🎲 Designing for teen horror.

Making the worst time of your life (debatably) worse.

‘Lost’ by Frederick McCubbin, 1907

Background

Recently, I’ve been catching up on some of my backlog of teen drama. It’s a genre that I used to feel a lot of affinity for back when I was actually the target audience, but I’d keep the books stuffed under the bed, and I’d watch the movies and shows on a laptop with headphones on and my back to the wall. If I was ever exposed to it in the company of other people, even as a subplot in other media, I’d become a snarky, eye-rolling asshole. Treating those sorts of stories earnestly, I thought, might make me seem weird, or maybe even voyeuristic. These stories were often female-led, directed toward a sympathetic audience of teenage girls. They weren’t meant for me.

Well. Um. About that.

Suffice it to say, some things have come into… sharper focus since then. So I’ve been able to get into the genre of teen drama in a way that thirteen-to-sixteen-year-old me was too self-conscious and up-her-own-ass to really be able to.

Okay, I do have to be somewhat kinder to little me though, because being a teenager does kind of involve a lot of secrecy and repression almost as a matter of course. Your mind is a mess of thoughts and impressions with no well-formed place to store them, and there’s always the constant calculus of whether it’s safe to express these ideas or whether doing so will cause someone to give you tremendous shit, and then never stop. Or, perhaps more insidiously, they’ll quietly judge you for years. At least, that was the assumption.

In the end, everyone develops their own strategy, and for me it was “express none of it, and shove it all so deep that even you forget it’s there. Become a social mirror that just reflects other people back at themselves until they’re bored with you.”

Sorry, sorry, you’re right. Kinder to my younger self. It’s hard, though, when you’re still putting up with the ramifications of her nonsense.

Anyway, these teen drama-related thoughts have kind of synthesised with the Halloween season just-past, and as I’m wont to do I’ve started turning over some TTRPG design in my head.

Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how I might design and run a game that explores the horror inherent in this teen repression, while maybe incorporating some of the fun of the teen drama genre and also giving me an outlet to forgive little me. A tall order, but I’ve got nothing better to do with my time, so…

Design Goals

Going into things like this, I like to think about what moments I want my design to produce at a hypothetical table. I don’t personally believe that a designer should get to dictate exactly how their game is used, but I do agree with the extremely talented designer Jay Dragon when Jay says that the group “invites” a game to sit at the table with them almost like another player, to occasionally interject with cool moments, but more often to simply provide the tools from which those cool moments are constructed.

So, what moments do I want to be possible with this toolbox?

Well, for starters, I want this to function well as a horror game. I want the players to be biting their nails and having fun and squirming in a good and safe way. I also want it to work well as a one-shot experience, where you invite your friends over, get cosy, and play out a spooky, contained story.

I want multi-dimensional characters to be at the centre. The player characters should have parts to them that are obvious, parts to them that are hidden, and parts of them that seem true, but aren’t. I want them to be likeable and frustrating in the way that people are, and I want the themes of the horror to be based around their personal conflicts and experiences, not the other way around.

I want to keep interpersonal drama as part of the story. The knowledge of each character’s secrets should be used as a lever for interesting dynamics. People should have beef or personal history (often one-sided) with each other that complicates their efforts to survive the horror. There should be big moments where they confront each other and secrets get out.

Resolution System

A useful place to start with any game is by considering how most situations in the game will be resolved by default. When anything is in doubt, how does the group decide what happens?

Recently I’ve been on a diceless, entirely deterministic kick, but I think that this game, being a horror game, would benefit from the tension that comes from some randomness, as well as a GM to play the inscrutable, supernatural threat. At the same time, horror movies, particularly slashers and monster flicks, do have certain conventions that I don’t think should be left up to chance. I don’t think the characters should, for example, be able to gang up on the supernatural threat and defeat it at the very beginning of the game, for example.

To that end, I want to take some inspiration from the game Cthulhu Dark by Graham Walmsley, Kathryn Jenkins and Helen Gold, which contains this absolute gem of a rule:

If you try to defeat any supernatural creature by fighting it, you will die. Instead, roll to hide or escape. If you fight something that is not supernatural or if you fight a supernatural creature but not to defeat it (for example, to fight your way past it), be clear about what you want from the fight, then roll.

