As I covered thoroughly in the Story-First Approach article, when we sit down to write a new adventure, the first thing we must decide is what story we’d like to tell. Now, the word “story” has a variety of meanings out there, so let’s get that nailed down first. For our purposes, a “story” is a narrative arc that takes the players from some beginning and to some different end. The easiest and most effective way to do this is to use a 3-act structure. Today, I’m going to teach you about that structure.
The 3-act structure is elegantly simple, and relies on that magic number three. The overall narrative arc is divided into three components (acts), and each plays a specific role in the arc. You already know these roles, because it’s naturally how we think of things: Beginning, Middle, End. That’s it. As I said; simple.
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When we look at the structure of a 3-act story, we can see how the acts overlay the narrative arc. Remember, the narrative is an arc, not a straight timeline. This means that there is a crest to it, and that should lie firmly at the beginning of act three. The scope of the adventure we write has an impact on what exactly this arc describes. If we’re doing a long-form campaign, then the peak of the narrative arc is likely the point where the players face their most important decision, and the fall is watching the consequences of it unfold. If we’re writing just a single session’s worth of content, that peak will be the final big encounter of the session, such as a boss fight or some other important event.
To properly use this powerful tool, though, we need to take each component and make sure we do them correctly. After doing a 3-act structure over and over, it will become second nature. In preparation for that, let’s take a look at exactly what we need to do for each act, and when.
In the beginning, there was the end.
It may seem counter intuitive, but the first thing we need to establish is the end of the story. That is, where do we want everything to be when the story is finished? Starting with the end first has one big advantage: if we know where we’re going, then we know how every step gets us there.
For each act in the diagram above, I’ve asked the main question which describes the purpose of the act. In act three, it’s, “How have things changed?” A story is a change, that’s why it’s a narrative arc, not a narrative line. Without a change, there is no story. This is an extremely important point, so I’m going to say it again: a story is a change.
So, when you’re trying to establish what the end of your story is, you need to figure out what change has occurred. Because we’re doing this as step one, we need to decide what change we want to occur. Does a country get a new government? Do the lovers meet and live happily? Are the party of heroes now outlaws and on the run? These are changes which tell a story.
Once we have that change written down, we can decide what the climax of the narrative arc will be. Remember, this climax needs to happen in the beginning of act three, so we need to figure it out before we move on to the other two acts. If I had to boil down a climax to a single guiding question, it would be: what is the last dramatic moment which leads to the story’s resolution?
That is a little awkward as a single question, but I use it to reinforce the purpose of a climax. The climax is not the end of the story, and should not be treated that way. In terms of an adventure, the end of the story should not be the climactic battle against the big boss. We need that post-defeat fallout where we see the consequences of the climax. This is where we see what change happened and why it’s important. This is also why movies don’t roll credits as soon as the antagonist dies. We need those last few scenes to understand why the death mattered and what life is like for the characters as a result.
Figure out act three by deciding what has changed and pinning down the climax. You may not have worked out every particular detail yet (don’t worry, you’ll get there), but with those two things sorted, you now have a goal. Act three represents the target for your story, and it’s the one you’ll aim for every step of the way.
After the end, came the beginning.
Once we have act three figured out, the next step is to iron out act one. As we already established, we have a change that will take place over the course of the adventure. That’s the story. Now we need to decide where we start so story has weight and impact.
The guiding question for act one is “Where do the heroes start?” This is our chance to establish the setting and, more critically, the situation in which our story will unfold. Remember, we already know what change we’re going to see happen. We already know what the big climax is going to look like. Our job now is to make sure that we set the scene in such a way that the change can happen the way we want it to.
The key here is to only set up the things that are important to the story, though. Superfluous detail is a death spiral to any story, and this is especially true when you have the added variable of player interaction. A deep, lore-rich setting can be really fun to craft, but it is a distraction from the story. We know what change is going to happen and what the climax is, so we also know which characters and other set pieces are involved in those. These elements need to be established now, in act one, and nothing else.
Will the story take place in a town? How many characters (in addition to the players) are necessary to the story? It probably isn’t every single person that lives and works in the town, so you don’t need to give them all backstories. Usually, you don’t even need to give them names.
