Having Freedom to Choose: What D&D Teaches Us About Autonomy

Any long term readers (all three of you) of this blog know that I I love finding parallels between Dungeons & Dragons and teams in the workplace. This is not because adventuring parties are particularly effective organisations. Rather, a group of players all representing characters with different skills, goals and outlooks all come together to beat a common goal. Remarkably similar to teams in the real world. Something that drives both the players of the game and team mates at work is autonomy.

In game players have the freedom to decide what their characters do. Of course, those decisions should matter. It is not at all surprising that the same principle sits at the heart of creating a motivated and engaged workplace.

Autonomy is more than freedom

In his book Drive, Daniel Pink identifies three key elements that underpin motivation in modern workplaces: autonomy, mastery and purpose. Autonomy is the desire to have some control over what we do, how we do it, and sometimes when we do it. It doesn’t mean everyone gets to do whatever they want. A workplace without structure would quickly descend into something resembling a badly managed D&D campaign. Everyone would have their own objectives, nobody would know what anyone else was doing, and the person responsible for payroll would probably be hiding in the woods.

Autonomy exists within boundaries.

A D&D game has rules, a setting, a Dungeon Master, a scenario and consequences. Players aren’t free to rewrite reality whenever they want. But within those boundaries, they should have enormous freedom.

The DM might tell the players:

“You have arrived at the gates of the marble city.”

What happens next is up to them. They might walk brazenly through the gate. Or perhaps they sneak in through the sewers at night. Of course, they might decide the city is clearly too dangerous and wander off in completely the opposite direction. The important thing isn’t that the players get everything they want. It’s that they get to choose.

Choices need consequences

I’ve gone into this in more detail in my previous article and I don’t want to cover the same ground. But there is an important distinction between giving people choices and giving people meaningful choices. Railroading is taken badly by the roleplaying community for a reason.

At work we can ask employees for their opinions, run surveys, hold meetings and invite suggestions. But if every decision has already been made, people quickly learn that their participation is decorative only. Autonomy requires more than asking people what they think.

People need to believe that their decisions can change something. That doesn’t mean every suggestion must be accepted. Just as the DM doesn’t have to allow every player plan to succeed, managers can’t accommodate every idea. But when someone makes a decision, we should be able to explain why it mattered.

The D&D player needs agency

Lets consider two different D&D games. In the first, the DM has written an elaborate story. The players are expected to follow the plot from A to B to C. They meet the NPC the DM has prepared, discover the clue the DM wants them to discover, travel to the location the DM has selected and fight the villain waiting there. While the adventure might be beautifully written the players can begin to feel like passengers.

In the second game, the DM establishes a world, creates problems and introduces characters with their own motivations. Then the players decide what they want to do. The DM responds to those decisions. The players might ignore the obvious villain and become obsessed with helping a farmer recover a stolen cow. They might make friends with the Sheriff who was supposed to be an antagonist. Instead of entering the carefully prepared dungeon they might go straight to the castle, because they found another way to deal with the evil necromancer.

For the DM, this can be terrifying. However, for the players, it can be fantastic. Because now the story belongs to them too. Their choices shape what happens next. That is agency. One of the great pleasures of roleplaying games.

The workplace needs agency too

Lets look at a workplace that gives people responsibility without giving them control.

  • “You’re responsible for delivering this project, but I’ll decide how you do it.”
  • “I want you to take ownership, but please run every decision past me.”
  • “I’d like you to develop professionally, but here’s exactly what you’re going to work on.”

These approaches can create accountability without autonomy which eventually leads to people feeling like they don’t own their work. Instead, they become characters following someone else’s adventure path.

A more autonomous approach might sound like:

“Here’s the outcome we need. Here’s the timeframe and the constraints. How would you approach it?”

Now the employee has something to solve. They can bring their expertise to the problem and make their own decisions. Of course, by doing so they can learn from the consequences.

That is much closer to playing a great game of D&D.

