A toolkit for open-world gamebook design

The earliest true gamebook (with rules, that is, and disregarding mere multiple-choice texts) was probably Steve Jackson's Death Test in 1978. That allowed players to backtrack and visit the same location multiple times, but throughout the 1980s the main evolution of gamebooks detoured down a different branch with series like Fighting Fantasy, where the arrow of narrative time pointed in one direction. It wasn't until 1995 that the first open-world gamebooks appeared -- followed by silence until, decades later, series like Steam Highwayman and Legendary Kingdoms took up the torch. Finally it seems that open-world gamebooks might be becoming the dominant form.

I have been sent a succinct and comprehensive toolkit for open-world design that would-be gamebook writers will find very useful. Not just would-be writers, either; I've been doing this since the last millennium and even I found it had some handy tips. You can find that toolkit here. The author prefers to be known only as Ruth, so I will respect her anonymity, though it can only be a matter of time before her own open-world gamebook series appears.

In the Vulcanverse books, when I used what Ruth calls Local Changes, typically I'd include another entry:

So you’d arrive at the location and be presented with the situation that could lead to a change. If you complete that correctly you’re told to turn to the original location and tick the box. Then you get a one-off scene that explains the change and assigns any relevant keywords. If you return to the location subsequently you go to X*A which is the location in its changed state.

Regarding keywords, it’s worth differentiating (and incidentally I say this with 20/20 hindsight) between keywords used as logic flags to denote that an event occurred (“a tidal wave hit the city”) and keywords used to indicate a current state (“the city is in ruins”). In Vulcanverse I could have used keywords and titles respectively for those two functions. I didn’t, which meant that sometimes I’d remove a keyword that was no longer applicable, only to realize later that I’d still like to know if the player had originally had that keyword. Eg if I complete a quest for the king and so he makes me the court champion, even if later on I lose the court champion keyword I still need to have the keyword that says I did the quest. (I'll discuss flags and states in more detail in a future post.)

Regarding rules mechanics generally, I keep promising that next time I’ll create an object-oriented rule set so that I could keep track of, say:

• having one’s face stolen by a mujina
• getting cursed by a fairy to have a donkey’s head
• acquiring blue skin
• being body-swapped into another form

Variously those conditions could mean:

• You’re not recognized by somebody who should know you
• You’re mistaken for someone else
• You are treated differently from other people (potentially in several different ways)

In Fabled Lands I ended up filtering for all those statuses every time I asked the player to check them, whereas if they had been properly organized I could simply have asked, “If you have a status that is listed as transformative and uncanny, go to X”.

Similarly with equipment, where it is useful to have a generic way of identifying whether something can be used as a weapon, or has a blade, or reflects like a mirror, or is made of iron, and so on – rather than having to list the items for each applicable function (such as “if you have the polished shield, the silver mirror, the jade looking-glass…”). Ruth's Multi-Function Item tool covers that one, and could be extended to keywords describing the character’s current status to solve problems like the altered-face one above.

Vulcanverse also used the Current Location feature, a box on your adventure sheet where you record a section number that you are routed to after the current subquest you're on is complete. This allows for encounters to happen at different points around the world, for instance when you're acting as go-between carrying love tokens from Eros to Psyche in The Hammer of the Sun. The Current Location can be used for a lot of things, a common example being when you have a wandering NPC whom the player has to meet up with from time to time, because the different stages of the player's dealings with the NPC don't have to be tied to the geography of the world. You just tell the player to record a Current Location number when the subquest is triggered, then when the next part of their interaction with the NPC (or whatever) is done, you send them back to the Current Location and they resume their travels.

I was going to compile a list of gamebook design resources, but they are many and scattered far and wide. Here are a few to get started. If you know of any others, link to them in the comments.

• "Writing gamebooks" on Lloyd of Gamebooks
• "Wamt to write a gamebook?" on Lloyd of Gamebooks
• "Fetch quests" in the Steam Highwayman books
• "Ambush sequences and the noted passage mechanic" in Steam Highwayman -- which, now that I've seen the article, I realize features the same tool that I call current location (Martin's nomenclature describes it better!).
• "Learning from better gamebooks" on Rand Roll

And while we're on the subject of gamebooks, the Blood Sword 5e hardcover book has just been released in the UK and US. You can buy it at Orc's Nest or from GMS Tabletop Games. The book is a complete 5e roleplaying campaign based on the gamebooks and features some absolutely top-notch design, writing, artwork and production. If you're starting to think about Christmas presents, it's the perfect gift for the avid gamer in your life. Just be aware: they're going to need a bigger stocking.

Gamebooks: a lightning tour

I've just heard about a great resource for gamebook fans: thirty-one themes in the medium, from horror to SF to modern to non-fantasy. Duncan Thomson's (no relation to Jamie as far as I know) in-depth post covers hundreds of different gamebook series both classic and modern. Check it out on Rand Roll here.

And if you want to write your own gamebook, Stuart Lloyd has compiled an invaluable reading list to get you started. And trawling through some old posts here (such as this one) might also prove inspiring. I also find it useful to listen to Hieronymus J Doom's perceptive analyses of gamebooks on the Haunted Phonograph and Ed Jolley's Adventure Gameblog.

