Running the Game

There are dozens of ways to GM a roleplaying game. There's a particular way to run Stonetop. This is how. The rest of the game is built on this approach.

Remember: the game is a conversation.

You'll say things, the other players will say things. You'll ask each other questions, interrupt, talk over each other. The game's rules kick in at particular moments and show us where the conversation goes.

As the GM, you have a special role in the conversation. It's your job to describe the world, say what happens, and portray monsters and NPCs. You'll facilitate and make rulings. You'll ask for input. You'll frame scenes and point the spotlight. The game invests you, the GM, with a lot of power—and a lot of responsibility.

Your agenda

These are your goals when running Stonetop:

• Portray a rich and mysterious world
• Punctuate the characters' lives with adventure
• Play to find out what happens Everything you say and do as the GM is meant to support these three goals, and no others. It's not your agenda (for example) to challenge the players' skill, or to provide "fair" fights, or to punish the characters.

It's absolutely not your agenda to control the players or force "your" story to go the way you think it should. When in doubt, ask yourself: this thing you're considering doing, which of these three goals does it support? If the answer is "none of them," then don't do it. Do something else.

Your first goal is to portray a rich and mysterious world: alive and breathing, filled with detail and humanity and depth.

Mundane concerns—crops, trade, weather, the opinions of your neighbors—are important. Fantastic elements are important, too, but they are strange and scary and poorly understood. The past sleeps unquietly. Questions abound.

Your second goal is to punctuate the characters' lives with adventure. The PCs have lives to live, homes to take care of, families to feed. They have demands on their time.

Your job is to make that stuff matter, but also to interrupt it with threats and opportunities that only the PCs can (or will) address. Adventures will occupy the bulk of the players' time, but they shouldn't occupy the bulk of the characters' time.

Finally, most importantly, play to find out what happens. It's your job to portray a rich and mysterious world, to threaten that which the PCs care about or dangle opportunities, and then to see where things go from there. You'll make plans, yes. You'll make preparations. But once play begins, it's your job to follow where the players lead, where the dice lead, and where the fiction leads.

And the reward is this: to be genuinely surprised by the story that—naturally, organically, magically—unfolds. A tale you could never weave by yourself.

The core loop

When you run this game, this is what you do. There's more to it, of course, but this is the underlying structure of the conversation between you and the players.

1) Establish the situation

• Frame the action
• Describe the environment
• Give details and specifics
• Ask questions, ask for input
• Portray NPCs and monsters
• Answer questions, clarify

2) Make a soft GM move

Provoke action and/or increase tension.

3) Ask "What do you do?"

4) Resolve their actions

• If they trigger a player move, do what the move says.
• If they roll a 6- or they ignore trouble, make a hard GM move (establish badness).
• Otherwise, say what happens.

5) Repeat

• Is the situation clear and compelling? Can the PCs act? Back to step 3.
• Is the situation clear, but escalating before the PCs act? Back to step 2.
• Is the situation clear, but needs a nudge? Back to step 2.
• Is the situation unclear? Does it need recapping or updating? Back to step 1.
• Is the current scene or situation over? Wrap up, look for the next one. Back to step 1.

In practice, the conversation is fluid, messy, and chaotic. It'll be interrupted by questions about rules and fictional details. Players will kibitz and joke, discuss options, or play out scenes with each other in-character. You'll often juggle two or more "loops" of conversation at a time, jumping between players whose characters are each up to their own thing.

But beneath it all is this structure, this loop.

If you ever feel lost, and you aren't sure what to do or say next, then figure out where you are in this loop and go from there.

Now, let's look at each step in detail.

1 Establish the situation

It's your job to establish the situations that the PCs find themselves in. Do any or all of the following, as needed, in whatever order makes sense.

Frame the action

Determine who, where, and when.

Address one or more of the PCs and say (or ask) where they are. Say (or ask) who else is there. Say (or ask) when this is happening (the season, the time of day, how long after the last scene or situation).

Describe the environment

For a place you haven't seen "on camera" before, say (or ask) what it's like. For a place that you've seen before, say (or ask) how it's changed (if at all).

Include up to 3 strong impressions from different senses—the shocking red of blood on snow, the crackling fire in the hearth, the smell of rain and wet earth.

Sometimes include emotional impressions (the tension in the room, the grief on their faces) or moral impressions (the dirty, desperate beggars contrasted with the finely-dressed, well-fed gentry).

Focus on what matters. If they're at the public house, focus on the people there, the noise, and the feel. If they're exploring a ruin, focus on space, footing, sight, and sound. Keep it short, no more than 3 impressions to start. Players will zone out if you give them too much, and they'll ask for more detail where they need or want it. You want punchy and evocative, not flowery. Hemingway, not Tolkien.

Give details and specifics

Say (or ask) what's happening. Who's doing what? Where is everyone relative to each other? What can the characters see, hear, and sense?

Again, focus on what matters. In a social situation, focus on people: who's there, how they look, how they're acting. If they're exploring a ruin, focus on the environment.

In an action scene, focus on the terrain and the combatants, their position, and their momentum.

Include the occasional non-essential detail.

In a social scene, mention how the food tastes or how the room feels. In a fight scene, throw in a smell or something that an enemy is wearing. This sort of extra detail can add real texture to the situation.

Use maps, props, and comparisons to convey space and relationships. Sketch the room. Use tokens or meeples. Refer to real-world spaces ("He's about where Bob is, relative to you."). Similes and metaphors are your friends!

Improvisation & prep

Yes, you're making all this stuff up (or asking the players to). You'll do some prep in advance or pull from the setting guide, but during play you improvise many of the specifics.

Once a detail is established, treat it like it's been true all along. Build and riff on it. Look for connections.

Ask yourself the obvious questions and decide on the (probably obvious) answers. Weave it all together into a rich, mysterious world.

Ask questions

You don't have to provide all the details yourself. One of your principles is to ask questions and build on the answers. Invite the players to contribute to the scene by asking their characters about stuff that they know, feel, or have experienced. "Caradoc, what's the most overwhelming smell in the tannery?" Or "Vahid, you've been to this pool before.

What's it look like? Describe it for us."

Ask questions, too, about what the characters are currently experiencing. Don't ask them to make up the key details, but maybe prompt them for a detail that fits a theme.

"Rhianna, what feature jumps out at you about this bandit? Like, what sets him apart from the others?" Or "Blodwen, what here makes this place feel cozy and safe?"

Ask questions about what they're doing and what they're up to, about how they spend their time and who they hang out with, etc.

When they're on an expedition, ask for their marching order. When they Make Camp, ask them what they're eating, what the campsite is like, who takes which watch, etc.

Ask questions about what they're thinking and what they're feeling. "Vahid, what's on your mind?" "Rhianna, what's got you the most worried right now?"

Portray NPCs and monsters

If there are non-player characters (NPCs) involved, describe them. Say what they're doing. If the PCs interact with them, say how the NPCs respond. Speak in their voice and say what they say. If that's daunting for you, or you just want to cut to the chase, then describe what they say rather than actually saying it.

If the situation includes monsters—beasts, spirits, crinwin, and the like—then portray them, too. Describe them: how big they are, how they move, what they sound and smell like. Say what they do, what they're focused on. Say how they respond to the PCs.

Answer questions, clarify

The players will interrupt you and ask questions. Be honest and generous with truth and detail. If the answer wouldn't be clear to the PCs, say so and tell them what it'd take to figure that out. Your job is to portray a rich and mysterious world, not to make them jump through hoops and figure out what you're thinking.

Sometimes, the players will say something that indicates a misunderstanding of the situation. "I slice the back of his leg," the Fox says, when you pictured the violence happening on the other side of the public room with the PCs watching. When that sort of thing happens, clarify the situation with the players. Explain how you see things, but also be willing to adjust your sense of the situation to match theirs.

"Huh? No, this is happening on the other side of the pub. I don't think you'd have let it get to this point if you were right there, do you?"

2 Make a soft GM move

The situation is clear? Good. Now, make a soft GM move—say something to provoke action and/or increase tension.

Pick one of your GM moves and do that.

To provoke action: say that something bad is about to happen, or is in the process of happening, but give the PCs a chance to do something about it. "As your hand finds your knife-hilt, the crinwin is like 'hiissssss' and leaps, fingers going for your throat, what do you do?"

You can also provoke action by offering them an opportunity, or by presenting options and prompting them to pick.

"Okay, it tumbled past you. It's surprised and you've got a moment. You could jump on its back and try to stab it. Or get out of there. What do you do?"

In a social scene, your NPCs might ask for something or demand something. They might say something vulnerable or emotional and then look at the PC, expecting them to react.

Soft moves don't always provoke action.

Sometimes, they just crank up the tension.

You might use up their stuff, foreshadow trouble, or add trouble to a scene in a way that can't be acted on right away. "You've been down here for a while, your torches are starting to get low." Or "There's another tremor. A bit of dirt falls from the ceiling.

What do you do?"

3 "What do you do?"

After you make a soft GM move, ask "What do you do?" This hands the conversation back to the player(s) and prompts them to say something.

You don't have to literally say, "What do you do?" Sometimes, your move will include a question. When portraying an NPC, you might make your move and just look at the players expectantly. But if you're unsure, ask: "What do you do?"