The DM doesn’t disappear

Now, beware, because there is a trap here. If autonomy is so good, it can be tempting to conclude that managers should simply get out of everyone’s way. But that’s not what autonomy means.

The DM still has a critical role. They establish the world, create challenges, introduce consequences and maintain the rules. On occasion they have to tell the players, “No, your wizard cannot summon an ancient dragon just because you rolled a natural 20.”

Good managers do much the same. They establish expectations and boundaries, while providing resources and support. Where possible they help remove obstacles and make sure people understand both the objective and the constraints.

Ultimately, they allow people to decide how to get there. The skill is knowing when to intervene and when to let the players play.

Autonomy creates ownership

One of the most interesting things about D&D is how quickly players become invested in decisions they have made themselves.

If the DM tells the party that they must defeat the corrupt town mayor, the players may care. But if the players decide that the mayor needs to be brought down because of the way he’s been bullying their characters families, the objective becomes personal. They are fully invested.

Of course, the same thing happens at work. People are more likely to feel ownership over an outcome when they have had a genuine role in determining how they will achieve it. Telling the team “We need to deliver this project by the end of the month, within this budget, while meeting these quality and safety requirements,” creates the playing field. the team then decide how to play the game. That’s autonomy.

Failure is part of autonomy

There is one final lesson that D&D offers us. If players are genuinely making decisions, sometimes they are going to make bad ones. They will open the trapped chest (there might be treasure inside…) or split the party (haven’t horror movies taught us anything?). Sometimes they will charge the ancient green dragon head on.

If we want to create autonomy for our teams at work, we have to accept the same reality. People will make mistakes. The answer isn’t to remove their ability to make decisions. Doing so creates a workplace where the safest strategy is to ask permission for everything.

Instead, we should distinguish between acceptable failure and unacceptable failure. A junior employee making a poor judgement call on a low-risk task can be an opportunity for learning. A decision that creates a serious safety risk is completely different.

Boundaries do matter. Within those boundaries, however, people need enough freedom to experiment and develop their judgement.

That’s how mastery develops too. And Pink’s three elements begin to connect.

  • Autonomy gives people the opportunity to choose.
  • Mastery gives them the opportunity to get better.
  • Purpose gives them a reason to care.

Let the players play

When thinking about autonomy, perhaps the biggest lesson D&D offers managers is surprisingly simple: Don’t write the players’ story for them. Give them the objective and resources. Explain the boundaries before letting them decide what to do.

The same is true at work. If we want people to take ownership, solve problems creatively and become more capable, we need to give them opportunities to exercise judgement.

We need to move from: “Here’s what I want you to do.” towards: “Here’s what we’re trying to achieve. How do you think we should do it?” That small change can transform the relationship between a manager and an employee. One makes someone a participant. The other makes them an owner.

Perhaps that is why D&D continues to be such a useful mirror for the workplace. The best games aren’t about the Dungeon Master telling everyone what happens. They’re about creating a world where people’s choices matter.

The best workplaces aren’t either.

Welcome to Widow’s Bay: How to Turn the Show into a Fun Call of Cthulhu Adventure

Call of Cthulhu usually gives investigators a reason to poke around in places where sensible people would turn around and go home. A strange letter, missing academic or a suspicious death. An ancient book discovered in a dusty attic. But what if your investigators aren’t detectives, professors or private investigators? What if they are the local council? That was the thought I had while watching the first few episodes of Apple TV’s Widows Bay. I won’t spoil anything beyond those opening episodes, but the combination of an isolated island, strange events, secrets and an increasingly uncomfortable atmosphere immediately made me think that this would make a fantastic Call of Cthulhu adventure. Not an adaptation of the show, exactly. More a case of taking the ingredients and putting them into the cosmic-horror blender.

And what comes out is something particularly nasty.

Welcome to the Island

Using the premise of the show the investigators are all members of the local council on a remote island. This could be set anywhere, remote Scotland, off the coast of Canada or Australia. Having it local to your actual real world location can really add to the player engagement.

Then the ferry arrives.