Talking of gamebooks, have you been keeping up with Prime Games' development reports on the CRPG version of Blood Sword? The latest concerns my favourite character class to write, the Trickster:

"The Warrior holds the line. The Enchanter bends the arcane. The Sage unveils hidden truths. The Trickster thrives where no one else dares -- in shadows, in whispers, in the thin places between honour and survival. Assassin, Knave, Hunter, or something in between, the Trickster proves that guile can be sharper than steel."

Read more about the Blood Sword CRPG and add it to your Steam wishlist here.

Alternate versions of Heart of Ice

This post isn't really an April Fool, but it tickled me. Somebody told me they'd asked ChatGPT what The Warlock of Firetop Mountain might have been like if Oliver Johnson and I had written it. I could tell it that for starters the book wouldn't have sold a tenth as many copies, but it concentrated instead on the stylistic aspects:

"If The Warlock of Firetop Mountain had been written by Dave Morris and Oliver Johnson, it would likely have taken on a more complex, story-driven, and atmospheric quality, with a richer interplay between narrative and character choice. The book would be darker, more sophisticated, and immersive, with a layered story and morally complex characters that invite readers to question the nature of heroism, villainy, and fate. It would keep readers enthralled not just with the challenge of surviving the mountain but with the depth of the world and characters they encounter."

First thought: spare my blushes. But maybe ChatGPT always finds the upside in any comparison? I tried asking it what Heart of Ice would have been like if written by the éminences grises of UK gamebooks. Its reply:

If Heart of Ice had been written by Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson, it would likely have had a distinctly different tone, structure, and gameplay focus. Here’s how:

1. Emphasis on Combat and Skill Tests

Livingstone and Jackson’s style, particularly in the Fighting Fantasy series, leans heavily on combat encounters and skill tests. Instead of the intricate social interactions and strategic planning that Heart of Ice focuses on, there would likely be more dice-based combat and stat checks woven throughout. Encounters with mutants or dangerous factions might involve straightforward fights rather than diplomatic or strategic solutions.

2. Simplified Storyline and Character Interactions

Heart of Ice is known for its branching paths, character-driven plot, and complex narrative. If Livingstone and Jackson had written it, the story might be more linear and driven by clear objectives rather than complex interpersonal choices. NPCs would be more likely to serve as allies or adversaries without much emotional depth, focusing on the immediate stakes rather than broader story themes.

3. Collectible Inventory and Traps

Livingstone and Jackson often include item collection as a key part of their gameplay, with a particular focus on specific items needed to progress through the story or defeat major challenges. If they had written Heart of Ice, players would probably need to collect certain artifacts to reach critical locations like the chamber of the Heart, and there might be more hidden traps and hazards along the way, requiring particular items or choices to avoid disaster.

4. Greater Focus on Luck-Based Outcomes

Jackson and Livingstone's works often incorporate luck as a major mechanic, where random rolls can dramatically impact outcomes. Instead of just weighing the risks and rewards in Heart of Ice, players might face outcomes that hinge on a luck stat or a random roll, affecting their survival or success.

5. Increased Use of Instant Failures and Dead-Ends

Heart of Ice has a reputation for being fair in its approach to player agency and choices, allowing for a range of ways to succeed. In contrast, Livingstone and Jackson might introduce sudden death options more often, which could increase the difficulty and frustration. This could potentially make Heart of Ice a more challenging but also more punishing journey.

6. A Clear-Cut "Big Bad"

While Heart of Ice presents a nuanced story where antagonism isn’t always black-and-white, a version by Livingstone and Jackson might feature a single, clearly defined “villain” character. This villain would be more traditional, with the player's final objective involving a climactic showdown or battle, in line with the classic fantasy narratives they’re known for.

So, the gamebook might end up as a harsher, combat-heavy adventure with a strong, linear quest through a dangerous landscape rather than the layered and atmospheric narrative exploration Dave Morris crafted.

I haven't read enough Fighting Fantasy books to know how accurate that is, but it sounds pretty impressive. I couldn't resist asking it about other gamebook authors' possible take on the book:

“A Joe Dever version of Heart of Ice would likely be an immersive, heroic journey with a noble character, structured progression, and clear moral and strategic choices—capturing both the danger and the higher purpose of the quest in a more heroic fantasy style. He’d likely weave in a sense of duty, encouraging players to act for a greater good rather than personal gain.”

“In Jonathan Green’s hands, Heart of Ice would become a grimdark, horror-fantasy adventure, filled with visceral details, deadly encounters, and moral ambiguity. Green favours action-packed scenes and deadly encounters, so his version of Heart of Ice would feature frequent, high-stakes battles and physical challenges. It might involve collecting key items to reach the Heart or unlock special advantages. He’d likely add a layer of treasure-hunting, where players need to acquire specific artifacts or resources scattered throughout the wasteland to succeed. He loves a grand finale, so his version would likely end with an epic, high-stakes confrontation at the Heart.”

“Martin Noutch’s version would be a complex, playful, and layered adventure, balancing whimsy with emotional gravity. It would be a unique experience, inviting readers to engage with the story on multiple levels, both as an adventure and as a philosophical exploration of resilience, identity, and purpose in a world gone cold. He might include interactive features like tracking character traits, shifting perspectives, or even a system for moral ‘weight’ that changes based on choices. Noutch would probably play with the medium, encouraging readers to see the book as more than a story—perhaps introducing puzzles or mechanics that reflect the icy world’s desolation and the player’s perseverance.”

