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What I've Learned (So Far) Running Girl by Moonlight - Kara Dennison
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What I've Learned (So Far) Running Girl by Moonlight

By 3:00 AM

 


A while back, I mentioned I'd be taking a crack at GMing properly. I've made small attempts before, but my campaign of Girl by Moonlight: On a Sea of Stars is my first time really digging in and doing my damndest. I've got a great group of players and... well... I also love this system.

Besides just wanting to run a cool game for friends (two of whom are Forever DMs themselves, two of whom don't get to game as much as they'd like), I also wanted to start actually learning how to run games. I'm four sessions in, with many more to go, and there are a few things I've picked up so far. Old news to you old hands out there, I'm sure. But maybe there's someone who, like me, could use some encouragement and a look at the basics.


GMing Also Means Teaching



The only games that are "easy" are games that are designed to be easy (I'm thinking of Grant Howitt's amazing one-page games, which are great for beginners). No matter how good a game's structure is, or how much it feeds into what you and your group want to do, it still has to be learned. A part of GMing I never expected was the teaching aspect, but in retrospect, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?

Girl by Moonlight has a lot of moving parts, and plays with the Forged in the Dark system in interesting ways. For example, everyone gets stress from personal obligations at the beginning of a session, and that stress is wiped at the end (with certain exceptions).  Links are also used as a sort of interpersonal inspiration token: take time to get to know your teammates, and in return they can offer you free assistance in combat. In fact, a lot of this system runs on what you're willing to do for others. Healing can only be done by someone else helping you, for instance.

In retrospect, I sort of wish I'd gone the route Luke Westaway did in Oxventure Presents Blades in the Dark. He introduced some of the crunchier mechanics slightly later in the campaign's run, allowing the players to get accustomed to the basics. That said, I've been finding my own ways to teach the system. While NPCs with sheets aren't a thing in Forged in the Dark games, I used a fan-made support playbook to create a sort of DMPC. The way she's built, both mechanically and as a character, I can use her to demonstrate how to get the most out of what's available.

I've also taken to turning references into "tokens" on Roll20, placing them within view but out of the action. That way, players know at a glance what Links can be used for. It's very much dependent on the group, I suppose, how you teach a system. But between the Roll20 integration and making things readily visible to everyone, I think I'm getting there.


You Can Say No to the Book

Rules exist for a reason: to make games fair and fun. But if there's something in a book that just doesn't suit anyone, and it's not at the core of what the game is or how it's played... it's okay to do away with it. Case in point, Girl by Moonlight's stipulation that campaigns "start during the second season." I understand that generally: it allows players to know each other, build up the Promises that will help them dictate their action, and jump straight into the "good stuff."

Except... to me? The introduction is a major part of the "good stuff." So no, we started at episode 1. And I did the series design privately, working in elements that I knew the players would enjoy. That meant making a few tweaks, like having players set up their Promises after session 1 and altering when and how players first formed Links with their robots. But it's been worth it.

Similarly, I have one player playing the Enigma playbook. Generally, character info is supposed to be readily available over the table—and I do trust these players not to metagame. But the player requested that there be a period of time in which the mystery can be built up even to the players. Is this accounted for in the book? No. But who cares? To that end, we set up a clock that is ticking down based on rolls and events in the game. This means that a lot of mechanics are temporarily off the table. But for the fun of the mystery and the inevitable big reveal? It's worth it.


I'm Still a Player
Kiiiiind of. It's hard to explain.

Like, GMing is hard. It really is. It's a fun kind of hard—I'm writing on the fly, and I don't get to go back and edit. Ideas get thrown at me that aren't mine, and once in a while I see two that fit together and they make something new, and then I get to integrate it next week. But spinning all those plates is tough, and I'm still getting used to keeping them all in the air.

That said, I don't feel disconnected from the players. I may be the one calling most of the shots, but it feels like we're all here doing the same thing. We're all at a party, I'm just the one cooking dinner. Doesn't mean I don't get to enjoy the dinner, too.

Keeping that mindset—that we're all here for the same reason, that everyone is throwing their creativity down on the table—helps me get over that constant fear that I'll disappoint everyone or make a bad game. But at its best, I don't feel like anything's changed. I'm not against the players, even if I do throw them challenges. When I do the Mission phase, I have a few conditions laid out for what can or should happen. But I don't necessarily stick religiously to those conditions. If someone does something cool that makes complete sense for the scene, so be it: we follow that. I described the Mission phase as a game of chess between me and the players. There's not a stat block with HP, there's just a scene. Once they've outwitted me in a way that I can't help but love, they've done it.

The main thing I've learned, though, is that I want to keep GMing. I also want to keep playing, of course. But I think I like this. All I want in life is for the things I create to bring people joy. And where I initially thought GMing would force me to confront embarrassment and failure in real time, it's more like I'm getting to see something I made—something I am making in the moment—hitting home for people. Ain't no way I'm giving that up anytime soon.

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