My version will need to be a touch more forgiving, because unlike a being of cosmic horror, it’s reasonably likely that a teen slasher villain will be defeated in the final act. Until that point, though, this is how resolution in my game should work:

When a character attempts something dangerous or difficult, ask the GM “will I succeed?”

If the GM believes the outcome is certain, they can answer “yes” or “no.” When a character attempts to defeat a supernatural threat with violence, the outcome is always certain: “no, and you die.”

If the GM believes the outcome is uncertain, they can say “let’s find out,” and flip a coin. On a heads, the answer is “yes, but there’s a complication.” On a tails, the answer is “no, but there’s a silver lining.”

When a character faces their personal fears to attempt something dangerous or difficult, the answer is almost always “no,” but the character can choose to press on regardless and make the outcome uncertain. If they do so, they suffer trauma, and something admirable or precious about them disappears, probably forever. We decide what that is after the coin has been flipped and the outcome described.

It’s a little bit wordy, but I personally really like it. It’s pretty quick to use, it contains within it some of those lovely horror moments of coming this close to pulling something off, it makes the threat scary and dangerous, and it even manages to include some of the themes of identity and teenage trauma that I’m really interested in exploring. I’m sure it could do with some revisions, but for now it makes a solid kernel that I can flesh out with the rest of the outlying rules.

Character Creation

Given the focus on interpersonal and internal drama laid out in the design goals, I believe that character creation is really going to bring a lot of the design of this game together. In-keeping with the themes we’ve set up, I want character creation to help players make characters with layers of repression and secrecy, so that they can unravel as the game goes on. I also think it would be fun to include some elements of asymmetrical information borrowed from hidden role games (games like Mafia or The Resistance), where two characters (and players) know different things about the same character, and said character may not necessarily be aware of who knows what.

In any case, here’s a mock-up of how that might look:

In this game, characters are made up entirely of secrets.

To create a character, first tell the table a secret about them that everyone already knows, and that makes them vulnerable. How do people tend to treat them as a result?

Next, silently write down a few more secrets, equal to the number of other characters, on separate slips of paper. Make sure that the secrets you write are all about your own character, and that they don’t contradict any of your group’s safety tools.

Now, hand these to the GM. They will read them, then distribute one to each of the other characters, letting the players of those characters read them silently. These are things that they each know about your character.

From there, I want the supernatural threats at the centre of the horror stories this game creates to reflect the characters in some way, since so much emphasis is already placed on their inner lives. On top of that, I want the players to feel empowered to potentially let their characters die, both because this is a horror game (wherein at least some death is par for the course), and because it can be really fun to have a dramatic, satisfying character death if the conditions are right and you’re prepared for it.

So, to set those elements up, here’s the second phase of character creation:

To finish off, write on a slip of paper one final secret that no one knows: your character’s biggest fear.

On the same slip, draw a circle. If you want your character to die in the final act, strike it through with a line. If you want them to live, leave it blank. You can change your choice when the final act eventually comes, but this allows you to make a decision in advance.

Hand the slip to the GM. They will incorporate your character’s fear into the supernatural threat that you face, and consider your fate as the game goes on.

Moments of Truth

Having introduced all these secrets, I think it’s only fair that at some point, they come out. These would be the moments where, in the midst of the worst day of their lives, our characters find bravery and honesty, and confront and comfort one another in equal measure.

It’s important to me that the players get to choose when these moments happen. This is both because I believe players are more capable of pacing them in a satisfying way than any inert rulebook, but also so that it only happens when the players are ready to confront it. So, that means that both players, both the holder of the secret and the object of said secret, should need to lock in their agreement before it’s triggered. Once it’s triggered, the floodgates open, and the two get to learn about one another.

When one character tells another that they need to talk, the other character can brush them off or agree to talk.

If they brush them off, the initiator describes something that frustrates them about the other character. Then, we move on.