“If Paul Mason & Steve Williams had taken on Heart of Ice, the gamebook would be a surreal, philosophical journey, focused on introspection, symbolic encounters, and moral ambiguity. Rather than a straightforward adventure, it would feel like a dream-like, psychological exploration, where the destination matters far less than the journey itself. Their works often explore identity and transformation, so players might undergo changes based on their choices, affecting their skills, personality, or even memories. The players might evolve, not just in ability but in character, with each decision subtly reshaping the protagonist’s sense of self and purpose. The character’s motivations for seeking the Heart might also shift over time, depending on the journey's transformative impact. Instead of a straightforward victory or defeat, the journey might conclude with an open-ended, introspective finale, leaving players to interpret what they’ve achieved or lost. The Heart could be something far more abstract—maybe a philosophical revelation or an understanding about the nature of humanity and survival. The ending might reflect the choices made throughout, leaving players with questions rather than answers.”

“Jamie Thomson & Mark Smith are known for their sometimes irreverent style. Heart of Ice under their pen would probably include more dark humour and satirical elements, especially in character dialogue and descriptions of the setting. It might lean into the grim aspects of the post-apocalyptic world with a slightly tongue-in-cheek twist, letting players confront both the desolation and absurdity of humanity’s downfall.”

There are many other talented gamebook writers, of course, but let's keep this under two thousand words if we can. Also, many of the above examples make some kind of sense as Jamie, Mark, Oliver and Paul were all players in the Tekumel campaign that inspired Heart of Ice.

Finally, as a tonic against mortal hubris, I asked ChatGPT how it would improve on my original book:

To enhance Heart of Ice by Dave Morris, we could build on its strengths—the compelling world-building, intense survival themes, and open-ended structure—while adding new dimensions to enrich the experience. Here are some ideas:

1. Enhance World Interactivity and Dynamic Environment

Expanding the world’s responsiveness to player choices would amplify the sense of a living, evolving environment. For example, the harsh ice-covered world could react to the player’s presence in ways that change terrain, reveal hidden paths, or shift alliances among factions. This could make survival not only about enduring the environment but also influencing and adapting it.

2. Expand Character Development and Relationships

Adding a system where the protagonist's choices influence traits or relationships could deepen player immersion. Perhaps the player could develop unique bonds with NPCs, leading to varied endings or special advantages based on trust, alliances, or rivalries. This would make each choice carry more emotional weight, emphasizing both the loneliness and connection found in such an isolated world.

3. More Nuanced Morality and Consequences

The original story features morally ambiguous choices, but expanding these even further could add complexity to the player's journey. Introducing choices with delayed consequences that unfold in unexpected ways would heighten the stakes and allow the player to see the broader impact of their actions—either in aiding certain factions, using resources, or making ethical compromises.

4. Introduce Mysteries with Long-Term Payoffs

Building in hidden mysteries that only reveal themselves through multiple playthroughs could enrich the lore and encourage exploration. For example, obscure clues found throughout the icy wasteland might hint at ancient technologies, or the true nature of the Heart of Volent might only become clear through carefully pieced-together discoveries. Each run could reveal new layers of history or insight.

5. Expand Mechanics for Resource Management and Survival

Given the harsh, resource-scarce setting, adding more nuanced survival mechanics could make the journey more immersive. Players might have to carefully ration food, water, and warmth or deal with shifting weather conditions, making travel more strategic and emphasizing the environmental dangers of this world.

6. Player-Driven Goals Beyond the City of Du-En

Expanding the story’s focus beyond reaching the Heart itself would add depth, especially if there are varied side quests or goals tied to the protagonist’s backstory. For instance, players might choose to pursue knowledge about the world’s origins, help rebuild a faction’s community, or take on a personal mission with high stakes. These could offer alternative endings based on different player-defined motivations.

7. Deeper NPC Lore and Factional Storylines

The factions and characters in Heart of Ice are intriguing, but expanding on them could add richness. Each faction could have its own lore, unique goals, and internal conflicts that unfold through interactions. Aligning with different groups might lead to varied story paths, and the protagonist could gain insights into the world’s history, politics, and culture.

8. Philosophical or Reflective Elements Linked to the Protagonist’s Journey

Introducing elements that invite the protagonist to reflect on their motivations could add a layer of introspection. Perhaps they occasionally encounter sites of historical significance that reveal more about the decline of civilization, prompting players to consider their role in this world’s legacy. These scenes could add depth and give a more philosophical tone to the player’s mission.

9. Expanded Narrative Endings with Layered Themes

Adding more varied, layered endings based on how the player has changed or impacted the world would reward exploration and role-playing. Endings could reflect the protagonist’s growth, alliances, and decisions, offering insights into what their journey ultimately means in the grander context of the icy wasteland.

With these improvements, Heart of Ice could evolve into a multi-dimensional experience that emphasizes survival, moral complexity, and a sense of both personal and environmental impact—deepening the world and the player’s journey through it.

