Leading Motives
[A] score is a continuous symphonic development of the [themes], reflecting the continuous psychological development of the stage action.1
The concept of the leitmotif, or leading motive, particularly in regard to the operas of Richard Wagner, first gained popular currency after the publication of a series of guides to Wagner’s works in the 1870s and 1880s by Hans Von Wolzogen.2 The use of themes or short musical phrases to represent people, ideas, or actions occurred previously, but our modern notion of the leitmotif, such as the Imperial March from Star Wars, began to take shape in this interpretation of Wagner’s operas.
Though it has been debated how closely the modern (or even von Wolzogen’s) definition of the leitmotif cleaves to Wagner’s own,3 the core concept of short musical phrases being developed throughout a piece to enhance the meaning of the drama remains useful in aiding our understanding and enjoyment of larger works. This same concept seems equally applicable to how we run our tabletop roleplaying games, if we broaden our definition of leitmotifs to include not only musical phrases, but any of the psychological signposts we include in our adventures.
As such, our definition of leitmotif in tabletop roleplaying games could be: the process of repeating, developing, transforming, and subverting a few common themes throughout an adventure, in an effort to bolster overt clues with an underlying or unconscious idea of what's meaningful in the world. What follows are examples of what these signposts might look like in our games and how we can use them to the best effect.
It bears repeating…
GMs are already familiar with the need for repetition in our games. Sessions are recapped, adventure hooks are revisited, NPC names are recalled. Players and GMs alike require these reminders in games that span weeks, months, or years. However, these reminders can serve a secondary purpose, beyond mere recapitulation of the facts of the adventure. They can serve as a sort of mantra, as foci for the attention of GMs and players to bring to mind the salient points of the story which they are creating together. These leitmotifs should be short, pithy phrases, similar to the epithets used in The Iliad and The Odyssey.
One obvious place for these mantras or psychological signposts to be included is in session recaps, whether they are done immediately after a session or previous to the next one. In addition to enumerating the mundane details of the action, a GM might also couch those details in a narrative that emphasizes the themes of the adventure, echoing phrases and descriptions that have been used in gameplay, which can serve to reinforce character development, inform major plot lines, and focus the players’ attention on the goals of the adventure.
"These psychological signposts...are not mere literary tricks or Easter eggs. They are unconscious reminders that contribute to a growing awareness of the main themes."
But our thematic iterations should not be limited to preludes and prologues. In our hurry to pack action and detail into each session, we may often forget the value of repetition during gameplay. Subtle reminders of theme should be sprinkled throughout each session: the environment constantly imposing itself on the players; an NPC repeatedly interrupting the action
with a concern of theirs; or an eerie tune perpetually playing on a flute in the distance.
If Selûne is central to a campaign, the players should be aware of the quality of light the moon is casting or the phase she is in. Her conflict with her sister, Shar, could be alluded to in myriad ways that contrast light and darkness. And watchful eyes, friendly or not, could be encountered sporadically throughout.
If enslavement or subjugation is a theme in your adventure, then the sight and sound of chains could pervade the atmosphere; spells and traps of restraint or burden could be prominent; and hierarchies in civilization and in nature could be emphasized.
These psychological signposts enhance the story both symbolically and palpably. They are not mere literary tricks or Easter eggs meant to thrill players in the moment, nor should they be part of a patchwork of overt symbols outlining the story. Rather, they are unconscious reminders that contribute to a growing awareness of the main themes. They can aid in communicating what is at stake in the adventure while deepening whatever mood the GM is trying to effect. So, let us further examine how they can be employed.
Impressions
I have previously touched on many of these techniques in my article “Once Upon a Dungeon Dreary: How Poe Can Help Us Create an Impressive Dungeon”, which focuses on how the duration, mood, and setting of a dungeon all contribute to a unified effect. Much the way Poe utilizes literary techniques to create this effect, we have a similar toolbox available to us as GMs in the creation of an impressive dungeon or adventure. These tools can be used not only to develop a focused mood, which was Poe’s aim, but to develop motifs, which adds narrative texture to the story we are telling with our players.
One decision common to all adventures is setting. In addition to locale affecting the practical decisions our players make throughout the adventure, though, the setting itself can be a sort of character. Climate, terrain, and inhabitants can all color the tenor of an adventure.
For example, an arctic setting could be employed to reflect a certain tendency among the denizens of that setting, who could be portrayed as intolerant, stolid, or stubborn. The NPCs could be frozen in time, stuck in their ways, or solid and reliable. Further, that frozen theme can be developed or subverted. A cult of a fire goddess could represent unwanted change, moral fluctuations, or conversely, a change of heart among the people. As these themes of unyielding cold and impending heat are repeated and revisited throughout the adventure, they will contribute to a feeling of conflict. As the conflict gains steam, so to speak, the symbolism of ice and fire will be embodied in the actions of the players, NPCs, and monsters. The themes will be borne out in their actions, and the actions will be illuminated by the underlying symbolism of the themes.
Another essential element in any adventure is the fundamental conflict. Whether that conflict is simply good versus evil or something more nuanced,4 its various aspects can be accented and developed with the aid of leitmotifs. Consider a conflict between nature and civilization. More specifically, imagine an adventure that centers around a natural resource that has been over-exploited, leading to some imbalance in nature: a burgeoning city felling trees from a sacred grove to build its walls, mutated plants and animals attacking a settlement, or dwarves mining too greedily and rousing an ancient evil. This conflict can be alluded to through our choice of words.
