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Here’s what I apparently do: I flog hope and fear as the pair of emotions that hit a game-player or story-reader in the gut and make any game or story worth a damn.

Many months ago, I scribbled a note to myself while I was playing in a game of Grimm, to the effect that the act of equipping a character in a roleplaying game is a dramatic exercise. It’s preparatory to drama, rather, but it nevertheless plugs directly into the hope vs. fear equation. This is true even for the most utilitarian equippage.

You buy that longsword because you hope you’ll get a chance to use it.

More dramatic games, and more dramatically inclined players, take it further. They go out of their way to plug the trapping into the story as well as the game.

You record that heirloom on your character sheet because you hope, at the end of the epic campaign, that it will be the key to finishing the quest that was right in front of you all along.

This idea about the dramatic function of characters’ physical trappings has practical utility. As a gamemaster, have a look at the equipment with which the players are equipping their heroes. It’s one of the most transparent places they give you clues about what they—as game-playing humans—want to see in the adventures to come.

Your task becomes figuring out what they hope their tools and trinkets will be good for, and then supplying the gut-wrenching fears for the other side of the calculation.

Make them fear that they’re going to need those longswords.

Make them fear that they’ll never see that heirloom again.