Good points, but I'm not sure if I could have packed all that into 454 sections -- or 455 if you're going by the revised Kindle version. Thirty years ago even delivering a gamebook as long as Heart of Ice (which is about 70,000 words) was tricky to sell to a book publisher. If I were doing it today I'd love to go up to 120,000 words (like Can You Brexit?) or even 220,000 words (as in Workshop of the Gods) which would allow me to indulge all the backstories of the other characters and to put more detail into settings which in the 1993 edition I could only describe with broad strokes. With Russ Nicholson I planned a 2000AD-style comic story (called "Don't You Just Hate It When That Happens", if you really want to know) expanding on Chaim Golgoth's history with Harek Asfar, which was touched on in the book in just a few lines:

We'd have liked to do a comic for each of the main characters but abandoned the idea because there was nowhere in the UK to publish them. And maybe it's just as well. Economy in writing can be an asset even when it's forced on you by the publisher. Maybe Heart of Ice if twice as long, or bulked out with standalone comics, would just feel self-indulgent.

I do occasionally get an urge to return to Heart of Ice's roots and write the roleplaying mini-campaign. I'd probably use GURPS 4e for that, which might put a lot of people off but it's really the best fit. I certainly wouldn't make it any less bleak. Modern readers sometimes grumble about that, but imagine Brazil or Excalibur or Sunset Boulevard, say, with a happy ending. Ugh.

What I'd really like, given a ring of three wishes or a lottery win, would be to adapt it into a CRPG or a TV show. And if I ever should get to do that, I'm planning to enlist ChatGPT (or maybe Claude, or Perplexity, or DeepSeek, or all four) as a writing partner.

Automatic writing

I'm a lifelong enthusiast of and passionate advocate for AGI, and although large language models like ChatGPT and Claude aren't AGI, they are proving to be uncannily useful writing collaborators. I should qualify that. Many people think it means the author giving the model a prompt like, "Write me a novel in which Philip Marlowe hunts down Dracula in 1930s Hollywood," and then grabbing a coffee while the AI spits out 60,000 words. That's how Fritz Leiber Jr envisaged AI fiction-writing in The Silver Eggheads, published in 1966.

Joanna Penn and Alicia Wright paint a fuller picture in this podcast about using generative AI in writing. Every writer finds their own way of making best use of the technology. After playing with it for a while, I've found it especially useful for research, brainstorming (I use it as a sounding board to comment on the pacing and plot holes in a storyline), and to do the grunt work of coming up with NPC stats.

Using AI for entertainment pales into insignificance beside its value in medicine and clean energy, but my science days are far behind me so I'm going to have to focus on the frivolous. For an idea of how LLMs can help with writing research, take this example of a conversation with Claude when I was working on a Faerie Queene scenario for Patreon:

Dave: "Can you give me any examples from late medieval or Tudor literature of a character posing a conundrum that tests the wisdom and moral insight of the listeners? Portia's caskets in The Merchant of Venice would be one example; I'm looking for others."

Claude: "There are several fascinating examples from this period. Let me share a few notable ones. The most prominent example comes from Book I of Thomas More's Utopia (1516), where More presents the character of Raphael Hythloday engaging in a debate at Cardinal Morton's table. Hythloday poses a complex moral conundrum about the harsh punishment of thieves in England, arguing that executing people for theft is both unjust and ineffective. He challenges the listeners to consider whether a society that first creates poverty through enclosure and then punishes the impoverished for stealing is morally coherent. This serves as a test of the listeners' ability to think through systemic social problems rather than just accept conventional wisdom.

"Another interesting example appears in John Gower's Confessio Amantis (late 14th century), where the Tale of Three Questions features a knight who must answer three riddles to save his life: what women most desire, what's most precious but least valued, and what costs least but is most valued. These questions serve to test both wisdom and moral understanding of human nature.

"In the morality play Mankind (c. 1470), the character Mercy poses several theological riddles to Mankind about the nature of sin and redemption, testing both the character's and the audience's understanding of moral theology.

"An unusual example comes from John Skelton's Bowge of Courte (c. 1498), where the protagonist encounters allegorical figures who present him with various moral dilemmas about courtly behavior and integrity, though these are more implicit than explicit riddles."

Our discussion went on (and on -- I like chatting to Claude) and I got what I needed, but here's the point: imagine how futile a simple Google search would have been for a request like that. Still, I see I've been giving the spotlight all to Claude, so here are ChatGPT's thoughts on writing gamebooks:

ChatGPT: "Since a 1000-section gamebook requires long-term consistency, custom formatting, and mechanical coherence, GPT-4-turbo or Claude 3 would be your strongest options. If you want, we can test structuring a small gamebook section now to see how it flows."

Dave: "OK, let's try it. Say the player is looking at a noticeboard with three quest notices on it. We'll use keywords, and each notice has two keywords associated with it. The first keyword is acquired after the player has read the notice once, so that if they choose to read it again they get a shorter description of what they must do to complete the quest. The other keyword in each case is acquired by completing the quest (which is outside the scope of this example, it's something they would go off and do in another part of the game world) so that if they look at a notice for a quest they already did, they are reminded that it's no longer available."

ChatGPT: "Got it! Here's how we can structure this:

1. The player sees a noticeboard with three quest notices.
   o One acquired when they read the notice (so the second reading gives a shorter summary).
   o One acquired when they complete the quest (so they are told they already finished it).
2. Each notice has two keywords:
3. The player chooses which notice to read.
4. The system checks their keywords to determine the output.

