Character Development: Hot Potato

Are your players starting to get predictable?  Does your group include that guy who always plays a brooding loner with a katana, or a shining and virtuous knight?  Do you want to shake things up a bit, but without being heavy-handed about it?

I have a character creation method I call the Hot Potato that I use when I feel a new campaign needs something a little different.  Provided your players are reasonably mature, this method might work for you, too.

The basic idea is simple:  Each player gets to write a part of another player’s background.

In its simplest form, you choose a player to start off the process.  That player chooses another player, and states one fact about that other player’s background.  This might be anything from “Your little brother disappeared mysteriously when you were ten years old” to “Your father was a stablehand in the Duke’s employ” to “Your favorite color is red”.  Whatever statement is chosen is true for that character, and the player should work it into the character’s background and personality.

At the game master’s discretion, the statement may turn out to be false — but the character, at the start of the campaign, will believe it’s true.  For instance, if the statement is “Your mother was framed for murder and executed by King Steven,” but King Steven is meant to be a heroic NPC and a patron to the PCs later in the campaign, then the GM could decide that the character was misinformed by enemies of the king — or that the character’s mother was actually guilty.  The GM need not inform the players if this is the case; keeping it secret could be much more dramatic.

The GM could also decide to run with it.  You’re shaking up the characters a bit; it’s only fair if they shake back.  If a statement seems like it will lead to more interesting things within the campaign than your own idea, don’t be hesitant to pursue it.  Why would good King Steven do such a thing?  Was he replaced by a doppelganger and forced to execute the character’s mother when she inadvertently discovered his secret?  Was he really evil all along, and just working on building the goodwill of the people in order to make his Grand Evil Scheme ™ easier to accomplish?  Was he forced into the act somehow in order to prevent a greater catastrophe?

If the player is absolutely opposed to a statement, he may veto it.  This protects a player from a “ruined” character concept:  if he really wants to play a virtuous knight, he can reject “Your favorite hobby is murdering children.”  But he might still be intrigued by “Your uncle runs the local thieves’ guild” or “You grew up a beggar on the streets of the capital.”  How does the virtuous knight approach the fact that his uncle runs crime in the area?  How did a beggar boy manage to be trained as a knight?  These are the sorts of questions this exercise is meant to provoke.

Even the “favorite color” example earlier should lead to some development of character:  why red?  What does it signify to him?  Does he paint his armor red?  If he always wears red, is it a superstition?  A religious vow?  A cultural taboo?

Once the player has accepted a statement, it’s his turn to choose another player and continue the process.  Each player should choose a player who has not yet accepted a statement.  To simplify things, you might want to simply go clockwise or counterclockwise around the table — that ensures that everyone gets to accept one statement and assign one statement, and it makes it easy to keep track of who’s already had a turn.

There are several ways to run the exercise:  You can do it before character conception, so that each player builds a character with the statement already in mind; you can do it after conception but before creation, so that each player can tell the others what sort of character he intends to play, and the others can take that into consideration when making statements; or you can do it after creation, and have the players work the statements into the backgrounds they’ve already developed (which might require fairly extensive rewriting, in some cases).  I find the second method — after conception but before creation — works very well.

If your players really want something different, you can continue the exercise beyond a single round, or even allow each player to give a statement to each other player.  The danger here is that backgrounds could start seeming disjointed; it’s usually not hard to work in a statement or two, but five or six can be another matter.

If your players really trust each other, you could go so far as to have each write a full background for another player’s character, with that player retaining the right to minor edits.  Of course, this would be a more heavy-handed approach.

Aside from getting players to stretch a little and play characters who are a bit outside of their usual range, the Hot Potato method has one other advantage:  Everyone at the table will be much more familiar with the characters’ backgrounds before play starts.  The GM will have ideas for plot hooks, while the players will know more about what makes their characters tick.  When they come into contact with the thieves’ guild or need to go to the court of King Steven, this will pay roleplay dividends, because all of the players will already be familiar with the relationships underlying the story.  It’s no longer just a plot hook for one member of the group; it’s something the whole group knew about from the beginning of the campaign.  It will be something they’ve had a hand in creating, and often the players will care more deeply about it for that reason.

Related posts:

1. Character Development: Flashbacks
2. Character Development: Quick and Dirty Backgrounds
3. Launching a Campaign: The Ground Rules Sheet
4. Round-Robin Gamemastering
5. Launching a Campaign: Realism vs. Ease