Ditch the Lore Dump, Mate: The Glorious Anarchy of Starting Your TTRPG Mid-Punch
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Jeff dives into the glorious chaos of TTRPGs that kick off *in medias res*, ditching slow setups for immediate action and high stakes. He reckons it's a thrilling way to play, forcing instant immersion and clever improvisation, even if it's not for every player or every game.
Right, so you know that feeling when you're gearing up for a big gaming session, maybe a new TTRPG campaign, and you spend the first hour or two just... listening? Lore dumps, character backstories, world-building exposition that, let's be fair, often sails right over your head until you're actually *doing* something? Yeah, I reckon we’ve all been there.
Well, what if I told you there's a different way? A way that kicks down the door to your adventure, punches you in the face (metaphorically, mostly), and throws you straight into the deep end, no life raft required. I’ve been tinkering with this idea all morning, and bloody hell, it’s wilder than it first appeared. It’s all about the glorious anarchy of the ‘cold open’ in one-shot TTRPGs, and honestly, it’s a bit like casting a spell and having it work a bit *too* well.
Imagine this: you've just been handed a character sheet, barely skimmed the stats, and suddenly your GM is telling you you’re tied to a chair in a dingy trailer. A frantic woman is screaming in your face, demanding to know 'Where is it?!' You're a biker gang leader – that's all you know. No intro, no context, just pure, unadulterated chaos. Sound familiar? It’s a cracker of an anecdote from Tasha Robinson over at Polygon, and it perfectly encapsulates why this 'start in the middle' approach is pure genius for one-shots.
For a lot of us, the default TTRPG experience, especially with published D&D or Pathfinder campaigns, is a gentle ramp-up. You meet in a tavern (always a tavern, eh?), get a low-stakes quest, maybe clear out some goblins from a basement. It’s comforting, it’s familiar, it builds relationships. And look, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that! I’m a sucker for a good character-first or collaborative world-building session myself. Sometimes you want that slow burn, that rich narrative stew. But sometimes, mate, you just want to *eat the dessert first*.
That immediate plunge into danger, like being dropped straight into a boss fight without a tutorial, instantly focuses everyone at the table. Suddenly, you're not just players; you're a team facing an urgent, life-or-death problem. You're forced to make decisions *fast*, to embody your character through action rather than lengthy introspection. It’s less about planning every meticulous step (which, let’s be honest, can sometimes devolve into an hour of 'but what if we did *this*?' debates) and more about reacting, adapting, and improvising on the fly. It's the ultimate 'what happens if...' experiment.
And some designers are absolute wizards at it. Take John Harper, the bloke behind *Blades in the Dark*. His pick-up-and-play masterpiece, *Lady Blackbird*, starts you already captured by Imperial forces, deep in the enemy's ship. Your goal is clear: escape. The characters are pre-gens, instantly recognisable archetypes (think *Star Wars* meets *Firefly*), so there's no faffing about with character creation. You're just straight into the action, wits against the galaxy. It’s intuitive design that doesn't just lower the barrier to entry; it obliterates it with a dramatic explosion.
Harper's not alone in this clever trickery. Will Hindmarch’s *Always/Never/Now*, a cyberpunk re-imagining of *Lady Blackbird*, drops you right into a crucial server facility, immediately embroiled in combat. And then there's Meguey Baker’s *Psi*Run*, a delightfully simple, endlessly reskinnable game where the PCs start with amnesia, superpowers, and powerful enemies hot on their heels. The game literally kicks off with 'a crash' and the text itself commands, 'Get out. Get out! RUN!' Talk about a dramatic entrance, eh? It’s pure chaos, but it’s *optimistic* chaos, daring you to embrace the unknown.
Even Grant Howitt, a designer I’m genuinely enthusiastic about for his wildly inventive scenarios, specialises in this stuff. Ever wanted to play a vampire commando dropped into occupied Paris to *drink all of Adolf Hitler's blood*? That’s *Eat the Reich* for you. No preamble, no lengthy setup – just a deliciously dark, ridiculous premise and a clear objective. It’s like discovering a secret cheat code for instant fun.
Now, you might be thinking, 'Jeff, mate, this sounds all well and good for these indie darlings, but what about my tried-and-true D&D or Pathfinder?' And fair dinkum, you’ve got a point. But here's the clever observation: there’s absolutely no reason these principles can't apply to more traditional systems either! If players are using familiar characters or are in a well-established setting, you can absolutely skip the pleasantries. Adventures like Pathfinder’s *Worldwound Incursion*, which opens with a demonic incursion tearing open a city, or 5E's *Hoard of the Dragon Queen*, starting with a town under dragon attack, prove it. It's about a confident GM making a decision to push the players, to make them ask 'what now?' instead of 'what should we do?'.
Of course, like any powerful spell, there are caveats. This 'in medias res' approach isn't for everyone. Some players genuinely love the collaborative world-building, the slow burn of character development, or simply get anxious if they feel rushed into decisions. And GMs, well, they've got to be on their A-game. Rolling with unexpected player decisions and filling in the lore gaps on the fly requires a certain kind of improvisational wizardry. It can also subtly reduce player agency if not handled carefully – that feeling of 'how did my character *get* into this mess?' can be a feature, but it can also be a bug if players feel their choices were robbed.
But for those moments, those one-off sessions, or when you’ve got limited time and just want to get to the juicy bits, this style of play is a revelation. It bypasses the endless planning, the hesitant steps into danger, and the 'should we really do this?' debates. It’s an embrace of the unexpected, a digital wizard's trick to create instant immersion and high stakes. It’s not about fixing something that’s broken, but about discovering a thrilling new way to play – a delicious treat for when you're craving immediate adventure.
So, next time you're planning a one-shot, consider ditching the extensive setup. Just throw your players into the fire, mate. See what happens. I reckon you might just blow a hole in their expectations, and find something truly magical.
*This article draws inspiration from Tasha Robinson's insights on Polygon, originally titled "The best one-shot TTRPGs work best when they start in the middle of the action" (published on Polygon.com).*
Tags: TTRPGs, Game Design, One-Shot Adventures, Storytelling, GM Tips
Original article: Polygon