Role Playing: The Value of Your Character's Background

There is no question in my mind that a good back story is one of, if not the most important element of creating a character in D&D or any other role playing game. It can frame motivations and behaviors, set the tone for your character's interaction with others (hopefully in fresh, if not gamechanging ways), and most importantly for me: it provides a self-controlled medium in which to craft the budding romances and tragedies of your character. When I'm feeling inspired, playing through an adventure or module is about more than the culmination of another quest; it is the addition of a new chapter in the growing mythology of a character that I've already begun to fall in love with.

It was in this spirit, while under the influence of a collection of Lovecraft short stories and a noir run of Madame Xanadu, that I began to entertain the seeds of a dark and sorrowful character whose shortsighted, morbid curiosities would leave him a shaken husk in the hot, mystic winds of self destruction and remorse.

I decided to embrace the serialized essense of my inspiration and release a couple paragraph's of my upcoming character's back story to my D&D group every day or so. I'll admit flat out that I failed utterly in doing so due to procrastination, and ended up emailing it all at once about an hour before playing. Here, however, I have the opportunity to start fresh with a larger - if nonexistent - audience.

Over the next couple weeks, I'll release small segments with hope that they offer enough suspense to pull the reader back through the conclusion of the tenth and final entry. At that point, I'd love to discuss best practices, etc.

Without further ado:

Entry 1,

My name is Arthur Monroe, and it was on an oppressively humid summer evening that my experience, and the cause for this account, began. My wife and I had recently moved to a small village a day’s travel from Haversford. Being the first woman in town able to read or work numbers, Dianne found work at once as an instructor and aide to the local marm. Owing to her rare skills and charm, it was mere days before she was an adored member of our new community, leaving me time and privacy to engage in my own studies.

Our residence consisted of a small plot with humble improvements. It’s only uncommon feature came in the form of a small structure in the rear, shaded by our home in the morning and by the bordering woods in the evening. Roughly seven feet in width, length, and height, it was perpetually hidden from the world’s view, which suited me perfectly, given the arcane nature of my work. I had long been on the road, and it had been weeks since I had spoken with the Hound.