(and Why They All Matter)
I’ve been sitting with this one for a while because adventure structure is one of those things everyone thinks they’ve already got figured out. You’ve run games, you’ve played games, you’ve seen the flow. But the truth is, there are a handful of patterns that pop up again and again, and knowing how they work can save you a world of trouble. Or at the very least, stop you from staring at a blank page wondering if you should start with a tavern fight or a locked door.
Let’s talk about the three big ones: the Linear, the Flow Chart, and the Matrix. They all get a bad rap from somebody, but every single one has a place at the table. I’ve used all three, sometimes in the same campaign, and I’ll be real with you, none of them are perfect. That’s part of the charm.
Straight Line, No Chaser
The Linear adventure is exactly what it sounds like. Point A leads to Point B, then Point C, then the Climax, and finally the End. Simple, clean, predictable. A lot of folks sneer at this one like it’s “baby’s first dungeon crawl,” but don’t be fooled. Linear design is a powerhouse when you use it in the right context.
One-shots? Convention games? Teaching a brand new GM who’s already sweating bullets? Linear is your friend. It gives structure, a sense of pace, and a clear destination. Players still get to make choices, but they’re choosing how to move through the story, not whether or not they’ll end up facing the big bad. It’s not about railroading, it’s about clarity. Sometimes that’s exactly what everyone needs, even the most grizzled veterans at the table.
And honestly? Some of the most fun I’ve ever had was inside a tight, linear frame where the GM knew exactly how to build tension beat by beat. It’s like a rollercoaster. Sure, the tracks are fixed, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming your lungs out when you drop.
Twists and Turns
Then you’ve got the Flow Chart structure. This is where the path branches, loops, and curls back on itself. A might lead to B or C, but only C gets you to D. Maybe B spits you out toward E. Eventually, though, it all circles back around to something central. Usually a boss fight, a big reveal, or the next chapter.
Flow Chart design is incredible for mysteries, heists, and any dungeon where exploration matters. A lot of people call this the Jaquays style, and with good reason. The power here is that sense of agency. Players feel like they’re poking around in a living, breathing space rather than trudging down a single corridor. And when you throw in a few “free floating radicals” like strange NPCs, odd artifacts, or rumors that don’t tie directly into the main thread, it gets even richer. These little outliers invite curiosity. They let the players feel like they’re uncovering secrets that weren’t just dropped in their laps.
But Flow Chart design isn’t flawless either. It can bog down if you put too many branches that don’t lead anywhere satisfying. And as a GM, you’ve got to do the prep work to make each path feel like it matters, even if it only matters for a scene or two. It’s a balancing act, but when it works, it’s magic.
The Big Mess (and I Say That with Love)
Finally, the Matrix or Sandbox. This is where the conspiracy board comes out, with strings connecting pins across the entire map. Every NPC has their own motives, every faction is pulling in different directions, and the players are free to walk straight past your carefully crafted dungeon to chase rumors of a cult in the woods.
This structure is a blast for long campaigns, for groups that love to chase tangents, and for GMs who are comfortable improvising when the players zig where the notes said they’d zag. Honestly, it’s the closest thing to pure chaos we’ve got, and that’s part of why people adore it. It feels alive. It feels unpredictable. You can set factions into motion, drop a few subtle hints, and then just sit back while the snowball rolls downhill.
But here’s the catch: it takes endurance. You’re juggling NPC agendas, tracking consequences, and making peace with the fact that half your prep will never see daylight. It can also collapse under its own weight if you’re not careful. Too many options can overwhelm both you and your players. That doesn’t make it bad, it just means it’s not for every group, and it’s not for every season of play.
So, Which One is “Right”?
All of them. None of them. Take your pick. The structure you use should serve the game you’re running, not the other way around. Sometimes the table needs the clarity of a straight line. Sometimes they crave the twists and detours of a Flow Chart. And sometimes, when you’re ready for the long haul, you give them the keys to the sandbox and watch them build their own castle.
If anyone tells you that only one of these models is “real GMing,” they’re selling something. Or they’re just wrong. You don’t owe your table a perfect structure, you owe them a good time. Please, go have some fun.
Thank you for being here with me today. I appreciate you. Keep it real, but please strive for positivity, too. Please embrace the things that bring you the most joy in your life.


Hear, hear. Linear GMing gets a bad rap, but it gets the job done – and a lot of players actually do just want to follow the story and roll dice at stuff. I freely admit to being one of them. Hey, I have to do all that nasty thinking when I’m GMing, when I’m playing I like to switch my brain off, y’know?
LikeLiked by 1 person