In my current Whovian project, Classic Doctor Who: The Unofficial Role-Playing Game, I will be presenting multiple character creation options, and this will probably be one of them. Companions may begin with a brief description and 3 free levels to be distributed amongst the following attributes: Strength, Stamina, Coordination, Intellect, Willpower, and Charisma. They may choose 1 gift, with further gifts costing an equal number of faults. They will have a skill level pool of perhaps 30 free skill levels that may be distributed or held in reserve or traded for attributes or gifts (or any combination thereof). This makes adapting characters from the original show especially easy. Instead of inventing abilities for Barbara Wright that she never demonstrated in the show, we can simply assign her some skill levels in Teaching, History, and Negotiation, and the rest will be in the hands of the player who role-plays her in the game. Who knows what other abilities she may reveal in the course of an adventure? This could make playing an existing Companion just as interesting as creating one’s own.

Taking a cue from another role-playing game I hold in high esteem, Sherpa, one possible answer is to discard skills completely and rely on a combination of attributes and attributes-as-occupations. Sherpa has the following attributes in order of importance (according to the author, Steffan O’Sullivan): Profession, Experience, Reasoning, Agility, Strength, and Health. The first two attributes are not the usual inherent characteristics one expects to find, but are actually embodiments of large clusters of skills. Profession must be specified by the player, and this attribute covers all the skills logically related to it. Profession (Knight), for instance, would include such pertinent skills as Riding, Jousting, Swordsmanship, Heraldry, Tactics, Court Etiquette, etc. Experience is an attribute that includes all of the other skills a character has gained in life unrelated to Profession. In Fudge, it is simply a matter of determining some standard attributes for all characters and allowing players to designate one or more occupational attributes. As per the standard rules, the GM might allocate a number of free levels equal to half the total number of attributes to be distributed by the players as they choose.

For my own projects, I think I would rename Profession and Experience as Vocation and Avocation (as in Quasi-Standard Descriptive Traits for Sherpa). I would allow up to four Vocations and/or Avocations in any combination, but each one must be specified. (In my games, Vocations and Avocations are functionally identical, but are differentiated for the sake of describing which attributes are, or have been, professional occupations vs. amateur interests.) The rest of the attributes would be: Strength, Stamina, Coordination, Intellect, Willpower, and Charisma. The default attribute level for player characters and extraordinary non-player characters is Fair. The default attribute level for ordinary non-player characters is Mediocre. Characters with four vocational/avocational attributes and the usual six inherent attributes would have 5 free levels to distribute amongst them, and may further increase some attributes by lowering others. Any player character attempting to use a skill not encompassed by one of his Vocations or Avocations has a default level to be determined by the GM based on her assessment of the skill’s difficulty, i.e. Easy skills have a default level of Mediocre, Average skills of Poor, Hard skills of Terrible, and Very Hard skills of Nonexistent. Apart from this, Vocations and Avocations function in all other ways as normal attributes.

This is one option I will probably include in Classic Doctor Who: The Unofficial Role-Playing Game for creating Companions and non-player characters. There is another option I like, however, which I will describe next time.

In a previous article, I incorrectly referred to the Celestial Intervention Agency as an “invention” of FASA for their Doctor Who role-playing game. I had forgotten that it had previously been mentioned in the Fourth Doctor episode, “The Deadly Assassin.” Whilst they did not invent the Celestial Intervention Agency, they did alter its nature to make it a more useful role-playing tool. Far from being a renegade group that hijacks TARDIS units, the real C.I.A. of Gallifrey is a powerful government organization with the authority to conduct covert operations that may contradict the official non-interference policy. When the Doctor is given a mission by the Time Lords, it can reasonably be assumed that the orders were given to him by the Agency. The game designers probably deemed the Agency’s proximity to Gallifreyan politics too close to be palatable, and so it was recast as an organization more in line with the Doctor’s philosophy.

Upon reflection, I have decided that the game ought to allow for both traditional and nontraditional styles of adventures. I have decided, therefore, to provide the option of three modes of play (or excuses for adventure) in Classic Doctor Who: The Unofficial Role-Playing Game. Any can be chosen by the GM at any time.

