Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Shuffling this Mortal Coil: How to Handle Death for Players and Baddies

In my most recent game, the players found themselves up against an invading force that they couldn't take alone. An invading army had been collecting intel on them over the course of several encounters, and had decided to make an all-out assault against the heroes in the hopes of taking over the city. The PCs, well aware that the big bad had been reading them and developing countermeasures to everything they could do, decided that it was best that they cut and run for now, doing what they could to evacuate the civilians before the evil overlord broke the barricades and seized the city by force. In a move worthy of an epic fantasy hero, our warlord stood up and announced that he would stay behind in order to ensure that as many people escape as possible, knowing full well that he had a good chance of being killed in the ensuing invasion.

This statement freaked the other players out, primarily because the warlord had been one of the most important characters to the storyline. There had been a few instances of characters being killed off earlier on, but those were minor characters who didn't have much backstory or interaction. The warlord had been the one to bring the party together in the first place, had been the face of the party in most social situations, and had the most comprehensive ambitions and motivations of anyone in the party. The player had roleplayed this character immensely, always contributing with everything f from battle tactics to one-liners to life advice for the other characters. The entire party had fallen in love with this character, and whether or not he lived to see another session would change the course of the game immensely. One last thing: This is an E7 game, so resurrection isn't an option here. If Grimheln the wisecracking, elf-hating, civilian-rescuing warlord goes down here, he ain't coming back any time soon. With the dire encounter swiftly approaching, I as a GM am genuinely worried about whether or not I should offer an easy way out or just allow this amazing character to go down in a blaze of glory.

Death is as much a part of D&D as rolling dice and leveling up; every session is likely to involve at least one creature being killed for some reason or another. However, the way it is handled can vary greatly from world to world and even from party to party. Some may have death be as reversible as a paper cut, whereas others may treat shuffling off the mortal coil as something that is 100% irreversible. Now, I don't think that there is any inherent value in allowing or disallowing resurrection (I've seen both kinds of worlds work effectively), but there are several things to consider when implementing it or barring it from the table.

The first question of dying and coming back is the frequency and strictness of it. How easy is it for the players to get their buddy back from heaven, and is it the same way for other denizens of the fantasy world? If the ranger gets eviscerated while on patrol, can the other heroes get him back by grabbing the body? Heck, do they even need the body to bring him back to the Material Plane? By the same token, could some particularly loyal monsters take their fallen master and give him a second chance at world domination? How deep do somebody's pockets need to be in order to master death itself, and what happens to a society that sees death as nothing more than a financial setback? If the ranger is capable of popping back up within a session, you can guess that the same principle will apply to the king whose murder was supposed to start an intrigue campaign or the meglomaniacal tyrant who the PCs assumed had been dealt with when they mounted his head on a stake. When the players can get resurrected easily, that means that any similarly-wealthy and powerful NPCs can as well, which may ruin a plotline or adventure altogether. Likewise, heroes staying dead means that villains stay dead too, so continually rezzing a favorite villain every time he gets axed is not going to slide well with a party who can't get their old buds back.

The second question is more attuned to the needs and desires of the players. How much do they appreciate their individual characters, and how would they respond if some happenstance were to off them? I can recall several campaigns in which people didn't much care about who or what they were playing, and who were okay with their character dying so that they could try some new class or build. On the flip side, I've played in games where people were utterly devastated by a random crit killing their character, to the point where that session broke up the group. As a GM, it is important to read the way players are treating their characters and from this information get a picture of whether or not a George R.R. Martin-style death trap would inject a cool sense of urgency or frustrate at least one player to the point where they no longer enjoy the game. If somebody cares a lot about the story that their character is wrapped up in, then they will probably want to get their character back rather than starting over as somebody new. On the flipside, the player who isn't too invested in the plotline may jump at the chance of a blank slate. As much as it can be fun to drive players crazy from time to time, a GM is obligated to make sure his party is having fun, so the expectations of resurrection in a game should be tailored somewhat to how the people want to play it.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, how much do the NPCs and Baddies of the world fear death? It's quite common in many games for monsters to fight to the death, which would be pretty unrealistic if they don't expect any hope of being brought back. When it's clear that victory isn't really in the cards, losing armies typically live to fight another day rather than dying hopelessly on the battlefield. Intelligent monsters should do the same, taking out heroes when advantageous but stepping out when things aren't looking too hot for them. If somebody goes into combat knowing that he can be resurrected, however, this premise is inverted. It isn't too hard to find an example of soldiers going on suicide missions confident that they will be welcomed into the afterlife for their bravery, and while that premise can certainly be used in plenty of scenarios, readily accessible resurrection magic adds a whole new dimension to this premise. If a soldier knows that his boss is capable of resurrection magic, it creates a mindset where he has nothing to lose and as a result will go to extreme measures to serve his cause. He is all but guaranteed to see his wife and kids again, so if he has to fight to the death in order to ensure victory he will most certainly do it. When death is a minor setback, people will be much more willing to suffer through it, resulting in a culture that substantially changes how a society approaches conflict, danger, and mortality.

Finally, the last question pertains to the philosophical consequences of reanimation magic. What sort of writings exist in a setting where a substantial number of people have been to heaven or hell and returned to talk about it? Likewise, how do people view the gods and elements when what is most precious to them can't really be permanently taken away? How has society evolved differently, and what sort of special attention do clerics get or not get when they are the ones dispensing extra lives? Heck, is rezzing even allowed by all societies, or by all gods? What is the ethical split between bringing someone back with a new living body and bringing them back as an undead?

Answers to these questions are chiefly subject to the needs of the story, players, and campaign, but the considerations I posed should be accounted for whenever a GM runs into a consequential death. The one concrete rule is that resurrection should be above all consistent. If the players can use it, so can the bad guys and vice versa. If resurrection privilege is unfairly distributed, you can be that either player relations or suspension of disbelief will wind up being strained. The questions of life and death should be weighty and personal, but they should still be bound by rules. After all, what is Pathfinder if not imagination put to order?

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