If they say something that doesn't make sense—something you think is impossible, invalid, or unreasonable—then tell them that. Clarify the fiction. If they persist, tell them the consequences and/or requirements. Ask if they still want to do it.

If they ask questions, answer them. If the answers aren't obvious, tell them the requirements. "You'll have to poke around a bit and Seek Insight." Then put the ball back in their court: "What do you do?"

Players jumping in

Players might seize the initiative and declare an action before you ask "What do you do?" or even before you've made a soft GM move. Great!

It means they're engaged, and the situation is compelling enough that they want to act on it. You can jump straight to resolving their action.

With that said: don't let players dominate the conversation. If you're in the middle of making a move, or think that something would happen before they could act, or want to give someone else a chance to act, then tell them to hold their horses!

4 Resolve their action

The player says what their character does. Establish how the situation changes, and/or what their action reveals about the situation.

Did they trigger a player move? If so, which one? Resolve that move. If you aren't sure whether they triggered a move, or you need more info before resolving it, ask questions. Clarify their intent and/or how they're going about it. Discuss with the table.

When a player triggers a move, then follow the move's procedures. Reveal whatever information the move entitles them to. Work with the player to establish how the situation has changed. (See Player Moves, Player Moves for more detail.)

When a player's move prompts you to add something to the fiction, and you're not sure what to say, then look to your GM moves for inspiration.

If they trigger a move and roll a 6-, then they mark XP and you make a hard GM move (unless the move specifically says otherwise).

If they do something that doesn't trigger a player move, then they're looking to you to see what happens. Did they ignore a threat or trouble that you warned about previously? Make a hard GM move.

Otherwise, say what happens and how that changes the situation. Maybe just say "Okay" and then either shift the spotlight or say "Then what do you do?"

Hard GM moves

Make a hard GM move when a PC...

• ignores a threat or trouble entirely; or
• triggers a move but rolls a 6- (and the move doesn't say otherwise).

Making a hard GM move means that you establish badness. Describe the consequences of the PC's actions. Say how things go wrong. Make the situation significantly worse. Pick a GM move from your lists or just say the obvious bad thing. "Ooh, a 5, huh? It's too fast!

Before your knife clears the sheath, it's on you, WHOOMP, take a d6 damage and you're on your back, one of its claws is on your throat and the other is pinning your knife-hand by the wrist, what do you do?"

When they roll a 6-, your hard move will often involve the PC's action failing. Say (or ask) how it goes wrong and/or what the consequences are. But a 6- doesn't always mean that the PC's action fails. It means you establish badness. Maybe something bad happens before they can do their thing; maybe they do what they set out to do, but that causes (or reveals) something very bad indeed. The badness might not even be directly connected to the action they took—it could simply follow directly on its heels.

A hard move should always establish badness, but you decide just how bad it is. Use the situation, the fiction, the description of the player's actions, and so forth to inform your hard moves. Sometimes, a hard move isn't much worse than a soft one.

5 Repeat

You've resolved the PC's action. The situation is changed, or further revealed, and play snowballs from there.

If the situation is clear and compelling,

and one or more PCs are in position to act, then jump straight back to step 3 and ask them, "What do you do?"

If the situation is clear, but things will escalate before the PCs are able to act, then jump back to step 2. Make a soft GM move to show how things are changing.

Then ask, "What do you do?"

Likewise, if the situation is clear but kind of static, and the players need a nudge, then jump back to step 2. Make a soft GM move and ask, "What do you do?"

If the situation is unclear, or if it needs recapping or updating, then go back to step 1. Re-establish the situation. Then make a soft GM move and ask, "What do you do?"

If the current scene or situation is over, then wrap things up. Take care of logistics, bookkeeping, and other metagame stuff.

Figure out with the players what the next situation or scene should be. If that's not clear, ask questions until it is.

Go back to step 1. Establish the (new) situation, make a soft GM move, and ask, "What do you do?" Resolve their actions.

See how the situation changes. Repeat.

This is the core loop of the game.

The spotlight

As you play the game, you'll change who you're addressing, moment to moment.

Whoever you're talking to right now is in the spotlight.

Sometimes you'll keep the spotlight unfocused and address the group as a whole.

Often, you'll focus it on just one character. When lots of action is happening simultaneously, you swing it back and forth between individuals and groups.

There's no formal process for managing the spotlight. The most obvious time to move the spotlight is after you resolve a PC's action. Address a different character and describe the situation to them. Make a soft move at them. Ask them, "What do you do?"

You can, however, move the spotlight whenever it makes sense. For example, if you ask "What do you do?" and...

• the player freezes or stalls, then shift to someone else, giving the first player time to think. Come back to them later; or...
• the PC does something that will take time, then shift to someone else. Come back to the first PC as they finish (or as something interrupts them); or...
• they make a move and you're not sure how to resolve it, then buy yourself time to think by shifting to someone else. Come back to resolve the first player's move later.

Use the spotlight to be a good facilitator.

Keep everyone involved. Make sure everyone gets some good screen time and has a chance to contribute.

It's okay if players interrupt each other, or kibitz, or have their characters act "out of order." Some moves (like Defend) give them explicit permission to do so!

With that said: don't be afraid to shut down an overly eager or aggressive player with a polite-yet-firm reprimand. "Andrew, you're being rude. I'm talking to Jamie right now."

Split the party

It's going to happen. The PCs will split up—intentionally or because you separate them or capture someone—and now you've got two smaller groups. It's okay. Splitting the party can be a lot of fun.

Splitting the party means that you're juggling multiple conversations and scenes at once. Move the spotlight back-and-forth between the different scenes, the way a film editor smashcuts between scenes in a movie.

Don't linger too long on one group.

Try to keep everyone involved and interested in what's going on in the other scenes. You might cut between scenes on every "action" or player move, or resolve a few "loops" of conversation between each cut. There's a rhythm and an art to this, and different types of scenes benefit from different approaches. Exploration and dialogue benefit from longer cuts.

High-tension, high-action scenes work well with short, quick cuts and lots of cliffhangers.

Scenes and loose play

During play, the conversation will naturally shift between scenes and loose play. This isn't a formal distinction, or even always a conscious one. You'll often shift between them naturally and instinctively.

Scenes are zoomed-in. They feature specific characters in a particular place at a particular time. You follow the action moment-to-moment. Details are plentiful and specific. Players speak in character, and you portray NPCs in-character as well.

Even if you and the players don't actually speak in your characters' voices, you still talk about the conversation at a zoomed-in, detailed level.

During a scene, you might describe the clearing in the woods where the PCs find themselves, the sound of the rushing stream and how the bear sniffs and twitches its ears and scans the treeline for danger. "Rhianna, you don't think it's spotted you yet, what do you do?"

Scenes are cinematic and immersive, sometimes tense, often exciting. Players might lose themselves in their characters and feel real emotions about what's happening.

Good scenes have a purpose. There's a reason you framed this scene with these characters in this place, right? What are the PCs trying to accomplish? What are you trying to convey? What question are you hoping to answer? What conflict is being resolved? Knowing the purpose of a scene helps you focus your details, descriptions, and GM moves. And if you can't identify a scene's purpose, then maybe you don't need the scene!

When the scene's purpose is addressed, or the scene fizzles out, then wrap it up.

Transition into the next obvious scene ("You enter the next room and see...") or shift into loose play.

Loose play is what happens between scenes. You still follow the core loop, but it's zoomed out. Instead of describing what happens here and now, you'll talk about what happens over minutes, hours, days, or weeks. You summarize and compress, skip minutiae and gloss over stretches of time.

You do more talking about the characters than portraying the characters.

During loose play, you might describe the PCs moving through the Great Wood, the quiet tension as they try to avoid notice, the heat and biting insects getting worse as the day goes on. You might ask questions like, "Caradoc, what does your mind keep wandering to?" or, "Rhianna, how long do you plan on going before making camp?"

Player moves still work during loose play, but on a zoomed-out scale. They might Struggle as One to reach home before nightfall, or Seek Insight by watching the newcomers over the course of a few days.

Time tends to be fluid during loose play.

"Okay, y'all head out and by noon you've reached the crossroads." "Oh, hey. Before we left, can we say that I Traded & Bartered for some bendis root?" Sure we can.

Loose play is more relaxed, less intense.

Take care of bookkeeping and logistics between scenes. Check your notes, make updates, and maybe roll up a random discovery. Have metadiscussions. Talk about the characters' plans and goals ("What are we trying to accomplish again?"). See if the players have any requests ("I'd like to have a scene with Andras"). Take breaks, talk about real-life stuff, and enjoy each other's company.

A lot of in-fiction time passes during loose play, especially while the PCs travel or spend time at home between adventures. But you want the bulk of the real-world time to be in scenes. Scene-based play is much more visceral, rich, and exciting. Push loose play towards scenes. As soon as the next scene suggests itself, frame it and zoom back in on detailed, moment-to-moment play.

