- The elves are extinct.
Or so everyone thought, until a peasant found me, an abandoned... (buzzer)
- Nope, not that one. - I live a peaceful, happy life running a successful magic item
shop with my dear husband... (buzzer) - Next. - When I slew my first adult dragon... (buzzer) - Absolutely not. We've all heard the horror stories: Players who write character backstories that piss off their game masters, annoy their fellow players, and make the entire game less fun. But the fact is, for most tabletop games, you need some kind of backstory. So, how do you do backstory right? Let's talk about the
five most common mistakes that can spell disaster for
your character backstory. Some of these may be things
you've already heard, but at least one of
them might surprise you, especially coming from me. Plus, I'll share two things that people think are bad backstory habits that I think are actually fine. Let's get into it. (bright music) It's very sweet that you
run a magic item shop with your loving husband. And I'm glad it's so successful! So... why are you leaving all that behind and pursuing the dangerous and unpredictable life of an adventurer? There's a famous screenwriting
book called "Save the Cat" that breaks down successful
movies into a series of beats. Now, this book isn't about
a formula for movie writing; it's about identifying the patterns that consistently appear in
the stories that we connect to. One of the establishing
beats in a good story is called the catalyst, and it's absolutely necessary, because it's the reason the
protagonist's life changes and they have to do something
exciting and worth watching. The whole point of the catalyst is that it forces the hero to change, by making it impossible to return to their previous way of life. Now, obviously, tabletop
games are not movies, and there are plenty of things
that work well in a movie that don't work well in
a game and vice versa. But in this case, I think the catalyst is just as important for
a character backstory as it is for a screenplay. If you're starting at level
one, or even at level three, your character is new to adventuring. So... why is that? Why did they not choose to
start adventuring before, and why have they started now? What changed? What life-altering event has forced them out of the status quo? This not only guides your
character choices in-game, but it also gives your character
a goal that motivates them, which is essential for roleplay. Now, I'm not saying your
character can't own a magic shop and have a husband. I'm just saying, what happened next? - I lived a peaceful, happy life running a successful magic
item shop with my dear husband, until he was kidnapped. I closed the shop's
doors and packed my bags. I'll do whatever it takes
to bring him back safely. - Or maybe... - Until our shop was robbed! All those magic items, gone! Along with our livelihood. My husband will stay back
to make repairs to the shop and take care of our home, while I recover the goods. - Or even... - Until one day, we were stocking
the shelves with new items and I laid hands on what turned
out to be a cursed blade. Now I must embark on a quest
to rid myself of this evil hex that I may safely return home. - Some of you might be
thinking, "But Ginny, you yourself made a video about how backstories
don't have to be tragic," and you're absolutely right. A catalyst doesn't have to be tragedy. Maybe your character gets
an incredible opportunity that's worth up-ending their life for. Maybe their pet goldfish starts speaking to them telepathically, claiming to know the location of a legendary magical artifact. Maybe they received a mysterious package that contained a magical pair of shoes that transformed their destiny. Oh, no, sorry, I got that mixed up. That's the plot of today's sponsorship. Let's cut to that real quick. - Converse is dropping its first-ever "Dungeons
and Dragons" collection, so they sent me a few pairs of
Chucks! And... this message? Let's see here. "Choose your D&D player." Weird. (epic music) (epic music continues) Whoa! Whoever decided to
trust me with this power made a huge mistake. - I actually think that would be a great life-changing moment for a character. Why not mysterious magic shoes? But be careful because there's another
potential pitfall waiting for you in the process of figuring out what drove your character to adventure. Which brings us to the next
common backstory mistake. It might sound like a strong catalyst for a character to learn that they're actually the
rightful heir to the throne, raised in secret to avoid the notice of
the violent usurpers. But that doesn't work if
the world you're playing in doesn't have a hereditary monarchy. You can't play a magic school professor in a world where magic has been outlawed and driven underground. You can't play an elf in a world where elves have been extinct for thousands of years. Your character doesn't exist in a vacuum. If you don't understand
the world of the game, it's easy to build your character on a foundation that doesn't
actually fit into that world. The solution could be as simple as just knowing what official
game setting you'll be using or what pantheon of gods
your game master accepts. But if you're playing in a
fully home-brewed setting, it could be much more complex than that. That's why it's absolutely essential to communicate with your GM first, before you even start brainstorming, about what their world looks like. Not only does this help
you avoid contradicting any of that world-building
in your backstory, but it even gives you the
chance to intentionally build on the things your GM
has chosen to focus on. For example, if you ask about their world and they tell you about
