Following the Serpent: Communication Secrets of Dungeons & Dragons

I recently wrote about the Coordinated Management of Meaning in the context of D&D and wanted to look into this further. The image of Dungeons & Dragons portrays slaying dragons, exploring dungeons, and collecting treasure. And of course, rolling dice! While those things certainly happen, anyone who has ever played a long-running campaign knows that the real game takes place in the interactions between players. Every decision, every plan, every argument, and every heroic speech shapes what happens next. This idea sits at the heart of the Serpentine Model from the Coordinated Management of Meaning (CMM) framework.

The model suggests that communication is not a series of isolated messages. Instead, conversations form a winding path where each person’s response influences the next person’s action. Like a serpent slithering across the ground, communication twists and turns as people react to one another.

As you might imagine, D&D provides the perfect environment for observing this process in action.

Every Conversation Creates the Adventure

Imagine the party discovers a suspicious merchant selling magical artefacts. Much to the rest of the party’s consternation the fighter immediately accuses him of being a fraud. As a result the merchant becomes defensive. The rogue interprets the defensiveness as guilt and starts sneaking around the merchant’s wagon. He’s not as stealthy as she thought and the merchant’s guards notice. Weapons are drawn. Suddenly, the party is fighting for their lives.

At first glance, it might appear that the combat encounter happened because the merchant was suspicious. The Serpentine Model tells a different story. The encounter emerged from a chain of actions and reactions. Each participant responded to what came before, creating a conversational pathway that led to conflict.

The same encounter could have unfolded very differently.

Upon meeting the merchant our fighter asks polite questions. The merchant, initially cautious of the party relaxes. Naturally curious the Rogue starts looking though his wares. A bit more conversational digging and the party uncovers an ring of invisibility that will help them with the heist they are planning. Some friendly haggling and the Party are now well equipped for the next stage of their adventure.

The situation changed because the communication pattern changed.

This type of back and forth is highlighted really well in an in game negotiation that went wrong in my Gutter Rats campaign.

Using the Serpentine Model to Look Beyond Individual Decisions

One of the most useful aspects of the Serpentine Model is that it encourages us to look beyond individual actions and examine the sequence of interactions. This can be especially valuable when a gaming group experiences tension between the players rather than in the game itself.

Perhaps one player feels that another is dominating every discussion. While the dominant player may feel that nobody else contributes ideas. A couple of the quieter players feel there is no room to speak.

Viewed individually, everyone can justify their behaviour. However, looking through the Serpentine Model, a pattern emerges. Each person’s actions are influencing everyone else’s responses. Instead of asking, “Who is causing the problem?” the group can ask, “What conversational pattern are we creating together?”

By removing the avenue for accusations and defensive behaviour the question can lead to far more productive solutions.

The Dungeon Master as Pattern Weaver

Dungeon Masters frequently focus on world-building, story writing and encounter design. Actually some of the most important work a DM does involves managing communication patterns during play.

A skilled DM notices when conversations are spiralling toward frustration. Perhaps two players keep talking over each other. Or another player repeatedly has their ideas dismissed. Maybe the group continually defaults to the same leader even when others have useful contributions.

By recognising these patterns, the DM can introduce small interventions that change the flow of interaction. Ask a quieter player what their character thinks. Summarise competing viewpoints before a decision is made. Orchestrate situations where different characters have opportunities to lead.

Applying small changes in communication can produce dramatic changes in group dynamics.

Learning Leadership Through Play

As you’d expect, the Serpentine Model has applications far beyond the gaming table. In workplaces, leaders often focus on individual performance, decisions, and behaviours. Yet many organisational challenges emerge from interaction patterns rather than individual failings.

For example, a manager becomes more directive because staff seem disengaged. However, the staff become less engaged because the manager is more directive. The cycle reinforces itself.

D&D allows players to experience similar patterns in a safe environment. Players can see how trust develops, how misunderstandings escalate, and how collaborative problem-solving emerges through communication. Because the consequences are fictional, participants can experiment with different approaches and observe the results without real-world risk.

Changing the Story

One of the most powerful lessons of the Serpentine Model is that every conversational turn creates new possibilities. No matter how entrenched a pattern appears, the next response can alter the direction of the interaction.

A suspicious NPC can become an ally. That party disagreement can become a moment of understanding. Our reckless plan can become a collaborative strategy. Every response changes the path. We can help direct the conversation by being purposeful in the way respond. Spot the patterns and if necessary take steps to redirect them.

