How Do You Play A Character That's Smarter Than You Are?

Our characters are often different from us in a lot of ways. But while a lot of players have no trouble with characters who are stronger, tougher, or quicker than they are in real life, it's those more ephemeral attributes that can sometimes cause a problem. How do you portray a character with an 18 in Intelligence if you don't have a degree in higher sciences? Can you believably act out an 18 Wisdom while knowing all those bad decisions you'd make in this situation? And what the hell does someone with an 18 Charisma even do?

Relax. Take a deep breath. You've got this. You just need to look at it from a different angle.

There are many sides to any endeavor, remember.

Being Smart Has No Set Appearance

Brief personal story, here. When I was in college, I had a professor whose classes I adored. She was short, broad-shouldered, black, and had a rather thick Louisiana drawl. She favored well-worn, comfortable clothes, and she had a no-bullshit attitude along with a plain way of speaking. The first day in any class she taught the first thing she did was introduce herself, tell us that she was well aware of how she sounded when she talked, but she was the one with the doctorate and two masters degrees, so we had better listen up when she had some shit to say.

Verbatim quote, there.

You also got full credit if you quoted her use of profanity on tests.

The point of that story is that just because someone is very smart, that doesn't mean they have to be dropping five-dollar words every time they open their mouth. We see that all the time in movies about child geniuses, and in TV shows about brainy folks who don't fit into the real world, but you could just as easily have a sharp and incisive mind inside someone who uses common, everyday speech. The sort of person who only pulls out the technical terms when discussing something complicated enough to require them, but who even then might try to keep things simple so everyone in the party can follow what they're saying.

The erudite scholar from the Academie Magique and the well-connected thug with tattoos on his knuckles both have a 17 Intelligence. They both speak several languages, and they both have an array of unique skills. While the wizard speaks dead languages, or tongues of power, though, the rogue focused on trading languages, and mastering the subtle double-speak of the street. While the wizard's skills lie in spellcraft and arcane knowledge, the rogue has learned to school their face to make lies seem truthful, and to get under someone's skin to make them afraid. Both of them have learned the ins and outs of magical devices, though, which gives them at least one area of expertise they can put their minds together on.

You have the same kind of wiggle room when it comes to your wisdom, or your charisma scores. For example, it is perfectly acceptable to go for the air of the calm-hearted priest who sees to the core of an issue, or the wisdom of monks who have long contemplated the inner workings of the mind and heart. On the other hand, the dogged private eye who's seen it all and done it twice could just as easily have as high a Wisdom score. And while lots of us think of characters with high Charisma as beauty queens or handsome princes, the rakish rabble rouser heading up the biker gang, or the hollow-eyed sorcerer with that strange, compelling air about him could just as easily fit those high numbers.

Remember to Separate Attribute From Training

Something that can help in this process is to remember that, while a raw attribute might make you better at certain tasks, the ones you've been trained in are the ones you're good at. And that training might make someone with a lower attribute better than you at a given task.

Stick with me, I promise we're getting there.

Take someone with that raw Charisma score of 18. That gives them a +4 bonus on an attempt to Intimidate someone. That's not bad. Now take their party cohort, who only has a 12 Charisma, but who is trained in the skill. That gives them a +5 to their checks because they've studied how to do this. They may lack the raw force of personality, but they know which words to use, how to invade someone's personal space, and even what facial expressions to wear when delivering a threat. Everything from tone of voice to whether or not to have a weapon in-hand is something they've learned how to do.

This can also help some players, who get too focused on the raw attribute instead of how the character has been trained to use it. Because while one person might be very intelligent, they won't have the depth of knowledge regarding religion of someone who was schooled by priests and teachers of a given faith if that other person has the skill maxed-out. Someone might be naturally athletic, but that raw talent won't allow them to get higher results than someone trained in how to climb, swim, tumble, etc. for many levels. And while someone might have a great force of personality, they simply won't be able to haggle for better prices the way someone who studied the art of deal-making can.

