Any experienced player has been there. I know all of mine have. We spend hours—maybe days—crafting the perfect history for our character, giving them a fun voice, tragic motivation, and a list of quirks that would make a novelist jealous. Only to realize you’re the only one that gave the effort. Then there’s the inverse, you spend almost no time on backstory and wind up being the only one at the table who doesn’t get special attention. What makes a good backstory? And when do you pull out all the stops, versus reigning it in.

The “Amnesia” Blank Check

Let’s address the elephant in the room right away. Some players think the “Amnesia” trope is a clever way to stay mysterious, to introduce a low-effort character that the Game Master can’t possibly “mess with” because there’s no meat there to chew. Generally, this is a sign of either a totally uncreative player (the truth hurts) or one that’s had some really bad game masters in the past. I’ve been that uncreative player, and I’ve been the one burned by bad GMs. It’s a defensive crouch, but it’s one that ultimately starves your character of a soul. And as a game master, it’s just frustrating.

The trope is a trope for a reason, and there’s nothing wrong with a character that doesn’t remember where they’re from (with good reason). But I’ve found two paths to making it a fun experience for everyone, while rebuilding some trust between the game master and the player:

Reveal their backstory through the game – when a character doesn’t give me anything to work with, or just says they have amnesia, I fill in the gaps for them. As the game progresses (usually during downtime) I’ll hint at their “objectionable” past. Maybe they get letters from a half-ogre wife and children they’d abandoned when they “lost their memory” or some of the villain’s henchmen seem to recognize them, even calling them by a name they don’t remember (Total Recall style!). If they don’t give me a character history, they’ve given me a blank check to write one for them. And that might just make their life very complicated.

Know what they don’t remember – If there’s a compelling reason for the character to have amnesia, run with it. But that just means that the character doesn’t know their backstory. That doesn’t mean they can’t provide it to the game master. If I have to run with a character who’s forgotten his past, I’ll generally write it up and provide to the DM what happened, why, and why the poor guy’s forgotten. That takes the pressure off them to write something, but also gives them the option to pull in some of the details (as above). If it’s got to be done, this is my preferred method as both player and game master.

A note on this though: I try hard not to be this player, and unless you have a special bond with the game master, I’d suggest you also try to avoid it. While I sometimes enjoy the challenge of finding the missing pieces of the puzzle, this takes time and effort that I often don’t want to bother with, especially if I’m running a pre-written campaign.

Fit the need!

Recently, I played a character named Gryff in a Red Hand of Doom module. I loved Gryff. He was high-energy (exactly my opposite), had a distinct voice, and a backstory that felt like a masterpiece. But a few sessions in, I felt a knot in my stomach. The game wasn’t about the impending war or the party’s struggle anymore; it had become “The Gryff Show.” My “compelling” backstory and big personality were sucking the air out of the room for the game master and the other players.

My sincere apologies to my Game Master, Anony Mouse, who had to navigate my ego while trying to run a literal war.

I wasn’t just playing a character; I was accidentally stealing the spotlight from the rest of the table. As I review my notes now, it’s a wake-up call that I need to balance my story to the expectations. Not every sheet needs to be a novel.

Through my mistakes with Gryff and years behind the DM screen, I’ve decided to work with the game master well ahead of time if I’m going to provide them with a backstory for a character I’m working up. They should be providing you with a player packet, or at least some early information on what the game’s going to be, but I like to reach out with a rough outline of my ideas before I proceed. Here are some things on my checklist:

• Check if a big backstory is even needed. Not every hero needs a manifesto before session one. Sometimes, just a general backstory with where they’re from, who they know, and why they’re interested in the adventure is all I need.
• Match the story to the level. If I’m starting at level 1, I have to remind myself that I’m not a legendary dragon-slayer yet. My history should reflect a “nobody” starting a journey, not a veteran who has already peaked. Likewise, if we’re starting with experienced characters (level 5+) playing a farm boy from a desert planet is probably going to seem off.
• Start the conversation early. I’ve learned that a “surprise” backstory is just a headache for the GM. I get my notes to them as early as possible so they can weave my life into the world, rather than me trying to bolt a new plot onto their existing one. But also, I never expect a game master to actually incorporate or even reference my backstory. It’s a tool for me to know how to play, not an obligation for the game master to accomodate.
• Make them “Real.” I try to give my characters a dream, a family, or a debt. Real people have ties to the world. If I don’t give my character a reason to care about the setting, why should the party care about me?
• Don’t outshine the star. Gryff taught me a valuable lesson in this regard. I have to really be careful to make sure what I’m writing isn’t stealing the spotlight from what the game master has planned. They’re not under any obligation to even acknowledge my story, much less read it. So I can’t expect it to overshadow their game.

A final point

It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway – a backstory is not a receipt for cool stuff. As a game master, if a character brings me a backstory talking about all the gear and cool magic items they “inherited from their long lost uncle’s roommate”, there’s almost no way I’m going to let them have any of that. I may reject the backstory outright, on those grounds. That may seem harsh, but I wouldn’t expect special treatment for my backstory, and I won’t give it to someone who I feel is taking advantage.

Creating a character is a balancing act. My goal now is to ensure my character explains why I’m joining the adventure, not why the adventure should be about me. I want to be a part of the story, not the obstacle in its way. I’m still learning, and Gryff was a reminder that even veterans can overstep. But that’s the beauty of the game—we adjust, we learn, and we keep rolling.

Be good, or be good at it. You’ve got the juice.