master and calling him Journeyman, can take him down a notch while still appearing to be an honest mistake. Note: unless the speaker is willing to deal with a reputation for social incompetence, this tactic generally won’t work in the same form more than once or twice.

Used properly, a good insult can be as dangerous as any weapon and a lot less likely to leave evidence. And as an added bonus, it can be quite impressive to other players of the insulting game. Give it a try!

You’ve probably seen yesterday’s riff about things that can go wrong with dropping references. But they’re such a useful tool that they shouldn’t be dismissed outright, so how do you do it right?

I’ll start with humor, since that’s where I see most of my references, and that’s where it’s easiest to go sour. The biggest problem I see with referential humor is when people are making it extremely obvious that the humor is indeed A Joke. At that point the reference becomes potentially divisive; if you’re not in the know, all it does is emphasize your out-group-ness. (In games, this can also happen with a standard reference when everyone else gets it. I was in one of those games once; GM had a scene in which we met with the individual who was serving as that world’s god, and when one of the party members attacked him, he turned different components of that person’s gear into waffles. Funny on its own, but when asked why, he explained that a fellow a few universes over had managed to nearly take out a foe with a soggy waffle, and he found it amusing. This was a reference to an earlier incident in my game, one all the players except one had been present for. That one was less than amused.) The key here is to make the reference more subtle, glancing; to make understanding it not necessary, but amusing.

Then there’s the borrowing character concepts. In moderation, particularly among newbies, I’m actually all for drawing inspiration from existing characters; I myself have NPCs whose influencing factors include Captain Ahab, Calvin and Hobbes, various anime characters (mostly antagonists), a PC played by one of my cousins…. there’s a lot for me to draw from. But none of them are a direct clone; you have to look carefully to see the similarities. That, I think, is what people who want to draw from an existing character need to do; take a few features from said character, then blend them into a concept of their own. So you might have one character’s appearance but a different personality, or an item reminiscent of another, or another’s favorite quote—but the character as a whole is a concept in his or her own right. For instance, the character based on the cousin’s old PC borrowed his name and bits of his prankish nature and toted a curtain rod, reference to an OOC prop use that had become an IC joke in the original game.

Oftentimes, I’ve seen people explain concepts by using references as shorthand. You have a character who’s wearing the costume of such and such character from such and such show, you get a series summed up as an older story with a similar plot, “with [whatever makes it different]”, or something ends up riding on symbolism borrowed from something else entirely. This is one of those ones where “know your audience” is exceedingly important; if the group just plain doesn’t get it, or comes to the wrong conclusion, then the reference is only making things worse. So make sure they know what you’re talking about, or at least find a way to provide visuals if it’s a visual image.

Another thing to be careful of is the interpretations of your references. Just because you view a reference in a certain way doesn’t mean everyone else is going to; one person’s pop culture role model is another’s sworn enemy, and crossing connotations can be dangerous work. It’s a good idea to make sure you’re operating from parallel views when utilizing a reference, as this can happen easily. So think about the other possible connotations of the work you build from, and make sure that your reference appeals to as many people as possible while not tripping over said connotations.

Keep these tips in mind, and you too can slip your refs seamlessly into a game, story, or similar medium. Have fun!