Your GM moves

When it's time to make a GM move and you're not sure what to say, pick one of these and do it. These are your basic GM moves:

• Announce trouble (future or offscreen)
• Reveal an unwelcome truth
• Ask a provocative question
• Put someone in a spot
• Use up their resources
• Turn their move back on them
• Demonstrate a downside
• Hurt someone
• Separate them
• Capture someone
• Offer an opportunity (with or without a cost)
• Tell them the consequences/ requirements (then ask)
• Advance towards impending doom These aren't technical terms. When you reveal an unwelcome truth, you just do that. You establish something in the fiction that the characters wish wasn't true. When you hurt someone, you say how someone gets hurt.

Your GM moves should inspire and empower you; they shouldn't constrain you. Use them when you're unsure of what to do, or when you're in a rut and want to change things up. Don't stress yourself making sure that every move you make matches something from this list.

Making Your Move

Whenever the situation is clear and you want to push the action along, make a soft move. Say something that prompts the PCs to act and/or increases the tension.

Make soft moves all the time, as part of the core loop of the game.

When the PCs ignore trouble that you've previously established, or when they roll a 6- on a player move, then make a hard GM move. Establish badness. Make something happen that the PCs don't want, or make something that the PCs want no longer possible.

You can also make a GM move when a player's move prompts you to add something to the fiction. For example, when they Defy Danger and roll a 7-9, you're told to present a lesser success, a cost, or a consequence. You might use up their resources as a cost ("You can do it, but you'll have to drop your supplies.") or put them in a spot as a consequence ("You make it, but the ground shifts as you land and starts to give way."), or demonstrate a downside as a lesser success ("You get clear, but Andras is still limping and falls behind, the creature's closing in!").

Always make a move that follows from the established situation and/or your prep. If they're tracking crinwin through the woods and they roll a 6-, it'd be a perfectly fine move to reveal that they're lost.

But it'd be weird and uncool to say "Rocks fall out of the sky and smash you, everyone take 1d10 damage!"

Along the same lines, your moves should reflect the specifics of the situation.

Say that a PC faces a charging aurochs, triggers Clash, and rolls a 6-. If the PC is a mighty-thewed Heavy who braced his spear against the charge, then your hard move would look very different than if the PC was a willowy Fox who tried to dodge the charge and stab it like a matador.

Don't say the name of your move, just say what happens in the fiction. Don't say, "You rolled a 4 so I'm separating you."

Say "Rhianna, you wake up and realize that Caradoc's not on watch. He doesn't come back anytime soon. His blanket is discarded by the edge of the firelight."

Other GM moves

You have other lists of GM moves available to you, too.

Use your exploration moves when the PCs are on an expedition or exploring a site.

Use threat moves to bring a threat or its influence into a scene, or when it's already involved.

Use homefront moves when the PCs are at home or spending time in another steading, to make interesting stuff happen there.

Use moves specific to a danger, or an NPC when those elements are in play.

Examples of GM moves

Announce trouble

(future or offscreen)

This is one of your most versatile moves.

Trouble almost always provokes a reaction, or at least gets folks worrying and cranks up the tension.

As a hard move, you can turn a previously peaceful scene into a fight or conflict, or maybe make it clear that the PCs' actions will have consequences later.

"WHOOMP WHOOMP WHOOMP! Rhianna, there's a banging at your door, waking you up from that much-needed sleep. Lowri's calling your name and you hear the watch-bells clanging. What do you do?"

"As Caradoc and Blodwen leave, this nasty piece of work watches them go. He's got a face full of scars, a cruel sneer, and a knife at his hip. He nudges the guy next to him, nods at the door, and they get up and go. What do you do?"

"Glenys gives you a hard stare for a few moments, then she's like, 'FINE.' And she huffs and stomps off. She's out of your hair for now, but you just know that you're going to have to deal with that later."

Reveal an unwelcome truth

Establish something as true, something that they really wish wasn't. Maybe it was true all along but you're just revealing it now. Or maybe (especially as a hard move) you're deciding right now that this bad thing is true and letting them know. Both ways work.

This is a great move to use when they Know Things or Seek Insight. On a 7+, you owe them honest answers or interesting (maybe useful) information, but there's no reason they have to be happy about what they learn. And on a 6-, you can really twist the screws.

"'Vvvasil? Heavvvens, no. Vvvassil leffft town thhhis past autumn. Back down to Lygos, I heard.' He smiles, and it's like he has too many teeth. "But ssssurely we can make some sort offff… arrangement?'"

"What happened here recently? Well, there's like a dozen sets of prints in the mud, all churned up like there was a fight. A few splashes of blood, too, on the foliage. It's pretty clear Lowri got jumped by the crinwin."

"Oof, a 6-? Well, you search the hills for the rest of the day and... I guess you don't find her? No, wait. You know what? You do find Cadi. Maybe half a mile from the logging camp, you find her body. Something stabbed her, impaled her right through the gut."

Ask a provocative question

Ask a question that spurs a decision or response, even if it's just an emotional response or a decision not to act. You can ask the question yourself or put it in the mouth of one of your NPCs. Alternately:

ask a question that asserts badness but that gives the player a chance to author it.

"Rhianna, Eira's looking grim, and she's like: 'Garet's losing a lot of blood. I don't think he's gonna make it, and he's gonna slow us down something frightful. You want me to do the necessary?''

"Caradoc, you come in at the very end of all this, I think. You saw that cloud of smoke billowing out of Vahid's mouth. And there's Vahid, just acting totally normal about everything. What's going through your head right now?"

"Oof, a 4? Well, I think you manage to offend her, like really hurt her feelings. What do you say or do that does that?"

Put someone in a spot

This is a more aggressive version of announcing trouble—they've got to do something, now, or it'll get ugly.

"Someone" can be a PC or an NPC, and you can play with the spotlight. Maybe the person you put in the spot isn't the one that does something about it.

"So close! You make the jump, but smack into the bough. You slip, just barely grabbing on. You're hanging from that bough like this, gasping for air, like 80 feet up, and your grip is starting to go. What do you do?"

"The big guy stands and glares down at you. 'What'd you call me, you skinny little rat?' Rhianna, you see this happen and notice like three other guys, burly miner types, standing up too, not a smile among them. What do you do?"

"So, it's like you said, the drake calms as you place your hand on its snout, and it's like a mewling kitten. But Caradoc, you're watching from the brush, and as Blodwen's calming that one, you spy another drake, behind her to her right, slinking up. It's about to pounce on her, you're sure of it, what do you do?"

Use up their resources

Something happens that whittles away at their stuff, or that takes it away from them entirely. "Resources" here can be...

• concrete and specific (their shield, their torch, their lamp oil);
• concrete but abstract (supplies, ammo);
• intangible (their reputation, someone's trust); and/or
• entirely mechanical abstractions (HP, Fortunes, Loyalty, etc.).

When they lose something abstract, intangible, or purely mechanical, you should always bring that back to the fiction and show how it manifests. "He glares a little, then shakes his head, disillusioned. If he held any Loyalty, he's got 1 less now."

As a soft move, use this move to ratchet up the tension. Those 4 HP might not mean much now, but after a couple more blows the player is going to start getting nervous.

When you use up a specific resource, the loss can be temporary ("he swats the knife out of your hand, it goes flying across the room") or permanent ("the blow shatters your shield").

You'll often find yourself making this move along with other moves, and that's okay.

HP, in particular, get used up part and parcel with other moves (see the Dealing Damage and Inflicting Debilities sidebar, Dealing damage and inflicting debilities.)

"It's been like an hour since you came down here. I think your torch is getting low. Like, you've got maybe ten minutes of light left? What do you do?"

"Yeah, so your grip slips and down you tumble, smacking against branches all the way, WAM WACK WHOOMP. You land flat on your back, and you're pretty sure you felt something break in your pack. Lose 2 uses of supplies and take 1d6 of damage, ignoring armor. What do you do?"

"Yup, he was totally standing right behind you as you said that last bit. You look back and he's just beet red, on the verge of crying or yelling, you're not sure. But he just turns and stomps off into the fields. I think he just lost any Loyalty he was holding. What do you do?"

Demonstrate a downside

Show the limits of their moves, or the baggage that comes with being (e.g.) the Heavy. Show them just how a crude weapon fares against an iron sword or shield.

Show them why wearing warm armor in the blazing sun is a bad idea. Show them why it's hard to be short, or tall, or young, or old, or whatever.

"Caradoc, Rhianna, as you're watching the crinwin from the brush, you hear this, ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunk. Vahid's pack, for sure, and the crinwin hear it too. What do you do?"

"Caradoc, the second time you try to interject, Brennan's like 'Grown-ups are talking, boy.' And he turns back to Rhianna. 'Now, you were saying…?'"

"Your spear jabs in, and the aurochs bellows, but then it rears and twists and the spear's shaft snaps off. You're left holding half of a stick."

Turn their move back on them

This is a good one to use on a 6-. Take the move they were making, and flip it somehow. Maybe you give the advantage to their foes, maybe you have them come up with something bad for you to work with, maybe their move constrains their options instead of expanding them. Get creative.

"Oh, I think you know all about this evil quicksilver, Vahid. Why don't you tell us about the horrible encounter you had with it back down south, and how it's left you shaken to this day."

"A miss, huh? Tell you what, ask one of the Seek Insight questions anyhow, but you'll have disadvantage to do anything BUT act on the answer."