Excuse #1: Random

The most common cause of the Doctor’s adventures is random materialization. Whether it is due to a faulty circuit, a temporal anomaly, or the Doctor’s absent-mindedness, the TARDIS will usually materialize in a time and place that is quite unexpected, but rich with possibilities. The Doctor’s TARDIS is a rather old model, which accounts for many of its mishaps, but even Time Lords with the most advanced TARDIS units may find that some of its experimental components are not as reliable or effective as advertised, and sometimes the prototype can be as much of a nuisance as the antique.

Excuse #2: The Celestial Intervention Agency

Sometimes the Doctor finds himself at specific time-space coördinates intentionally. Usually such pinpoint materializations are directed by the Celestial Intervention Agency for the purpose of thwarting a major threat to the timestream. The Agency neither trusts nor inspires trust, bound as it is to the politics of the Inner Council, and it rarely involves itself with the likes of the Doctor, but when it does, it is best not to refuse coöperation. Such missions can be characterized as a combination of temporary impressment and voluntary assistance.

Excuse #3: The Temporal Integrity Preservation Society

Time Lords may become involved in another world’s affairs as a result of the activities of the Temporal Integrity Preservation Society (q.v.), a benevolent and independent organization of Time Lords dedicated to preventing or repairing damage done to the timestream in a manner that is a bit more proactive than the C.I.A. This enables player characters to act with fewer political entanglements and greater freedom.

Lest I give a false impression, there is far more to Federation spacefaring than the ships of Star Fleet. The more densely populated areas of Federation Space and the more active trade routes are busy with the traffic of a multitude of starships of various designs manufactured by the competing shipbuilding companies of a multitude of worlds. There are ore freighters, cargo freighters, mining ships, passenger liners, yachts, survey vessels, research vessels, and more. Some are privately owned by individuals or corporations; others are owned by planetary governments. The Federation has a thriving economy amongst its member planets and via trade outside the Federation, and Star Fleet is there to protect the trade routes as well as the planets themselves. There have, at times, been conflicting views on the nature of the Federation’s economy, but there is substantial evidence within Star Trek: The Original Series that there is trade, private enterprise, and a monetary system even if there is also a more enlightened view of society’s responsibilities to the welfare of its citizens. Thus, Star Fleet is powerful, but not as numerous as the civilian shipping it protects.

In the episode “A Taste of Armageddon,” an ambassador of the United Federation of Planets refers to “Federation Central.” We already know there is a Space Central, which I have deduced is short for Federation Space Central (q.v.), so it stands to reason that Federation Central is likewise short for the same. Rather than trying to retrofit the Classic Star Trek Universe with a makeshift organizational hierarchy incorporating all the terms ever used or pretending that certain terms were a slip of the tongue, I think it is useful to role-players and probably more in the spirit of the original screenwriters’ intentions to interpret these terms in the original context in which they were used. In both cases, Space Central and Federation Central were mentioned in reference to a governmental authority, which we may assume is the United Federation of Planets. For the purposes of the episodes in which they were mentioned, they are effectively interchangeable whether by accident or design (and I tend to think the former). Therefore, Space Central and Federation Central are synonymous with Federation Space Central, the government of the Federation, and each Federation world of a certain population size has its own planetary Space Central, e.g. Earth Space Central, Vulcan Space Central, etc. (q.v.). The U.F.P. is, after all, a federation, so each member world capable of self-governing within the bounds of Federation law would have its sovereignty respected and protected.

Star Fleet is, of course, the combined service of the Federation, and Star Fleet Command is Star Fleet’s central authority and headquarters, answerable to the civilian government of the Federation, Federation Space Central (its governing body being the Federation Council — as first mentioned in the episode “Amok Time” — and whose members represent and are elected by the member worlds).

Thus:

United Federation of Planets

• Federation Council (governing body)
  • Federation Space Central (civilian government)
    • Star Fleet Command (combined service authority)
      • Star Fleet (combined service)

It’s all nice and simple. Alas, what are we to make of “Space Command,” “Star Fleet Control,” and the “United Earth Space Probe Agency”?

Space Command, mentioned in the episode “Court Martial,” was probably meant to be Star Fleet Command, and since I don’t recall it being used subsequently, I’ll assume the terms are synonymous.

