The words ‘how to make tables that don’t suck’ in white on a beige background, with a painted old man with a pipe sawing wood, with dice, a DM screen, and an Earth Tongue poster behind him.

Kia ora, I’m Eamonn, sometimes known as Mōmoke, you can find some of my games here: https://momoke.itch.io/

 

How to build an encounter table that doesn’t suck (hopefully)

Or at least, how I built mine for my current campaign, and some of the lessons I learnt along the way.

 

The game:

The year is this one. The place is also this one, with some key differences.

 

In 2019, aliens came to earth in three locations: the Peruvian Coast, the bays of Sri Lanka, and the Coromandel. The visitors stayed here for three months, then seemingly left. Everything within a 60km radius of their landing was changed. The players are hobbyists—not experts—travelling to the Coromandel Visitation Zone, looting it for artifacts, and trying to get rich.

             

While there’s a lot of Zone fiction out there, and quite a few TTRPGs focused on it. None of them felt like a great fit for what I wanted. All were too in debt to Roadside Picnic, Stalker, or Annhiliation. They felt too American, or Russian, for my sensibilities. We decided on Liminal Horror, because of it’s modularity.

 

I wanted a game that felt local and leant into the strengths of that. We knew the territory and so we could really get into the nitty gritty of overland travel. In terms of prep, most of the land was already there; I just needed to fill it with things.

 

The random tables:

I wanted to use random tables for a few reasons: 1, I hadn’t before; 2, I had a good grasp of the location and key landmarks; 3, my previous campaign had been very planned out, and while my players had fun, I felt like they didn’t get a lot of opportunities to drive the story. I wanted a game where I was a passive adjudicator, helping them chase down a narrative.

 

I could have grabbed some random tables from another system, swap out some fo the monsters for my own, and call it done. But it would feel like a betrayal to that premise. What if a place we all knew well was populated by knock-off D&D creatures? I wanted to dive into the weirdness of Aotearoa.

 

The first table:

My first set of tables was based on Moose’s wonderful Tunnelers Campaign.  (https://icbmoose.blot.im/tagged/tunnelers). I would roll encounters in advance to give myself time to think about how to make them more than just a few statblocks in a spot. I planned around each day of travel having two encounters.

 

I made a d12 table where I would roll 1d4 and 1d12 and these would be that days encounters. Entries 1-4 were more common, mundane encounters, if a little generic.

A series of tables with the headings ‘encounters’, ‘hazards/environment’, and ‘mundane, minion, beast, hostile, wildlife’. Below is a table of names, with the headings male, female, unisex, and last names.

Encounters:
1.	Roll on the wildlife table
2.	Roll on the hazard table
3.	Hazard table + hazard table
4.	1d6 mundane and unarmed locals (table)
5.	Minion table
6.	Anomly farmer or Plainswalker. If encountered near road or in nearby horse/vehicle
7.	2d6 humans in conflict with anomaly or another faction
8.	Local beast (table)
9.	1d4 helpful Stalkers from CTS
10.	Four square Creation (¼ chance of being Mr Four Square)
11.	1d6+2 Hostile Humans
12.	A glass angel

Hazards/environment
1.	Mosquito mange
2.	Headlights
3.	Tesla storm
4.	Space bubble (loops)
5.	Redshift
6.	Hate rain
7.	Slipspace
8.	Bad jelly

Mundane
1.	LandSAR group
2.	Hauraki planeswalkers
3.	Grapevine
4.	Wopsmen
5.	Four Squares
6.	CTS

Minion
1.	2d4 christmas apes
2.	1d4 line spiders
3.	2d4 barbed gremlin
4.	1d6 trophies
5.	1d2 extras
6.	1d2 vehicles

Beast
1.	Santa
2.	Tractor
3.	Tuatara (or eel)
4.	Catalogue beast

Hostile
1.	Anomaly farmers
2.	Billboard
3.	Australian gov
4.	Firebrans
5.	The chimera corps
6.	Radical four squares

Widlife
1.	1d4 horses/ destriers
2.	2d6 deer / hunted trophies
3.	2d6 dogs / night-lights
4.	2d10 sheep / RAM processors
5.	2d10 cows / auroch or Camo
6.	1d6 birds / mind tui