This is one reason Dungeons & Dragons remains such a powerful tool for learning teamwork and leadership. The game constantly reminds us that stories are not created by individuals acting alone. They emerge through countless interactions between people working together.

The adventure may begin with a dungeon map and a handful of dice, but the real journey follows a winding serpent of communication, twisting and turning through every conversation, every decision, and every shared moment at the table. How you respond can have very real impact.

Everyone has a Secret: Fun at the Murder Mystery Party

Not everyone is ready to sit down for a session of Dungeons & Dragons. In fact, while the game has never been more popular it is still a very niche hobby. Weirdly shaped dice, character sheets and strange rules can feel intimidating for people who have never played a roleplaying game before. But there is another doorway into the hobby that is far easier to step through. All you need is a crime, a few suspicious characters, and a room full of friends. What is this gateway I hear you ask. A murder mystery party of course!

The Perfect Gateway to Roleplaying

A murder mystery party is, at heart, a very light roleplaying game. For those who have never played, each guest receives a character with a background, motivations, and perhaps a secret or two. Throughout the evening everyone mingles, asks questions, uncovers clues, and slowly pieces together the truth behind a terrible crime. Usually over a delicious dinner.

There are no complicated rules. Just conversation, deduction, and a little bit of theatrical flair. For people who have never played an RPG before, it feels less like a game and more like stepping into a social drama. Before long, they may realise they have been roleplaying the whole time.

Costumes, Scandal, and Suspicion

My wife and I have hosted quite a few murder mystery parties over the years and attended a fair few more, and they are always without a doubt an absolute riot. Half the fun begins before the party even starts. Guests receive their characters in advance and start thinking about costumes. Your friends are no longer at the door. Instead your house fills with aristocrats, detectives, scandalous socialites, and disgraced cousins all with motives and secrets.

The scenario is read out. Usually someone of great wealth and power has been murdered. As such the characters have been brought together to fins the culprit, who is of course one of them. It’s all very Poirot.

Once everyone is in character, the game usually guides the action. Characters have specific questions to ask one another enabling secrets to be uncovered. By doing so the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together. Scandalous accusations are thrown around and what seemed like a straight forward murder becomes enmeshed in a web of lies, deceit and multiple, very guilty looking suspects.

Someone insists they were in the garden when the murder occurred. Another guest swears they saw a suspicious figure leaving the study. Meanwhile the supposed victim has left a trail of grudges behind them. Add a little wine, a little gossip, and suddenly the whole evening becomes a delightful storm of outrageous scandal and suspicion.

Costumes and a flair for the dramatic make the murder mystery party even more fun

When the Plot Thickens

Every good mystery unfolds in stages. More questions are asked and new clues appear. Alliances shift. People start realising that the quiet butler in the corner might know more than they are letting on. Eventually theories begin forming around the room.

Then comes the grand reveal.

Everyone must declare who they think the murderer is. The moment when the murderer is finally exposed is always glorious. Sometimes the room erupts in triumphant cheers. Sometimes the culprit confesses dramatically. More often than not the wrong person gets accused entirely, which is equally entertaining. The important thing is that everyone has been part of the story.

One of the first murder mystery parties I attended, back in my uni days. So much fun!

Marty’s Murder Mystery Party

Recently my friend Marty ran a murder mystery party for a group of us, and it reminded me just how much fun these evenings can be. It was a fantastic night. Everyone was dressed in 80’s finery and there were some amazing wigs. Plenty of intrigue, plenty of laughter, and more than a few wild theories about who had committed the crime.

The scene was set. We were all wealthy (or pretending to be) residents of an exclusive apartment block in London. The owner was dead and one of us had done it. Gasp. Was it the playboy, aerobic video star, cosmetics entrepreneur, tennis pro, aging rock star, not so naive nurse, heiress, pop princess or tech tycoon? We were set to find out.

Many of us were seasoned role players, but at least half had never touched a roleplaying game. Watching people these players slip into character and start interrogating each other was a delight.

My character was the philandering playboy with no money who was, if I remember right, trying to sleep his way into wealth. And that was one of the milder scandals. Someone had been seen up to no good with the murder victim behind a compost bin and another had collected a suspicious black eye (with very convincing makeup by the way). The aerobics video star was also right up to her neck in it all. It was so much fun.

Through all the laughter and 80’s inspired cocktails everyone was learning the core skills of roleplaying games. Improvisation, character interaction, storytelling, and a bit of dramatic performance all snuck in under the cover of a social gathering.