Curiously, Star Fleet Control and United Earth Space Probe Agency were both mentioned in the episode “Tomorrow Is Yesterday,” although the latter was first mentioned in “Charlie X.” Star Fleet Control is almost certainly an alternate term for Star Fleet Command, but where then does that place the UESPA in the scheme of things? We know that certain starships, possibly most, in Star Fleet had single species crews. The Intrepid was notable for being crewed entirely by Vulcans, whereas the Enterprise was depicted as being crewed by humans with the exception of a single crewman of mixed Vulcan/human parentage. Is it possible that the Federation member worlds had their own service divisions within Star Fleet, each perhaps descended from the planetary space administrations from the time of their admission to the Federation? Earth, Vulcan, and every other member world would each have its own Star Fleet division. Or perhaps the designations are a formality that have no basis in anything but tradition. This bears further consideration.

In Star Trek Observations Part 1, I erroneously referred to “Space Control” being an organization mentioned in the Star Trek episode “Miri.” What Kirk actually said was “Space Central.” Investigation revealed that there was also a Vulcan Space Central in the episode “Amok Time.” The topic, in light of this information, deserves further consideration.

If there is a Vulcan Space Central, it stands to reason that there is an Earth Space Central and probably a Space Central for every other home world. Kirk didn’t say Earth Space Central, which gives us two possibilities. Either there is also a Federation Space Central, or he meant Earth Space Central and merely abbreviated it since everyone would know that he was referring to a situation of interest to Earth since they had discovered a planet that was Earth’s identical twin several hundred light years away.

Since the Enterprise is a vessel answerable to Star Fleet, a combined service of the Federation, I would assume the Space Central to which Kirk referred was the Federation Space Central. Space Central, then, is probably the headquarters and central authority of the United Federation of Planets, which would be the body that would assign such tasks as sending “teachers and advisers” to a planet in need via one of its subordinate agencies in charge of delivering emergency aid or assisting in rebuilding efforts or integration into the Federation.

I think it all fits rather nicely and without disposing of a useful term.

The Fudge adaptation of Doctor Who I am working on is still in early development. I have written the introduction and begun the sections on character creation. I am currently in the process of establishing a list of skills and fine-tuning the combat rules, which I am enjoying more than I thought I would. I want this game to be fully compatible with all major modes of play, but the emphasis is on modes that are specifically designed to appeal to those who just want to play Doctor Who without any preconceived notions about the conventions of the role-playing game medium. It will be (I hope) exceedingly novice-friendly. Granted, this is sort of my ideal for just about any role-playing game, but it’s especially true for adaptations. I want players to think to themselves, “Yes, I can imagine this happening in the show.” If an action is appropriate, it should be supported by the rules effortlessly and nonintrusively. I am not interested in designing genre games that make people think more about the rules themselves than the experience of role-playing in the genre, and that includes meta-game rules designed to enforce genre conformity (especially).

Incidentally, the working title of the adaptation is Classic Doctor Who: The Unofficial Role-Playing Game.

Although all standard Fudge methods of character creation will be supported (and described or linked in the text), there will be one method — designed specifically for this adaptation — that I think captures the feel of Doctor Who better than the others, which I call interjectional character creation, which has some ideas in common with Ed Heil’s alternate character creation system. As usual, I’m in favor of allowing individual players in the same group to choose different methods if they so desire.

One thing I am trying to avoid, however, is confusing readers with too many choices. As with character creation, one method of combat resolution will be emphasized, which I will tentatively dub interjectional combat resolution, but story elements, simultaneous combat rounds, and alternating combat turns will be supported and briefly described or linked.

In all cases (and this is the overriding design principle in this project), the game play itself should be intuitive and the rules should be implemented invisibly. Nothing in the rules should interrupt the flow of the game. Ideally, if the recommended methods are used, this should be achieved. More experienced players may be able to achieve the same results using the other methods, but I want newcomers to gravitate toward the methods that will be likeliest to promote this sort of experience.

Recreating the atmosphere of the original Doctor Who, allowing players to feel as if they are stepping into that universe, is the ultimate goal of this game. I want the rules to be the portal, not the barrier, to this experience.

The strength and weakness of Doctor Who as a role-playing game is that it is best suited for small groups, preferably of one to four players plus the GM. If the Doctor ever had more than three Companions at once I would be surprised, and more often he had only one. This is not to say that more Companions would be impossible, but it would certainly be a challenge to maintain the atmosphere of the show with so many main characters (and it must be stated here, if it was not already obvious, that one of the major goals of this game is to convey the atmosphere of the original show, regardless of whether the players are portraying characters from the show or characters they have created).