"Yeah, she's just not buying it. There's no way you're going to convince her to squeal on Mutra. In fact, she starts twisting the conversation around, asking you questions, tripping you up, getting you flustered. What do you think it'd take for her to get you to spill the beans on where Vahid has the Heart hidden?"

Hurt someone

Inflict a specific, problematic injury or wound on a PC or an NPC they care about. Something more than just losing HP. Something painful, bloody, consequential, or all three.

Using this move definitely means the victim takes damage, and against a PC it might also mean that they mark a debility.

It definitely means that they've now got a problematic wound. It's a part of the fiction, something they have to deal with and something you can use as a basis for your GM moves.

How badly you hurt them depends on the fiction, whether the harm came from a 7+ or a 6-, the damage rolled, and the tags on the damage (messy, forceful, etc.). When you hurt them because they rolled a 7-9 to Clash with a guy with a club, and they only take 2 damage, that's going to look a lot different than a 6- against a rage drake dealing 12 messy damage.

Feel free to describe the general nature of the wound ("He stabs you in the thigh and you feel your leg buckle."), then have the player roll damage ("Take d6+2 damage.") and modulate the injury based on the damage dealt ("3 damage? Okay, I think you drop to one knee and your leg is like on fire, but it'll still hold your weight," versus "Yikes, 8 damage? You still up? Well, your leg gives out under you and it's just gushing blood.")

As a rule, only inflict a permanent, disabling injury if you've warned them it's possible (explicitly or by telegraphing/ demonstrating the danger), and either they rolled a 6- or they knowingly ignored the danger. Don't spring that stuff on them.

For example: if you say, "that thing has

6-inch long teeth and jaws that can crush trees… if it gets you, you'll be missing bits, you sure you want to just stand there and swing at it?" and they reply "Yeah, no guts no glory!" and then roll a 7-9 to Clash…

well, you warned them. Say goodbye to that arm and hello to a fountain of blood.

On the other hand, if you've presented this thing as a threat but not, like, an armchomping-off threat, on a 7-9 you might say "It chomps down, there's blood everywhere, and it starts to shake you around.

There's this weird, calm part of your brain that's like 'Oh my arm is about to get torn off,' but the rest of you just AAAGH. Take a d10+3 damage and mark weakened. What do you do?" Still a pretty hard move, I'd say, but one they might recover from. Taking their arm without warning? Not cool.

With that said: feel free to hurt NPCs more aggressively and brutally than you hurt the PCs. Taking a follower's arm (for example) is a great way to show that this thing's attacks are messy and terrible, raising the stakes without deprotagonizing the PCs. (Word of advice, though: don't brutalize an animal companion without warning; players get super precious with their pets.)

Once inflicted, a wound or injury is part of the fiction. It might cause the PC to Defy Danger to attempt something that wouldn't otherwise be dangerous. It might be the fictional justification for another move you make. It might prompt you to make moves that escalate the injury.

For more about HP, damage, debilities, and problematic wounds, see the Harm and Healing chapter.

"It like reaches out towards Eira, its hand expanding like mist and clutching her chest, and she just starts moaning and convulsing and you see bits of her skin blackening. She takes 1d12 damage, ignoring armor. Is she still up? No? Okay, well it drops her and she just slumps to the ground. What do you do?"

"It just SQUEEZES and you can't breathe, can't move, then SNAP you feel a rib go and HOLY CRAP this hurts. Take a d8+3 damage, ignoring armor, and mark weakened. Vahid, you finish lighting the naphtha as this happens, see Caradoc turning blue in its coils. What do you do?"

"Oh dear. 9 damage? And you're still up? Yeah, um... I think as you try to wrench your arm free, it, um… crap, I think it just chomps down hard and there's just this searing pain and you go staggering back. You're free, but you look down and your right arm is just gone. Blood is spurting, you feel cold, and you think you might faint. What do you do?"

Dealing damage and inflicting debilities

"Dealing damage" isn't a GM move by itself; it's a thing that happens as part of another GM move. When you make a move that involves a character getting banged up, hurt, knocked around, or injured, then deal damage to them as part of that move.

Tell the player how much damage they take (usually a die roll, based on the monster that inflicted it or the circumstances surrounding it). They lose that many HP. If they're reduced to 0, they're out of the action and quite likely at Death's Door.

Likewise, you don't have a move for "inflict a debility." You can inflict a debility when you hurt someone or use up their resources, when you make any other move that would result in them being weakened, dazed, or miserable ("You realize that your hands are shaking, your legs wobbling… mark weakened").

For more on damage and debilities, see the Harm and Healing chapter.

Separate them

Split the party. Put foes or obstacles between them. Have someone fall behind.

Have a follower or other NPC go missing.

Send someone tumbling down the slope, taking them out of the fight. That sort of thing.

This move often pairs well with put them in a spot. Because what's worse than being in a spot? Being alone in a spot.

"Blodwen, after maybe twenty minutes of pushing through the tall grass, you all get a little spread out and you realize you can't see anyone else. At first you can hear them so no big deal, but then the sound of them moving through the grass is lost in the constant wind. What do you do?"

"Oof. Yeah, as you give her your spiel she's kind of stone-faced, no response. Then there's this pause, and she sorta gasps and sobs and then come the waterworks. 'Dammit, Caradoc.' And she turns and slams the door and you can hear her weeping. What do you do?"

"Okay, cool, so Vahid you're a bit further down the hall, right? With Lowri holding the lantern for you? Well, as you start to make out the runes—something about 'portal' or 'doorway' or maybe 'road'—there's this CUH-CLUNK that you feel in your chest, everyone does, and then a screeching metal-on-metal sound and this steel curtain drops from the ceiling, cutting off the hallway. BOOM. Vahid, you and Lowri are on the far side of it, by yourselves, dust billowing all over. What do you do?"

Capture someone

On a soft version of this move, capture them but stay in the scene, giving them a chance to escape (or others a chance to rescue them). On a hard version, maybe cut straight to the next scene—captured, bound, dragged off who knows where—and just gloss over the details of how they got there.

"Brennan whistles and Ragan, calm and quick as anything, he just grabs Blodwen and spins her around, knife to her throat. Brennan sighs, steps back behind them. 'I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you don't leave me much choice. We'll be going, and I'm sure the young lass here would appreciate it if you all kept your hands where I can see them.' They start backing away, what do you do?"

"Caradoc, you touch the sphere it's like WHOOSH. You're floating in space, looking down over your body. The world is gray and hazy and washed out, and you can't really feel your feet. Vahid, you come home a couple hours later and find Caradoc just slumped over the ice-sphere, his fingers touching it and all blue. He's not responding. What do you do?"

"Yeah, Vahid, Lowri is like waving the torch around in the dark and you're both peering out, looking for whatever made that noise, and we the audience see this shadowy form loom up behind you with these long, spindly fingers. Those fingers clamp down over your mouth, Vahid, and another shape grabs Lowri. There's a brief struggle and then the camera like pans down to the lantern on the floor, on its side, cracked and flickering. We hear sounds of you two getting dragged away. Rhianna, while this is happening…"

Offer an opportunity

(with or without a cost)

Give them an opening, a chance to act.

The opportunity can be specific ("If you act now, you'll have the drop on them.") or general ("They don't seem to have spotted you, what do you do?"). It can come with a definite cost ("...but it'll make a bunch of noise and raise the alarm.") or a potential cost ("...but you'll have to hurry to make it in time") or no cost at all.

You'll often make this move without realizing it. When you just hand a player the initiative—when there's a tense, active situation and you ask "What do you do?" without first announcing trouble or putting them in a spot or otherwise making them react—you're offering them an opportunity.

"3 damage? With his armor, that's not enough to drop him. I think he jerks back and you just like score a slice down his cheek. But he's on his heels, what do you do?"

"They're not taking the bait, Rhianna. But if you made a show of heading out of camp and leaving Andras and Blodwen there alone? That'd do it. What do you do?"

"What here is useful or valuable to you? That glowing blue crystal set in the wall. If you smash it, it'll unleash all sorts of chaos, just the distraction you need."

Tell them the consequences/ requirements (then ask)

Use this move as an interrupt, as a way to clarify the fiction and set the stakes when they say they want to do a thing. "If you do that, you realize that __, right?"

Use this move, also, to give them a path forward when the way is otherwise blocked. Use it to force a meaningful decision. Use it to make them pay (in time, resources, opportunity, etc.) if they want to follow a course of action.

"What about Garet's body, Rhianna? If you leave it, the rest of the crew is going to grumble—you know how superstitious they are. You could burn it, but that'll take time and give away your position. What do you do?"

"If you do that, cool, but you won't have a chance to get clear. You'll be caught in the blast for sure. You do it?"

"Yeah, no. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, you can't think about anything but that baleful, hateful eye. You want to take a shot, you're going to have to get it together first. What do you do?"

"Vahid, you can't make heads or tails of these runes, not right now at least. Maybe if you took a rubbing and had time to study them back home, with all your books and notes and everything. But not out here. What do you do?"

"That thing is made of solid stone. Your arrows aren't going to do squat, Rhianna. You want to hurt this thing, or even slow it down, you're going to need to hit it with something big and heavy."

