Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m feeling a hankering for the kind of adventure only adaptations of tabletop live-play series can provide, and am thus exceedingly fortunate to be facing a fresh episode of The Mighty Nein, Amazon’s lush reimagining of Critical Role’s second extended campaign. The show has so far proven a marvelous take on its source material, polishing and rearranging and generally doing everything it can to transform a campaign marked by frequent narrative digressions into a coherent, propulsive drama. It feels like we’re receiving the best of both worlds here; The Mighty Nein at the table was a group of charming individual characters with no narrative binding them together, but the team’s thoughtful revisions are so far providing their heroes an actual journey worth undertaking.
Our last episode saw the team actually strike out on their first collective adventure, with decidedly mixed results. However, while they failed to actually save the young Tohya, that failure itself served as a powerful binding agent, helping our unlikely companions discover a variety of parallels across their histories and philosophies. Failure is a crucial tool in tabletop games; victory is gratifying, but it rarely necessitates self-reflection, while failure forces players and their characters to confront the ways they are still works in progress, and consider the methods by which they might grow as both individuals and a collective. And with a volstrucker currently charging right at them, it seems like our players might soon get even more opportunities to sample the benefits of harsh, embarrassing failure. Let’s get to it!
Episode 5
Our “last time on” segment puts the focus squarely on Caleb, reviewing basically all of the hints we’ve received regarding his checkered past. Caleb was as close to a main character as existed within the Mighty Nein, and his journey basically served as a testament to the dramatic power of an arc developed in close collaboration between a player and dungeon master. There’s an interesting balance to developing a character in concert with your dungeon master; new players often offer too much or too little, either arriving at the first session with an entire novel’s worth of backstory that only bogs down your in-the-moment characterization, or arriving with nothing and presuming the world itself will give your character purpose and identity. Caleb hits a good balance of being immediately compelling without delving into his story, but also having a history that rewards investigation, and which ties into the ongoing events of the narrative. That last point is really the key, and often requires above-table discussion between DM and player to ensure your ambitions aren’t aiming in opposite directions
In general, even if you don’t intend to fully explore a player character’s backstory, it’s highly recommended to at least consider where and how they grew up, what goal propels them forward, etcetera. We don’t arrive at the moment adventure calls as total strangers to our world, and it enriches both character and narrative to consider how your avatar fits into and has been sculpted by their environment
As for amnesia as a backstory, I would happily redirect you towards one of my fundamental storytelling axioms: “information being hidden doesn’t inherently make it interesting.” You can make it work, but it’s not the sturdiest crutch!
Caleb overtly monologues “let me tell you a story” before we dip into his backstory. Once again, this adaptation is doing everything it can to make best use of its new medium, including indulging in extended flashbacks that would likely be offered as piecemeal anecdotes at an active table. Tabletop DnD tends to require a speedier turnover in terms of shifting between modes of engagement; a thirty minute monologue is generally out of the question
We meet his family and that cat he was attempting to summon, an immediately ominous sign
He swiftly demonstrates his early aptitude for magic. As always, leaning into the nitty-gritty of component-based magic yields compelling dividends; I generally steer away from “magic as a science” sort of worldbuilding myself, but there’s a natural appeal to this sort of “eye of newt, leg of spider” concoction-brewing
A younger Trent Ikathon spies Caleb’s handiwork and stops to congratulate him. “Two key characters accidentally bump into each other” is likely the most generally accepted dramatic contrivance, a trick that tends to feel perfectly natural relative to its unlikeliness. Funny how different narrative contrivances put somewhat arbitrary amounts of pressure on an audience’s suspension of disbelief
Frumpkin the cat is the only one not to be immediately charmed by Trent. Another dark omen
His entrance to the academy is achieved when he manages to summon fire with confidence. The dark omens are really stacking here!