I'll draft a structured gamebook section below."

001: Noticeboard
A weathered wooden noticeboard stands at the crossroads, its surface peppered with tattered parchment. Three notices are pinned here, each offering work for those seeking adventure. You can read any of them:

·         [1] The Merchant’s Plea    go to 002

·         [2] The Missing Hunter    go to 003

·         [3] The Bandit Threat        go to 004

Choose which notice to read. If you have already read it, you will see only a summary. If you have completed the quest, you will be informed.

002: The Merchant’s Plea
If you have the keyword READ_MERCHANT, go to 005.
If you have the keyword DONE_MERCHANT, go to 006.

A wealthy merchant named Vargos seeks aid. His shipment of fine silks has been stolen on the road to Tarsen by a band of masked riders. He offers a generous reward to anyone who can recover the stolen goods.

Write down the keyword READ_MERCHANT.
Return to 001.

003: The Missing Hunter
If you have the keyword READ_HUNTER, go to 007.
If you have the keyword DONE_HUNTER, go to 008.

A notice written in hurried script pleads for help. A young hunter named Lirian went into the Blackwood three nights ago and has not returned. His father fears the worst and offers a reward for news of his fate.

Write down the keyword READ_HUNTER.
Return to 001.

004: The Bandit Threat
If you have the keyword READ_BANDIT, go to 009.
If you have the keyword DONE_BANDIT, go to 010.

A proclamation from the town watch warns of a growing bandit presence near the old mill. Travelers have gone missing, and merchants report stolen goods. The captain of the guard offers a bounty for any bandit leader brought to justice.

Write down the keyword READ_BANDIT.
Return to 001.

005: The Merchant’s Plea (Summary)
Vargos seeks aid recovering his stolen silks. A reward is offered.
Return to 001.

006: The Merchant’s Plea (Completed)
You have already helped Vargos. There is nothing more to do here.
Return to 001.

007: The Missing Hunter (Summary)
A hunter is missing in the Blackwood. His father seeks news.
Return to 001.

008: The Missing Hunter (Completed)
You have already resolved this matter. There is nothing more to do here.
Return to 001.

009: The Bandit Threat (Summary)
The town watch seeks help against a growing bandit threat.
Return to 001.

010: The Bandit Threat (Completed)
The bandit threat has been dealt with. The notice is now irrelevant.
Return to 001.

I find that pretty impressive. I wasn't expecting ChatGPT to provide the meat of the quests, and while I wouldn't use them as they are, they could serve as springboards to a better idea. I said to ChatGPT, only half in jest: "I'll soon be obsolete."

"You're far from obsolete," said ChatGPT, eager as always to be supportive. "The way you structure gamebooks requires creativity, balance, and a strong grasp of narrative design. LLMs are just tools to assist in the process. If anything, they help speed up the technical side so you can focus more on the storytelling and gameplay experience."

Which is pretty much what I've been telling everyone all along.

In the Ashes

In The Ashes is a solo roleplaying gamebook written by Pablo Aguilera and published by Devir. Pablo was kind enough to send me a couple of copies. It's a handsome hardback with rich colour illustrations adorning almost every page and I’ve spent some immersive hours diving into its beautifully intricate world. 

First off, as you can see in the video, this is by no means your typical gamebook. The story itself is classic high fantasy, taking place on the magical island of Obor and beginning with a scene of great dramatic force and horror: a public execution. You assume control of several different characters over the first three (of four) acts, with the game introducing you to each in turn. While the plot remains mostly linear, your actions still matter, influencing how events unfold in later acts.

One of the standout features of the gamebook is its deck-building mechanic. Yes, deck-building -- In The Ashes integrates cards into its core gameplay. You’ll begin with a small set of cards and gain more as you progress, and those cards are all laid out on the page. While you never physically shuffle them, you’ll strategically choose cards during encounters, making for a uniquely tactical experience.

In fact that's a unifying feature of the game: everything, including your tactical moves, is written directly into the book, right there on the page. Another example: the symbols that you mark on later pages. These are like keywords in a book like Vulcanverse, but with a more subtle affect. You'll reach that page, see that you've marked a symbol, and immediately you know that what's about to happen is a consequence of an earlier choice you made. You can see why you might want two copies.

Though the gameplay is dense, the prose is clean and to the point, keeping the pace brisk without sacrificing the richness of the world. This is crucial for a gamebook that wants you to focus on its mechanics and tactical decisions as much as its story. You’re not just reading—you’re strategizing, managing your resources, and executing complex plans, all while the narrative unfolds.

The variety in character mechanics, the tactical depth, and the smooth integration of board game elements make In The Ashes an experience worth savoring. If you're a fan of solo roleplaying games, especially those with a classic fantasy quest structure and a focus on strategy, this book is definitely worth seeking out.

And while I'm doing the recommendation thing, a couple of other juicy items are, firstly, The Casket of Fays #15 -- the usual superb Dragon Warriors/Legend gaming material. It's pay-what-you-want but don't be stingy. I especially liked Tom Clare's article on doppelgangers, which begins:

"Sometimes, at particular hours on particular nights, one looks into a candlelit mirror and gets the distinct feeling that the person reflected there is somebody else. This is a sign the veil between our world and the murky, warped otherworld of the mirror people has grown thin. And if in that moment the mirror is touched, there is a chance that the gossamer barrier will yield and one’s double will step out into the real world. (Highly reflective ponds count as mirrors for this purpose and, if touched in bright moonlight, have an even greater chance of releasing a double.)"