A well-chosen set of onomatopoeic names and adjectives can echo through our adventure. NPCs named Aisling, Krang, Planck, or Tink could be subtle reminders of the incessant hammering and tapping of our greedy dwarves. Using descriptors normally reserved for the natural world as epithets for our NPCs (e.g.: bushy hair, a volcanic temper, an aquiline nose) can hint at the gradual encroachment of nature upon a settlement. These epithets should be repeated frequently when the NPC are referred to. And secular concerns overtaking respect for the sacred could be woven into the narrative descriptions: buildings reaching to the heavens, mine workers marching in procession to their day’s work, merchants peddling their wares outside of a temple.
While these instances may not actually be part of the immediate narrative, though they could be, they form part of the tapestry of the story and, thus, inform the mood of the adventure and illuminate the main conflicts with which the PCs are contending.
Sound + Vision
So far, we have discussed leitmotifs in regard to the repetition of words, which is fitting, since words are the most common medium in tabletop roleplaying games. However, it seems fitting to touch on the use of aural and visual leitmotifs, as those are the type we most commonly experience in film or opera.
Choosing background music for our games can be a difficult, but ultimately rewarding, process.5 6 As important as what we play and how loudly we play it can be, when and how often we play music, or any sound, can also have an impact. Whether choosing from among the myriad sources for gaming music or creating one’s own, as I do, we can make meaningful decisions about when and how often to use certain sounds and pieces of music.
For instance, the adventure itself may have a theme song that can be heard as we prepare to play, and throughout the process of
reviewing the last session. This method can help players, especially those playing in several campaigns, become grounded in the world of the present adventure. And if this piece of music contains instrumentation reminiscent of our main themes (church bells, growling bass, pastoral flute, war drums, etc.), all the better.
Additionally, a particular piece of music or sound effect can introduce or foreshadow not only the appearance of a character (à la the Imperial March), but can recall a place or event, or foretell hidden secrets, impending doom, or the presence of magic. This music can be straightforward (Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana introducing a climactic battle scene, Bohren & der Club of Gore setting the mood for a noir mystery) or ironic (a music box heard faintly during a horror sequence or Slayer’s Reign in Blood echoing through a coronation scene). Ironic use of music and sound can be particularly effective to induce comedy, absurdity, or cosmic horror.
Besides music, sound effects can be utilized as psychological guideposts. And while a GM couldn’t possibly fill the simultaneous role of foley artist, a few well-placed audio cues can make a tremendous impression. Imagine a horror or mystery scenario during which the GM occasionally plays a subtle tapping or clicking sound, with no explanation to the players or their characters. Faint and seldom heard at first, the clicking can begin to insist itself upon the scenario, creating a sense of urgency or fear all the while, until it is finally revealed (if so desired) that the sound emanates from the cane of an ancient and malevolent ghost that has been tracking the party the entire time; or that it represents a time bomb, literally or figuratively, whose imminent destruction has been hastened by certain decisions the party has made throughout the adventure.
This simple and subtle use of sound can greatly enhance the meaning and the fun of the game, as could a similar visual tactic. A mutilated skeletal figure could be seen from time to time in an adventure: as a statue in a cemetery, a graffito on a tavern wall, a symbol on the letterhead of a mysterious note. Even if its meaning is never divulged, its very presence could contribute to a sense of danger and foreboding or, conversely, hardiness and rebirth, depending on the context. As the psychological signpost of the skeleton is repeated, and the context of each instance is taken into account, the visual cue can relieve the GM of a portion of the narrative burden, instead appealing directly to the players’ emotional responses without the need for a wordy exegesis. In fact, the role of leitmotifs as laid out here is precisely that: to do some of the narrative heavy lifting for the GM. This has two desired effects: 1. The GM will not be forced to over-explain the themes of the adventure, running the risk of blunting their emotional effect on the players, and 2. The players, free
to interpret these leitmotifs, these signposts, as they see fit, are given agency to help write the story of the adventure, making the game even more of a collaborative effort between players and GM.
Recapitulation
These leitmotifs will not always reside in the consciousness of our players. These pithy phrases, sounds, and visuals encroach on the players’ perception without being constantly overt. But the leitmotifs can eventually coalesce into a picture of at least part of what the adventure is about.
I return to the symbols of ice and fire, which play a large part in my current adventure set in the Frozen North. Due to the setting, the cold is ever present, both in the environment and in the attitudes of many of the NPCs populating the adventure. By contrast, the brief mentions of fire stand out all the more, as do the characters who wield it and the situations where it is employed. My players don’t know yet what the ultimate meanings of these leitmotifs will be. Neither do I. But how they respond to these psychological signposts will ultimately tell the story of the adventure. It is through the lens of the leitmotifs that the results of their decisions will crystallize into a meaningful picture of the story.
Cooke, Deryck. An Introduction to Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen, 1. Georg Solti (Conductor), Vienna Philharmonic (Orchestra), Deryck Cooke (Performer). Decca, 1967.
Wolzogen, Hans Von. Guide Through the Music of R. Wagner’s “The Ring of the Nibelung” (Der Ring Des Nibelungen). Franklin Classics, 2018.
Meyer, S. C. “Illustrating Transcendence: Parsifal, Franz Stassen, and the Leitmotif.” The Musical Quarterly, vol. 92, no. 1–2, 2009, pp. 9–32. Crossref, https://doi.org/10.1093/musqtl/gdp013.
“Ideological Wars: Themes, Conflict, and RPG Settings.” The Angry GM, 24 June 2018, www.theangrygm.com/ideological-wars.
Craft, Dungeon. “Episode #146: Using Music in Your D&D Game.” YouTube, 5 Aug. 2020, www.youtube.com/watch?v=md2AeeO-cT8&feature=youtu.be.
Skorkowsky, Seth. “Using Music in Your Game - GM Toolbox.” YouTube, 21 Oct. 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMpBNx2TdM0&feature=youtu.be.
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Eco's Chamber
