Oh stop giving me that look. I may have gotten a little carried away when it came to writing a volume on the ecology of the swamp adjacent to my character’s hometown. But the 33rd volume is an index. He’ll figure it out.
While not to this extent, I am so very guilty as charged this time. I can’t help myself. If Floyd tells me we’re rolling up in two weeks, the gears start turning right away. Where was my character born? Who are his parents? Who’s his best friend? What’s his greatest phobia? How does he feel about local politics of the region?
And then I start thinking about stats.
Floyd’s strength is worldbuilding. He’s crafted some amazing environments for us to interact with, given us airship battles above towering cities, marveled us with clandestine intrigues, and scared the bejeezus out of us. I have to do my best to keep up. It’s a lot of the fun of the game for me, creating an entity that can really make an engaging part of the story.
My favorite character was Enoch. I don’t know if y’all are familiar with a little publication for 3.5 called The Book of Exalted Deeds, but they had some vows in there that were incredible character choices. I find that sometimes limiting yourself spurs the most creativity, and nothing was more restrictive than the Vow of Peace. Literally you committed yourself to not killing any creatures. It was a total change in the gameplay experience: in combat my role was totally focused on support. In the end, Enoch gave his life to save the rest of the party from an oncoming orc horde. My character died, and I have hardly ever been so satisfied with a gaming session.
And I didn’t even leatherbind the tomes that time.