That's very Legend, that. But I said two juicy items. The other is Travelling at Night, a luscious-looking character-driven CRPG from Weather Factory. It's set in a skewed alternate Cold War period. I've recently been drawn to The Thaumaturge and have been incubating a mid-20th century game of my own involving politics, espionage and ideological tensions, so maybe it's an idea whose time has come. (Relatively speaking, that is; I'm sure orcs and fireballs will continue to hold the top spot for most gamers.)

Cue the sun

Jamie and I have mostly avoided patching the Vulcanverse books once they're published, as obviously it's not as easy to deliver a patch for a book as it is for a videogame. We wouldn't want people who had already bought the book to miss out. If we do tweak anything in the text, we're always careful to make sure that it's backwards-compatible with earlier editions and doesn't invalidate anything that's already established.

Here's an example. The latest version of The Pillars of the Sky has this section:

The only difference from the earliest edition of the book is in the first line of that section. Previously you only got the codeword Quire; now you also get another codeword, Quell. The reason for the patch is that Quire tracks the setting of that switch. If you turn it off you lose the codeword. Turn it back on and you get Quire again.

That was fine, but we realized it would also be useful to record whether you had found the switch, regardless of whether you happen to leave it on. So once you've got the codeword Quell you can't lose it.

The only place Quell is used is in section 1155 of Workshop of the Gods (book 5):

And that works fine even if you have the original editions (which are collector's items now; only a few dozen were sold before the update) and so you never saw the codeword Quell. The patch adds a little more fine-tuning but doesn't break anything -- which is our policy for any changes to these books.

How hard should a gamebook be?

Achievement unlocked. 

It's a great thing to see, but only when it's earned. If the world can be saved just by stumbling through an adventure picking options at random, where's the sense of reward? At the same time, gamebook writers are aware that a lot of readers don't have the patience to go digging after clues. If they don't get a pat on the head every few minutes they'll lose interest. We can't please everyone, so what's the answer?

Every gamebook series has to find its own balance. For example, Vulcanverse:

"No one is holding your hand. There is no main quest at the beginning, and at times you will find yourself wandering around looking for clues, treasures, and quests to accomplish. This can be frustrating, but the rewards are for those who persevere and who keep an eye out for the signs and clues you find. One of the coolest moments in these books is when you discover that a clue you found makes sense and reveals a new adventure or a way to solve a problem."

(Review translated from Spanish.)

In those books your decisions can completely change the world, deciding the fate of empires, permanently altering the landscape and the people in it. As another review (also translated by Google) put it: "You have a lot of adventures ahead of you -- not because Vulcanverse has no end, as in other open-world series, but because the stories follow one another and intertwine seemingly without end."

In a traditional gamebook, challenges must be addressed linearly and each one must be dealt with before you progress to the next. That means the individual challenges can't be too hard, because if the player is stumped it's not as if they can go and tackle another quest while they're thinking about it. In other words, challenges can't involve the player thinking, "OK I don't have what I need for this right now, but if I come back with item X and clue Y maybe I can do it." There's the strength of open-world gamebooks right there.

When the rewards have to do with saving an entire civilization, the effort on the part of the player has to be such that it feels earned. That's why Vulcanverse isn't the kind of loosely open-world game in which you can drift around with one eye on something else and still expect to pile up heaps of treasure and accomplishments. To save a universe you have to be prepared to work at it. One reviewer remarked on how he'd been playing for hours, getting a whole bunch of things set up in The Hammer of the Sun, and finally he was able to carry out a ritual that completely changed the whole realm of Notus, unlocking lots of new quests. That cascade of new opportunities, he said, was an achievement worth waiting for.

I was reminded of all this when talking to an old friend about Gunslinger, a tactical RPG-ish boardgame by Richard Hamblen that we used to play a lot back in the 1980s. The best way I can describe it is to say the game would reliably throw up moments as vivid and dramatic as this:

"Remember what incredible stories we'd have to tell after a Gunslinger game," I said. "Why don't we still play that?" My friend shrugged. "Because each game lasted a couple of hours, and nobody has the patience these days for anything that takes longer than Exploding Kittens."

(I can't argue with that, as these days I'd be much more likely to spend a couple of hours playing Fights in Tight Spaces, which has a lot in common with the tactical gameplay of Gunslinger but with much less set-up time and snazzy animations too.)

Quick and simple play for spoon-fed rewards? Or mighty triumphs that you have to work at achieving? There's no right answer to this question. Vulcanverse's hard-won victories are certainly not to everyone's taste, but if there's any gamebook approach that caters to everyone's taste then believe me I'll write it.

French-speaking readers may want to pick up a copy of Le Marteau et l’Enclume issue #12, which is devoted to the launch in France of Forge Divine, the French name for Vulcanverse. Candidly I sometimes wish we'd called it something like that in English too, as the implied connection with the online crypto-based game has probably done little but confuse potential players of the gamebooks. So just for the record, you don't need to know anything about the online game to play the gamebooks -- and vice versa.

