Every character must have a flaw that actively hurts them in play. Not a cute quirk. Not “clumsy.” A real flaw: “I believe everyone is lying to me, even when they aren’t.” That’s a mirror with a crack in it. The crack is where the story pours out.
“You remember a death that isn’t yours. A woman in blue on a stone floor. Her hand reaches for yours. The fungus pops. A bubble of sound escapes—it’s her last word. What is it?” yensyfrp blogspot
“She says ‘Stay.’ Not to me. To someone behind me.” Every character must have a flaw that actively
Never ask “Can I do this?” Ask “Is this interesting if I succeed? Is it more interesting if I fail?” If the answer to both is no, stop playing that scene. Move on. Cut the boring cord. The crack is where the story pours out
“I throw my broken lockpick at the child’s feet. ‘That’s the only key I’ve ever known,’ I lie.”