Advance towards impending doom

Threats and hazards might have impending dooms, each with a series of grim portents leading up to them. When you make this move, you decide that one of those grim portents has come to pass, and show it to the characters.

In practice, this move almost always manifests as another move. You announce trouble or reveal an unwelcome truth or put someone in a spot (etc.) in a way that demonstrates that the grim portent has come to pass.

Rarely, you might chuckle evilly and tick a box, and say that they've got a bad feeling or that a cold wind blows, without actually revealing the portent just yet. When you do this, be sure to commit to the portent having come to pass offscreen. If you don't, you haven't really made a move at all.

"You find Nia in that collapsed house on the edge of town. You've got to squeeze in there, and your eyes have to adjust to the dark, but when they do, your stomach drops. There're chalk drawings of spiders all over the walls, and… an altar? With this mass of sticks, fur, and web that you realize is an idol of a big spider. Nia's all smiling and like 'Hi Blodwen, do you like my drawings?' What do you do?"

"So, you're stabbing at it over your shoulder, but stumbling around as you do. And I think, yeah, you kill it, but you end up staggering back into one of the old columns. There's this loud CRACK and some creaking and dust starts to pour down from the ceiling. Vahid, you see this happen, what do you do?"

"Caradoc, as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself dreaming. A really weird, vivid dream. It's like when you were in that old Maker-tomb and looking up, but… different. More claustrophobic. Like you're buried in dirt, have been forever, and there's this light above, far away. But it's… enough, you know? Something to move towards? And so you stretch, and claw through the dirt, towards the light, and you snap awake and holy crap, everything's shaking and people are screaming and kids are crying, it's an earthquake! What do you do?"

Example of play

Everyone's arrived. We've chatted, gotten comfortable, and we're ready to get started. The session starts in loose play. I ask if anyone wants to recap. Rhianna's player does.

"We sent a logging crew to the Foothills. But some sort of goat-demon spooked them, and it—or something—wounded Andras. They sent him back. We've gone up to investigate. Did we get anything useful out of Andras before we left?"

Blodwen says "He was pretty out of it. We got him stable, but he kept moaning 'that eye!' And I think he made a pass at me."

"Right, right! You'd already outfitted and started up to the Foothills," I say.

I ask some questions to help us warm up. "But before we start—Caradoc, who do you think gave you guff about going on yet another adventure? And Vahid, why are you so happy to get out of town for a bit?"

We learn how Sawyl the Tanner's been looking for a new apprentice and how Caradoc feels all sorts of guilty about it. We also learn that Vahid needs a break from the widow Maire, who's been cramping his "confirmed bachelor" style. I take some notes!

Okay, let's do this. I frame the action and then describe the environment. "The four of you enter the Foothills in the afternoon of the second day out. The hills rise out of the Flats, and the road wends between them. Young, thin trees dot the slopes, getting bigger and older as you press farther into the hills. As the sun dips low, you finally get some blessed shade." (Some of those details are from the almanac; the rest I made up).

It's the first time we've seen the Foothills ingame, so I ask questions like "What striking difference do you notice between these hills and the Great Wood?"

After they answer my questions, I zoom in and frame an actual scene, giving details and specifics. "You reach camp just after sunset. It's on the wayside, but even so, they've set up felled logs like a barricade. They're all huddled round a feeble cooking fire. Everyone's quiet, tense, gripping their hatchets. They spook a bit when you show up, but when they realize that it's you four, there's a murmur of relief. 'It's Rhianna,' and "the Blessed,' and 'Thank Tor.'" (Notice how I'm focusing on feelings and behaviors more than the tactical layout, because those are the details that matter. I'm also portraying my NPCs.) "Hey, Rhianna, who'd you put in charge?' (Asking more questions!)

"Huh. Elios, I guess."

I make my soft move and ask a provocative question. "Cool. He's like, 'Just the four of you? So, what, we're done? We can go home?' Others nod, hopeful. What do you do?"

Rhianna asks me, player-to-GM, "Wait, hold up. Is my crew here?" I answer her question, tell her that they aren't, then ask her again what she does.

Rhianna replies (in that stern voice of hers), "Where's my crew at, Elios?" Time to resolve her action. She's pressing Elios (Persuade, maybe?) but there's no reason for him to resist and so the move doesn't trigger. I just say what happens and reply in Elios's voice. "They're still out. Hunting.'"

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The situation's clear but could use a nudge, so I keep talking as Elios and make another soft move (announce trouble). "'You know, they should've been back by now.' What do you do?"

The PCs discuss searching for the crew, but opt to stay put and get more info. They still aren't triggering any moves (they're asking questions that the loggers would willingly answer) so I just portray my NPC. Elios and Terrwyn say how they both saw the demon a week ago, before Andras was attacked. "Like a big goat, with a human skull, three eyes, and a huge horn."

I was going to offer an opportunity but Vahid jumps in. "Have I ever heard of something like this?" That triggers Know Things, so he rolls +INT and gets an 8.

I know from my prep that this demon-goat is actually a guardian spirit, and that the real threat is a hagr, so I use one of my exploration moves and hint at more than meets the eye. "Sounds like a shaksa, a spirit or demon the folks up north believe in. Like a guardian of graveyards? Or maybe that's a metaphor and it's like the lord of the dead? How do you know this?"

"Oh, from a religious text of theirs, I read it in a library down south. I'll keep it to myself for now."

I update the situation. "It's full night now and the crew still isn't back." I focus the spotlight and offer an opportunity. "Hey, Caradoc, while they talked to Elios and Terrwyn, you noticed some glances between the others. Like, they're scared. But maybe hiding something, too? What do you do?"

"Ooh, I watch carefully and try to figure out what's up. Seek Insight?" Alas, he rolls a 4. Time for a hard move!

I announce trouble."You're sure that Iwan and Cadi know more than they're saying, but before you can act on that, there's this horrible roar and crashing sound from up in the hills, then smaller shouts—like people fighting. You all hear it. What do you do?"

They ask questions and I clarify the situation a bit (its dark, the fight sounds pretty close, none of them know these hills well). Then Rhianna says "Let's go. Into the hills."

That ends the scene! There's a bit of loose play as we talk logistics. Vahid and Blodwen each bring a torch, lit from the cooking fire. "You head out?" I ask. They do.

I zoom out and describe the situation in general: "It's dark, the hills are steep and wooded, and you're navigating by sound, following the sounds of battle." I make my soft move and tell them the requirements. "If you're trying to get there quickly, that'll trigger Struggle as One—the danger being that you get lost or separated or hurt on the way. If you take your time and move carefully, you won't trigger a move—but you probably won't get there in time to help with the fight. What do you do?"

They decide to Struggle as One. We resolve the move and they each roll well, and so we transition to the next scene. "It's a desperate, half-blind run through the woods, but then you pop out into a clearing. In your flickering torch light, you see Eira and Lowri facing off against this huge, hulking brute, like 12 feet tall and half as wide."

I barely take a breath before making my soft move (put someone in a spot): "It hoists a small tree like a club and roars, about to smash them both, and they're both just staring at this thing, gaping." I've been addressing the group, the spotlight unfocused, so now I tighten it up. "Rhianna, Blodwen, you got here first—what do you do?"

Rhianna's player doesn't hesitate. "I shoot it. In the head. Let Fly?" Yes, but I tell her to wait until we see what Blodwen's doing.

Blodwen asks questions. "So this is like a person? Just really big?" Yup. "And it hasn't noticed us?" Yup, for now, they just got there. "Do I recognize it? Like is it maybe one of our loggers, mutated or something?"

"Eh," I tell her. "I doubt you could tell at a quick glance in torchlight. You could take a moment and Seek Insight. Do you?"

"No. Could I like yell and wave the torch and distract it?" she asks. Caradoc's player notes that this sounds like the trigger for Defend ("jump in to protect others") and we all agree. But we also agree that Rhianna would get her shot off before that happens.

Rhianna gets an 8 to Let Fly, and chooses to move to get a clear shot. She only does 3 damage, less 1 armor. It's barely hurt, and Rhianna just exposed herself to danger.

"I think you've got to step into the clearing to get the shot, yeah? You clip it in the shoulder, and—good news—it checks its swing, snarls and turns your way, leaves Eira and Lowri alone. Bad news, though, is that it fixes you with its big, bulging, horrible eye and your mind just goes blank, your knees start to wobble, you can't even think."

That resolves Rhianna's move, so I shift the spotlight and offer an opportunity. "Blodwen, do you still want to Defend?"

She does, and rolls a 9. She immediately spends her Readiness to draw all attention from her ward (Rhianna, now) to herself. "Cool, what does this look like?" I ask.

"I step in front of Rhianna, waving my torch and yelling, like 'YAAAAAA!'"

It works, of course. I say how the hagr turns its eye on her, filling her with that same feeling of dread that Rhianna had.

I shift the spotlight to Caradoc and Vahid. I tell them that they just arrived, quickly recap the situation, then offer an opportunity. "It's focused on Blodwen right now, what do you do?"

Vahid takes the situation in by Seeking Insight. We decide to resolve that later, because Caradoc rushes in, shield up and spear stabbing low. Blodwen had its attention, so we agree that Caradoc can get close enough to attack, but it's still very able and willing to fight back. This triggers Clash, but Caradoc gets a 4.