So, in addition to asking how your character's Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma manifests itself, you should also ask how they wield that attribute. Because while your sorcerer might rely on their Charisma to shape magic, do they use diplomacy in the same way? Are they subtle, leaving the person thinking they got the best of the bargain? Or are they overbearing, attempting to wear down resistance until they get what they want? If your paladin intimidates a foe, do they deliver booming threats, or do they simply draw their steel, and allow their absolute lack of fear make their foes think twice? The cleric and the monk may both be very wise, and they might both be trained in sensing someone's motives, but do they do it in the same way? Does the cleric notice the changes in voice and where the person looks, catching a lie? Does the monk have a way of saying or doing things that unsettle the other person, making them slip up?

It's important to remember that there are dozens of ways you can depict these mental stats. So if one way just isn't working for you, or you want to try something different, don't be afraid to stretch outside the box. And just because you've got a lot of raw ability in one area, it's important to remember that training and investment beats talent every, single time.

That's all for this week's Fluff installment! Hopefully some folks out there found it useful, and if there are any tips you've found to help with the gap between PC and player abilities, feel free to leave them in the comments below!

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Dungeon Master Alchemy: Turning Stats Into Story

Numbers are the basis of most roleplaying games. In the World of Darkness you have dots, in Pathfinder you have skill ranks and ability scores, and in Deadlands you have traits and backgrounds, but at the end of the day they're all different names to describe what player characters can and can't do in the game world. These statistics are meant to help participants get a proper image of what's happening when they start rolling dice, and in order to build an effective character it's important for players and storytellers both to understand how these mechanics work together. That said though, there's something important to keep in mind.

Statistics, by themselves, are boring as hell.

My stats have bigger dicks than your stats.

If you want to make your game sessions interesting, push the story forward, and keep everyone's collective heads in the game, here are some rules you might want to institute when it's time to rattle the bones.

Rule #1: Visualize the Violence

Every roleplaying game on the market has violence in it. In some games, like Pathfinder and Dungeons and Dragons, that violence takes center stage. In other games, such as Vampire: the Requiem or Grimm, it's often a little more low key. Game designers know that sooner or later (probably sooner) a character is going to try and solve the plot by kicking it in the crotch. So when that violence happens you need to ask yourself one question; what the hell does it look like?

Make us feel this. I dare you.

Combat is very easy to muddle. Between attack rolls, damage rolls, skill checks, the number of actions a player can take, and which special abilities are being used it's easy to lose track of what's going on. Combat is supposed to be fast-paced and tense though, and numbers tend to put a blockage between the player and the action. As such, it's a good idea to encourage more description and roleplaying to keep everyone involved.

Players can go big or small with their narrations, depending on their comfort levels. For instance, if players don't want to take a lot of time they might add a little flair to their combat round with something like, "Arturo springs forward, rapier darting for the zombie's face." That's easy, it's serviceable, and it's worlds better than "I attack." If a player is feeling more verbose though, there's no reason to hold back. "Fangor crashes his hilt against his shield, charging forward and bellowing 'death to the unbelievers!', laying about him with reckless abandon," is a little more descriptive. Every player gets a moment in the spotlight, and they should feel free to make the most of it to add their own narration to the scene.

Once attacks have been made though, it's the storyteller's turn to pick up the thread. Say that Arturo the dashing swordsman rolled a 2 on his attack, which is a solid miss. That doesn't necessarily mean that the fighter who's trained his entire life in the martial arts suddenly becomes a fumble-fingered fool. Perhaps his sword glanced off the zombie's skull rather than piercing through its eye. Perhaps the corpse wheeled right unexpectedly, and the sword sailed past. If the creature has a weapon or a shield, maybe it parried. Showing the enemy's competence keeps the fight tense, and all participants stay riveted on the action.

Let's flip back over to Fangor the barbarian. Maybe his player's on fire, and she rolled a natural 20 on the attack. She confirms the critical hit, and deals some significant damage. The entire table heard how much damage she dealt; it's the storyteller's job to tell the players what that damage looks like. So, does Fangor's broadsword cleave up through a bandit's skull in a spurt of blood and brains? Does the warrior instead slam the sword up under his enemy's armpit, ramming it in through the heart? Or does he simply cut deeply across the other man's guts, doing him great harm without killing him outright? That's the sort of thing the storyteller should be doing. By giving players a real sense of what effect they're having, and allowing a moment to shine, the battle goes from an exchange of die rolling and number writing to real, visceral storytelling.