A Gateway to the Hobby

If you enjoy tabletop games and want to introduce friends to roleplaying, a murder mystery party is one of the easiest and most enjoyable ways to do it. There is no rulebook to study. No long campaign to commit to. Just one evening of costumes, conversation, and crime.

By the end of the night, your guests may not only have solved a murder. They may also discover they quite enjoy stepping into a character and helping tell a story. And once someone has tasted that experience, it is only a small step from a drawing-room mystery to the wider worlds of tabletop roleplaying.

Why not run a murder mystery party for your non-gamer friends. At the worst, you’ll have a fun memorable evening. Who knows, some of them might want to make the jump to becoming a player at your table.

If you really do want to run one, these guys look like they make some awesome games. In fact the cowboy themed pack looks like it might be right up my street.

Hold the Line: Fun Space Weirdos Collaborative Game

A lone space marine is left behind in this collaborative skirmish game

I run multiplayer games of Space Weirdos for six to nine of my friends at least twice a year. Usually I fill them with secret objectives, betrayals and other shenanigans. This time round though I wanted to focus on something different. Collaboration under pressure. So here it is my first foray into the collaborative game.

Drawing inspiration from Warhammer 40,000, the players took on the role of Deathwatch Space Marines deployed to a doomed Imperial world. A Tyranid invasion was sweeping across the planet, and their mission was clear.

First, prevent the Tyranid hordes from reaching the hive city long enough for the civilian population to evacuate. Second, fight their way to a communications array and call in an extraction. Finally, survive long enough to reach the dropship and escape.

Simple objectives on paper. In practice, there was a planet full of hungry Tyranids standing in the way.

The players: Deathwatch Killteam

Preparing for the Collaborative Game

One of the motivations for running the game was finally getting some of my new miniatures onto the table. Last year I picked up Games Workshop’s Tomb World box set and painted the Deathwatch Kill Team (see picture above). I’d only managed to get a few games of Kill Team in with them. So I created individual character cards for each of the ten marines, attempting to match their equipment and battlefield roles as closely as possible.

The six players each selected a marine, based on coolness factor, to begin the mission.

The battlefield itself was a roughly 4′ x 4′ urban warzone, packed with ruined buildings, fences, city debris and a crashed transport vehicle. The environment felt suitably desperate, as though the defenders had already lost most of the planet and were now fighting for the final survivors.

On the other side of the table, I had prepared six waves of Tyranids that would arrive turn by turn. Unfortunately, I managed to forget my Genestealers on the day, which would have added another nasty element to the invasion. Thankfully the Tyranid force was still varied, dangerous and more than capable of causing problems.

I did have a few other surprises up my sleeve. Wave five introduced a monstrous Psychophage and wave six a Tyranid Prime, basically claws and teeth with wings. Both were significantly tougher than anything the players had encountered up to that point and immediately changed the tone of the battle.

The Battlefield

The Plan Meets Reality

Before the game began, I gave the players five minutes to discuss their strategy. To their credit, they quickly came up with a sensible plan and launched into action. Their first priority was reaching the communications array so they could call in extraction as early as possible.

Then the first wave arrived.

Seven Termagants entered the table. There were a few quiet groans around the group. Not because the termagants were tough opponents, but the fact that this was a first wave of many. If the first wave brought seven, what would the next waves bring?

The marines cut down the first wave with disciplined bolter fire, but every alien corpse simply became a stepping stone for the next wave. Wherever the players created a gap, more creatures poured through it. Much like the movie Aliens, the battlefield gradually transformed from a military operation into a desperate fighting retreat.

Collaboration Under Pressure

What made the game interesting wasn’t simply the combat. It was watching how the players worked together as the pressure increased. At the start of the mission there was plenty of discussion. Players coordinated firing lanes, covered one another’s movement and shared responsibility for achieving the objectives.

As casualties mounted, however, priorities began to shift.

Three marines were eventually killed in action. As a designer i was happy about this, it meant the danger of the scenario was very real. Each time, the player simply selected another Deathwatch marine and jumped back into the battle, ensuring everyone remained involved throughout the game.

Even so, the constant Tyranid pressure forced difficult decisions. Do you stay and support a teammate? Do you hold the line for one more turn? Or do you focus on reaching the extraction point before it is too late?

Having these dilemmas take shape on the table is a key ingredient in making collaborative games so memorable. There was no single player capable of carrying the mission alone. Success depended on the group acting together while balancing individual survival against team objectives.