I need to make a hard move, and the obvious thing is to hurt him. "I guess it sees you coming, Caradoc, and swings that tree branch before you can close in. you get smacked in the head and everything's just white and your ears are ringing and what is even going on?

Take a d10+3 damage and mark dazed.

Rhianna, you snap out of it and see it club Caradoc in the head, he just went flying and landed in a heap. What do you do?"

And we go from there.

Your principles

These principles are your guidelines, your best practices, your rules of behavior for running Stonetop. Strive to follow them.

They are the surest way to achieve your agenda.

• Follow the rules
• Begin and end with the fiction
• Address the characters, not the players
• Ask questions and build on the answers
• Be a fan of the player characters
• Embrace the fantastic and the mundane
• Exploit the setting guide
• Respect your prep
• Give your characters life
• Think offscreen, too
• Bring it home
• Let things breathe
• Let things burn

Following your principles isn't always easy.

Sometimes it's unclear what a given principle looks like in the moment. Sometimes, the principles will conflict. A big part of your job is to interpret these principles and apply them as you think best. You'll often do this instinctively, and how exactly you follow your principles is a big part of your own personal style of GMing.

Follow the rules

There are many rules, especially in the form of player moves: basic moves and follower moves, special moves, exploration moves, and steading moves. Each playbook has moves. Inserts have moves. Arcana have moves. Dangers, discoveries, threats, and locations can all have player-facing moves.

Hopefully this is obvious, but: when a move is triggered, follow the procedures in the move and say what the move

requires of you. The rules are there to push the conversation and the fiction in certain directions, and to clarify what happens in moments of uncertainty.

Give the players the full benefits of their moves and their rolls. Challenge their ability to trigger those moves, sure, and temper the results based on the established fiction and your prep. But don't fudge the results of a move because you think things should go a particular way, or because you're worried that things will be "too easy" or "too hard." That's not your job. You're playing to find out what happens, right?

You don't get to invoke a player move unless its trigger is actually met. You don't get to say, "The crinwin attacks you, roll +DEX to Defy Danger!" Gods, no. You say that the crinwin leaps at them and ask, "What do you do?" If they do something that triggers a move, then you do that.

It's okay if, in service of your other principles, you suggest something in the spirit of the rules instead of following their exact letter, but be up front about it and get consent. "You got a 7-9 to Clash? Roll your damage. 9!? Yikes. So, I know it says you expose yourself to your enemy's attack but I'm thinking the 'attack' in this case is that your axe gets wedged into his skull and it's gonna take a bit to get it free. That okay with you?"

Begin and end with the fiction

Remember: "the fiction" is the shared, imagined space that you and the players establish through conversation, and the various characters' actions and relative positions within that imaginary space.

When rules are invoked—when a player triggers a move or rolls damage or spends a resource or whatever—ground the rules in the fiction. If you can't picture what the character is actually doing or how they're doing it, then ask questions and clarify the fiction before going to the dice. After the dice are rolled, and the rules say what happens, describe what that looks like in the fiction (or ask the player to). Fiction, then rules, then back to fiction. Always.

Likewise, when you make a GM move, make a move that flows from the fiction as established. Don't say the name of the move—keep that to yourself—but describe how it manifests in the fiction. Show, don't tell.

Beginning and ending with the fiction is a crucial part of portraying a rich and mysterious world. If you skimp on the fiction and just focus on the mechanics, you'll find that your world is bland, boring, and anemic.

Bad: "You attack the hagr? Cool, roll to Clash. A 10? Do you evade its attack or deal extra damage? Okay, roll your damage +1d6. 7 damage? It's still up and hits you back for 1d10+3 forceful, knocking you down. It's coming at you again, what do you do?"

Good: "You attack the hagr? Cool, what's that look like? Stabbing up into its gut? Yeah, sure, roll Clash. A 10? Do you evade its attack or deal extra damage? Okay, roll your damage +1d6. 7 damage? So like you said, you stab it in its gut and the hagr doubles over, howling in pain, but before you can get away it just uncoils and backhands you across the face. Take d10+3 damage as you go flying and land in a heap, head spinning. You hear it lumbering towards you, grunting in pain and anger. What do you do?"

Address the characters, not the players

Ask the characters what they do. Tell the characters what they see and hear. Tell the characters what's obvious to them. Don't say, "Brian, what is Vahid doing to keep awake?" Say instead: "Vahid, what are you doing to keep awake?" Don't tell Jamie, "Rhianna can tell that he's lying." Say (in Iwan's whiny voice) "No way, Rhianna, you know I'd never do that," and then (in your own voice), "But he looks away and you can just tell he's full of crap."

By speaking this way, you keep the game focused on the fiction. You push the players to think, speak, and respond as their characters. You establish fiction as the characters perceive it, because that's who you're addressing.

Ask questions and build on the answers

Ask questions all the time, all over the place.

Ask questions to establish intent. "Before you all head out in the morning, is there anything else anyone wants to do?"

Ask questions to clarify intent and get yourself on the same page as the players.

"Yeah, I guess you can get around him. But what are you hoping to accomplish here?"

Ask questions to clarify the fiction. "Sure, you can Seek Insight. What does that look like?"

Ask the characters what they're thinking or feeling. "Caradoc, you're standing there, bleeding from where Wynfor stabbed you, and the look in his eye—you barely recognize him. What's going through your head right now?"

Ask the characters about their past or their day-to-day lives. "Rhianna, who taught you how to hunt and track?" "Blodwen, you live with your mother, right? Any other siblings?

What's the place look like inside?"

Ask the characters about things they would know. "Rhianna, you've met Brennan before.

What's his most distinguishing feature?"

Ask the characters about things they've heard or what they believe, where their answers might not be entirely true. "Blodwen, what stories have you heard about the Quiet Twins and how they came to haunt the Stream? What do you think the truth is?"

Ask questions that assert details while asking for input. "Vahid, what have you noticed that all the missing children have in common?" "Rhianna, what little ritual do folks always do when crossing the Stream?"

Ask the characters to paint the scene for you, by asking them for details on a theme.

"What here tells each of you that this is a place touched by the Fae?" "What do you see here that you've seen a thousand times before?" "What's the most striking thing about the Flats in early spring?"

Ask questions that do more than one of the above. "Caradoc, when you all got back to town, whose reaction surprised you the most? How did they react, and how did you feel about it?"

Reincorporate their answers into the fiction, right away or later on. Don't shut down their answers unless it's to point out a contradiction. Ask follow-up questions.

Think about what their answers imply and extrapolate from there. Their answers might surprise you—that's part of the fun—but carry on as if that answer has always been a true and obvious part of the established world.

When you ask your players to contribute to the fiction, it helps you play to find out what happens. Your players will always come up with details that you wouldn't, and that makes the world you're all creating a little more surprising. When you build on the details that players have established, it helps you portray a rich and mysterious world. People are often more invested in things they helped create, and when you bring up a character or a detail that they introduced four sessions back, and it matters, that really brings the world to life.

Be a fan of the player characters

The PCs are the protagonists of the story.

Keep the focus of the game on them. Root for them. Celebrate their victories. Lament their losses. Let yourself wonder things about them, and then find ways to get the answers through play. Care about them. Be their fans.

Being a fan of the player characters doesn't mean letting them do whatever they want.

You're the author of their adversity. You need to punctuate their lives with adventure. Threaten them. Hurt them. Go after the things they care about. Give them all sorts of difficult choices.

But also: give them opportunities, both to shine in the moment and to make things better in the long run. Let them enjoy the things they work for.

Stonetop gives the player characters lots of agency. Respect that. Don't shortchange them out of their moves or their rolls. See what they do with their power, status, and competence. Play to find out what happens.

The Line

In Stonetop and games like it, there's a line between what the players are responsible for and what you as the GM are responsible for. The players are in charge of their characters: what they do and say; what they feel and think; how they live; their past experiences. As the GM, you're in charge of the world: the environment, the NPCs, the dangers and the discoveries.

Some of the questions described here blur the Line. When you ask Vahid what the missing children all have in common, you're really asking Vahid's player to do something that's generally the responsibility of the GM:

make up details about the world.

The trick is to address the characters, not the players. Don't ask the player to make up what they find in the next room or how an NPC reacts or how the trap hurts them. Ask the character about something they know, something they have heard, something they have experienced. This puts the request back on their side of the Line. It's a sleight of mind, but it's an effective one.

Even so, blurring the Line can be uncomfortable or off-putting for some players. Some players are totally fine with making up details about the world, but others will find that it takes away from their sense of immersion or makes the world feel hollow and made up. Adjust the questions you ask, and how you ask them, to fit your and your players' preferences.

Embrace the fantastic and the mundane

The world is filled with fantastic elements:

spirits, monsters, fickle Fae, the ancient works of the Makers, the darkness of the Things Below. Play up these elements. Use them to make the world mysterious.

But at the same time, ground the game in human concerns: the turn of seasons, the coming harvest, friends and neighbors.

Threaten the PCs with real-world dangers:

harsh weather, wild beasts, starvation, exposure. Ask about the provisions they brought or how they got that cloak. Make the world rich with mundane detail.