Start in Media Res

Don’t begin the adventure with a council meeting. Avoid spending twenty minutes having the players introduce their councillors around a table while discussing the tourism budget.

Start with the ferry.

The characters are standing on the dock as the first significant group of tourists arrives on the island. There is excitement. Cameras. Children running around. The mayor is giving an enthusiastic speech about the island’s bright future.

And then there is an accident. Something falls. Someone disappears beneath the water. Screams cut through the festival atmosphere.

And when the councillors finally see what has happened, they realise that the accident is far worse than anyone can possibly know. An onlooker has been dragged beneath the water, by something indescribable.

The council has a problem. Without the tourists the economy of the island will collapse. If the visitors on the ferry see the tragedy all will be lost. A cover up is needed. Fast.

Don’t Tell Anyone

This is where the premise gets particularly fun. The investigators now have three goals:

  • Protect the public.
  • Enhance the island’s reputation by keeping the tourism campaign alive.
  • Work out what actually happened.

Of course there are plenty of juicy complications to keep the players on their toes. Obviously, the police want to investigate, while the victims relatives are calling conspiracy to anyone that will listen. A couple of tourists are posting photographs online. Meanwhile, somewhere in the background, someone is quietly removing evidence.

Initially the investigators have every reason to believe they’re dealing with an ordinary disaster. Then things start becoming wonderfully strange.

  • An old fisherman tells them they should stop.
  • A local family refuses to cooperate.
  • Someone mentions an old story about the island, something about sacrifice and witchcraft.
  • One of the investigators notices an ancient symbol carved into the dock.

Just as in episode 2 of widows Bay, the mystery deepens very quickly.

Let the Dread Build

Now’s the time for the session to take a darker turn. The first disappearance should be pretty much explainable. The second should be suspicious. Of course the third should be impossible. By this time it becomes abundantly clear that the tourists aren’t merely disappearing. They’re being taken.

Chaos erupts. The ferry is sabotaged and panicked tourists demand to leave. The council must maintain calm and order.

The Island Itself Becomes the Monster

A great way to run this adventure would make the island feel increasingly hostile as play continues. Birds disappear. Fish wash ashore. The tides become strange. Old wells start producing salt water. The sea glows at night. People begin dreaming about enormous things moving beneath the earth.

Uncomfortably, the investigators start finding the same symbol everywhere.

  • On gravestones.
  • Inside old houses.
  • Under layers of paint.
  • Carved into fishing boats.
  • Hidden in the council archives.
  • Perhaps even beneath the foundation of the council building itself.

The island has been living with this thing for centuries.

The Tourism Campaign Becomes Horrifyingly Relevant

Of course, the council has spent months trying to attract visitors. And now they have succeeded. Unfortunately, the island needs visitors.

All these tourists descending on the island isn’t simply creating a problem. It is fulfilling part of an ancient plan. One involving sacrifices of incomers. Every new tourist group brings the island closer to its ultimate ancient god -raising goal.

Hopefully this creates a wonderful final dilemma reminiscent of the mayor keeping the beach open in Jaws. Do they shut down tourism and evacuate the island? Or keep everything quiet while they attempt to stop whatever is coming?

The Final Act

Eventually, the investigators discover what the islands end game. The missing tourists haven’t been killed. They have been taken to a crumbling temple beneath the island, where something ancient and evil awaits to be woken.

Will the investigators stop this terrible calamity and at what price?

The Inspiration Blender

As you can see, from watching 3 episodes of Widows Bay we can create a compelling one-shot or even short campaign for Call of Cthulhu, or even Ten Candles. What makes this premise particularly appealing is that it doesn’t need to come from Widows Bay alone. You can throw all sorts of influences into the pot. The Wicker Man, The Shadow Over Innsmouth, Jaws, X-files, can all add to the flavour.

So next time you sit down to watch a new show, think about how it might port onto your gaming table. You might be surprised with what you come up with.

Now remember, sometimes the most terrifying thing isn’t discovering that there is an ancient god beneath your island.

It’s discovering that you invited everyone over to meet it.

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.

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.