Gates, Chests, Keys & More: The Elements of an Adventure

I wrote the original version of this as a way to explain how to prep an adventure session in DIE. It ended up being something much more about the fundamental structure of an adventure, full stop. You strip everything away, what does an adventure look like? DIE generates a lot of loose ideas, so giving some ideas of how to organise them felt important. Eventually as the core DIE Rituals game actually comes with a self-organising structure, it became less essential to the book, and so was cut. I was never quite 100% happy with it, but everyone else seemed to find it useful, especially folks who I was primarily aiming it at (as in, new folks.) I’ve tweaked it a little here to be less purely DIE – I think these basic structural shape is a useful way to think of prep in any game which works in this mode.

DIE Rituals has a standard format – a series of necessary encounters you complete before reaching the final encounter. It’s written with a self-creating structure – a check-list of necessary encounters you work though, turning the questions to the players when you don’t know what happens next and so on.

However, especially in a longer DIE Campaign, you may want to have a plan for a session, to arrange your material in something you can use, and the players can find their way through.

In practice, it’s merely a more elaborate version of: “Where are they at the start? Where are they at the end? What’s to stop them from getting from the former to latter?”

This is how we conceive of the various “Elements of an Adventure”.

  1. Gates
  2. Chests
  3. Keys
  4. Signposts
  5. Smoke Machines
  6. Menus

ELEMENTS OF AN ADVENTURE

1) GATES

A problem which means you cannot progress in this direction unless circumvented in some way. A locked gate is the classic example of a Gate. To open it, you need to open it with a Key. Or something that can bash it down. Or someone to open it from the other side. Or any other way a player could work out to get past it.

It doesn’t have to be so literal. A monster that won’t let you pass is a Gate too. A monster could state that it wants gold to let you pass, which makes its “Gate” nature clearer, but most monsters could desire something that would let you get past them. Whatever that is, that is their Key. Some Gates don’t have Keys and need to be bashed down with force. In other words, any monster encounter which blocks your progress is a Gate.

A well-signalled Gate tells players to work out what to do to get past it, and can logically guide them to other places. A monster that says it wants its memories of a lost love back, when the players saw a lost-memory emporium previously on their travels, implies a course of action which doesn’t involve hitting the monster.

Gates are what create the structure and pace of your adventure. The more you have, the harder it will be to get to the final encounter, and the longer it’ll take.

For example, in Lord of Rings, the Door to enter Moria is a Gate. The Balrog is also a Gate – it’s the thing which stops the party from leaving Moria.

2) CHESTS

A problem which does not block the players’ progress. A Chest in a room sits there, and you can just ignore it and carry on your way. The classic example of a Chest is a locked chest. You can find its key and unlock it. You can pick its lock. You can break it open. You can do pretty much anything to get inside it.

Once more, it can be less literal. A casual, non-threatening monster sitting in the room, relaxing, who has the memories of another monster’s lost love in its back pocket is a Chest. A merchant selling things is a Chest. A seer who knows the weakness of the Master’s greatest champion is a Chest.

Chests primary use is to contain Keys.

For example, the ents of Fangorn having a big old chat are a Chest. The hobbits strictly speaking needn’t have interacted with them that much, but by doing so, they gain the ability to kick the shit out of Saruman.

3) KEYS

A thing which solves a problem the player faces, allowing progress. The classic example of a Key is a key, which unlocks its matching lock. Once more, we need not be so literal. A Key could be a magical chant, a rare item, making two warring families be at peace, or simple and necessary information. A password is  a Key… but so is someone revealing the actual location of something you’re looking for. Currency is the great all-purpose Key for greedy Monsters Gates.

Keys are usually rewards. They are often found in Chests. They are rarely left lying around, but you never know. The sword Arthur tugged from a stone worked pretty well, though, strictly speaking in our terminology, the Sword in the Stone is a Chest.

It’s worth noting what isn’t included in this list, which is treasure. You can absolutely give players treasure, but this is not actually a structural concern. The only treasure you need to consider at the large-scale planning stage is that which solves future problems.

Remember: players often create their own Keys in the process of play. You don’t need to worry about this.

For example, the hobbits knowing that Fangorn has been cut down by Saruman is a Key. They use it to unlock the Chest of the Ent’s rage.

4) SIGNPOSTS

Exposition is a dirty word, but some is needed to orientate. The signpost’s only purpose is to provide useful information to the player. The classic example of a Signpost is a signpost, which presents its information to you if you look at it. Once more, there is no need to be so literal. The bartender who tells the players that the Master who rules the dungeon lives on the lowest level is also a Signpost.

(The bartender who needs to be convinced to give you that information is a Chest.)

This information may also be a Key to unlock a Gate or a Chest (but they’re not a good Gate or Chest if it just takes a Signpost to get past them). it’s more likely it will be used to point players in the direction of a problem.

In other words, a Key is best defined as a way to solve a specific problem. A Signpost lets you know what the problems are, in a more general sense.

For example, Gandalf turning up to tell Frodo everything about this big scary ring and what they have to do to get rid of it is a Signpost.

5) SMOKE MACHINES

Sometimes an encounter is about the vibe, man. It differs from a Signpost in that it is not meant to provide information. It is meant to provide feelings. This is something which exists to present a creepy idea or mood, and is not necessarily even meant to be interacted with. The classic example of a Smoke Machine is a smoke machine, a device which pumps out a lot of fake smoke which makes everyone feel like things are well moody. Other Smoke Machines include rooms full of faceless children typing out lists of things their parents did which made them feel guilty.

For example, every fucking song in Lord of the Rings is a Smoke Machine, because no-one actually reads them, and so fail to realise Tolkien probably thought they were Signposts.