Male
Jack
Josh
Sam
Wiremu
Nikau
Hemi
Luca
Elija
Koa
Theo
Arthur
Rangi

Female
Aroha
Atarangi
Manaia
Mia
Hazel
Lily
Maia
Keira
Ataahua
Charlotte
Amelia
Harper

Unisex
Kahurangi
Sam
Alex
Jamie
Taylor
Morgan

Last names
Smith
Wilson
Singh
Brown
Harris
White
Walker
Clark
Scott
Singh
Patel
Thomas
Kelly
Murphy
Robinson
Nguyen
Turner
Kaur

 

(Yes, all these terms are meaningless, but they’re meaningful to me).

 

There were a few problems with this original table, which I noticed in play. This version of the table trended heavily towards the “normal”. Even though Hazards were still extremely common on this table, they weren’t showing up enough to feel like a Roadside picnic.

 

This table also required a LOT of rolling. Roll for the encounter table, roll the encounter table, roll the creatures in the encounter. Not only that, these were also rolls that I was often fudging. I had laid out the map with some dominant factions focused on certain areas. Which meant that certain outcomes just didn’t make sense in those areas.

 

Diagnosis:

I had designed these tables with the “best” options in mind. That each day would be a mix of different kinds of encounters. I hadn’t considered chance can be cruel. There were combinations of encounters that just weren’t interesting. (In my opinion, entries 1, 2, 4, and 9. Nearly half the entries here, three of which were more like to show up). Or, there was a chance that I’d roll the same (or similar) encounters again and again.

 

The biggeset problem was that these encounters, as the kids say, were cooked. Even with time to consider the situation and build them out, these encounters didn’t force players to do anything. The hazards, while interesting, weren’t strong enough to hold an encounter on their own. They were roadbumps, not challenges that made the players feel smart for overcoming them.

 

My next attempt at the table had some new, clearer goals:

  • Every entry on a table should do They should be a powder keg waiting to blow. They should be a fascinating problem to contend with, and avoiding or engaging them should have consequences.
  • Those entries should reflect how much something shows up in play. I shouldn’t hide essential, or exciting information behind them. If it was absolutely essential, it should be part of the core mechanics.  
  • Every encounter should be able to withstand bad luck. Figure out the most boring combinations and give them edges. Add details and teeth. Each encounter should feel like a microcosm of the entire campaign’s vibe.
  • Encounters should be trying to get something from the players, they should demand attention and recognition.

 

Following from that, here were the changes I made to both my game, and the random encounter table.

 

First, hazard rolls. Every time players travelled to another hex they roll 1d6. On the outskirts of the Zone there’s a 1/6 chance of a hazard being encountered. This goes up the closer they you are to the centre, capping out at a 3/6 chance. These odds can be furhter modified by other factors like travel speed.

 

Hazards are still random, but they’re way more common. They’re more like seasoning on other encounters. They’re a way to add energy into a situation. If you wanted to adapt them into another game this is where you could use weather or other effects to spice up a situation.

 

Second, daily effects. I wanted the centre of the Zone to feel more chaotic and I wanted to encourage a sort of “playground behaviour”. So I created an additional table that the players roll every morning. These are things that push everyone off balance (including me), creating both problems and opportunities.

 

Finally, better encounters. Instead of lower values being “normal” (boring) encounters, they instead reflected the default amount of threat that encounter brought with it. These encounters aren’t my final design, but they’re a start in the right direction. I’ve tried to make each encounter reflect what my players and I wanted our game to be “about”. If we only rolled one number the entire game we’d still get a bright and interesting picture of our setting.

 

(Sidenote: Create a few pillars or goals at the start of a game, and be honest about what would interest you and your players. Try to make every entry touch two of these, at a minimum.)

 

The updated table:

A series of tables with the headings ‘encounters’, ‘daily effects’, ‘hazards/environment’, and ‘mundane, minion, beast, hostile, wildlife’. Below is a table of names, with the headings male, female, unisex, and last names.