Battle in full swing

A Hero Left Behind (Gasp)

Through player coordination they managed to get the dropship to arrive relatively quickly. After fighting through wave after wave of Tyranids, the players finally had a route off the planet. Then came the ultimate dilemma. While the surviving marines boarded the extraction craft and escaped, one marine did not.

Honour among the marines was forgotten. The five marines nearest the evacuation point managed to get away and the marksman covering them was left behind. In a fantastic emergent narrative that games like this produce, the lone Deathwatch operative was left behind as the dropship lifted off. While his comrades soared into orbit, he disappeared into the ruined city below, surrounded by an endless tide of Tyranids.

It was exactly the sort of grim, bittersweet ending that feels perfectly at home in the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

The mission was technically a success. The civilians were saved. But not everyone made it home.

Golden Aquilas for the Victorious

With the battle concluded, we tallied up the Tyranid kill counts and handed out Golden Aquila medals to recognise the most effective warriors, witht he best Marksman taking away the biggest Aquila. It was a small touch, but one that added a fun competitive element to an otherwise cooperative game.

More importantly, everyone left the table with a small memento and stories to tell.

The overwhelming Tyranid waves created constant pressure, the objectives forced players to make meaningful decisions, and the multiplayer format encouraged communication and teamwork throughout. Most of all, it demonstrated something I have found time and again in tabletop gaming. Collaboration becomes far more interesting when success is uncertain.

When resources are limited, enemies are overwhelming and the clock is ticking, players stop focusing on optimal solutions and start making real decisions together.

And sometimes those decisions result in medals, heroic last stands and one very unfortunate Space Marine being left to an uncertain fate on a doomed world.

If you’d like to get hold of my notes and Space Weirdos stats for the game you can get them here.

Dungeons & Dragons and Communication: Surprising Parallels with CMM

I’ve been invited to run some short D&D style sessions for the CMM conference in Birmingham (UK) next year. While chatting to Abbie VanMeter on the Stories Lived Stories Told podcast it became apparent that playing and running D&D ties in very closely to CMM. So for this article I want to look at the CMM communication theory and see how it relates to playing tabletop roleplaying games.

What is CMM

Before chatting to Abbey I had never heard of CMM before. So after a few pointers from Abbie, I’ve started trying to understand what CMM is all about. Coordinated Management of Meaning (CMM) was developed by communication scholars W. Barnett Pearce and Vernon Cronen back in the 1970s. CMM suggests that people don’t simply exchange information through conversation. Instead, they actively create and manage shared meaning together. Communication is less about transmitting facts and more about building a common understanding of the world through interaction.

That sounds very similar to the way we communicate when playing Dungeons & Dragons.

Please keep in mind that while I have my 10,000 hours playing D&D, I am very much a layman when it comes to the CMM paradigm. As such, I encourage you to do your own research into this fascinating topic.

Building a Shared Reality

Every game of D&D begins with a simple premise: a group of people agree to imagine the same world. Which of course can be a problem. As the Dungeon Master describes a tavern one player imagines a bustling medieval inn. Another pictures a smoky pirate den. A third envisions something inspired by their favourite fantasy novel. None of these interpretations are exactly the same. Yet through conversation, questions, and storytelling, the group gradually coordinates their understanding of the setting.

According to CMM, communication creates social realities. We don’t just talk about the world, we help construct it together. A D&D adventure is perhaps the most literal example of this process. The game world only exists because the all the players at the table continuously create it through their actions, questions and collaboration.

Some examples of CMM in interpersonal communication (from Examples.com)

More Than Just Words

CMM argues that meaning exists at multiple levels. A statement gains significance not only from the words themselves but also from the relationship between speakers, the context of the conversation, and the broader culture surrounding it.

This is of course true when playing D&D. Consider a player saying:

“I draw my sword.”

The meaning depends entirely on context. In one scene, it’s a heroic act of defence. In another, it’s a reckless escalation that could start a brawl or even a war. Around some tables it might even be a running in-joke.

The same action carries different meanings because players interpret it through the context of the story, their relationships with one another, and the norms of the campaign. The best players instinctively understand this. They don’t simply think about what their character is doing. They think about what that action means to the group and the story. context is everything.

Coordination Is More Important Than Agreement

One of the most counterintuitive ideas in CMM is that successful communication doesn’t require people to completely agree. Instead, they need to coordinate their actions in a way that creates a shared pattern of understanding. Odd, but what does this look like in D&D.

The lawful do-good paladin may disagree with the chaotic out for herself rogue. The idealistic god fearing cleric may clash with the more cynical warlock. Yet the party still functions because the players coordinate their actions toward a common goal.