If they agree to talk, a moment of truth occurs. The initiator reveals the secret they know about the other character, and may ask any question about it. If the other character answers the question honestly, they may also reveal the secret they know about the initiator (if they have not done so already), and ask the initiator a question of their own.

Continue asking questions back and forth until a question goes unanswered, or is answered dishonestly. The GM will describe what then interrupts this moment.

Tools for the GM

When you’re trying to emulate a genre, pacing is often an important element to preserve. Given the collaborative, often freeflow nature of RPGs, this can be really tough, so I want to provide some structure to lighten the load on the GM especially.

When I’ve written up horror-themed adventures in the past, I’ve used a system I call ‘circles.’ I think I must have stolen the vague concept from an earlier version of the Arthurian horror game Chalice by Noora Rose. You plan out a series of four or five horror beats (called circles) that you want to hit, and dangers that might occur surrounding them. Once the player characters have reached relative safety from one danger, they advance to the next circle, and a new danger appears, until finally they win or lose in the final, most terrifying circle.

This works when you have time to plan things out in advance, but in this case you are likely to be having to create something based on the player characters’ fears in the very same session. This needs to be a little simpler and more responsive to character creation.

Once character creation has finished, take a small break to go get water and use the restroom. In that time you, the GM, should be scheming.

Take the character’s fears, and come up with a scary supernatural threat that can incorporate them all. Stick with your first, or maybe second idea. Then, think of a scenario in which the characters might encounter this threat.

When everyone comes back, describe this starting scenario, and ask the characters establishing questions. Who are they? What do they look like? How do they know each other? Why are they here? Introduce a mundane problem to solve, be it a flat tire, confusing directions or a bitter argument. Once the characters solve the problem, you can begin to introduce the supernatural threat properly.

At this point you have two tools: terrors and lulls, which you can employ at any time.

When you use a terror, you pick one of the character’s fears and evoke it with a sudden, unavoidable danger. Now is the time to fill the players with fear, threaten their characters with harm, and to not let up until the characters have scrambled into some temporary respite.

When you use a lull, you give the characters and players time to breathe. It’s always temporary, however, and you get to decide how long each lull lasts. A long lull might draw out the tension, but also engender feelings of safety. A short lull might result in exhaustion and fatigue.

At any time, when you feel as though the supernatural threat has been mostly revealed and the characters mostly explored, you can introduce a terror and declare that you are in the ‘final act.’ Now, each character can have an uncertain outcome when they attempt to defeat a supernatural threat with violence. They can also have an uncertain outcome when facing their personal fears without suffering trauma, so long as they are aided by another character.

Also, you should now reveal which players chose for their character to live or die during character creation, and ask whether they want to change their decision.

Finish the game when you’re ready. We find out what happens as the sun rises, metaphorically or literally.

Denouement

I still have my gripes with little me. She wasn’t the only conscious person in her world — she was surrounded by kind people, going through much the same thing as her. If she’d ever opened herself up, she might have realised this, and we may have both been a lot happier.

But in retrospect, everyone else was in their own heads as well, and while she never made any grand gestures at dramatic moments, I think it’s unfair to say that she never made any effort at all. Among friends she trusted, I do think she revealed some of that earnestness and tenderness that I’m now learning to cherish. Even now, I haven’t fully dropped the mask. I hope that little me — at least a part of her — stays with me a bit longer, so she gets to see herself fully, without compromise.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been going back to relive those years lately. Life’s a horror, but she did survive. Now I can hold her hand, and guide her to the sunrise.

Media I Talked About

“Games having teeth,” a thread by Jay Dragon on Twitter (https://twitter.com/jdragsky/status/1431349153741910025?s=20)

Cthulhu Dark, an RPG by Graham Walmsley, Kathryn Jenkins and Helen Gold, available on Indie Press Revolution and Drive Thru RPG

Mafia, a hidden role game originally designed by Dmitry Davidoff, but with many variants.

The Resistance, a hidden role game designed by Don Eskridge

Chalice, an RPG by Noora Rose, published by Monkey’s Paw Games, available on Itch.io.