Encounters:
1.	Roll on the wildlife table. What have they reclaimed?
2.	Mundane group in a bad situation
3.	Wildlife table + Minion table
4.	Mundane faction looting this hex
5.	Minion table, advancing their goals
6.	A large, but non-aggressive anomaly blocks travel
7.	Minion table in conflict with 1d6+2 Hostile Humans
8.	Local beast trying to gain or find something valuable
9.	Ally or merchant
10.	Leader of hostile faction
11.	1d6+2 Hostile faction claiming this hex
12.	Two factions or anomalies at war

Daily effects
1.	Electronics no longer work
2.	Metal is twice as heavy
3.	Animals are more active
4.	Dramatic shift in temperature
5.	Everything is slippery
6.	Everything is haunted
7.	A roaming Beast and its minions
8.	All grass is as sharp as glass
9.	The sun doesn’t rise
10.	A hostile faction is taking over this hex
11.	Fog clings to living things
12.	A doubling field appears

Hazards/environment
1.	Mosquito mange
2.	Headlights
3.	Tesla storm
4.	Space bubble (loops)
5.	Trampoline
6.	Hate rain
7.	Slipspace
8.	Bad jelly
9.	Angel puzzle
10.	Cache (hidden, obvious, trapped, looted)

Mundane
1.	LandSAR group
2.	Hauraki planeswalkers
3.	Grapevine
4.	Angel
5.	Four Squares
6.	CTS

Minion
1.	2d4 christmas apes
2.	1d4 line spiders
3.	2d4 barbed gremlin
4.	1d6 trophies
5.	1d2 extras
6.	1d2 vehicles

Beast
1.	Santa
2.	Tractor
3.	Tuatara (or eel)
4.	Catalogue beast

Hostile
1.	Anomaly farmers
2.	Billboard
3.	Australian gov
4.	Firebrands
5.	The chimera corps
6.	Radical four squares

Widlife
1.	1d4 horses / destriers
2.	2d6 deer / hunted trophies
3.	2d6 dogs / night-lights
4.	2d10 sheep / RAM processors
5.	2d10 cows / auroch or Camo
6.	1d6 birds / mind tui

Male
Jack
Josh
Sam
Wiremu
Nikau
Hemi
Luca
Elija
Koa
Theo
Arthur
Rangi

Female
Aroha
Atarangi
Manaia
Mia
Hazel
Lily
Maia
Keira
Ataahua
Charlotte
Amelia
Harper

Unisex
Kahurangi
Sam
Alex
Jamie
Taylor
Morgan

Last names
Smith
Wilson
Singh
Brown
Harris
White
Walker
Clark
Scott
Singh
Patel
Thomas
Kelly
Murphy
Robinson
Nguyen
Turner
Kaur

Now, is this a perfect set of tables? No. But they’re good enough for me to start iterating.

 

One of the biggest problems I can see here is that none of these encounters have a fun amount of specificity. A ‘bad situation’ isn’t as interesting as ‘trapped under a tree’ or ‘surrounded by wild animals’.

 

So here’s another try with a bit more specificity.  

A series of tables with the headings ‘encounters’, ‘daily effects’, ‘hazards/environment’, and ‘mundane, minion, beast, hostile, wildlife’. Below is a table of names, with the headings male, female, unisex, and last names.

Encounters:
1.	Roll on the wildlife table. Noisy. Following you.
2.	Mundane group, trapped. Lost control of artifact.
3.	Convert for hostile faction, wants to debate.
4.	Mundane faction. Vehicle stuck, creatures closing in
5.	Ally or merchant foisting wares
6.	A large, but non-aggressive anomaly blocks travel
7.	Minion and hostile group fighting over an artifact
8.	Minion table trying to call for help
9.	Local beast, ambushed by hostile faction
10.	Hostile faction leader is recruiting converts
11.	CTS member. Stole artifact from a Beast, running
12.	Two factions or anomalies at war

