I think that many of us who have grown up with tabletop roleplaying games know how much harder it is to find time for games the older you get. I love getting invested in a character, but I barely have time for the sessions as it is. I used to be the kind of roleplayer who spent hours exploring my character and their story in between sessions, and doing so caused my roleplaying to suffer more than anything. Today, I don’t have time to sit down and flesh out my characters to that extent, but neither do I want to.
As it happens, an extensive backstory can cause more harm than good, and it isn’t needed to create a character with depth. In this article, I want to show you how to quickly and effortlessly make rich and engaging characters in mere minutes during Session Zero. I’ll also share why letting go of the idea of extensive backstories being a good thing will make your character stronger in play.
If you’ve ever struggled coming up with good character ideas, or if you’ve ever felt pressured to work on your characters between sessions like homework, this article is for you.
WHY BACKSTORIES CAN BACKFIRE
Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with backstories in general. They can be fun to write and can provide the GM with useful story hooks. If you don’t mind spending hours writing, who am I to tell you not to?
The real problem begins when the backstory gets so detailed that you become overly attached to it. If you write a story hoping the GM will incorporate it into the game, you’re putting expectations on the GM. The GM already has a bigger role than you in relation to the game, and they don’t magically have more hours in the day than you do. If you write a story and the GM doesn’t read it, there’s disappointment already there. But you might also hope for specific arcs that never come, or see things turn out differently from what you expected.
The more detail you add to your story, the more potential story hooks there are for sure. But there’s also a stronger risk of attachment—not just to your work, but to how you imagine the story unfolding. That’s where disappointment creeps in.
I used to be guilty of writing long backstories. When I was young and had the time to spend entire days writing, I could obsessively dig into my characters. The backstory I wrote for my first Exalted character was about 150 pages. I thought it was a good thing that I was so invested in my character, but it turned out to work against me in the end.
What happened at the table rarely matched what I had in my mind, and I often ended up disappointed that certain prewritten arcs weren’t touched upon or resolved. It wasn’t that the game was bad, but I crippled myself by clinging to a story I’d already written. When one game didn’t dig into the stories I wanted to see, I tried the same character again in a different game, much to the same disappointment. Looking back, I should have just written a book.
Tabletop roleplaying games aren’t solo stories. They’re more like ensemble stories. It’s easy, without realizing it, to make your character’s story into your own center of gravity. It pulls you in. The more time you spend writing alone, the more your mind starts treating it like the story, rather than one story among many. When the GM doesn’t indulge that vision, it can feel like losing control, and your expectations take a hit.
SHIFTING THE MINDSET
That leads to my main point. Not only can you make a character feel deep and detailed without a prewritten backstory, but you’ll often find yourself better served without one. The most important shift is trading ego for collaboration.
Like I mentioned, an intricate backstory can accidentally send the message “I’m the main character” to the table. But the goal is shared spotlight. You’re not the only one entitled to a good game and a good story. You might need to park that ego, stay curious, dare to let go of control, and see your character emerge from play.
This is the important part. Detaching from specific outcomes isn’t the same as detaching from your character. Be invested in your character without being too rigid. If you’re too attached to a specific story, you’ll seek to control the narrative going forward. Investment without attachment makes you resilient to the unexpected, and you’ll be able to approach the story with curiosity and excitement, even in the face of failure—or even character death.
THE “FOUR + ONE” FOUNDATION
I’ve talked about how the intricacy and detail of an elaborate backstory can work against you. But an entirely blank slate feels plain and uninteresting. So, what do I consider the minimum you actually need to make a character start feeling meaningful? I recommend a process I call “Four + One.” So, what is it?
First, answer the question: “What brought you to where you are?” This is your inciting past, like an event or force that pushed you onto the road. Second, answer the question: “Who are you now?” This is your present identity in a single line, similar to FATE’s High Concept. Third, answer the question: “Who or what do you care about today?” These are the people, factions, places, or ideals that anchor you to the world. Fourth, answer the question: “Where are you headed?” This could be a direction, a motivation, or a quest you’ve been given. It gives you momentum into the story.
These four questions don’t need elaborate answers. You can answer each one with a single sentence, and your character will already start seeing depth.