In fact, some of the most memorable moments in campaigns emerge from disagreement. In my friends Duskfall campaign, I played an “Old One” Worshipping Warlock who seemed at odds with the rest of the party. At the beginning I was a little worried that the character might cause a rift in the party. If he did I was fine to retire him. However, I needn’t have worried. Despite seemingly being at odds with the other characters, they all found common ground. In fact the Old One cult grew in stature becoming a force in the city and a convenient way to dispose of inconvenient bodies… As players we still joke about the cult of Ygeggos and it has even crossed campaigns and made appearances in other adventures.

The key is that players understand the difference between character conflict and player conflict. They coordinate the story even while their characters argue within it.

This is a valuable lesson for leadership and teamwork. Effective teams do not eliminate differences. Instead they learn how to work productively with them.

Stories Create Meaning

One of the things I really like about CMM is that it places significant importance on the stories people tell to make sense of their experiences. These stories help create coherence and allow individuals to understand who they are and how they fit into the world.

Of course, D&D is built entirely on emergent stories. Characters develop identities through their adventures. Parties create shared histories. Campaigns generate legends that players remember for years. Ask any long-term D&D player about their favourite campaign and they’ll never describe game mechanics.

Instead they tell stories. They tell you about the halfling midwife who died fighting an ancient green dragon. The orc shaman who freed a Kraken from a Glacier or even the party who used their gold to build a theatre to put on plays about their adventures. Who could forget the hanging tree, where the well meaning fighter released the demons on the world. All these really happened in my campaigns.

These stories help players make sense of the experience and become part of the group’s collective identity.

The Mystery Beyond the Rules

An aspect of CMM that particularly resonates with roleplaying games is the concept of “mystery”. No matter how much we communicate or coordinate, there is always something beyond our understanding. No story is ever completely predictable or fully explained.

Any Dungeon Master knows this feeling. You spend hours preparing encounters, maps, villains, and plot twists. Then the players decide to befriend the monster, ignore the plot hook, and start a trading company. Consequently, the campaign becomes something nobody anticipated. Of course, far from being a problem, this uncertainty is often where the magic happens.

The most memorable moments in D&D are rarely the ones anyone planned. They emerge from the unpredictable interactions between players, characters, dice, and imagination.

D&D: both fun and great for improving your communication skills

CMM Lessons for Leaders

Looking at D&D through this lens it seems obvious that D&D is an excellent tool for developing communication skills. Particularly as it forces participants to practice the very things CMM describes.

When running or playing these games players must:

  • Create shared understanding.
  • Interpret meaning in different contexts.
  • Coordinate actions despite differing perspectives.
  • Build relationships through conversation.
  • Develop stories that create group identity.
  • Adapt to uncertainty and ambiguity.

Of course, these are not just gaming skills. They are leadership skills.

Every workplace team is engaged in its own process of coordinated meaning-making. People all bring different experiences, assumptions, values, and perspectives. Success very much depends on a leaders ability to create a shared understanding of goals, challenges, and opportunities.

Luckily for us the D&D table simply makes that process visible. Behind every adventure, regardless of how fantastical, is a group of people engaged in the ongoing task of creating meaning together. And that may be one of the most valuable things the game teaches.

The very act of playing D&D is actually more than having fun with friends. It enhances the way we communicate. We’re practicing Coordinated Management of Meaning without even realising it. Which in turn makes us better at navigating web of relationships and communication that is the workplace, ultimately making us better leaders.

Now that I’ve scratched the surface of CMM, I cant wait to dig deeper and learn more.

Murder, Matrimony and a Most Scandalous Evening

What happens when five Regency-era sisters discover their father has been murdered a few hours before hosting the social event of the season? Well, recently I had the opportunity to find out when I ran a two-hour one-shot of Virtues & Scandals called Featherington Manor.

Dear readers, the premise was delightfully simple. The players took on the roles of the Featherington Sisters, daughters of the fabulously wealthy Baron Featherington. Each sister had her own personality, ambitions and secret desires, while also navigating the rigid expectations of Regency society. Reputation was everything and scandal could destroy the entire family.

Our cast of sisters could not have been more different.

Bally Featherington was the eldest sister and self-appointed Queen of the Ball. Fanny was the dutiful daughter, determined to uphold the family’s reputation. Lucy Featherington possessed an almost alarming fascination with soldiers and military men. Milly was a hopeless romantic dreamer searching for true love. While Lizzy was a horse-mad adventurer who seemed entirely unsuited to the restrictions of polite society.