Daily effects
1.	Electronics no longer work
2.	Metal is twice as heavy
3.	Animals are more active
4.	Dramatic shift in temperature
5.	Everything is slippery
6.	Everything is haunted
7.	A roaming Beast and its minions
8.	All grass is as sharp as glass
9.	The sun doesn’t rise
10.	A hostile faction is taking over this hex
11.	Fog clings to living things
12.	A doubling field appears

Hazards/environment
1.	Mosquito mange
2.	Headlights
3.	Tesla storm
4.	Space bubble (loops)
5.	Trampoline
6.	Hate rain
7.	Slipspace
8.	Bad jelly
9.	Angel puzzle
10.	Cache (hidden, obvious, trapped, looted)

Mundane
1.	LandSAR group
2.	Hauraki planeswalkers
3.	Grapevine
4.	Angel
5.	Four Squares
6.	CTS

Minion
1.	2d4 christmas apes
2.	1d4 line spiders
3.	2d4 barbed gremlin
4.	1d6 trophies
5.	1d2 extras
6.	1d2 vehicles

Beast
1.	Santa
2.	Tractor
3.	Tuatara (or eel)
4.	Catalogue beast

Hostile
1.	Anomaly farmers
2.	Billboard
3.	Australian gov
4.	Firebrands
5.	The chimera corps
6.	Radical four squares

Widlife
1.	1d4 horses / destriers
2.	2d6 deer / hunted trophies
3.	2d6 dogs / night-lights
4.	2d10 sheep / RAM processors
5.	2d10 cows / auroch or Camo
6.	1d6 birds / mind tui

Male
Jack
Josh
Sam
Wiremu
Nikau
Hemi
Luca
Elija
Koa
Theo
Arthur
Rangi

Female
Aroha
Atarangi
Manaia
Mia
Hazel
Lily
Maia
Keira
Ataahua
Charlotte
Amelia
Harper

Unisex
Kahurangi
Sam
Alex
Jamie
Taylor
Morgan

Last names
Smith
Wilson
Singh
Brown
Harris
White
Walker
Clark
Scott
Singh
Patel
Thomas
Kelly
Murphy
Robinson
Nguyen
Turner
Kaur

 

I’m a little more interested in these, as they feel a little more like they’re starting with momentum and heading in a direction. There’s still holes to plug up, but this is a much stronger set of tables, and all I’ve done is look for where I’m being generic and zoom in a little.  

 

How to make random encounters work.

What makes a table actually work isn’t their entries, their layout, or their odds. What makes a good encounter table is your ability to implement it.

 

The random table is not a way to fill out a map or add randomness to a game. They’re your representation of the world’s ecology. Not in terms of predation and prey (though that is part of it), but the giant network that connects all ficitonal life. How do things talk to each other?

 

This table is like my satellite image of this strange Coromandel. Every entry is happening in there, somewhere, and I’m ten-thousand kms in the air, taking a snapshot. Every entry is happening somewhere on the map, all at once. Each of them is tugging on pulling on each other like a web. The roll is just to decide where in that web the players are stuck like a twitching fly.

 

If your table shares “three wolves”, and “1d6 brigands”. Those things are in conversation. Are those wolves the escaped pets/mascots of those soldiers? Or are the brigands wanting revenge on the wolves that killed their captain?

 

If a good table creates a situation full of potential energy, then a great table makes sure all that energy is aimed towards something. Factions are at war, histories are playing out, people are just missing each other. Each individual entry can be quite shallow (‘a travelling merchant hastily hands you a fabrige egg’), but together they paint a wider picture (‘a detachment of guards, red-faced, are looking for the King’s missing alchemist’).

 

If you’re designing tables that are meant to be read by other people, this is where your focus should be. Encounters should involve something pursuing another goal, or entry, actively. This encounter gets even better if that goal centres on the players and forces them to respond and react.

 

Here’s another example:

  • Bad entry: 1d4 orcs
  • Fine entry: 1d4 orcs, searching for treasure.
  • Good entry: 1d4 orcs, escaped from Coughrock Mine, looking for where the Baron hid their pay.
  • 1d4 orcs, escaped from Coughrock Mine, assuming that you’re sent by the Baron, and you have their witheld pay.