But I said Four + One. So, what’s the “+ One?” It’s the question: “What complicates your life today?” This is similar to FATE’s Trouble: it’s a flaw, a burden, or a recurring problem that makes your choices interesting. Flawed or burdened characters feel more alive and interesting, and it allows for more engaging stories. The reason I’m calling it Four + One instead of simply Five is because I want to give this last question extra emphasis. The first four questions define your character’s foundation, while the final one adds the complication that makes them interesting. It’s the difference between a character concept and a story waiting to happen.
Let’s use the Four + One method in a quick example. “What brought you to where you are?” My village was razed by an invading force, so I had to flee. “Who are you now?” I am a farmer turned hardened survivor. “Who or what do you care about today?” I care about civilians caught between feuding lords. “Where are you headed?” I’m trying to push back the invaders and reclaim a quiet life. “What complicates your life today?” I live with the shame of leaving someone behind to save myself.
It barely took me a minute to answer these questions, and it already suggests scenes, choices, and conflicts to spark storylines. It’s already playable. It’s evocative. And it didn’t require any effort or homework.
Let’s use the same Four + One principle for a completely different type of game, like KULT: Divinity Lost. “What brought you to where you are?” I haven’t been able to sleep properly for years, so I take late-night walks to distract my mind. I saw something I cannot explain on such a walk, and now I feel like the nightmares are becoming real. “Who are you now?” I am a social outcast who is always looking for new distractions, but my vices are becoming extreme. “Who or what do you care about today?” I care about my grandmother because she is the only one who checks in. “Where are you headed?” I feel like I’m heading into an abyss, and I follow whatever sign I get that leads me away from that path. “What complicates your life today?” I am sleep deprived and use vices like intoxicants. It harms those around me.
See, now we have a deeply troubled but also realistic character that would fit neatly into a horror game like KULT: Divinity Lost. It doesn’t really matter which type of game or genre it is: the Four + One method will give your character meaning in less than a minute of work.
But we’re not done yet! This is just the foundation to build upon. We have done a minute of work on the character so far, and it’s already more than a blank slate. But we can do even more, though the next step will require collaboration.
COLLABORATIVE PROMPTING
The simplest way to turn the Four + One foundation into something the whole table can use is to take advantage of Session Zero. Do it together rather than alone.
Start by having each player speak their Four + One answers out loud. The answers themselves should come from the questions, but the character creation process and earlier discussions about the game are also important foundational pieces in coming up with appropriate answers. I recommend that you collaboratively create characters during Session Zero, not only to have these conversations, but also to avoid potential overlaps in character creation.
This is a bit a digression, but avoiding character overlap gives opportunities to both claim and cede the spotlight, which is important in a collaborative game.
After a player has introduced their foundation to the group, go around the table and have each person ask one short question to that player. Keep it simple and specific. Ask what they do in quiet moments, who they secretly admire or resent, or what rumor about them might be true. There are no stupid questions. Even the ones that don’t seem directly relevant can add flavor to a character and give their player thought and maybe a new perspective upon their personality.
Using the previous example, questions posed to the farmer turned hardened survivor might be things like “what is something your character does for fun?” and “who do you trust the most?” The player should then treat each question seriously and come up with an answer. In this example, it could be “he writes poetry that he doesn’t show anyone” and “he doesn’t see eye to eye with his sister, but she’s his last remaining relative and he knows she wants what’s best for him.” Two questions, seemingly random, and the character is already richer.
After you have done this for each player’s character, run a second round where each player asks a relationship question that ties their characters together. You could ask what you have bonded over, when you let each other down and how you mended it, how you met and why you’re traveling together. This is important not to add more flavor to the characters—though it does do that as well—but primarily to connect the characters to the group and the setting in a more meaningful way.
Using the farmer example again, let’s say that the other players in the group are going to be an aging soldier and a traveling troubadour. The soldier’s player might ask: “What is one thing our characters bonded over?” and the troubadour might ask: “Which song do you always ask me to perform?”
Same as before, taking the questions seriously, you might tell the soldier’s player that “You are the only person I’ve told the full story about my village to, including the shameful parts,” and you might tell the troubadour that “You have a song about how a man’s tragedy can lead to triumph. It inspires me when I hear it.” Again, seemingly random questions taken seriously, add flavor to the character, make you consider things you hadn’t considered otherwise, and help tether the character to the party and the setting in ways writing a backstory in isolation couldn’t do.