Together, they inherited a problem. Several problems, in fact.

Act One: The Dead Baron

The session opened with the sisters discovering their father dead in his study.

Unknown to the characters, the Baron had been poisoned by their scheming cousin Roger Askill. This thoroughly unpleasant opportunist stood to inherit everything if the sisters failed to secure a marriage. (This premise was lifted directly from the wonderful regency era podcast Bitcherton. Highly recommended for inspiration).

As the sisters searched the study, matters became even worse. Not only was their father dead, but his papers revealed that the family was effectively bankrupt. If one of the sisters did not secure an engagement before the evening was over, Featherington Manor would be lost.

Naturally, this was the exact moment when visitors began arriving at the front door. Rather than mourning their father, the sisters immediately began a frantic operation to hide the body. All the while maintaining the appearance that everything was perfectly normal. The dead Baron was eventually rolled in a rug before relocating to the coal cellar, which seemed entirely reasonable at the time.

Players scrambled to distract visitors, conceal evidence and fend off the ever-present Roger Askill. Every conversation became an exercise in maintaining propriety while desperately trying not to reveal that the head of the household was currently hidden amongst the coal.

As a bonus complication, an amorous gardener also entered the picture. Creating further opportunities for confusion, awkwardness and increasingly questionable explanations. By the end of the first act, the sisters had somehow managed to keep both the murder and the bankruptcy secret.

For now.

The Baron is dead, oh woe is me.

Act Two: The Featherington Ball

With disaster temporarily postponed, attention turned to the annual Featherington Ball.

One of my favourite tools as a Game Master is asking players to help build the setting through “paint the picture” questions. Rather than me describing every detail, the players collectively created the atmosphere of the evening. I had a series of questions ready to go and as such the grand ball took on a life of its own.

The ballroom quickly came alive with glittering decorations, whispered gossip, fashionable guests and subtle signs that the family’s wealth might not be quite as secure as everyone believed. The ball itself became a whirlwind of dancing, flirtation and social manoeuvring.

A collection of eligible bachelors attended, each carrying secrets of their own. There was the dashing Captain Percival Cavendish, the scholarly Julian Fairfax, the wildly unsuitable Lord Jasper Redmond and the sombre Mr Charles Wetherby. Meanwhile Roger Askill continued lurking in the background, hoping the sisters would fail and leave him free to claim the estate.

As conversations unfolded, alliances formed and ambitions collided. There was matchmaking, misunderstandings and a surprising amount of unsuccessful flirting.

And then there was the Can Can.

The Can Can, too scandalous!

A Dance Too Far

At some point during the evening, the Featherington sisters managed to convince the attendees to participate in the scandalous new dance sweeping society: the Can Can.

The image of respectable Regency nobles enthusiastically joining a dance that would have sent society’s chaperones into fits of horror perfectly captured the spirit of the session. The game had begun with strict expectations of decorum and social propriety, yet slowly descended into delightful chaos as players embraced increasingly bold solutions to their problems.

By this stage, secrets were being uncovered, schemes were being hatched and romantic opportunities were being pursued with varying degrees of success.

A Happy Ending… More or Less

Despite the murder, the bankruptcy, the hidden corpse, the scheming cousin and the numerous social disasters waiting to happen, the sisters ultimately achieved the one thing they desperately needed.

A proposal of marriage.

With an engagement secured by Fanny and the wealthy merchant Fairfax, the family estate was saved from falling into Askill’s hands and the Featherington name survived another day.

Why It Worked

What made Featherington Manor such an enjoyable session was how quickly the players embraced the premise. The combination of Regency etiquette, hidden agendas, personal ambitions and absurd circumstances created fertile ground for roleplaying.

Unlike many games where problems are solved with swords or spells, every challenge here revolved around conversation, reputation and relationships. Players had to think like ambitious socialites rather than adventurers, balancing personal goals against the needs of the family.

The result was a session filled with laughter, memorable character moments and exactly the kind of emergent storytelling that tabletop roleplaying games do best.

For two hours, five players became the Featherington Sisters, desperately trying to preserve their family’s future while hiding a murdered father in the coal cellar. While I, as the GM, desperately tried to keep up as the various suitors, stable boys and servants.

One of players commented that there was no fighting, it was a very different session to normal. Which is exactly why I love running one-page rpgs.

For those interested in running a similar session, go and buy Virtues and Scandals! I’ve also included my session notes to download for free here.