We use act one to set up the change that will occur, first by establishing the people and places that will be relevant. We may also give it a backdrop for context, if it’s important to the story. For example, the story of Mulan is enriched by the context of China at war even if the story itself does not explore beyond a very small piece of it. That is useful context.
As a counter example in the same corporate structure, the state of France’s international diplomacy has no bearing on the story of Beauty and the Beast. If the movie had wasted valuable screen time showing troops marching to war, it would have been to the detriment of the story. Don’t do this. Everything you tell your players needs to matter for the story.
Act one is your only chance to lay the foundation for a good story. Make sure you seize that opportunity.
And in the end, was the middle.
Alright, so we have an end and a beginning, now we need a middle. We know what change will occur, and we know where we started before we changed, so now we need to know how that change is going to unfold. Another way to look at it is that we need to decide how we build to that climax. Remember, the climax represents the peak of the narrative arc. It is the moment when the story’s change becomes obvious and inevitable. It is where a final decision is made, or a final action is taken, to bring the story to its resolution. We need to build to it properly.
The question I use to guide this act is, “What do the heroes do?” This is an incredibly important question. This is what takes our interesting story and makes it a playable game. It also serves as a litmus test for whether the story is worth telling in the first place. Yes, it’s that important.
As I pointed out when talking about act one, characters which have no bearing on the story should not be given any of our attention. The consequence of this statement is that the players in our adventure must have an impact on the story. The players get an enormous amount of our attention, so they must be important to the story. If your story can or does unfold without the players being directly involved, then it is not a good story for this medium of tabletop role playing game. Put another way: if the players aren’t integral to the story, then we’re telling the wrong story, or telling the right story from the wrong perspective.
There are two important notes about this. First, this does not mean that the players need to be the main protagonists of the story itself. NPCs can fill this role, provided the players’ actions are still an integral part. This happens a lot in stories where the players are escorting an important person or negotiating a settlement between warring sides of a conflict. Yes, the actions the players take are critical to the story, but the story is not actually about them.
Second, this does not mean the players are in control of the story. You are the GM; you are in control of the story. Full stop. There can be different resolutions to the story you’re telling based on the various decisions the players may make along the way, but you are still in control. You control the story.
So, what do the players get to do along the way from our set up (act one) to our exciting conclusion (act three)? That’s the important thing to figure out for act two. The quickest and most effective way to fill this act in is by establishing scenes that the players will navigate. The scope of these scenes will change based on what size adventure we’re writing. If we’re working on a long-form campaign, each “scene” will be a full session’s worth of adventure in its own right. If we’re writing a single-session adventure, each “scene” is an encounter.
It’s important so it’s worth repeating: superfluous information is detrimental to the story. This is true for our scenes as well. Each scene needs to progress the story, and this is where having act three established helps guide our writing. We know the goal. We know the final climax. We know how the story turns out. So, we need to write the scenes that get us there. If a story is a change, then we need to write the scenes which show that change happening.
The second act needs to be created with the same sense of purpose as the other two. There’s a temptation to create “busy work” for the players so that they have something to do while the GM unravels the story around them. Resist this urge. You shouldn’t have time for scenes which do not progress the narrative. If you do, then your narrative might not be complex enough for the adventure you’re writing. If you have a story to tell, but too much time in which to tell it, then you need a bigger story, not useless slack fill.
So, here we are, then.
And that’s that. By following this procedure, we have created a story that has purpose and life in which the players play an integral role. This is a very general procedure, and the details of each and every step along the way can get muddier. Knowing what to do and being able to do it are very different things.
Future lessons will cover how to apply this procedure to both long-form campaigns and single-session adventures, with examples of each. A good way to practice, besides actually sitting down and writing some, is to take this information and try to apply it to the stories you already know. In the vast majority of cases, you can see all of these principles at work in the movies, books, and shows that you consider the very best.
If there’s one thing I want to make sure you take away, it’s this: have your ending in mind before you write anything else, and write toward it.
As always, I encourage you to send your questions, comments, and hate mail to our GMW Academy mail box: academy@legendarypants.net
