The right leading questions signal to the table: this is our story. They are an open invite to share ownership of the unfolding narrative. They also reduce monologuing and boost engagement from everyone in the game. As one of the most effective tools in the TTRPG toolbox, leading questions are more than worth the time getting right.
More Than a Description
Consider a generic opener: “You enter a tavern. The air smothers your tongue with the heavy scent of sweat and some kind of boiled meat. The tables are sticky with more scum from spills than varnish. The bottles behind the bar, varying levels of murk and cloudiness, haven’t one label between them. Hushed murmurs of conversations die as accusing gazes turn towards the party. A cackling fire boiling a cauldron of mystery meat is the only sound that masks the heavy breathing. What do you do?”
At a glance, this passage might be doing a few things right. The description delivers on sight, smell, touch, and sound. Some details carry ambiguity designed to provoke the imagination; “some kind of boiled meat” and “varying levels of murk” are a lot more effective than “the stewing beef” or “bottles of 25%, 50%, and 100% cloudiness.
A few of the verbs personify the action, making it a bit more dramatic; “conversations die” and “a cackling fire” are more evocative than “people stop talking” and “a fire burns in the hearth.”
And yet, as nice as those things are, it’s all very passive (and I’d guess most would say over-long, too). The reality is the group has come together to have some laughs, roll dice, and build a narrative together. Here, in effect, the players are waiting—some considerable time—for a chance to join in. This is GM story-time.
Leading Questions Boost Faster Engagement
Now consider this opener: “You enter a tavern. The smell of sweat and some kind of boiled meat hits you. [Calling out one of the player characters] Ehime, you’ve been in some really seedy taverns. What makes this place feel so dangerous?”
The most obvious difference is how quickly a player is engaging. Another thing to note is the call to action comes via a PC’s background; the question isn’t free-floating (“what do you do?”). Instead, the question gives the player a starting point to create from. In effect, the GM is sketching an outline for the player to colour in as they like.
There are times when free-floating questions work; when the narrative reaches a lull, or the GM wants to give total control to the players are good examples. Here, questions like “what do you do?” and “do you notice anything strange?” can work fine with the right group.
However, sometimes a blank canvas is the hardest place to start. These free-floating questions can make players freeze. Spotlighting unprepared, shy, or improv-averse players, forcing them to make a choice with little to no information; all of these things aren’t great. Some players can absolutely take nothing and create gold, but most need a helping hand.
Be Provocative?
Way back in 2010, Vincent Baker, co-designer of Apocalypse World, pushed GMs to ask “provocative questions.” For Vincent, the goal was to dig for immediate, personal details. Two examples he gives in the book are: “Why can you only fit two people in the cabin of the Tank?” and “How do her lips feel under your palm?”
This is actually a good example of how leading questions don’t all give useful information. The former elicits how the PCs modified their vehicle, all well and good. However, the second can get the simple answer “soft” which doesn’t tell anyone anything interesting; it’s fairly useless dramatically speaking. Focus on crafting leading questions that immediately add context, tension, or intrigue to a scene.
Leading Questions, Question That Lead
Jason Cordova’s “Paint the Scene” article in 2018 is the evolution of this idea. To compare, here are two examples from his article: “What do we see that is evidence that this town used to be prosperous but is now a dried up husk?” and “As you walk around the palazzo, how do you know Lady Eshrigel is a medusa?”
These questions pull answers that are much harder to anticipate than what a person’s lips feel like; that said, no points for any “eerily perfect human statues” in the case of the medusa. These types of questions are far more likely to elicit information that adds that context, tension, or intrigue. Additionally, the answers are more likely to give details that are useful or actionable later; there’s really not much point in referring back to the fact someone has soft lips.
The objective is to ask questions that lead the action in a fun, dramatic, and consistent direction. For example, don’t ask a player “what does Ehime know about ogres?” There’s not much for the player to work from. Is the GM looking for fighting styles, food preferences, or favourite hobbies? Also, it’s likely to get a bit blurry between what Ehime knows, and what the player remembers from games past.
Everyone Can Add Layers with Leading Questions
Instead, help players with leading questions: “Ehime, what’s the worst scar an ogre has ever given you?” The GM has laid out an outline for the player to complete. Straightaway, the party knows ogres are dangerous; our attention is on their violence; Ehime has likely had a run-in with them before.
Then the GM steps aside. The narrative jumps from storytelling to collaboration, with the player able to recount in as much detail as they want. And for the record, the player can still opt out. “Actually Ehime hasn’t fought one of these creatures before, but she’s heard all about Gerd’s encounter. He still limps on cold days.” This is perfectly valid. The spotlight returns to the GM if no other player jumps in, and the situation develops.
“I Have No Idea”
As a quick aside, it’s always fine for the player to say “I don’t know.” Leading questions are open invitations to create, not tests to fail.
Some players will still freeze up, feel overly shy, or struggle with improv (though for some tips on that read this). Even with the best of leading questions lending support, it can still be hard to answer. In these instances, ease the spotlight away back to the GM or another player and be patient; give that player a break to recharge; then, consider giving them another chance.
They might not seize the first opportunity (or the second, or even the third); however, given time and enough chances, they’ll likely get there.