Contrast the fantastic and the mundane against each other. If an adventure revolves around a supernatural threat or opportunity, then be sure to include perfectly mundane challenges, dangers, and discoveries. If a session involves mostly mundane concerns (like a trade mission to Marshedge or an aurochs hunt), sprinkle in some fantastic elements. The interplay between the two makes the world that much richer and more mysterious.

Exploit the setting guide

Stonetop comes with a lot of established setting, but it leaves a lot of blanks for you and your players to fill in during play. The setting is intended to serve as a springboard for your creativity. It helps set a tone and gives you all a common starting point.

It provides details to riff on. It hints at answers but doesn't always give them. Use the established setting to portray a rich and mysterious world.

Use the setting guide to inspire, but don't feel beholden to it. If your players give you something that contradicts the established setting, don't negate their input just because the book says so. The book isn't the authority, it's a resource for you to exploit.

With that said: be thoughtful about what you change or discard. It's safer to change specific details than to change broad themes. If the Fox says that Brennan used to run a gang in Marshedge and killed his way to power (as opposed to the setting guide's story about how he was a bandit who the council hired as their marshal), then no big deal. But if you and the Seeker decide that the Makers were gnome-sized tinkers instead of inscrutable titans, then you'll need to rethink all sorts of setting details (the size of the roads, the scale of the Ruined Tower, the themes associated with each type of Maker, and so forth).

Respect your prep

Between sessions, you'll make preparations (i.e. "prep"). You'll write up threats and NPCs. You'll create or choose dangers and discoveries. You'll think of encounters and design locations to explore.

Some prep involves possibilities: things that the PCs might discover, dangers that they could face, problems that might arise.

This sort of prep lives in a quantum state; until you actually use these ideas and introduce them to the fiction, these ideas aren't true. They're just ideas—ideas that help you punctuate the characters' lives with adventure.

A lot of your prep, though, involves making decisions—real, binding decisions about how the world is. This includes stuff like a monster's instinct, moves, and HP, or how a location got to be the way that it is, or who killed the widow Maire. It might include decisions about what will happen if the PCs don't intervene, or how an NPC would react to X or Y. This type of prep is part of the fiction already, even if you haven't yet revealed it to the players.

Make these decisions carefully and thoughtfully. Take your time. Follow the guidelines in the upcoming chapters.

Then, during play, respect your prep. Treat it as fictional truth. Describe the world, portray your characters, and make GM moves with these decisions in mind. If you've done your prep well, you'll find that sticking to it not only helps you portray a rich and mysterious world, it also (paradoxically) helps you play to find out what happens.

See Prep for more on prep.

Give your characters life

Name your NPCs. Give them distinct personalities. Wants, needs, and quirks.

Opinions and beliefs. If you can manage it, portray them with distinct voices or mannerisms. Bring them to life and play them as if they were real people.

Describe your NPCs with memorable traits. Players often have a hard time remembering that the smith is named Taliesen, but they'll remember that the smith is a big loud guy with a shock of white hair.

Don't let PCs walk all over your NPCs.

Be a fan of the player characters, sure, but that doesn't mean you should have your NPCs just do whatever the PCs want. If it feels like the PCs are pressuring or enticing your NPCs into doing something that they wouldn't want to do, well, that's what the Persuade move is for.

Give your non-human characters life, too.

Describe how they look, of course, but also how they move, what they sound and smell like, how they act.

Beasts, spirits, even the utterly alien Things Below—they've all got personalities. Develop a sense of their motives and how they act under pressure. For beasts, think about their ecologies. For the undead, what keeps them from passing through the Last Door?

For magical entities, think about the strange rules they follow. For all of the above: put those details on screen, or at least hint at them. It goes a long way towards portraying a rich and mysterious world.

Think offscreen, too

When you establish the situation, answer questions, or make moves, think about events off-screen. What are your NPCs and monsters doing? What have they done? What traces did they leave? What have they been up to that becomes evident? What are they doing now that might become relevant later? Weave the answers into what you say.

Think, too, about what the PCs are doing and how it would shape off-screen events. If they make a lot of noise moving through the Great Wood, who hears them coming and how do they react? If they make an alliance with Gordin's Delve, how do the Hillfolk—who have a beef with the Delvers—respond?

If they told the town that they'd be gone for five days and they're gone for two weeks, who assumes that they're dead? Who steps up and tries to take charge? Who takes the opportunity to do what they want?

Thinking offscreen helps you portray a rich and mysterious world, because the world will feel larger than the PCs. It helps you punctuate the characters' lives with adventure, because off-screen threats and opportunities quickly become things for the PCs to deal with. And it helps you play to find out what happens, because it gets you thinking about consequences and cause/effect on a broader scale.

Bring it home

Make the village of Stonetop itself the foundation of your game, the beginning and end of the PCs' adventures. Threaten the town, its livelihood, or its citizens. Give them chances to make progress towards improvements, or to finally put down lingering threats.

When the PCs set off on an adventure, show how their neighbors react. Who turns out to see them off? Who is sick with worry that they won't return? Who grumbles that this is folly? Who gives them something to take, because it's dangerous to go alone?

During adventures, ask questions that tie back to the PCs' lives in Stonetop. Who taught you how to hunt? Who came here with you all those years back, and what happened to them? Which old-timer once had a run-in with these creatures?

Whose life would be most changed by this treasure? Whose smile do you find yourself thinking about, out here, under the stars?

When the PCs return home, consider what has happened while they were gone and describe how the townsfolk greet them. Who is happiest? Who resents their return? Who blames them for stirring up all this trouble anyhow, never mind that they've put things right?

Between adventures, ask the characters about their day-to-day lives and relationships. Show how the town changes in response to its troubles and the opportunities the PCs have seized. Describe NPCs growing older, having children, aspiring to more, settling for less. Show how they've been affected by the PCs' adventures.

Bring it home.

Let things breathe

Allow stretches of time to pass between adventures, or even between individual moves. It's a big world out there, and the PCs have mundane, daily tasks to attend to. Avoid the temptation to follow the PCs lives from day to day, hour to hour. Have weeks or months go by with a single statement: "The next three weeks keep you all occupied with the harvest, and then..."

When a threat looms, it need not be immediate and dire. You can show signs of it stirring but keep it distant and remote. Ask the PCs what they do about it, but you can resolve their response over days or weeks.

Zoom in and frame a scene only when the fiction calls for immediate, specific action; zoom back out as soon as that's over. Let the threat simmer until it boils over and becomes something the PCs have to deal with.

Let things burn

As much as you like your plans, as much as you come to love some of your NPCs, as much as the players will grow attached:

protect no one and nothing.

Many GMs have a tendency, a very natural tendency, to coddle the PCs and to shield the NPCs that they care about. To preserve the status quo. To save their villains for a future confrontation, even when the PCs' moves and rolls and bold action should rightly put them in the ground.

That tendency? Burn it away. Then let everything else burn, too. You're not playing to preserve your darlings. You're playing to find out what happens.

This doesn't mean that you should go out of your way to destroy the things that the characters love. It does mean that you should threaten those things, and that if the characters fail to save them, you should follow through. Be okay with hard, irrevocable consequences. Play with fire. Let things burn.

Other things to do

Take notes. You'll end up generating lots of details, and it can be hard to keep track of it all. You'll need to figure out the best tool and the level of detail that works for you, but things you might want to write down include:

• NPC names (and traits, and relevant relationships)
• Historical events that you and players establish (and when/where/who)
• Interesting details that you don't want to forget
• A summary of events each session You can write up formal session recaps to share with your players, but mostly these notes are for you. Write only as much as you'll find useful.

Draw maps. Lots of maps. Not just as part of your prep, but as a prop or a point of reference during play. When a fight breaks out and there's a lot going on, throw a quick sketch of the terrain on a whiteboard or a piece of paper (or throw out some minis if you have them). When they explore a ruin, draw a rough map (or encourage them to) to help establish the physical space. When they go to a new steading, give them a map of the different districts and parts of town.

Add to existing maps, too. Put the PCs' homes on the steading map. Add points of interest that come up during play. Draw the course of their journey on the Vicinity or World's End maps.

Leave blanks in your maps and in your prep, to be filled in during play or at a later time. Leave yourself things to wonder about. If a question occurs to you, you don't have to answer it (or ask the players to answer it) right now. Leave it as a blank, maybe jot it down in your notes, and come back to it in a future session.

Keep things moving. Don't let the momentum of the game sputter out. Frame scenes aggressively, zooming in and out to match the level of interest (yours and the players').

When nothing's happening, either make a GM move or skip ahead in time to where something interesting is happening.

Involve everyone. Keep moving the spotlight around the table. Make sure everyone gets some good screen time. Be explicit about who you're addressing, and don't be afraid to make interrupting players wait.

"Blodwen, you see… Brian, hold on, I'm talking to Hobbes."

Take breaks. They let everyone reflect on what's happened and think about what they want to do next. They let you—the real-world people hanging out—get to know each other better or catch up on real-world stuff or just joke around. That stuff's important, too.

Engage your players in world-building, and make sure they realize the setting is theirs as much as it is yours. When they ask you something about the world, and you don't have an answer at the ready, turn it back on them. "Good question. Blodwen, what DO the people of Stonetop do with their dead?"