With the reveal of Astrid and Edworth, we get a graceful match cut back to the present moment. “So, what is your name?” is a great question to hang this transition on, emphasizing Caleb’s lack of certainty regarding his own identity
A time-hopping origin story arc is definitely tricky for DnD, but not actually impossible. When players moving away necessitated I play a character of my own in the campaign I was DMing, I essentially did a speedrun of their origin story through an arc that involved the other players exploring the mind of my character, attempting to help them resolve or at least come to terms with various elements of unresolved baggage. This was obviously easier since I was both the focus player and the DM, but prior brainstorming between player and DM could have achieved the same thing
The volstrucker addresses him as Bren, his original name
I like how this volstrucker’s magical techniques are all sort of themed around erosion and disease. Always worthwhile to try and build a coherent theme out of your spellcasting, particularly for NPCs who aren’t burdened by DnD’s absolute glut of spells
Extremely Jester move to pause her panicking in order to compliment their attacker on her cool spells. A little irreverence tends to serve as good seasoning even at more serious tables; Critical Role went way overboard with this for their third campaign, but seem to have restored the balance for their fourth. Frankly, campaign four has actually raised my ceiling of expectations for how good DnD campaigns can be
These silhouette doppelgangers with the same volstrucker bracers make for some visually striking fight choreography
Nott actually uses her first “action” to send Caleb his reagents via crossbow bolt. Combo attacks aren’t really rewarded by DnD, and the Hold Action system actively punishes players for waiting so they can attack together (it robs the player of both movement and their bonus action), so I generally try to bend the rules where I can to make player collaboration more mechanically rewarding. That seems much more compelling than each player simply using their strongest attack independently in sequence
We actually had a delightful moment of impromptu player collaboration in our last session, wherein our bard used a fear ability to send an enemy retreating into what was essentially a fireworks factory, which our wizard was happy to light up on the ensuing turn
An excellent combo of Caleb and Beau’s maneuvers manages to take the volstrucker down, though she still destroys Caleb’s warding amulet
Some nice establishing shots as we jump to Caleb at the Academy. I like the soft linework they’re using for the outlines of these structures, which both blends them into the backgrounds and makes them feel a touch more like medieval era architectural illustrations
“Above all else, you must protect yourself.” Trent appears to be hosting a group lesson in offensive magic
The “lesson” is a transparent ruse to turn them against each other – they must cross a courtyard of booby-trapped tiles, using their fellow students to clear the path. A clear lesson in the kind of ruthlessness he wishes to nurture in his chosen students
Astrid grasps the lesson quickly, even pushing a fellow student into a trap so they can become a stepping stone
Our current volstrucker Owelia actually comes close to securing the third spot, forcing Caleb to betray her directly. A tidy illustration of his initiation into this cutthroat philosophy
“In the service of our empire, you will be faced with choices that seem questionable.” All to erode their moral objections to what Trent will eventually deploy them for
The ride to an abandoned farmhouse offers a handy opportunity for the party to bounce reflections on the brewing war off each other. Roleplaying is a big ask, particularly for newer players, so having the DM provide active topics of discussion is a great way to help players approach their characters from a less imposing perspective – not “what is your whole deal,” but “what would your character think about this sort of event?” Such classic roleplaying exercises are useful for both traditional fiction writers and DnD enthusiasts
Fjord’s enduring poison serves as a natural opportunity for Jester and Nott to bounce off each other, given Nott’s proficiency with poisons
Meanwhile, Caleb and Beau interrogating the prisoner serves to naturally illustrate the differences in their understanding of the empire, as well as their disparate comfort levels when it comes to the seedier elements of spy work
“No, Nott wouldn’t lie.” One of Jester’s most fundamental strengths – believing in others, even when they don’t believe in themselves. A character attribute I’ve taken to heart for my party’s current campaign, wherein I play a goblin cleric who always sees the best in others. I wanted to stretch my roleplaying by picking a character that’s extremely outside my usual wheelhouse, which in my case meant they don’t have a drop of cynicism in their body
Owelia stares only at Caleb during Beau’s interrogation, clearly understanding the difference between someone who can talk tough and someone who can back up their words
“Leave the prisoner in isolation for three days before questioning.” She’s so confident she’s actually giving notes on proper torture technique. Excellent stuff, really hammering in the brutality of Caleb’s education from a new angle
Another excellent match cut, from our current Punished Caleb heating a prisoner’s chains till they glow, back to the bright-eyed young boy at the academy
I don’t suggest dumping a sprawling backstory on your fellow players within the first session, but I also wouldn’t suggest keeping your backstory secret to employ as a long-term twist. I’d say actual human interactions provide a reasonable metric here – as your character comes to appreciate their companions’ company, you’ll naturally share more of your feelings. As you come to trust them, or at least rely on them to do their job, you’ll likely share even more. And if a situation in your ongoing campaign resonates with your sharp history (something you might want to set up with your DM), that’s a perfect opportunity to provide a painful recollection
Young Caleb is at last implanted with those glowing crystals, the mark of a volstrucker. Physical scars are handy character attributes – visual markers of key traumatic moments, like signposts for your fellow players to either pointedly ignore or draw attention to
Damn, some gnarly expressions of agony from Owelia here. Using that improved character acting for evil!
