I've come to the conclusion that in the materials I'm preparing myself, I'd like to add more variety to the narrative by introducing information to the players without using the perspective of a second person. What I try to avoid is banal and repetitive dialogue like:
you feel a cold breeze that causes Your Hair is over. An eerie feeling of terrifying holds you as you enjoy the macabre sight.
you Feel very uncomfortably warm in the pit of this volcano and feel the sweat pool in the armor you neglected to doff.
You, you, you, you, you
Argh, I grow a lot tired from this word. "you"has lost almost all significance for me, I have no formal literary background, but have tried to catalog certain types of capture thematically or tonal Elements in a scene without introducing the dreaded "y" word. It irritates me to know that I use the word "you" as a crutch, which in my opinion is strictly tonal for scenes I try to shape. I hope I'm not the only one with this problem …
My previous approach was to prepare material that I can read right away, so I do not have to improvise anything, because I'm almost certainly going to fall back on it start the sentence (crawl) with the word "you". I find it a bit difficult, but at least managed to introduce a somewhat neutral hypothetical third party that tells their Feelings of tone or theme without affecting the feelings or emotions of the player or player character as described in this question:
Third-person Limited Narration or Third-person Omniscient Narration?
Anyway, I feel like it will pack me in again and just make me formulaic in my storytelling, but I'm just following a different formula. This time the formula is the limited formula of the third person or the omniscient formula of the third person.
My biggest concern is the balance between player mediation and my narrative desires. I do not want say them, that they experience a feeling of fear. I want to introduce you to concepts that inspire fear. I will write a damned book if need be.
One of the main reasons for this is that I want to alert players when there is a scary or happy thing or whatever, that role-playing games are scared (happy, etc.) without giving them that [BE SCARED] Title card. At the same time, I do not want you to miss the key word or ignore everything "My character was not afraid!"
I think that much of my problem can be solved by reasonably avoiding the "you do X" format because you are honest somewhere It takes a moment to read a room. To say that the PCs enter a house and have "an immediate sense of fear" is quite a nonsense to me, and the more sessions I do, the more I find that my use of this format as a crutch dampens my gameplay.
Note: I'm talking specifically about the scene setting here to narrow the scope. When a pc says, "I'm looking for a chair to sit on," I simply say, "You'll find a comfortable chair" like a normal person. This question specifically refers to scene settings where tonality and themes are important without affecting the emotions of a player or PC.
So my question is:
How can I eliminate "you" sentences during the narrative? What techniques are there and has it improved your storytelling at your table?
Here are some examples I have written for LMoP to refine Conyberry (WARNING: SPOILERS), and I would like to expand my writing and narrative horizon. I try to do it.
(Narration) Continuing along the trail, past willow branches and into the rapidly darkening forest, the flickering shapes of the pale blue fire are barely visible. They dance around the trees as if they are chasing each other and living mischievous and playful past lives. The air here feels ice cold and seems to cling desperately to the warm skin. The trees do not seem to notice the harsh cold, and the branches in direct sunlight have begun to develop. Toads stare apathetically as the trail winds deeper into the darker parts of the forest.
(Narration) Slightly obscure to look into this primitive abode are thin strands of black filament hanging like a beaded curtain. The streaks are still in the air and every exhale exits in lush fog. An intense sense of fear dampens any meaning. After all, anyone who has meaning would have avoided this place. It is a place to which no living thing belongs.
(NARRATION) It is easy to see a modest residential area. The thin coating of the room and its furnishings is a veil of dust that makes the room look like it has not been inhabited for several centuries. Oddly enough, a pearl necklace with gold clasps gleams in the pale blue-green light of the residence as if it were carefully polished. A deadly silence is in the air.
Has anyone managed to exacerbate his campaign by occasionally changing his mind? Do you have any hints?