PCs’ Eyes Are Windows into Players’ Minds
So far, my examples have been targeting Ehime’s player. Of course it’s fine to launch broader questions with no one character in mind. However, I’ve found it’s often a lot more effective to just choose; it tends to be faster and no one is waiting for someone else to speak. The additional benefit here is making sure everyone gets the spotlight by focusing on characters that have been patiently waiting.
Leading questions are a great way to tie in a character’s background, skills, and personality. They are also great for adding different layers to a scene. Consider a knight, a thief, and a wizard walk into a room in a castle.
Instead of a long description, the GM might weaponise the characters’ backgrounds to ask: “Sir Monmouth, what is a common trigger for secret doors in a room like this?” To the thief, the GM asks: “Dagney, how long would it take for the guards to run here?” And to the wizard: “What might be making this room so resistant to magic?”
Targeting backgrounds, skills, and traits works brilliantly at getting players in their characters’ mindsets and making those PCs feel special. There is an extra benefit here, too: GM prep should reduce. Although it took time to get the hang of them—and it’s still a work-in-progress, being honest—prep is faster. There’s much less need to have comprehensive notes for each location. And, an extra bonus, easing this onto the players’ brains has helped free up my own mind for other tasks.
That’s reduced GM workload and increased player engagement: win-win.
Feelings Through The Backdoor
One aspect of all the examples here needs some explicit attention. Concrete questions produce better results more reliably than abstract ones. Rather than “how do you feel Ehime?”, something like “in this burned out temple, what memory comes to you?” gets a much faster, more evocative response.
Responding “I feel sad,” doesn’t give much for the table to work with and may have been obvious already. Not everyone naturally leans into “I feel sad because…”, giving reasons or examples for others to build off of. Conversely, “It reminds me of the time I…” will nudge the player into giving concrete details the GM or other players can more readily collaborate on; this might happen immediately or be something someone recalls later.
Either way, it keeps the session momentum up and rolling. Significantly, it lets the player add in emotion with as much, or as little detail, as they like. Even with minimal stated feelings, their actions or descriptions are usually easy to infer emotion given the context. It is comfortably opt-in and is much less likely to put anyone on the spot.
Leading Questions and Genre Hand in Hand
In this article I mentioned genre can work as a great guide for keeping the world and its narrative consistent. Leading questions are a great way to refocus the group on that guiding star. Reinforce the vibes in a horror game with a question like: “Sall, what sound makes you think you’re not alone?” If it’s a noir: “Davey, what does the woman’s face remind you of that you wish you could forget?”
Leading questions quietly fill out both the characters and the world they’re living with regards to their history, traditions, and flair.
Know What Not To Ask
Conversely, things to avoid in most games include secrets, narrative twists, contradicting facts, or describing another PC’s actions or knowledge. The latter is an obvious infringement on the owning player’s agency. All of the others fall into the stated problem earlier of consistency.
Some games approach worldbuilding as a truly collaborative experience. In fact, many of these like Microscope are entire games within themselves to play before a big campaign. However, I think it’s fair to say most tables do not function like this. Ordinarily, the GM sketches out a world, hopefully leaving some blank spaces for the players to fill out. Ideally, they’ve made parts of it really weird, too.
Truly Open Questions and Awkward Mismatches
But consistency becomes a problem when players start adding their ideas to a world the GM hasn’t fully revealed. Players are making guesses and assumptions within a framework they don’t have the measure of. Leading questions remove the threat to any foundations in place, making sure the players’ blocks go where it’s best.
Consider the party arriving at a public event and the GM asks “who do you recognise here?” They accidentally choose a NPC that must be in a different place for world events to make sense. On the one hand, the GM can say “no, you cannot choose that one,” ruining the point of the open question. Or, alternatively, the GM frantically reworks background events to match this new reality; if this is even possible, there can be considerable risk of making mistakes or wasting perfectly good setup.
A clumsy approach would be to rule out the NPC from the start. Something like “the Lady Jana isn’t here, but you notice an old friend approaching. Who are they?” is serviceable. However, “what is the first memory to hit seeing your old rival striding through the crowd?” is better. It implicitly removes Lady Jana as an option (though players are free to ask if she’s there); also it immediately sets up the relationship between NPC and PC(s). The players can always modify the relationship (e.g. “Oh, we’re old friends now.”) but the foundation is set.
Too Much of a Good Thing
I do not advocate using leading questions every moment of the game. That would be exhausting, quite frankly, for many people at the table. Two or three per scene is a decent rule of thumb, or roughly one per character.
That said, this is one of those things that will vary from group to group and player to player. The best advice is to experiment and find what fits the table most of the time. Some groups will thrive off this tight collaboration between GM and players and want much more. Others will prefer a less mentally intense experience, especially groups with people who find improv more stressful.
As is so often the case, try different things and see what works best. Be prepared, too, for what works best to change from one adventure to the next.
Conclusion
Leading questions in TTRPGs are a very valuable tool for GMs. They are far more effective at engaging players than long descriptions. The created details are more likely to stick in the players’ minds and it helps the GM reduce their workload. Furthermore, they’re also excellent at making characters, and by extension their players, feel special while keeping the narrative consistent. Leading questions are so useful I’d recommend every GM give them a try.