Actions and consequences in an open world

When I mentioned on social media that Vulcanverse would be the first open-world gamebook series to be finished, somebody rightly pointed out that "finished" is a moot term when we're talking about open-world adventures. Fabled Lands, for example, is famously incomplete -- but all that actually means is that you can only explore about two-thirds of the areas shown on the map. If and when we ever type "The End" on Fabled Lands book 12, that wouldn't constitute an ending in the way a linear story ends. You can go round and round forever. That's what open worlds are all about.

Vulcanverse is different. Superficially it is like Fabled Lands, a sandbox for adventuring in, but that's deceptive. It's actually more like an open-world CRPG where you can take up quests in any order, but they feed into a central story thread that will lead you to a grand finale. Minor quests allow you to qualify for major quests, and some of those have payoffs that change the landscape of the game (literally) or win you allies who may rally to your side at the showdown with the Big Bad.

The last half of Workshop of the Gods (around 880 sections out of 1667 in total) is devoted to that endgame track, and once you complete it the game is over. You can bide your time entering the endgame, gathering everything and everyone you think you'll need, but once you're on it the structure is pretty linear. It's like a traditional gamebook from that point, sacrificing complete freedom of choice in favour of a dramatic conclusion.

I got to wondering how many quests are up for grabs in the whole five books. One clue might be in the codewords that we use to keep track of earlier decisions. For instance, if you begin your adventures in Book Five you start with the codeword Reverie. That remembers that you have a home and family in the city, and that you are familiar with the main landmarks. Titles such as Amazonian Queen or Tricked by a Water Nymph serve a similar function, the main difference being that you can see what the title records whereas the function of a codeword is usually not obvious immediately.

There are about two hundred codewords and seventy-odd titles across the five Vulcanverse books. As a quick yardstick, that might suggest around 250 quests (given that you might pick up more than one codeword on the bigger quests) but actually it's the tip of the iceberg. We only use codewords and titles when a player choice can have consequences anywhere in the Vulcanverse. All sorts of people you meet will react differently if you're the Amazonian Queen, for example.

But there are plenty of quests that don't have global repercussions, so to avoid having to check codeword lists too often we use a non-global logic filter: the tickbox. A tickbox is located "in the code". At the point that you arrive at a location, say, a tickbox could record whether this is your first visit (in which case you get the longer description) or a follow-up. Multiple codewords can be used to trigger different events each time you visit the location, as in the case of the tengu king's court in FL Book Six:

With a little extra tweaking, a tickbox can serve to filter a quest that is not yet complete, or that has just been completed, or that you completed a while ago. Here's an instance of that from Vulcanverse Book Four:

In this case, section 912 gives you the set-up conditions before the quest is dealt with and asks if you have what's needed to fulfil it. Usually you'll go away and come back later with what you need, though you might be lucky enough to have it already -- an item, a codeword, a companion, etc. If and when you do, 912 steers you to a section (or a whole subquest loop consisting of many sections) that if successful routes you back to 408 with the instruction to tick the box. At that point, you'll then go to section 1043 and be told the outcome and what reward you get. If you return to the Atlas tree later on, you'll see that the box is already ticked and so you'll go to section 1007, which tells you the new status quo that applies since you resolved the quest.

There are a lot more localized quests than globally significant ones, just like in a CRPG, so at a rough guess that means the whole Vulcanverse series comprises about six or seven hundred distinct quests. Some just earn you an item or a stat boost. Others unlock bigger quests. Each of the first four books features three major quests called labours, and when you've completed all twelve of those it unlocks the possibility to jump into the endgame in Book Five whenever you're ready.

I haven't seen a breakdown of the quest structure for something like The Witcher or Baldur's Gate, but I'm curious to know how the scope of those games measures up beside Vulcanverse. If you know the numbers, share them in the comments. And if you have a loved or loathed gamebook design feature -- maybe you can't stand writing in books, or you don't like logic gates -- let us know about that too.

Online Adventure Sheets

Tickbox and codeword spreadsheet for all 5 Vulcanverse books

Buy the Vulcanverse series on Amazon

Maps of the mind

Martin Noutch, author of the wonderful Steam Highwayman books, is a true scholar of the craft of gamebook writing. One of the reasons his own books are so good might be because he has thoroughly analyzed the works of other writers in the field. The shoulders of giants and all that.

So that you can benefit from his studies too, Martin recently posted his story maps of the Fabled Lands books. Looking at those prompted me to dig out some of the maps I used to plan the books. Astonished that I still have this stuff after 30 years? I'm working on that hoarding obsession.

Trust me when I say that you haven't seen the full possibility of storytelling married to open world gamebooks until you've played the Steam Highwayman series.

Steam Highwayman in the US

Steam Highwayman in the UK

And if you like the idea of steam-powered vehicles and picaresque adventures in an early 19th century setting (or style thereof), I recommend Keith Roberts' seminal SF novel Pavane. (It is SF, incidentally, and not steampunk, which is really a branch of fantasy because physics, but I don't want to give any spoilers. Read it and see.)

Pavane in the US

Pavane in the UK

Just a scratch

While talking to Paweł Dziemski at Other Worlds (publishers of the beautiful Polish edition of Heart of Ice) we realized -- well, Paweł did -- that the strict Endurance rules of the original Blood Sword books are not in step with the thinking of modern gamebooks. Back then, your hit points were whittled away and if you got to zero, too bad: bury that character and go back to the start.