a huge, destructive war that has completely
reshaped the continent, you might choose to create a character who was displaced by this
war or who fought in it. That way, your character isn't
incidental to this world, they are a product of it. That's gonna make for
a really engaged game. This isn't just about avoiding plot holes or continuity errors, it's also about showing your game master that you respect and care
about their intentions with this game, and that you want to
collaborate with them. And of course, this doesn't always mean
deferring to your game master. Some GMs have a firm idea of the setting they want to play in, but others might want
to incorporate players into the world-building. When I created my deep
gnome barbarian Penelope, my game master didn't really
have much world-building around underground civilization, so he told me I could create my own. In some systems, collaboratively building
the world with the players is built into the game mechanics. In the end, it doesn't really matter where world-building originates, as long as everybody's on the same page. For the next backstory bad habit, I want to return briefly to the catalyst. I mentioned that it's really important that your character has a
goal to guide your roleplay. That's the magic item shop owner wanting to rescue her kidnapped husband, or recover the stolen goods, or rid herself of the cursed blade. Goals like this are great for
motivating your character. When you make decisions during sessions, you can return to those goals and ask, "How would my character
respond to this situation in order to bring her closer to her goal?" But while that goal is the
character's top priority, it shouldn't be the player's top priority. Let me explain what I mean. Take the magic shop owner. She sets out to recover the things that were stolen from her shop. But maybe along the way, she learns that they were
stolen by an evil mage who dismantled them in order
to siphon their magical power to build a terrible weapon. So... those items don't exist anymore. Does she give up and go home? Does she get angry at the game master for throwing off her plans
and quit the campaign? Obviously, neither of
those responses are fun, either for the player or
for the rest of the group. But here's a response that I
think would be a lot more fun. - It's not about the stolen items anymore. It's one thing to hurt me, but he's going to hurt
millions of innocent people if his plan succeeds. We need to take this mage down. - Or, how about this response? - If he can't return
what he stole from me, he'll have to compensate me another way. I'll do whatever I must to
back this thief into a corner and make him pay for
what he's taken from me. - Or maybe even this one! - The power that mage
stole from me isn't gone. It's just been transferred. It's my items that have
created this weapon, so that means the weapon
is rightfully mine. Let's go take it back! - All of these responses come from a player choosing
to engage with the plot hook that their GM has thrown at them. Because while the
character knows their goal, the player recognizes that
the goal is a means to an end. It's motivation for roleplay, not a predetermined plan
for what's going to happen in the campaign. Now, put this way, it might seem obvious, but this mistake is a lot harder to spot when the goal is emotional or mental, instead of practical. For example, a lot of
people create a character who is suffering from some
trauma or internal struggle, intending that over
the course of the game, they will heal, or learn
to overcome that struggle. Say, a loner who discovers
found family and learns to love. While this might be an
attractive prospect, it locks the player into a
set arc for their character. And that's just not how
improvised storytelling works. You have no idea what's going
to happen to your character over the course of this game. What will they go through? How will the people they
meet influence them? In my opinion, having rigid expectations for your character's future makes it difficult, or even impossible, to fully immerse yourself in the game and experience your character's
journey authentically by reacting to what they encounter. That's what's fun about tabletop games. If you wanted to tell an entire story with no outside input or risk of surprise, you can just write a book. Maybe the things they
experience will harden them and make them afraid of
connecting with others too deeply. Maybe their weakness turns
out to be a strength, and they learn to embrace
it, instead of overcoming it. Maybe they'll go through
a whole villain arc. But you won't know until you
actually play the campaign. Speaking of writing a book, let's talk about the backstory mistake that I think people might be
surprised to hear me criticize. I'm a person who uses a lot of words. Sometimes more words that
I need to, some might say! So it should not surprise you to hear that I often write pages and
pages of narrative fiction for my backstories. But I promise you, I am
not being hypocritical when I say that it's a huge mistake to write a backstory that's
too long or too detailed. There are really three
different reasons for this. First, you don't want to
force your game master to read a novel in order
to run a game for you. Not only do they already have plenty to do in preparing the campaign, you are not the only player. It's not fair to make it so that they have to
spend huge amounts of time reading your player character fan fiction just to incorporate your
backstory into the game. Caveat here: I am not saying that you can't write pages of narrative if that's part of your process or helps you get to know the character. I know it helps me. But your game master
