Context Challenges
Context challenges require a character to act when a condition or state is met. For instance:
Wait for the rain to pass and water levels to drop to cross the river safely.
Waiting for better weather typifies most ‘wait for’ challenges. The thriller “Initiation Rite” exemplifies the challenge of Context. The protagonist’s actions depend on specific conditions or states.
- A secret meeting spot is revealed only when the statue’s shadow points to it at noon.
- The protagonist can only sneak past the vigilant sentry during his daily nap at 3 PM.
- The hidden cave entrance is obscured by dense foliage, making it challenging to find in summer.
- The protagonist must be well-rested to decode the invisible message.
- The steep cliff can only be climbed safely when the wind is calm.
- The key to the repaired vehicle is the artifact from the temple.
- The border guards are less vigilant during a local festival, providing an opportunity to slip through.
Initiation Rite
Hawthorne, 2018
Hawthorne Park
The park is a quiet lie, a stillness that mocks the chaos inside me. I check my watch—11:45 AM. Fifteen minutes to find the statue whose shadow will spill the secret. The sun’s high but not high enough. Precision matters; the shadow will point to the spot only at noon.
Look for the statue.
I walk, eyes scanning the park. Kids on swings, joggers pounding the pavement, all oblivious. Finally, I see a bronze soldier standing tall, a relic of forgotten wars. I wait. The minutes drag like Monday mornings.
At noon, the soldier’s shadow stretches, pointing to a bench near a grove of trees. I head there, heart pounding a beat I don’t recognize.
Sit on the bench.
A man in a trench coat emerges from the trees, hands me an envelope, and whispers. “The info’s inside. Be careful; the sentry’s sharp. He naps at 3. That’s your window.” He vanishes, a ghost in daylight. I need a trench coat.
I rip open the envelope. A map to a hidden cave. The group meets there, but it’s summer, and the foliage will hide the entrance.
Head to the cave.
I follow the map through the park and into the forest. The foliage is thick, like nature’s own barbed wire. I push through, branches scratching like old sorrows.
After an eternity, I find the cave hidden behind a curtain of leaves. Winter would be easier, but I don’t have that luxury.
The Cave
Inside, the air is cool and damp. Shadows hide faces. “Prove your loyalty,” one says. “Then we’ll talk.”
Ask about the task.
The leader steps forward and hands me a blank card. “Decode the message. Earn our trust.” I nod, taking the card.
Back at my lair—just a cabin on the forest’s edge—I examine the card and its invisible message. More will be needed than a candle flame. I need steady hands and clear vision, but I’m exhausted. My hands are shaking.
Rest and recover.
I crash, sleep like the dead, wake like Lazarus. Refreshed, hands steady. Carefully, I work the text with chemicals too obscure to mention here. The message emerges from its chemical wash: coordinates and a time—3 PM. The sentry’s nap time.
Head to the restricted area.
Security Facility
I arrive and hide behind a tree. The sentry’s sharp, but at 3, he starts to yawn, eyes drooping. Finally, he sits, and it’s siesta time. Shake hands with Morpheus for me.
Sneak past the sentry.
I move quickly. Quietly, slipping past him. Inside, a high-security computer system. The maintenance window is 3:15. That’s my chance.
I wait, my heart playing yet another beat. At a quarter after, security protocols relax, and I input the coordinates. The screen flashes—the location of a temple. I know the place, high on a cliff.
Head to the cliff.
The climb is brutal and the cliff face, jagged. I wait for the wind to calm. A strong gust would send me over. When the wind dies down, I climb, each handhold a test of determination.
The Temple
At the top, the temple stands, ancient and imposing. Inside, a sacred artifact. The key to my mission. The artifact in that location turns out to be a car key, hardly what I was expecting. But it’s not over.
Return to the forest.
I navigate back through the dense forest, using the stars. The night is clear, stars bright. Each step brings me closer.
The Encampment
At the forest’s edge is a camp of—what to call them—a cross between a trailer park and punk rock, a tribe of the modern era.
I approach, holding the artifact. The leader steps forward, eyes piercing. I don’t know what to expect. A wrestling match? Dueling banjos?
It turns out all they want are a few good campfire stories. Those I have. By the end, I’m exhausted but accepted.