6) MENUS

Where the players are presented with an either/or choice. The classic example of a Menu is a menu, which lists various options of food you can eat. This ritualised choice is pretty common in Fantasy stories. They are also common in Buzzfeed quizzes, in terms of deciding whether you are more like Thanos or Rocket Racoon. Our Menus are likely to range from which magical ally will join you on the quest to defeat the Master, to whether you’d rather stroke your dead cat or dead dog one more time. DIE is a game of many tones.

Menus also include moral choices, as anyone who’s ever played a Bioware RPG will tell you.

The fundamental thing about a Menu is that it is a choice. Options may be unwise, but if you are not seriously planning anyone to take it, it’s a Menu.

For example, Galadriel deciding not to take the one ring is a Menu.

ARRANGING  THE ELEMENTS

Chests and Gates will be the majority of your real encounters. These are encounters which are likely to slow the player in a meaningful way. Chests, because they will likely be engaged with to get a Key (or just out of nosiness) and Gates because they will literally prevent progress.

The point of thinking of your adventure in terms of Gates, Chests and Keys is to ensure there is a path through, not to necessarily dictate the path.

Smoke Machines and Signposts are unlikely to be sizeable encounters. Signposts are required for the logic of a dungeon to connect things.

Smoke machines, by definition, do nothing bar create mood. It’s worth noting that this means they are not connected to the necessary path of the scenario – but it’s certainly possible they could escalate to something bigger. A roomful of dragon corpses, each wearing the jerseys of your old school football team, may be atmosphere. If someone tries to raise them from the dead, that changes to something more active – this can be filed under “players create Keys”. Smoke Machines are useful things to have to throw into the story to taste.

If a Signpost encounter goes on too long, and you’re actually giving exposition all the way through it, something has likely gone amiss. Also your players will likely not be paying attention.

Menus can be sizeable encounters, or a smaller one. It’s likely a menu is the end of a story for a player – if you’re playing episodically, a Menu makes a great final encounter. All DIE games’ final encounter is a Menu – do the players choose to go home or not. To return to the Tolkien metaphor, Frodo at Mount Doom with the ring is a Menu.

It’s worth noting that Menus are perhaps one of the more advanced sorts of encounters. Don’t feel you’re doing it wrong if your logic structure only includes Chests, Keys and Gates.

For example, A GM sits down with a bunch of ideas and wonders how to to arrange them into an evening’s entertainment. The GM decided that the final confrontation with the Master is in their secret lair. The players can’t get there, so the GM needs to make up an encounter that is a Gate to stop the players getting there. They want their game to have three main encounters – that’s about the amount of stuff their group fits into a session. So as the Gate is one, they add two Chests each of which provides a Key. Both Keys are needed to open the locked Gate . Oh – they also realise they need something to point the players in the right direction to the secret lair, so they’ll need a Signpost scene.

That means they need ideas for three sizeable encounters (the two Chests and the Gate) and a Signpost to have a backbone for their game. So this, in the most basic level, is their structure…

Ideas for more Signpost or Smoke Machine scenes could be fun to have additionally, as they rarely slow the  players down. An idea for another Gate scene could also be useful, or another Chest scene to give the players more options to get past the Gate.

With this in mind, they can look at their notes, and see what fits the bill, figuring any extra cool things can be used as Smoke Machines.

[Art Credit]


Comments

5 responses to “Gates, Chests, Keys & More: The Elements of an Adventure”

  1. AvtrSpirit Avatar
    AvtrSpirit

    Great article! As I’ve been playing a lot of FATE recently, I’ve had the thought of designing the core of an adventure as conceptual version of FATE’s zones.

    Sometimes zones just need to be surveyed to find adjacent zones. “The murdered wizard was holding a picture of the duchess and was stabbed with a Templar’s sword. We know where we have to investigate next.”

    But sometimes the pathway to an adjacent zone is locked. “The duchess is in hiding? We need to know where she is!” And only a key can open that path.

    So, the idea of gates and keys was tossing around in my mind as well, with an implicit menu as the zones would be physically sketched for players to keep track of. But I hadn’t considered chests and smoke machines as their own things. Really cool framing!

  2. WJ Avatar
    WJ

    Interesting. I’m currently wrestling with running a Call of Cthulhu campaign, published back in the 1990s (not one of the more famous ones, and I’m starting to see why), and I have a sudden urge to review it through this lens before play restarts. Possibly accompanied by coloured highlighter pens. And probably followed by some fine-tuning.

    1. Kieron Gillen Avatar

      I suspect the Trail of Cthulhu guidelines to detective structure may be a useful alternative lens to look at it too.

  3. Greg Sanders Avatar

    Useful terminology and tools.

    One point struck me as a bit odd, Frodo at Mt. Doom feels a bit more like a Gate than a Menu. He’s gone on the entire adventure with the intent of destroying the ring and he’s not so much tempted as Galaderial was but simply worn down. In my reading, Gollum was the key, they just didn’t know that in advance.

    I don’t think gates or menus need be mutually exclusive, but if there’s a clearly right and desired answer it’s just a matter of finding a way to achieve it or to make one’s will save then it is more of a gate, even if there is a choice involved.

    1. Kieron Gillen Avatar

      I did chew this over myself, actually, and agree with what you’re saying here, and the way I went is really DIE-centric. It comes to how you conceptualise an adventure – in DIE, especially, it’s a menu. It’s a game which puts that kind of player choice in the foreground. “Can I throw the ring away or not?” is what DIE is about, and it comes at it from the story side. A game which is more interested in the mechanical nature of the ring’s corruption, it’s the ultimate-Gate.

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