For those who have difficulty finding or starting a gaming group (or coördinating the schedules of the members when a group is found or started), playing a game that offers the richest rewards for smaller groups is a blessing. Doctor Who thrives best when there are only a handful of characters. Violent solutions to problems should always be a last resort (except in the case of rare characters like Leela), and smaller groups will be less tempted to use force unless necessary. By the same token, if there are fewer player characters, each will have more opportunity to interact socially with the non-player characters. In general, the greater the number of Companions a Time Lord has, the more all of them will be overshadowed by the Time Lord. Fewer Companions will have more opportunities to participate, and each will be likelier to shine in a particular area of expertise or natural advantage, e.g. Zoë with her super high intelligence or Jamie with his bravery and decisiveness.

In my own experience running FASA’s Doctor Who, sessions with two players were ideal, but sessions with just a single player were quite playable and enjoyable. Entire stories (which in Doctor Who typically consisted of four episodes) could be run in a single session with no sense of being rushed. This would be perfect for convention events, were it not for the fact that convention organizers usually prefer role-playing events to accommodate at least six players. True, there are times when only one or two players will turn up at an event. The first time I ever ran an event at a convention (GenCon XVIII), two players showed up for the first time slot for my satirical take on the World of Greyhawk for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, 1st Edition. I could have cancelled it, but I decided to run it, and a fun time was had by all despite the fact that I had designed it for four to six players. For the second time slot, six players reported in, plus two more. Being too much of a softy, I allowed the two extra players in (I had had the foresight to bring additional pregenerated characters), but a combination of factors (including the length of the table, the loudness of the game room, and the unwieldy number of participants) made the experience less satisfying (especially for the unfortunates at the opposite end of the table at whom my descriptions often had to be yelled to be heard). As a result, the maximum number of players I will now accept at my events is six, and the number I prefer is four. With regard to this game, however, I think it might be best to run it as a free Fudge demo amongst one to four interested parties at a time. [Edit: To clarify, when I used the word "parties" I meant "individuals," not "parties of adventurers." That would be a challenge.] I’m not sure of any other way to run it effectively at a convention.

In summary, this game will be aimed at maintaining the dynamics of small groups consisting of at least one Time Lord and one to three Companions (one of whom may also be a Time Lord) to better promote playability and preserve the atmosphere of the original Doctor Who.

The problem of how to plunge characters into adventure was addressed in FASA’s Doctor Who with the invention of the renegade Celestial Intervention Agency, which kept an eye on Temporal Nexus Point Earth and sent field agents there in stolen TARDIS units to halt the activities of temporal marauders. The idea of an agency of Time Lords who share the Doctor’s ethics and guide the players from one adventure to another is a good one, although I have a different view of the form it would take and I don’t think it ought to be the only method of introducing a scenario. The following is an excerpt of a work in progress:

THE EXCUSE FOR ADVENTURE

Why do characters do what they do? Specifically, how do they manage to
find themselves entangled in difficult situations that may involve the
fate of nations, planets, or even the universe as we know it? In Doctor
Who, the answer is typically a TARDIS misjump due to a faulty mechanism,
a miscalculation, or the effect of a temporal phenomenon. Sometimes the
TARDIS is drawn off course intentionally by a friend or foe intent on
thwarting the Doctor or enlisting his aid. Often the excuse for adventure
is pure coincidence. The Doctor and his Companion are off to this time or
that planet to enjoy its rare attractions when they are unexpectedly
thrust into the middle of one of the Master’s evil plots or an attempt by
the Daleks to enslave or exterminate another species. Although it works
well enough for a television programme, the premise may wear thin for
players when every adventure begins with a holiday outing interrupted by
interstellar conspiracy.

To provide a framework for continuing adventures without straining
credibility too much, an element has been added to the Classic Doctor Who
Universe (thus making it part of the Expanded Classic Doctor Who
Universe): the Temporal Integrity Preservation Society.

The Temporal Integrity Preservation Society (or T.I.P.S.) is a “club” of
independently-minded Time Lords concerned with threats to the timestream.
Operating from a private headquarters on Gallifrey and numerous TARDIS units
throughout time and space, its members monitor the natural and proper flow
of time and actively correct any deviations that are detected. Each
member’s TARDIS is equipped with a special device that enables members to
communicate with and be located by T.I.P.S. Headquarters. In the event
that a temporal deviation is detected, any member’s TARDIS can be
contacted and given the proper coördinates for emergency action. Adventure
can then proceed. Once the deviation has been corrected, Headquarters is
informed and the member returns to standby status.