In the morning, with their help, I repair a busted vehicle on their encampment, cannibalizing parts from other wrecks. I start the vehicle with the artifact, the key from the temple. Curious that the key happens to fit this wreck.
Engine roaring, I drive to …
The Border
The local festival provides the distraction I need. The guards are less vigilant, distracted by the festivities. I slip through, message safely smuggled.
Deliver the message.
I run the final distance, my body fueled by breakfast with the tribe. The recipient waits, and relief washes over me as I hand over the message. Mission complete, but I’m changed.
Back at my “lair,” a package arrives. Trench coat, my size.
Snippets
Other examples of context challenges follow.
The team needs a pep talk to win the game, and the coach needs an energy drink to deliver it.
The locker room is a tomb of sweat and silence. The team sits slumped, eyes vacant, spirits crushed. The game’s slipping through our fingers, and the coach, usually a lion, is pacing like a caged animal, his roar muted.
> Find something to inspire the coach.
I scan the room, my eyes darting from the empty benches to the flickering lights. “We need a miracle,” I say to myself. The vending machine in the corner catches my eye. It hums, indifferent to our plight.
> Purchase a can.
I swipe my card through the pay slot. The machine clunks and whirs, and there it is—a can of caffeine and sugar, our last shot at redemption.
“Drink this,” I say, thrusting the can into the coach’s hand. “They need your energy.” His eyes meet mine, a flicker of confusion and then understanding.
He hesitates, then cracks open the can, a battle cry of carbonation. He takes a long sip, his eyes closing as the liquid fire courses through him.
> Get their attention.
“Alright, team, here’s the plan …!” the thunderclap of my voice shakes the room. Heads swivel, eyes open. I hope this works, buying time, because I really have no plan.
The coach does—and takes over without skipping a beat. “I can’t make you believe in yourself,” he says. “Only you can. But I believe in you.” For ten minutes, he paces. He raves. He recites what they already know, but it’s his tone of conviction that lifts them.
The team roars in response, the locker room vibrating with resolve. I watch them go, a smile tugging at my lips. The energy drink did its job, but it was the coach’s spark that ignited the flame.
Enter the door revealed when the tide is low and foil the villian’s plan.
The lighthouse looms like cyclops against the night, its beam slicing the fog. Inside, the Viktor plans to misdirect a ship onto the reef, and time is running out. But I also have a plan, and it all hinges on the tide.
> Consult the tide chart.
I crouch down, out of the salty breeze and unfold the tide table. “I need to time this perfectly,” I remind myself, eyes flicking between the chart and the churning sea. As the water level drops, the ocean pulls back to reveal its secrets.
> At low tide, enter the door.
Sure enough, at low tide the submerged door becomes visible. Usually hidden beneath the waves, it stands exposed, a portal to the villain’s lair.
My feet slap against the wet sand. The door is heavy with barnacles and rust, groaning open like an old man’s sigh. I slip inside, the darkness swallowing me whole.
> Take him by surprise.
Viktor’s voice drifts down from the top, as he talks into the radio, guiding the captain to doom.
“Stop right there!” I shout, bursting into the room. He spins around, eyes wide with shock. The control panel glows, the levers and switches poised to bring disaster.
I lunge forward, my hand slamming down on the controls. The lighthouse beam swings back to its rightful path, guiding the ship away from the reef.
Then the lights went out for me. When I came too, the knot behind my left ear sent waves of pain just opening my eyes. But what I did not see was a ship wrecked on the reef.
Gather intelligence, build alliances, and develop a plan to overthrow a corrupt regime.
Content challenges need not be passive, such as waiting for the tide to go out. They may involve strategic preparations and tactical engagement.
- Develop a plan to overthrow a corrupt regime.
- Signal the next gameplay from the sidelines.
- Move off-road to the longer, safer route through the brush.
A goal, such as a new job, may require a certain state of personal growth, such as financial independence—or at least having no debt. New job > favourable impression > new suit > discretionary funds > debt reduction.
I pull the last bill from my wallet. The clerk sees it, too, instinctively placing a hand on the grocery bag. This is embarrassing; I need a plan—and that bag may help. At home, I tear it up for labels: splurge, staple, survival. The survival stack of bills says it’s time to make the call. I can’t even afford the price of procrastination. I take a deep breath and dial, rehearsing while it rings: “Is there any way we can work out a payment plan?”