It's never fun dying in a gamebook, but at least if it happens because of a bad decision then you can accept that you should have thought more about it or watched out for the clues and warnings. When you just conk out from hit point attrition, that's a death of a thousand paper cuts. These days it's likely to have you throwing the book across the room.

Of course, you could include a sage in the party and rely on their healing, but the rules shouldn't make it impossible for you to play without a sage. Paweł suggested restoring Endurance to full if characters survive a fight, but I didn't want to go quite that far as it would make the sage's healing power pretty useless.

So I've added these optional rules to the Blood Sword books. Use any that take your fancy:

• After winning a fight, every surviving character in the party can recover half their lost Endurance points rounded up. For example, if you normally have 30 Endurance and you end a fight with 9 Endurance, you can restore your score to 20. This only applies if you are victorious, not if you flee from the combat. Endurance is not recovered until the battle is over and all opponents have been vanquished. A character who was reduced to 0 Endurance during the fight does not recover; they are dead and gone.
• Instead of unlimited movement on the tactical maps, you move a number of squares equal to ½ your Awareness.
• If killed in a combat that the rest of the party win, a character returns to life with 1-6 Endurance.
• If the whole party is killed, use the flee option for that section (if there is one) and return to life with 1d6 Endurance each. (So the party only dies if there is no flee option.)

The Blood Sword series is on Amazon (UK and US and worldwide).

A faerie contest

Talking the other week about Mark Smith's Virtual Reality gamebooks reminded me that I was also called in to do some editorial work on the first one, Green Blood. In the original version, your only chance of dealing with the elves was if you'd picked SWORDPLAY, SPELLS or UNARMED COMBAT at the start of the book. Given that you create a character by picking four out of a list of twelve skills, that means that more than one in four randomly chosen characters wouldn't be able to complete the adventure.

Mark's argument was that a player would be crazy not to start with at least one of those skills, but I was more used to roleplaying games like RuneQuest, and there the whole point is to customize the character by picking skills. It's never a given that you have to be a fighter or a wizard, as in D&D. Even one of the pregen characters in Green Blood (the thief) couldn't have finished the adventure.

It's really no fun to learn halfway through a gamebook that you never had a chance, so the publishers asked me to create some other contests you can use to best the elves using FOLKLORE, CUNNING or ARCHERY. You can play that sequence of the book here -- start at 21, and if you don't use any of the options I added then you'll eventually be sent to 18, which was the entirety of the original contest. 

You can also read the whole book here or try Stuart Lloyd's version Ravages of Hate, which weaves Green Blood into the material of Coils of Hate.

Seen in the smoke

Why put the Oracle into a gamebook? Simple. I was hired to write for the Vulcanverse series, and the background they'd chosen was Greek myth. My personal preference in fantasy is for original settings like Tekumel, but the Greek angle made it easy. I just had to arm myself with a copy of Graves and figure out which stories to use in the books.

In fact there was another reason I wanted to do something with the Oracle. I'll come to that later.

The sixty-four thousand drachma question: how to use oracles in a gamebook? Prophecies are tricky enough in roleplaying games, where you have a bit of latitude in interpretation and you can if need be nudge events in line with what's supposed to happen.

Here's the way I planned to do it. You can request a prophecy on one of several tasks. First you must pay a lava gem to be admitted to see the Pythia, then:

Each answer sets a definite outcome to a challenge – two good, one bad. Once that’s set it cannot be changed. For example, take the bad prophecy. The Pythia says you will fall to Antaios, and if you've been given that prophecy then when you meet him he will certainly overcome you without the usual combat choices. (Though maybe there’d be a last chance to reverse the defeat, ie you are overcome but might still escape.)

If you meet Antaios after you've already seen the Pythia, and so  have the codeword DoneAntaios, then the prophecy will come true with your inevitable defeat. But if you meet Antaios before you've visited the Pythia and been given the codeword by her then you get the usual “unfated” encounter, meaning that you have a chance to defeat him. Without the prophecy, your fate is in your own hands. Then at the end of that encounter you'll get the codeword DoneAntaios which ensures the Pythia can’t give you a prophecy about something that's already happened.

That's the bad outcome. The other two questions, about the crown of snakes and the city of glass, would be answered with prophecies that guaranteed success -- assuming you visit the Pythia before undertaking those quests. (The player shouldn't know in advance which question will get a bad prophecy and which will get good outcomes, of course.)

The other reason for putting an Oracle into the Vulcanverse books is that they are open world adventures. My original idea for those (see Cities of Gold & Glory, for example) was that players could define their own goals. That's what my role-playing campaigns tend to be like. If a PC decides they want to climb the highest mountain in each of the kingdoms, for example, they can just go and do it. If there are pre-planned quests you have to come across them, not be handed them. But many gamebook fans and players of traditional D&D are accustomed to being given an objective at the start. "Your mission, should you choose to accept..." 

The Oracle is a way of giving players a choice. Want an assigned quest? Go to the Oracle -- but she might doom you to failure before you've even begun. Or you can go looking for your own adventures, disdaining any sense that destiny controls you; be the captain of your own fate. In the Vulcanverse, the choice is yours.