Occasionally, the player characters will be the first to detect a disturbance in the
temporal flow, either from the instruments on the TARDIS or from personal
observation whilst visiting a particular time and place. Under those
circumstances, the player characters would immediately contact T.I.P.S.
Headquarters, investigate the matter, and attempt to correct the situation
(not necessarily always in that order).

It should be noted that not all temporal disturbances are the result of
obvious tampering by time travellers. Temporal anomalies do occur, and
sometimes only the wisdom and conscience of a Tipsy (as T.I.P.S. members
are both fondly and derogatorily referred to) can determine whether
intervention is permissible. Whereas the Doctor may oppose interference
with the Aztec ritual of human sacrifice on the grounds that it would
destroy the timestream, he may actively participate in defending Earth
against a Rutan invasion that, according to his knowledge of Earth’s
history, should not have succeeded in the 1890s. Whether his actions were
the cause of his own knowledge of the events is immaterial. The fact that
he knew that the Rutans must be opposed is proof that their failure to
conquer Earth was the proper result in the time line. The fact that he knew
that the Aztecs practiced human sacrifice until their conquest by the
Spanish is proof that their continuance of the ritual was the proper
result in the time line. One could argue circles around the subject of time
travel indefinitely, but for the purposes of adventure gaming in a light
science fiction setting, it is enough to know that the players ought to
sense when it is right to intervene, and when it is wrong. If they know
something didn’t happen a certain way in history, then they know they
ought to preserve that outcome as members of the Temporal Integrity
Preservation Society. If they don’t know something didn’t happen a
certain way (such as an event in our distant future or on an alien
planet), then they ought to proceed as if it were proper for them to be
there and do the right thing (avert an epidemic, liberate an enslaved
people, rescue the survivors of a crashed spaceship, stop a cult of alien
vampires, etc.). This both captures the tone of Doctor Who and promotes
playability.

In general, I think the role of Time Lord ought to be assumed by a player, as it is in FASA’s Doctor Who, rather than the GM, as it is in Time Lord (which is an ironic title for a game where the players only get to be Companions). What fan of the show hasn’t yearned to have power over time and space and an extended lifespan in which to enjoy that power? It’s rather like creating a superhero game in which the players are only allowed to play characters like Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane, or Alfred the butler. I can see a mixed party having potential for open-minded role-players, but I am doubtful of the attraction of a game where all the players are mundane supporting characters of the non-player character “star” who has all the exotic skills, gadgets, and powers. The player characters, in effect, are the non-player character’s fault or disadvantage: Dependents (Player Character Companions).

The inevitable problem is that one’s gaming group will consist of more than one player who wishes to play a Time Lord. There are several possible solutions, and I am hoping I will be able to think of more. First, one can have a rotating Time Lord. For the first scenario, Player A will play the Time Lord and everyone else will play Companions. For the second scenario, Player B will get the honor, and so on until everyone has had a chance to play the Time Lord of the group, after which the privilege passes again to Player A, etc. The advantage is that the integrity of the show’s social dynamics are preserved. The disadvantage is that it may be a long time before some players ever get to be the star.

The second solution is to allow everyone to play whatever role they desire, which would probably lead to multiple Time Lords or even groups of nothing but Time Lords. This precedent can be found in the fourth Doctor’s Companion, Romana, who was herself a Time Lord (or Time Lady, depending on your term of preference). It can also be found in various Doctor Who specials that temporarily united multiple incarnations of the Doctor in a single story under highly unusual and rare circumstances. The advantage, of course, is that everyone gets to play a Time Lord without waiting for their turn. The disadvantage is that there may be multiple Time Lords, but there is usually only one TARDIS. Whose TARDIS is it? Whoever has the TARDIS has ultimate authority regardless of how many Time Lords are travelling in it. If everyone has their own TARDIS, how is group cohesion achieved?

The third solution is to use the same cast of characters, but switch roles at certain intervals, once per session, or once per scene, or once per dramatic conflict. Or it could be timed: once per hour, or once per 5 minutes. Depending on the frequency, it could make the session seem more or less like a party game, which might make for a welcome change of pace, or possibly a suitable prelude to an informal Doctor Who-viewing festival.

I think this is something I ought to address in the rules, at least in terms of suggesting options, if not recommendations.