Throughout the rounds, the GM can jump in with clarifying questions and additional prompting statements to invite the players to come up with more details. It’s in the GM’s interest to get the information they need to come up with meaningful narrative hooks. Asking questions is helpful, but prompting statements can have additional purposes.
“There was a commander in golden armor leading the raid on your village. Tell me something about him.” This isn’t a question. It’s a statement. The GM might already have things in mind for the commander in golden armor, but by inviting the player in this way, the GM both collects new prompts to spark their own creative process and gives the player a connection to a potential story arc that will feel personal.
The player invents a detail in response to the statement, and it instantly becomes a shared hook. “I had a moment of eye contact with the commander when I was hiding. He smiled at me but didn’t tell his soldiers where I was. I don’t know why, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” Now, both the GM and the player own that piece of the world, and it’s alive at the table. You don’t need to delve deeper into that prompting statement now. You’ve already given the GM what they need to build upon that hook if they choose to.
You can keep asking each other questions for as long as you desire, but it’s recommended to leave some blanks on purpose. You don’t need an answer to every question, and some mysteries are better left to discover later.
WHY THIS WORKS BETTER THAN LONG BACKSTORIES
The Four + One and collaborative prompting approaches beat the big backstory for a few reasons. First, they’re flexible, allowing your character to evolve more organically. Second, they’re collaborative, so the story hooks belong to the whole table rather than to you alone. Third, they’re actionable, which means that every answer produces something both the group and the GM can use right away. Fourth, they’re practical, since you remove the burden of homework— ideal for us busy grownups and welcoming to new players.
There isn’t anything new in this approach to character design. A few decades ago, it was common for games to incorporate lifepath systems and random tables to prompt character ideas. Cyberpunk did this already in the late 80s and early 90s, but many lifepath prompts were still gamified to engage the players. Later, you saw other forms of gamified narrative prompts, like FATE’s Character Aspects. Other narrative games incorporated individual character prompting, like the playbooks of Forged in the Dark.
It’s a fairly new phenomenon for mainstream games to incorporate collaborative prompting as part of the default character creation process. Exalted Essence mentions it as part of the suggested structure of a Session Zero. Daggerheart has it as a vital step of character creation with designated sections for it on the sheet. Don’t skip this just because it isn’t gamified.
THINGS TO CONSIDER
There are other things to consider when it comes to these approaches. First, if you worry about stealing spotlight from other players, the Four + One method makes your character interesting without turning it into a narrative gravity well. Since your foundation is minimal and focused, there are less prewritten arcs to be attached to, and it will be easier for you to avoid sucking attention away from the other players or the larger story.
Second, if you’re a perfectionist, remember that “good enough to play” beats “perfect but late.” It’s easy to fall into the pit of overpreparation, and it can both kill the excitement for a game and the game itself. You only need a sentence or two per prompt to know enough about your character to start rolling dice.
If you’re hesitant or unsure about something, ask the GM to lead the conversation. Take every question seriously and answer it honestly. Don’t judge or rewrite each other’s answers. If someone gets stuck, offer a suggestion, not a correction. Even simple questions are meaningful, and an answer that contrasts from your original character idea can work in that character’s favor.
A question like “what’s your character’s favorite food?” might sound trivial, but suddenly you have a scene where a character treats another to dinner and makes that exact dish. That tiny detail personalizes the moment and makes the game more impactful.
If you’re a player who loves to write and wants to take time between sessions to delve deeper into your character, feel free to flesh out certain details or journal the experience as you think is fun. But remember to check in with yourself too to avoid the risk of attachment. Maintain curiosity and recognize that your character isn’t fully yours—it’s part of the group’s shared story, and the group are shareholders in its fate.
CONCLUSION
To summarize my main points. Remember the collaborative aspect above all. Help each other fill in blanks. Give extra emphasis to connecting your characters to each other and to the setting. Don’t get bogged down in minute details that no one has context for yet. Those are the kinds of blanks that will fill themselves in as you go, and they will feel more genuine because they grow out of scenes you actually play.
Remember that depth doesn’t come from length. It comes from hooks you’ll actually put on the table, together, session after session. Build the foundation with a few sentences, ask each other questions with curiosity, tie the party together, and leave space for discovery.
Ekorren 