Also, don't forget that this can work the other way when the monsters attack the players. If they hit, let players be dramatic. If the monsters miss, let players explain how and why. Back and forth is great for scene building.

Rule #2: Selling Your Spells

Whether you're playing a high fantasy sorceress, a modern-day magus, or you've slipped on the skin of a vampire, characters with supernatural abilities need to work a little bit harder to do their part when it comes time to step into the spotlight.

Otherwise this is what you'll look like. Seriously.

Just as fighters have to describe swinging swords and combat styles, magic-workers need to take the rules and claim them as their own. For instance, practically every game with magic has a spell that lashes out at enemies from a distance with a wave of energy. What does it look like when your character uses it? Some players might choose to use hand movements, doing some semi-arcane gesticulating before rolling a die. Others might speak a short series of Google translated words in Latin, German, or Japanese. Players who are less hands-on might describe a nimbus of blue light, or a shout that travels like a wave before smashing into the target. Spells that open pits in the ground could be accompanied by stomping a foot in the dirt, and those which grant flight might come with an avian howl or a halo of celestial light.

Magic and the supernatural is a prime example of "show, don't tell" (more on that here). For instance, if players are going up against a necromancer who summons a stream of black tendrils that sap away a fighter's strength, don't just tell the players what spell was cast unless they know what it is in-character. Describe the bells and whistles that go with the magic to keep the mood going. This happens with creatures that have some ability to shrug off damage, or who can regenerate health quickly. Whether players are fighting werewolves or dragons though, don't just say "not all of your damage went through." How? Why? Did the bullet wound close back up, pushing the slug back out? Did a thick hide prevent the knife from cutting deep enough? Does the crossbow bolt simply sit there, with no blood oozing out of the cold, dead flesh?

Rule #3: No Out of Character Numbers

It's easy for statistics on the character sheet to be used as short hand for in-character description. We talk about strength scores, hit points, dots of presence, etc., when what we need to be doing is taking a moment to discuss what other players are seeing.

You see a man with bronze skin, and an 18 strength.

In the aftermath of a battle, players should never say how many health levels they've lost. Instead, they should describe the sort of damage they've taken. Is the party leader limping because she took a stab wound in her calf? Does the cop who went toe-to-toe with the hungry dead have cuts on his arms and cheeks, or is there a seeping wound in his side just beneath his flak jacket? Is the knight simply singed, or has his skin been blackened by the dragon fire he walked through? These are things you need to know.

The same is true when it comes to first meetings or in-character description. A player shouldn't say "a bard walks up, flashing a smile that lets you know he has an 18 charisma or better." Sure, players at the table know what that means in game terms. Talking like that takes players out of their in-character head space though, and it doesn't really do much to explain what people are looking at. A better way to handle this might be to say something like, "a man strolls up to the party, his thumbs hooked behind his belt. He's brightly dressed, but chain armor glints beneath his shirt, and the short sword at his side looks very well-used. He grins, and when he tosses his hair back you can see his ears narrow to a point. His voice is pleasant, and it catches the ear of passerby." This is a pretty simple explanation of what a half-elf bard looks like, but at no point in time was he described using the words "half-elf" or "bard".

This goes for monsters and NPCs as well as PCs. Storytellers shouldn't use the names of creatures characters wouldn't know, even if the players do. Those who live in the mountains and have fought goblins their whole lives will recognize goblins when they come boiling out of caves to spring a trap. However, the exact nature of a spell-stitched ghoul might elude characters who are not experts in the arts of necromancy, or who have not made extensive studies of the undead. Storytellers can keep a lot of drama in a scene by keeping the players guessing about what is happening. Giving the players too much information calms their nerves and leaves them confident about their chances. Don't tell them. If they want to know the details, then players need to make in-character observations about the world in which they live.


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