 

Trusting the table:

While we can fiddle about with entries until we think they’re perfect, at a certain point, you can squeeze the most juice from just trusting the table wholeheartedly. For me as a GM, this is what makes the game really fun.

 

Early on in our game, players rolled several back to back encounters with “Santa Claus”, a sort of holiday dragon made entirely from Christmas decorations. All of these encounters were centred around the North-western corner of our map. 

 

Reading these results in a curious and repairative way is really exciting here: What is Santa Claus trying to protect? Looking at my map, I can see there’s a mountain range and a quarry. Is there a nest here? There’s also quite a few radio towers in the area, does Santa Claus see these as threats to his territory?

 

All of these questions are things that add to the texture of this campaign. They’re also the kinds of details and answers I could only arrive at by letting go of my own control, and letting the random encounter table take precedent.

 

It’s that stuff that keeps me coming back each session, excited to see where these tables take us.

 

Joesky tax:

Now, I think I’ve done enough tables to hopefully pay my Joesky tax, but just in case, I thought I’d cover my bases.

 

In line with this theme, here’s a “what is the encounter doing” table:

The words ‘what are the monsters doing?’
1.	Building something precarious
2.	Setting something on fire
3.	Setting traps
4.	Gathering supplies
5.	Stealing supplies
6.	Cutting down a tree
7.	Bullying a merchant
8.	Building a barrier
9.	Experimenting with projectiles
10.	Overburdened with goods

To the right is a dancing gremlin like creature with a cloak on

A picture of kawakawa, a plant with heart shaped green leaves.

Written by Riwhi Kenny. Catch Riwhi in the Māori Creators Panel alongside Liam Stevens (Toa Tabletop), Sascha Stronach (The Dawnhounds), and Te Aihe Butler (Fury of the Small), on the KiwiRPG Twitch at 1pm-2:30pm NZST Friday 10th July  / Friday 2am BST / Thursday 9pm EDT.

Please note that due to many Māori doing Matariki kaupapa (events) around this time, this panel is pre-recorded. It will be put on the KiwiRPG youtube after the week ends, and linked here once posted.

 

Tēnā koutou, he uri ahau nō Ngāi Tahu me Te Ātiawa. Ko Riwhi ahau, my name is Riwhi! If you’ve been paying attention, you may know my name from my account being the one posting all these amazing blogposts this week, and man, I have been loving all of them!

This is a blog post about manaakitanga, and the role it has in TTRPGs, at least to me. It’s a collection of a few different topics that I feel align to manaakitanga. It might be a bit scattered, but hopefully the thread of manaakitanga is made clear throughout.

Te Aka Māori Dictionary defines manaakitanga as:

(noun) hospitality, kindness, generosity, support – the process of showing respect, generosity and care for others.

I was taught that most words in te reo Māori (the Māori language) can be broken into parts. Manaakitanga, I was told, can be broken into mana-a-kī-tanga.

To break these down further:

Mana

Te Aka defines it as ‘prestige, authority, control, power, influence, status, spiritual power, charisma – mana is a supernatural force in a person, place or object.’ (This is just the first few lines, we don’t have all day!)

Okay, I really have not started this off smoothly. Mana is often translated into English as simply ‘spiritual power’, but this is, in my view, a completely inadequate translation. (And don’t get me started on the coopting of the term mana from its Pasifika roots into it’s current use in video games and some TTRPGs to mean magical power. Ew.)

There are two ways for someone to have mana. Mana Tipuna, the mana one is passed down from their ancestors; and mana tangata, the mana they have from acts that they take.

It is a deeply cultural term, and not even just specific to Aotearoa (so-called New Zealand)! It has whakapapa (lineage) across Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa (the Pacific ocean). Mana is a concept that is genuinely so hard to explain if it is a new term, so I fear I am not at all doing a good job in defining it.

It’s a weight, a duty, an honour, a constant, a privilege, a burden, a strength, a hope, a promise, and more. It ties us all together, it puts us on different levels, it means something different to everyone.

A related term is ‘whakamana’. ‘whaka-’ as a prefix makes something into an action. So to whakamana someone is to, according to Te Aka:

to give authority to, give effect to, give prestige to, confirm, enable, authorise, legitimise, empower, validate, enact, grant.