Actions can show personal growth. Talking with a financial advisor or therapist. Joining a gym or social club. Taking up a hobby, meditation. They may also be to the benefit of another person’s growth.
- Not a door-to-door salesman, I tell mirror-me. I’m a hardware store that makes house calls. With a little confidence and a positive attitude, sales soar. Altitude = aptitude + attitude. Hey, I can sell that. And if not, all it takes is a little resilience.
- I need the grieving widow to tell me affectionate names her mogul husband used to call her. One of them may be the missing password to his computer. She’ll only talk when calm, which is achieved by offering her a memento of her lost loved one. Given the return of the “lost” locket I lifted last week and “found” just now, she becomes more talkative.
Innovation
A context challenge depends on a state being met. Liftoff, for instance, or a smoke signal, or the motorcade to come into sight, or the winner to be announced.
A logistical or innovation variation is more active. The protagonist uses planning to create the state: pull off a bank heist, rescue the princess, coax vermin out of the castle, or otherwise achieve a certain condition. This may entail makeshift innovation or values decisions if it starts to rain on the picnic, all flights are sold out, the groom has cold feet, or the robber is your brother.
“Ridge Rescue” is an example of innovation. True, the protagonist manipulates inventory, but the challenge is to meet the condition of making the antidote able to glide down the hill. The protagonist isn’t passively waiting for the condition to be met but working to make it happen.
Ridge Rescue
August Forest, 1914
The Campsite
Wandering along Razor Ridge, I stumble upon a deserted campsite. The fire pit is a bed of silvery ash. Squared nails protrude as if a cart once burned here. This may be the path taken by the blacksmith.
The scent of charred wood lingers, mingling with something unsettlingly familiar. Nearby stands a rough-hewn table, topped with a cloth and tied down with twine. An inexplicable apple pie sits atop the table, seemingly out of place amid the wilderness.
Edge of the Ridge
From below, I hear a desperate cry for aid.
My lady’s allergic to bee stings,
but now she has been stung.
Our gear is near the table,
or so it was when flung.
We left our goods at the site,
all placed beside the table.
She needs her venom antidote,
hurry fast as you are able.
The cure, so fragile in its wrap,
soft leather worn and brown.
We cannot climb the ridge in time,
nor can you make it down.
Their voices carry the weight of despair. They cannot climb up, and I cannot climb down. Time is fleeting.
Fetch the antidote from the satchel.
The Campsite
I glance at the table. The notion of emptying their satchel crosses my mind, yet I need a means to send the antidote down without damage. Pitching the satchel would surely break the fragile contents. The pie tray catches my eye.
Flip the pie onto the tablecloth.
A sweet sacrifice for a greater cause. I sift through their satchel and retrieve the pouch. It can slide down the ridge using the tray. Perhaps not—the tray resists, snagged by the wild grasses.
If not by earth, then by air. I shall hurl the pie tray like a knight’s discus, sending the antidote safely down.
Use the pie tray and twine.
I grab a nail from the fire pit and punch two holes in the pie tray. I tear a strip of twine and secure the tablecloth. It’s not much, but will suffice. The hourglass of time shifts ever quicker.
I nestle the antidote pouch inside the pie tray, but it wobbles. It must be secured.
“Not much time left,” the voice calls out from below.
Thread the string through the holes.
I loop the string around the pouch, threading it through the holes and pulling it taut. The antidote sits snugly in the tray. I heft the makeshift device, calculating the throw. It needs to glide smoothly down the incline.
Edge of the Ridge
I hold my breath, then release with a backhand flip. It spins, gliding down toward the voices. Heart pounding, I watch. It lands softly in the hands of the desperate man below.
I hear murmuring, frantic yet hopeful. Minutes stretch like shadows.
Then, a shout: “Hurrah! She lives! You saved her.”
Relief washes over me. I take a moment to catch my breath. My eyes drift back to the table—the pie, the fallen. I help myself to a slice. Still warm is my modest reward.
Slip away with their satchel.
Save the maiden, not rob her. Were you not listening? I am the hero here, not a knave.
With the weight of the deed lifting, I set to walk away. The forest, once merely trees and dirt, now fills with life around me.
As I head back down the ridge, the air cool and crisp, I realize that heroism often means using what you have, where you are, and doing your best.