Unsurprisingly, Beau isn’t comfortable with Caleb outright torturing the prisoner, allowing Owelia to once again gain control of the situation. Morality in DnD can be quite lopsided, as the game basically takes for granted that adventurers are willing to commit murder to get what they want, while other theoretical crimes tend to maintain their real-world sense of moral significance. I once memorably stumped my own party with a villain who basically dared the party to torture her, and thereby called their obvious bluff
Nice idle conversation between Jester and Molly, emphasizing how Molly considers her charming but deluded
Meanwhile, Nott tending to Fjord shows off her clear motherly streak
Speaking of the ambiguity of murder in DnD, our sequence detailing Caleb’s former team in action basically defines them by it, emphasizing how volstruckers don’t tend to leave any survivors. It’s an easier distinction to make in adaptation, where you can emphasize the brutality and finality of every kill. Of course, many players enjoy leaning into that too (Matt Mercer himself tends to offer a “how do you want to do this?” to let players describe their kills), meaning morality in DnD is often forced to coexist with players’ instincts to play out Mortal Kombat fatalities
As expected, Beau’s amateur hour performance allows Owelia to break free, at which point Caleb stops playing softball and starts freezing everyone who annoys him
Caleb’s past and present begin to converge on a terrible necessity. Really elegantly constructed episode here, illustrating Caleb’s history in a way that feels urgent and propulsive, while naturally contrasting the carving of his scars against the ways they inform his current actions. I am again impressed by how smartly and dramatically this adaptation is shifting the original material to make for a more compelling adapted experience – adaptations should always strive to make best use of their adapted medium, and I’m glad this one isn’t handicapped by excessive loyalty to its source material
“All those lessons never really leave you.” Caleb says it like the curse it is – he cannot escape the man Trent made him
The time between flashbacks and present scenes diminishes as Caleb fully returns to the man he once was. Good stuff!
Oof – and the skill he once proudly demonstrated to fix the family fence, he now employs to bar the door of their home before burning it. Brutal symmetries
Caleb seems on the verge of letting the fire consume him as well, before Nott’s voice draws him back
The next morning offers another key Nott moment, as she declares that she is Caleb’s protector, not the other way around. Delightfully messy relationship between those two, something both inherently complicated and clearly perceived differently by each of them
And Done
Whew, what an episode! Another clear expression of this adaptation’s bold intentions, taking the disparate insights of Caleb’s history from the tabletop campaign and reshaping them into a poignant, structurally engaging reflection on how our trauma lives on within us like, well, scars on our arms. As with the changes to everyone else’s “origin stories,” this felt like a smart choice both in terms of consolidating the inherent shapelessness of tabletop drama, and also in terms of giving us meaningful reasons to care about these characters. This was also a new peak in terms of Critical Role’s boarding and screenwriting, balancing its timelines through efficient, balanced pacing and suffusing Caleb’s past and present with melancholy visual motifs, all of which served to further emphasize how the past still lives within him. A powerful highlight of an already-impressive first season!
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