One term that is still sometimes used is ‘mana enhancing’. There’s some mixed feelings about this one, as you cannot ‘enhance’ someone’s mana, you cannot change someone else’s mana, and also putting this English word next to it is a bit jarring!

Anyways, hardest part of this breaking apart, done, and we’re moving on.

A ki

to, into, towards, on to, upon – indicates motion towards something.

Tanga

I’ve heard two different whakaaro (thoughts) about this part of this kupu (word)! The first is the more traditional: -tanga, as an ending, turns something into a noun. So, using this interpretation, manaakitanga is a noun that is about moving towards mana.

The other interpretation I’ve heard is that tanga here relates to the kupu, ‘tangata’. Tangata means person/people. So, manaakitanga, can be described as mana moving toward the people.

 

While manaakitanga has elements of care, hospitality, generosity, etc etc, it’s a very very deep term that goes far beyond.

One other thing I’ve heard folks say about manaakitanga is that it holds a deep sense of reciprocity. Similar to ‘utu’, which Pākehā often think just means ‘revenge’ (when it’s often used for things as simple as payment for an item, not always that deep!), implies a relationship beyond a kind word.

 

How’s that for an intro? Now that I’ve broken down the word manaakitanga from what I’ve heard (disclaimer: certainly there will be Māori who disagree with my interpretations of the words here! Māori spaces thrive on deep kōrero (discussion) and wānanga (discussion but More) spaces), I’ll get into how I think manaakitanga can look within TTRPG spaces, or at least the ones I’ve been in.

 

The GM is a player too

I know that in a lot of Dungeons and Dragons TM circles (or at least some of the ones that pop up in my facebook algorithm), there’s a view that the DM is there to facilitate the game, and be in service of the players, and that’s all.

I reckon, and I know I certainly am not alone in this, that the GM is a player too! If we look at Indigenous models of leadership, the leader, in Māori spaces, the rangatira (loosely and euro-centrically translated as chief), is still a member of their community. They still are acknowledged to have wants and human needs outside of that role. Just as the rangatira takes care of their people, so do their people take care of their rangatira. While that rangatira often has a lot of mana tangata or mana tipuna if it’s a hereditary role, they are still a part of the community they serve, and deserve to be cared for.

In TTRPGs, we need to think about how DMs, GMs, facilitators, whatever the game’s term is, still deserve to be looked after! Especially the forever GM’s!

Now, I know many of us who play with our friends already do this, but I think we can all make clearer our appreciation for the mahi (work) and effort that our GMs put in! Go flick the GM for that game you’ve been playing for a while a ‘hey you said this killer line the other session, and it’s been sticking with me,’ or a ‘I know that you’ve put a whole lotta effort into running this game, and it is very appreciated’, is always going to be welcome.

 

Games about colonisation

I have been playing TTRPGs for almost 10 years, and it is only a couple of months ago that I had an Indigenous GM or DM. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had wonderful and incredibly enjoyable times with non-Indigenous DMs, and being the only Māori in a game (took me ~9 years to play with another Māori person, speaking to the whiteness of these spaces), can be… interesting. 

 

As I processed my feelings around my Māoritanga in everyday life, it’s only natural that this spilled into my TTRPG playing experience. I wanted to explore and process my Indigeneity through roleplaying. For me, this has gone one of two ways:

 

1. My experience with non-Indigenous DMs:

The theme of colonisation is built into the world, but it is held with caution. It is up to me to engage with this in the ways I want to. I give my character a Māori name. In a scene with an NPC who has also been colonised, I experience strong bleed (see more below!). I work through this, and have a scene that feels cathartic in the end. Between the bleed starting and the working through it, I feel that I can’t bring my distress up at the table. Not for any fault of my friends, but because I have that internal feeling of whakamā (shame/guilt) that I should be better than this. No one else at the table is Māori. My friends support me when I communicate what I can. It is a struggle nonetheless to explore Indigenous stories and themes when I am the only one at the table.

