Amanda Farough
One of the things that I love most about solo journaling RPGs is the amount of creative flexing that I get to do as a writer. The constraints within each of these design structures create some of the most freeing writing experiences for me.
All Night Breakfast at the Midnight Owl created some very interesting constraints to play in. In order to play you need:
- A full set of polyhedral dice
- A deck of playing cards
- A notebook and a pen (or twelve, in my case)
- A way to track your clues (index cards work)
- Some ambient music to set the mood
- Podcasting equipment (or your phone) to record your episode
You have between 6 (minimum) and 12 (maximum) turns to complete their investigation into whatever is going on in their fictional town. After that, you'll need to piece together your podcast with whatever information you've gleaned from the townsfolk and the ensuing areas that you've explored.
The more clues that you uncover that have relevance to your investigation (and only you can determine what has relevance or not), the better your podcast will perform at the end of the game.
There are three acts: the lead, the investigation, and the podcast. The bulk of the play happens during the investigation and the podcast itself (whether or not you choose to record it) acts as a wrapup mechanism for the gameplay experience. Recording the podcast isn't the point. Outlining it is.
But before we get to the podcast, we have to explore the town, observe and interrogate its residents, and collect those clues.
Uncovering clues and building the mystery using chance
Nearly everything about my playthrough of All Night Breakfast at the Midnight Owl was powered by chance.
Other than the first location (which was informed by the lead), each location was determined by drawing a card and then consulting a table to determine what kind of location it was; the suits, sometimes followed by an additional dice roll, decided the flavour of location and the numbers helped reveal the location type itself.
There's a lot of freedom in letting chance decide how the landscape of a game unfolds. I didn't have to waste time worrying about crafting locations that would fit the space, no time for analysis paralysis when the cards and the dice made the decisions for me.
In fact, upon revealing and then traveling to each of the locations that I'd generated with the cards (and dice), I'd roll to see if there was an event. If there was, I'd draw another card and resolve said event. Sometimes, the events were benign. Other times, Liv got herself into some trouble by getting locked into an abandoned bus station or getting kidnapped.
Creating each of the characters (whether they were visitors like Liv or residents like Quinn the librarian) was equally simple: draw separate cards for a first name, a last name, a trait (or two, if they're complex), and the person's vocation.
It made worldbuilding very efficient. More specifically, these constraints and allowances for chance freed my creativity up for the prose and for piecing the mystery itself together.
Cloudy with a chance of red herrings
It's strange to be in a place where, as the author of this experience, I'm creating (and throwing away) red herrings and logical sleights of hand. Because each of the clues are created by a card draw (then compared to a table), not every clue is going to be related to the investigation.
It seems obvious, right? There's still that pull, that yearning to make everything fit perfectly, even if you have to break some rules (or bones) to fit it into a neat and tidy box.
During my playthrough, I came across a number of clues that didn't work for the shape of my investigation, so I couldn't count them against my clue total. Why would Liv care about hotel keycard in a place without a hotel? What did an errant glove mean? Or a nondescript keyfob?
I could have chased down those leads to see where they led me, but that's where the constraint comes in: you only have 12 turns to conduct your investigation. If you chase everything down, you'll never accomplish anything and your podcast will absolutely flop. You run the risk of too many clues and no context for any of them.
Creativity can only take you so far.
All Night Breakfast, Not 24/7/365 Breakfast
All good things must come to a close, so that's when the podcast work comes in. Mechanically, this is a very short process. You determine your listenership through the relevant clues you've gathered as each clue (up to 5) increases the value of your die (and then anything beyond that gives you +1 per clue to that roll).
Yes, you should still outline and even record your episode.
But you don't have to. You can just wrap the experience up with how people might react to said podcast.
As an addendum to the game, you can also create a map and additional reference materials to pass your game's setting onto other players, essentially creating a legacy experience. And, if you wish, you can your character (as well as their podcast) to continue the podcasting experience in either this setting or in a different setting of your choice.
Everybody loves a travelling weirdo podcast, right?
Twin Peaks Meets My Favorite Murder: Yes Please
I had a wonderful time playing All Night Breakfast at the Midnight Owl, even though the podcast mechanic itself felt a bit lacklustre in comparison to the rest of the game's experiences. I'd love to see more shape around the podcast rather than just, "Oh hey, you can go deep or not, totally up to you."
Naw dude, what mechanics make the podcasting experience deep? Don't just give me an out. There's so much to love about this game, but the wrap-up is a bit of a puff of wind, as opposed to a gust of fresh air.
Once I record this episode, and if folks actually enjoy it, I think that I may go back to this game and further explore new settings that may or may not have a Midnight Owl diner.
If it even existed... at all. (wink)