does not need to read it! Give them the CliffsNotes version. Maybe they'll want to read
your ten page Google doc, but for the love of god,
at least make it optional. And of course, if you do choose to be that
extra with your backstory, it's really important
that you stay flexible about the stuff you write. That's because the second reason to avoid an excessive backstory is that you don't want to
create something so specific and so locked-in that your game master doesn't
have anywhere to play. If they decide to bring one of the NPCs from your character's past into a session, they need freedom to make decisions about that character's
mannerisms, motivations, and abilities. If they want to weave
your character's history into the overarching plot of the campaign, they need to have the freedom to use elements from your backstory in ways that surprise you. And finally, the third reason is that you don't want to
write so much backstory that your character's
arc has already happened. The most exciting, most
heroic part of their journey should be ahead of them, not behind them. You want to bring a character to the table so that their story can be
written during sessions, as a collaborative effort with the other people at the table. Now, there are some game masters out there who don't want backstory at all. I've seen them firsthand, usually saying rude things
in the comments on my videos. So I will say, I do think it's a good idea to ask your game master what they expect in terms of backstory length and depth. If a GM told me that a backstory
longer than two sentences would be a problem, I would simply choose to
not play at that table. As always, communication is key to making sure everyone's
expectations are aligned. Okay, we've made it to the
final backstory bad habit. To some people, this
one will seem obvious, but it comes up enough in
tabletop gaming communities that I think it's still worth mentioning. Make sure your backstory and your character's level are aligned. This means that no, a level
one adventurer in a D&D game has not already slain a dragon. You are not a renowned, deadly assassin whose name is fearfully
whispered in criminal circles. And you are not a high-ranking noble with access to extreme wealth and power. I think some of this stems not from ego or a deliberate desire to overreach, but from a genuine lack of understanding of what a character level means. After all, the D&D player's handbook goes out of its way to
assure you that adventurers, even at level one, are special. They are stronger and more
powerful than a commoner, because this is a game about heroes. If you're genuinely not sure about what's within reach for
a character of your level, you can always ask your game master, just to make sure that your backstory doesn't end up on an RPG
Horror Stories subreddit. But wait, I'm not here to fearmonger. I am truly trying to help
you write better backstories for better games. So I also want to talk about two things that you might've heard
people in tabletop communities talk [bleep] about. In my opinion, people
complain about these things not because they make games worse, but because they're being judgmental or want to feel superior. First, cliches. For my very first D&D character, my heart of hearts wanted
to play a magic elf, but that felt cliche, and I
was embarrassed about that. So instead, I made a character
that felt more unique, but that I was less excited about. Within a few months, I had to ask my DM if I
could change characters. And when I did, I had so much more fun. Look, you're not trying
to publish a novel. You're playing a game with your friends. So what if your idea
isn't completely original? Maybe it's been done
before because it's a fun, interesting concept that
people connect with. Plus, even a cliché concept will unfold in its own unique way once it's actually being
played at the table and shaped by the events of the game. The second thing that I don't
actually think is a mistake is getting too invested in your character. If it wasn't already evident, I can get a little bit obsessive about character development. Penelope has pages of backstory, a handmade scrapbook-style
character journal, Spotify playlists, custom artwork. I even made all of her
clothes from scratch so I could cosplay her. One of the things people love to comment on my character journal
video is some version of, "Ha ha, wouldn't it be so
funny if she did all this and then her character died next session?" Straight-up, that feels
mean-spirited to me. They see me caring about something, and their first impulse is to fantasize about me being punished for that. I'm passionate about my characters, and my game masters love that about me. Even if Penelope dies, I am not going to regret caring about her. Her death will be more meaningful because I was so invested in her. If your GM explicitly tells you, "This is a meat grinder, you
should have back-up characters, don't get attached," then you can adjust your
expectations around that. But otherwise, if anyone tells you that investing emotionally
in your character is a bad habit or a mistake, I invite you to ignore them. That's probably a person who
is afraid of being vulnerable by caring about stuff. And I don't know about you, but I do not [bleep]
with that kind of person. Their opinion is not relevant to me. Okay, Ginny, calm down. Now that you know the most
common backstory mistakes, you are all set to play. But, what do you actually
DO with that backstory? Don't worry, I've got you. This video is all about how
to use the things you wrote into your character's history to motivate your roleplay at the table. Phew. I need to go do some
deep breathing exercises.