I have discussions with a friend who DMs for a fellow Māori person where we kōrero (chat) about how to tell stories that are meaningful to your Indigenous players while not being Indigenous yourself. We talk about how some stories are not a Pākehā (non-Māori)’s place to tell. You follow the Indigenous person’s lead, about what they want to explore within their character, but do not base the whole game around colonisation.

 

2. My experience with an Indigenous DM:

Colonisation is explicitly a theme. Indigeneity is built into every part of the world. From the naming systems, place names, the colonising force and expressions of rebellion and fighting back, this world oozes indigenous thinking.

I feel no whakamā in tying my character’s backstory to colonisation. I feel no apprehension about exploring that, only an excitement for my explorations of it to be met in ways that reflect what I am giving.

The former has certainly not been a bad experience, as said before! I’ve enjoyed games with non-Indigenous DMs greatly! It is has just meant that I have had to tread lightly sometimes, or choose to verbally express some things and not others, and have felt that whakamā at times. There’s a freedom to playing in a game with Indigenous players and DM. 

 

Manaakitanga is all over this topic.

 

Non-Indigenous GMs who have Indigenous players need to show manaakitanga frequently! Let the player determine to what level they want to, or do not want to explore Indigenous themes. If this means you need to do some research in the background to make sure you’re doing it right, have fun learning new things! This is where safety tools can be very helpful! More on that below. Giving the player that agency is not just showing manaakitanga, going at their pace and level of comfort and interest, but also respecting their tino rangatiratanga (loosely translated as self-determination). 

 

Indigenous GMs with Indigenous players also show manaaki to each other! A TTRPG is often a conversation. Sure, sometimes there are rules to guide that conversation, but any conversation needs manaaki to succeed. Manaaki to check in, to meet the other person where they are at, to respect the edge of where they are willing to go. Intergenerational trauma is unfortunately present for Indigenous peoples, and sometimes it gets pinged by accident or unexpectedly. In my experience though, working through that with fellow Indigenous people means that there’s a base level of understanding there.

 

Bleed

I wrote something a few months ago that was my answer to a question I had thought about a little bit and wanted to explore: ‘what if something was designed to cause bleed?’ So, I wrote ‘BLEEDING HEART: A Character Creator’, which guides you through making a character, where every single facet of that character is taken from something in you, the player’s, life. 

 

This came after that experience I mentioned above, where I felt strong negative bleed after my Indigenous character met another Indigenous character. This was an overwhelming feeling, and as stated above, I felt unable to say anything to the whole table. Thankfully, one of the other players and I messaged occasionally during the game to make silly jokes where no one could hear us, and I was able to get across a feeling of distress to him somehow, and he called a pause for me, making up an excuse, and then after checking if it was okay with me, let the DM know I was having A Time. We skipped over the rest of the scene, and I was able to rest within the normal flow of the game. A couple of sessions later, my character had a deliberate conversation with that other character, and it became a moment of genuine healing for me, the player. 

 

Obviously after experiencing this strong bleed, the concept interested me. I wrote this character generator. And someone immediately confronted me on social media claiming that because I wrote a game about bleed meant that I thought it was a good thing. The convo spiralled once I brought up Aaron Trammell’s ‘Repairing Play: A Black Phenomenology’, and I realised that this person was simply not ready to engage with the kinds of conversation I wanted to have about bleed.

 

This didn’t mean that many other awesome people weren’t ready instead! So, I had wonderful conversation, and came to the conclusion that bleed is not inherently negative, nor inherently positive. My experience of bleed felt negative at the start, but with support, and care, and yes, manaaki, it turned to a positive one. I healed a part of my internal sense of intergenerational trauma. I got to imagine, through playing pretend, what it would be like if an ancestor was in front of me. What would I say? How would I act? What would I tell them, and what would I ask them to tell me? 

 

Bleed is neutral. It’s the care, the manaaki, that shifts it either to positive, in the holding of you, or the negative, if it is not done well.

 

GM-less games

Indigenous folks tell stories, that’s what we do. At least here in Aotearoa, Māori were an oral society. We didn’t have writing or letters or an alphabet. If something needed to last, we told it in carvings or weaving. If it was ready to be handed down though, it was through waiata (song), karakia (intention setting ritual), or whakapapa (~geneology). Oral communication was just how it worked.

