I still hold to my primary thoughts on character death in RPGs: that character death is a very decisive example of PC failure, and that creative game masters should instill their campaigns with a full spectrum of positive and negative outcomes that includes death but doesn’t rely on it as the primary shade of PC failure in their game. Even the simple idea of a “slain” character being taken prisoner and enslaved presents richer role-playing opportunities than all but the most heroic deaths.

I hate it. If players think that their characters will never die in combat then they’ll play recklessly, and will eventually become bored with the game, but is character death the only way to create tension in your game? A good D&D game provides a variety of challenges, not just combat challenges, and these challenges should provide a spectrum of possible outcomes, good and bad.

On the other side of the screen, why would a player even write a backstory for his character if he didn’t expect that character to make it to 2nd Level? I want the players in my game to become invested in the world and in their characters: if they’re motivated to engage the game then the prospect of failing a skill challenge, losing an ally or having to take the long way through Mordor will excite them. The possibility of character death, when raised, should horrify a player, but the “killer DMs” of the 1980s made it old hat.

As a rule of thumb, everybody gets one in my game. If a character picks the wrong fight in the first session or sticks his hand into the mouth of that demon sculpture at the end of the hallway then I’m not afraid to invoke Deus ex Machina just once just to keep them in the game–to give them a chance to build some ties to the campaign, to make that backstory worth their time, and maybe to introduce a story hook (the wandering cleric who saved your life requires a favor of you…).

3rd and 4th Edition have drastically increased both the power and durability of 1st Level characters, which is great, but in a long-term campaign I’ll always give a low-level character one pass. After all…

Take, for instance, Aaslund the Innkeeper. When the characters entered his inn you pulled his name off a list and, after glancing at another list, decided he was greedy. It would be simple to say that he’s just a shrewd businessman pinches every penny: that motivation makes sense and you can run with it. In this capacity Aaslund will forever be lost to the history of your campaign.
But what if you took a second to think of another reason why Aaslund is greedy? What if he’s scrambling for gold so he can afford to move to another town? He might be afraid of the newly-appointed Captain of the guard, whom he used to pick on as a child, and who is now shaking him down for protection money. These few simple details will make Aaslund a memorable NPC (as opposed to the guy whom the PCs pay for their night’s rest).

Aaslund’s municipal nemesis might be symptomatic of the widespread corruption that the player characters are already investigating: this would integrate Aaslund the innkeeper into a larger campaign story arc. The Captain’s protection racket might be an isolated incident which gives your players the opportunity to complete a small side quest. Aaslund’s quarrel with the Captain might just be a bit of local color to make the PC’s stay at the inn more interesting.

Understanding the motivations of common “set piece” NPCs (e.g. barmaids, blacksmiths, or palace guards) will help you bring them to life. At the very least these well-developed characters will give your players a stronger sense of setting and spur them on to some in-character role-playing. In other situations you can use “set piece” NPCs to launch side quests, highlight larger campaign themes or even provide another “point of entry” for your adventures.

It would be silly if every stable boy were an exiled prince, and it would be a burden on the Dungeon Master to script a background for every beggar or minstrel that crosses the PC’s path. It helps to think of specific NPC backgrounds during adventure design and to keep a mental “bank” of generic NPC backgrounds to use at your discretion. When fleshing out minor NPCs on the fly the most important thing is to work with your players: if a character suddenly takes a shine to a particular gardener then roll with it and use an appropriate motivational hook from your NPC “bank” to keep the story moving and reward the player for interacting with the game world.

If you don’t believe me then try this experiment: the next time your player characters get into a fight with, oh, say, some kobold, and only one is left standing, give that kobold a name. Have him throw down his weapon, beg for mercy and explain that he drifted into a life of banditry because he looked up to his older brother, who also robbed caravans. Make him pledge to lead a straight-and-narrow life.

He’s still just a kobold. He may or may not know anything that would help the PCs in their quest. He might suffer a coup-de-grace at the hands of a particularly cold-hearted Striker, or he might resurface as a paladin ten sessions down the road. But your players will remember him and regardless of whether or not they let him live they will have more fun than if he were just another minion who fled or died anonymously.

NPCs give a Dungeon Master the best return on his design investment because they draw players in: a funny shopkeeper can loosen the players up, a haughty nobleman can push their buttons, and a nasty villain can motivate even the most combat-oriented player to kick a little more ass. NPCs close the distance between the players and the Dungeon Master in a powerful and direct way: well-crafted, well-played NPCs are the sharpest arrows that a DM can have in his quiver.

So how do you create great NPCs?

In my travels I’ve seen lists of names (and one application that makes them obsolete), complex lists of personality traits and backgrounds, and even collections of canned NPCs. These resources belong in any DM’s toolbox but a name and a personality quirk or two aren’t enough to bring that gnomish librarian to life. He needs something else.

He needs a motivation.

In the words of award-winning screenwriter and playwright Aaron Sorkin, “I try not to show the audience who the character is, I try to show what the character wants.” Gruver the paranoid gnomish librarian (who frequently sneezes into a giant red handkerchief) is all well and good, but if you want your players to immerse themselves in your game then you’re going to have to do better than that. You need to know why Gruver is paranoid and, if the opportunity presents itself, pass that knowledge along to the player characters.

Motivation is the heart of any fictional character: it brings them to life and keeps them moving. Motivated NPCs are also close to the heart of your role as Dungeon Master: they pump fresh blood into your campaign–not just by explaining why things happen but by informing how things happen and, sometimes, even making things happen.

In future articles I’ll explain in greater depth the ways that motivated NPCs can enhance your campaign. Until then, motivate yourself to get your NPCs into the game: if you do then you’ll bring that much more of the game into your players’ heads.