Sometimes, disclaim decision making. Put an outcome in the character's hands ("He's a bloody mess, but not dead. You can still save him. Do you?"). Discuss an outcome with the players ("What do you think? Is Andras alive or dead?"). Let the dice decide ("You know what, roll Death's Door for him.").

Let your NPCs decide, based on their instincts, their wants and needs, your notes, and your own sense of their internal logic.

("No, he's not the type to come back as a ghost, so… yeah, he's dead.")

The Die of Fate

One way to disclaim decision making is to let the dice decide. Often, that means letting the results of a player's move determine what happens. But you can also use the Die of Fate.

The Die of Fate is just a die roll, usually a d6, with a lower result meaning bad and a higher result meaning good. Have a player roll the Die of Fate when you don't have a particular opinion on what should happen or how something should go, and/or when it's just a matter of luck. How's the weather today? What do they encounter en route? How many uses of supplies can they loot? In general, a 1-2 is bad, a 3-4 is neutral or mixed, and 5-6 is pretty good.

Sometimes, you'll prep a set of results for the Die of Fate. For example, what happens when they make camp?

Don't feel limited to a d6, especially not when you've got a table of results set up in advance. If you've got 12 interesting outcomes, have them roll a d12.

What not to do

Don't plan a storyline or a plot. Don't plan the PCs' character arcs. Don't plan dramatic moments, where the PCs arrive just as this particular thing happens (regardless of how long they took to get there or what they did before). Don't assume the PCs will take a certain course of action, or that they'll succeed or fail at a particular task. All of that flies in the face of playing to find out what happens. That's you deciding what will happen, in advance, by yourself. Absolutely not what you're here to do.

Instead: prep situations, and possible encounters, and places to explore. Prep threats and NPCs with good actionable instincts, maybe some grim portents and impending dooms. See the Prep section for how to do this.

Don't tell them what to roll before they've told you what they're doing. You do not get to say crap like "the bandit attacks, Defy

Danger with DEX." Because 1) That's not how it works and 2) What if they don't act quickly or with finesse (the trigger for Defying Danger with DEX)? What if they knock his attack aside and bash him with their shield? What if they take the blow and run him through? What if they toss dirt in his eyes and kick his groin? When you tell the players to make a move, without them first telling you that they've done something to trigger the move, you're taking control of their characters and dictating what they do.

You're breaking the rules of the game.

Instead: make your soft GM move and ask, "What do you do?" Then, based on the answer, decide together whether they triggered a move and which move they triggered. Then they roll that move, and you resolve it from there.

Don't make them roll "just because," or because "maybe they wouldn't notice," or any of that garbage. Like, you know how in other games, you'll decide that a monster is sneaking up on camp and ask the PC for a perception check? That's not a thing in Stonetop.

Instead, you just make a soft GM move, like announce trouble, that hints at the monster's presence. "You realize that the crickets have all gone quiet. And then, maybe it's just your imagination. But you thought you heard something… laughing? Out in the woods. What do you do?"

And maybe they wake the others or maybe they call out or maybe they peer carefully out into the woods and cock their head, triggering Seek Insight. However they respond, you run the game from there.

Don't stop making GM moves, especially when the players roll 10+. You'll describe what happens, yeah, and you'll give them the success that they earned. Sometimes a player will just grab the initiative and follow up (and that's cool, run with it). But usually, the players will still be looking at you to see what happens. The fiction churns along and bad guys keep doing bad things.

So when the Heavy rolls a 10+ to Clash and deals her damage and the foe's still standing and there are like two other baddies nearby, don't just go, "Cool, he's still standing, what do you do?"

Instead: think about how the first foe responds to getting hit, and what the other two foes are doing. Make a move that takes all that into account, and then ask "What do you do?"

GMing is a practice

Running any RPG is a practice, like yoga or music or martial arts. It's not something that you master. There's always room for improvement, always something to learn.

Running Stonetop specifically is its own skill, its own practice. Even if you've got experience running similar games (like Dungeon World or Apocalypse World), there's a learning curve. Stonetop is easier to pick up if you've run other games, but that experience can work against you, too! You'll have to unlearn habits and adjust to new approaches, and that can be hard.

The point is: running Stonetop isn't exactly easy, but you get better at it by doing it, by reflecting on how things went, and by trying to do better next time.

During the first adventure, focus on your agenda, on following the core loop, and on recognizing the triggers of the basic player moves. Lean on your prep—that's what it's for—and take your time. Expect things to be a little rocky as you and your players learn the rules. Don't worry about punchy descriptions or voicing NPCs or sticking to every single principle.

After the first "in character" session, ask your players for feedback. What did they enjoy? What felt rocky? What do they want to see more of in future sessions? Ask for clarification if you need it, but don't get defensive and don't try to explain yourself.

Try to be humble and receptive.

When you've got some time, review the session in light of your agenda. Did you portray a rich and mysterious world, or did the world feel flat, hollow, arbitrary?

Did you punctuate their lives with adventure, or did you let things drag? Did you play to find out what happens, or did you force things down the path that you thought they should go? If you didn't pursue your agenda, ask yourself: "What would pursuing my agenda have looked like?" Next time, do that.

Look over your principles. Did you ever fail to follow them? How did it impact the game? What would following the principle have looked like instead?

Think about moments where you were stumped, unsure what to do. Then look at the core loop. Where were you in the loop when you got stuck? What could you have done differently? What sort of prep might have helped? Maybe prep something like that before the next session.

Review the player moves (basic, special, expedition, etc.) Did you miss any moves getting triggered? Did you call for a player move, even though its trigger wasn't really met? For moves that were used, did you follow their procedures correctly?

Next session, try to do better. Write down 2-3 things you want to do or focus on. Put them somewhere you can see them. During the session, try to do them.

Repeat the process. Ask for feedback.

Review the session in light of your agenda, your principles, the rules, and the core loop. Prep to shore up your weaknesses. Set goals. Try again. Repeat.

Get good. Then get better. Then get great.

Prep

Prep is what you do between sessions, the lonely fun (or for some, the stressful work) of getting ready for the next game. Prep involves reviewing your notes from previous sessions, thinking about what might happen in the next session, and doing stuff that you don't want to do during play.

Why prep? A few reasons:

To give you interesting stuff to say.

To speed up play, and not make everyone wait while you decide what happens, or stat up a monster, or draw a map.

To shore up your weaknesses. If you, say, always forget about the PCs' followers and let them fade into the background, maybe prep some interesting things for those followers to say or do.

To hone your craft. Some stuff is better when you have time to think about it—it's more consistent or thematic, it flows better, it builds on stuff that came up earlier, etc.

To give yourself permission to play hard and inflict badness on the PCs. If you've got a tendency to pull punches (and don't we all?), it can really help to have an impending doom established or to give your bad guys a move like "tear an arm off."

Prep only as much as you find useful and valuable. Unless you're making something for other GMs to use, there's no point in writing down details that are self-evident to you. Don't write down what Nia looks like unless you think you'll forget or it's something you specifically want to call attention to in play.

Consider prepping some or all of the following:

Threats

The ongoing, recurring problems that cause trouble for the PCs. Things that are going to get worse if left unchecked, or complicated relationships that you want to explore more in play. There's a whole chapter on prepping and using threats.

Hooks

When you want to push the PCs into the field with a threat or an opportunity, it pays to prepare a hook. A hook involves:

setup questions, a plan for framing initial scenes, some specific GM moves you plan to make, and some possible reactions. See the First Adventure chapter for guidelines on preparing a hook.

Expeditions

If you know (or suspect) that the PCs will leave town, you might prepare your choices for the Chart a Course move.

Consider drawing a map, prepping points of interest, and roughly imagining a few encounters that they might have en route.

See the "What to prep" section of the Expeditions chapter for details.

Sites

Think about each important place you expect the PCs to explore or encounter during a session. What's it like? How will you describe it? What questions will you ask about it? What's its story? Do you need a map or a visual aid? Are there dangers or discoveries within? See Sites for ideas.

Dangers

The hazards and monsters and hostile NPCs that the PCs might encounter.

Find entries in the setting guide to use, or make your own. You can do this on the fly, of course, but it takes up table time and it's best to have it done in advance. See the chapter on Dangers for guidelines.

Discoveries

Puzzles, clues, mysteries, treasures, arcana… these are all discoveries. Some of them you'll just wing on the fly. Some you'll want to make a few notes on. Some (especially arcana) you'll want to write up in detail. See Discoveries for more.

NPCs

If there are NPCs that you expect they'll encounter in play, think about their names, the questions you'll ask about them, their defining traits, how you'll describe them and portray them. Maybe give them an instinct, connections, and motivations. If an NPC might end up as a follower, consider writing down their stats, tags, moves, cost, and instinct before play. See NPCs & Followers for guidelines.

All this prep might seem like it goes against playing to find out what happens, but it really doesn't. You're not prepping a story, or a plot, or an inevitable series of scenes that follow one after the other.

You're prepping things that give you interesting stuff to say, that speed up play, that shore up your weaknesses and hone your craft, and that give you permission to play hard. Good prep doesn't involve scripting everything out; it involves laying a groundwork to help you improvise.