I didn’t mean to run an evil campaign. I’ve always been a fan of chivalrous heroics, not pillage-happy wickedness. Sure, the system I used was Edge of the Empire, but my PCs were all more down-on-their-luck types than scum and villainy. We didn’t start with players rolling up a party of orphan-burning puppy killers, the way a lot of intentionally evil games seem to do. Heck, they weren’t even criminals, just three guys who had upset the wrong people. Now, a few months later, I’ve realized I’m running an evil campaign. Here’s what I’ve learned along the way.
Evil is a matter of perspective
That’s a pretty well-accepted axiom in the real world. Less so in the gaming realm, where evil is often explicitly (even divinely) defined. When players sit down to play an evil campaign, they know they’re evil, and they act accordingly. Except, in my case, I don’t think my players realize they’re the bad guys. The Toydarian technician tends to shy away from outright conflict, preferring stun settings and environmental manipulation to raw blaster fire. The Trandoshan bounty hunter does his best to fight honorably, and with worthy opponents; he had a minor breakdown after grazing a civilian freighter with laser fire during a space battle. The human explorer…well, we’ll get to him. The point is, they’ve endangered and hurt innocents, they’ve killed law enforcement officers who were trying to apprehend them, they’ve even murdered people for fun. And yet, I’m sure they think they’re just trying to survive.
Prime example: The party is currently trying to raise capital to establish a drug distribution ring within the Imperial Navy. To them, this is a legitimate business venture. It’s a way to generate income to pay off a few debts and invest in protection from the ne’er-do-wells pursuing them. It will ingratiate them further to a Hutt friend, and may increase their street cred with a few Rebellion-affiliated acquaintances. Never mind that they’re exposing rank-and-file soldiers to psychoactive drugs, at least a few of whom they know are only part of the Empire for a paycheck rather than belief in any malicious doctrine. Never mind that said drugs are most likely acquired with blood money, processed with slave labor, and secured with brutal violence. To the party, it’s an easy and relatively risk-free way to make desperately needed money without hurting anyone…directly, anyway.
Evil is selfish
In the traditional two-axis alignment system, the difference between morally neutral and evil is a matter of selfishness (good being associated with altruism). The True Neutral commoner looks after himself first, to an extent. He might cheat on his taxes or fib to his boss, but he won’t rob a store or kill a man except for the direst circumstances. The True Evil character also looks after himself first, but will kill, manipulate, and generally toss under the bus anyone he has to to further his goals. This distinction is what tipped me off my players’ evil leanings.
When the party passed up risky opportunities to save others (at least until rewards were offered) I chalked it up to paranoia and self-preservation. But then they refused a chance to turn in the aforementioned Rebellion-affiliated acquaintances for bounties, not because they were friends, but because the risk of angering the Alliance and cutting off potentially useful allies wasn’t worth the credits offered. What I’d intended to be a moral dilemma became one of pure numbers; the only question was how they could make the most money with least risk. Later on, after smuggling weapons to a Rebel base that then came under attack, they refused to help evacuate or even leave until they were not only paid for their delivery, but also promised additional funds for helping VIPs escape.
Evil is addictive
I said we’d get to the human explorer. He started this campaign just shy of being an abject coward. He was always the first to turn and run when things went south, and much preferred to talk himself out of whatever jam was at hand. Over time, though, he got used to the danger. He got used to being able to weasel or blast his way out of consequences. To him, it must have felt like all this bad behavior was paying off. He’d lived a straight-and-narrow life before, but this criminal gig wasn’t so bad after all!
Then, one night, he found himself in a sabacc game with three backroom gambler types. He cleaned out their pockets within a few hands, earning the money he was after. After that, he looked at his hulking Trandoshan partner, said something about not having killed anyone in too long, and proceeded to murder every NPC present. Not for defense, or even for loot, but for the fun of killing. He’d had a few too many tastes of evil, and it was too sweet to resist. I’ve seen similar tendencies from the other PCs. The mostly-neutral Trandoshan has a habit of strafing unarmored ground targets with quad laser fire (especially if those targets don’t have anti-ship weapons). Even the mildly-good Toydarian has had no problem using his exceptional computer and mechanical skills to assist his friends in their nefarious activities, although he usually avoids getting his own hands dirty. They were each thrust into the underworld by forces beyond their control, but rather than try to escape, they’ve made it their home.
Evil has depth
My party of psychopaths acquired an astromech droid early on in their career. They became quite attached to it. When it disappeared while in the care of a Hutt’s minions, they swore vengeance. When they found it, corrupted and leading a murderous droid rebellion, they went to great pains not to destroy it, risking their lives to capture it intact. They called in favors and performed a very difficult, delicate operation to restore little R4’s original, non-homicidal programming while retaining its memories of them. All this for an NPC with no skills as good as their own, no great monetary value, not even much in the way of a personality aside from frequent assurances that it was most certainly not the property of any PC.
The rescue of R4 was one of the most caring, heroic actions I’ve seen from this party. Roughly a dozen sessions later, it turned up missing again, this time leaving an apologetic note behind. Their decision to respect its desire to pursue its own path was a choice I’d expect from a good party, not an evil one. And R4 wasn’t an anomaly. The human respected the Trandoshan enough to stand by and not interfere with an honor duel until the very end, when his friend’s life was on the line. The Toydarian has repeatedly volunteered his assistance for nothing more than the approval of a pretty face, much to his partners’ dismay. As bad as these guys are, they’ve done some undeniably Good things. “Even Space Hitler liked dogs and kids,” as they say.
So what’s next?
Now that I’ve come to terms with running an accidentally evil campaign, I might try my hand at running a purposely evil campaign. Of course, the players don’t have to know. If one party can turn evil completely by accident, I’m sure I can steer another group down a similar path. All it takes is an unpleasant but necessary decision here, a surprising lack of consequences there, and an occasional juicy but morally questionable opportunity to corrupt a party. Some might say I’m an evil GM for doing it, that I’m power hungry and hooked on manipulation. But I really do want my players have a good time, and the horrifying realization that they’re the villains might be just the thrilling twist a campaign needs. From a certain point of view.
Thad Kanupp
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