Everyone who’s been in the roleplaying hobby for any length of time can probably name as least one setting that’s jumped the shark. The publisher did something that fundamentally changed the nature of the world, something that a significant portion of the games players and fans did not like and drove them away. When I first envisioned writing this article, I had a number of settings in mind and was going to write about them. As I did some research, I found that even the most vilified post-shark settings have strong, vocal adherents. To avoid turning this into a flame war and to keep things positive and constructive, I’ve decided to make this into a Worldbuilding 101 article, a kind of cautionary tale on how to keep your setting from jumping the shark.
Hypothetical Examples
To make my points, I’m going to use a setting that’s familiar as a game that doesn’t exist: the Wizard of Oz RPG. I’ll provide example on how each type of shark-jump would look to an Oz game.
Lack of Foreshadowing
A number of settings have metaplots, over-arching stories that the player characters may or may not have a hand in steering. The metaplots are often subtle, and often too subtle. When a twist comes, you should be able to look back and see that there’s groundwork there that built up to that. The metaplot of an Oz game might be the ongoing war against the Wicked Witch of the West. Player characters could be fighting battles with flying monkeys or undertaking side quests while Dorothy confronts the witch. The metaplot is leading us to one of two conclusions: Dorothy wins, or the witch wins. If, in the third act, space aliens invade and use the fact that everyone’s distracted by the war to invade Oz, it’s jumped the shark; there was no hint that there even were space aliens in that universe.
Divergence from Canon
When a setting is licensed from other media — movies, television shows, novels, comics, etc. — there will always be some continuity drift. Other media creates canon as it goes along by telling stories; roleplaying settings need an established canon from which stories are drawn. In an Oz RPG, the setting writer might create explanations for why talking animals exist, how the Tin Man works, what specific powers witches have, that broaden the roleplaying possibilities but aren’t supported by canon. It’s a tough row to hoe, because you need to maintain the spirit of the original media. Oz has magic items, for example, but they’re rare and ambiguous; if everyone suddenly has +5 Ruby Slippers of Spell Turning, you’ve jumped the shark.
Leaps Forward
Again, nothing on this list is universally bad and I’m not saying these devices can’t be used. When not handled deftly, you can wreck a perfectly good setting. The problem with leaping forward — moving the game ahead a number of years — is that the familiar becomes unfamiliar. It can be an excuse to introduce new crunchy elements, typically technology, that may not mesh with the original “feel”. In an Oz game, this could mean updating technology from the clockworks of Tick-Tock (and presumably Tin Man) to modern or futuristic robotics. The Emerald City now resembles Ming’s capital on Mongo. Could it be cool? Totally. Are you still in Kansas, Toto? Nope. You’ve jumped the shark.
The Missing Event
This is almost a correllary to the Leap Forward. Since the time period of the original setting, something happened. You don’t play out that event. You pick up years after some major world-shaking event. So say you played on standard movie-era Oz. Now you pick up the game in the modern day. 30 years ago a spaceship from Krypton landed, and now Oz is filled with Superheroes and villains. Faster than a speeding bullet, you’ve jumped the shark.
Genre Drift
Genre blending can be used very successfully, when you introduce it up front. If I said “I’m going to run a supers game set in Oz” or “The Emerald City looks like Mongo”, there’s an expectation set and it is what it is. If I run a straight Oz game, as above, and suddenly decide I want to add other elements that don’t logically fit, that’s where the shark jump occurs.
I’ve seen this happen with bored gamemasters. They’re tired of running Oz, and want to run Call of Cthulhu. The players aren’t interested in Call of Cthulhu, so to amuse himself the gamemaster initiates some genre drift. Next thing you know, the Cowardly Lion has lost a ton of SAN and has eaten Toto. You’ve jumped the shark.
Reimagining
This applies mainly to published settings. Maybe the game’s been out of print for a while, and the publisher wants to relaunch it in an exciting new way. Maybe it’s changed publishers, or new writers/designer are in control of it. Maybe sales are just down and they want to try to make a big splash with a new edition. So they’re radically reimagine the setting on the assumption that different equals better. For Oz, this would mean a new edition that’s suddenly a crazy anime-style steampunk mashup and the flying monkeys are redesigned to look reptilian and carry guns that shoot cream pies. It’s so incompatible with the setting presented in earlier editions that it’s essentially a different game. You’ve jumped the shark.
Conclusion
Your mileage, of course, may vary. The main point is that if you have a clear vision of what the setting is, you should work hard to maintain that vision and all the decisions you make about the setting should reinforce that vision. That’s good world building.
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