 

Now, I will admit to this sitting slightly uncomfortably with me. I have a genuinely terrible memory, so I would not have been one of the ones able to recite the whakapapa lines. I do think though, storytelling comes quite naturally to me, as it does to many Indigenous people.

 

TTRPGs root in wargames, where there’s a single figure of authority, often lead many people to think that this is just how all TTRPGs work. Thankfully, that’s not the case! I’ve come across many wonderful GM-less games, about a range of different topics. Sometimes, it’s easier to write a game about something when the power is shifted from the head honcho method. 

 

Indigenous storytelling is not static. It shifts. With each telling, a good storyteller reads the audience and what they are reacting to, and will heighten that. They’re still telling the same story, the same content that has been passed down, but performing it differently. And as those people hear that story, they’ll pass it on, and tell it their way, and on and on. 

 

Stories are not isolated, they do not belong to one person. GM-less games bring that collaboration higher than the GM and player model can. Gives players an equal say.

 

Indigenous people are built from stories. What is whakapapa if not a collection of stories of your ancestors? To give room to them to tell stories, you are whakamana-ing them. You are showing manaakitanga. 

 

GM-less stories where control is shared and negotiated sit in a different space of power dynamics. They offer agency, in a world that tries to take it from Indigenous peoples often.

 

While manaaki can exist anywhere, I do think that GM-less games offer a particular spin on manaakitanga that starts from the ground up.

 

Aftercare

What is checking in with something after something difficult/intense/unexpected, if it is not showing manaakitanga? Checking in, asking how they are doing, is showing care, showing concern, showing aroha (~love), showing manaaki.

 

Maybe, using the term aftercare feels weird or gross. Think about that! All I am saying is that having language to describe the action of checking in and caring for someone after something intense is handy.

 

This is a pretty short section, as to me it feels pretty self explanatory, so moving on rapidly.

 

Safety (journeying) tools

If aftercare is reactive, than safety tools are preventative. I actually love the term that Jay Dragon uses in Wanderhome, in place of ‘safety’ as a kupu: journeying tools. 

 

To me, this feels more aligned to Māori ways of playing. Our ancestors traversed an extreme distance, and must have had things in place to ensure that haerenga (journey) was as safe as it could be.

 

Still, journeying tools, to me, implies a sense of curiosity and movement. You journey to seek something, or leave somewhere. Either way, things will change. 

 

Beyond the linguistic discourse of what we call these tools, they are ways that we keep each other and ourselves safe. There’s a lot of discussion on the role of these – some people argue against them in some circumstances, and some use certain ones religiously. 

 

This is the role of a session 0 if playing a longform game! Which, if any, will you use.

 

Setting these up is an act of manaakitanga. Acknowledging that pain exists, and attempting to define the edges of it, to ensure that those soft squishy places are not hurt is manaaki!

 

When these are respected in game, that’s manaaki! When they’re invoked, and you have already figured out how to solve/cope with that issue, that’s a wonderful preventative sense of manaaki.

 

Showing manaaki, and keeping someone at the level they want to be at to play a game means you get to play more game, yay!

 

He whakakapi – the end

Manaakitanga is foundational to Māori. It guides our relationships to each other, to ourselves. In this post, I’ve outlined a few ways that I think manaakitanga can show up in TTRPGs, and also started with defining the word. 

 

I invite you to reflect on how you can whakamana and show manaaki to the people in your TTRPG games and spaces, Māori or not. 

 

It is the season of Matariki, the Māori new year. KiwiRPG Week always aligns with it, and it offers us a wonderful invite to reflect on our lives in the past year, those we’ve lost, and what we want to do in the next year.

 

I personally, want to tell cool and interesting stories with my friends. I will be showing manaakitanga to my friends, and they will show it to me. Maybe sometimes we’ll stumble. Something will be done clumsily, or trauma will pop up unexpectedly, but I know that through showing manaakitanga to each other, we can work through those bumps, and tell wonderful stories once more.

 

Mānawatia a Matariki.