Never On Sunday

Lots of friction in last night’s session. My character, Deacon, is a badass of the “judge, jury, and executioner” school, who views himself as the avenging hand of God. Last night, he decided somebody needed putting down, and saw to it in cold blood. My fellow players had known something like this was coming, and even looked forward to it; their characters, however, did not.

Half the party freaked out and fled. They had to be talked into rejoining the party—that is, agreeing to work alongside this apparent psychopath. Deacon isn’t a psychopath, but it can be hard to tell the difference in a world where a chosen few have supernatural powers. Are the voices in his head really the spirit of divine vengeance? Defusing what could only be a catastrophic party split took some work, especially since Deke has no room for compromise once he’s reached his grim verdict, and couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again.

It was an uncomfortable session for me. Depicting justice bordering on murder was fine. Thrusting my character concept into the game in a manner that could potentially break the campaign wasn’t. Breaking a campaign under the excuse of “staying true to my character” is rarely okay, and that only if you find a well-established character painted into a narrative corner. (It happens.) Breaking a campaign with a character concept guaranteed to create that kind of friction is never okay. I stuck with Deacon’s concept only with the reassurance that my fellow players wanted to see him in action, which caried an implied agreement to compromise their concepts if necessary.

And they did, though, as I say, it took some work. I was surprised by the strength of their characters’ reactions, and worried that I had so surprised them with my brutality that they might be unwilling or unable to jump the conceptual hurdle now that it had arrived. And I needed substantial reassurance after the session that my fellow players were okay with the scene.

I got it, but am not reassured. Dave believes strongly that the plot comes first, and politely framed he conflict as one in which his character could begin to come to terms with the nasty business which is surely due as the campaign unfolds, though I still fear he found the exercise of tacking back to common ground perilous and unpleasant. Jen believes strongly that characters come first, and cheerfully agreed that this kind of friction is what she comes to the table to see, so she’s okay with events as they played out, though I remain uneasy about the implications of another, similar scene. And Ella, our novice GM, isn’t yet experienced enough or confident enough in her needs as GM to tell me whether I was out of bounds, or even necessarily to know.

So far, it’s worked out. As long as it continues to work out, everything is cool. As Jen says, intra-party conflict is one of the most interesting facets of role-playing. But it may yet break down, and if it does, it’s ultimately my fault. Maybe only partly my fault, but my fault nevertheless. If staying true to your character concept continually disrupts the flow of the game, then you didn’t design that character properly in the first place.