Episode 6:

“Always make the audience suffer as much as possible.” – Alfred Hitchcock

The rain hits the bridge like war drums. Blades clash. Somewhere below, in the crypt-choked silence of a monastery, the scholar’s candle flickers out. He’s one breath away from finding the cursed ledger that could stop a war.

And you—
You cut away.

They groan. They curse. They demand to know what happens next.

Good. That’s the point.

I. Think Like a Film Editor

Hitchcock called it Pure Cinema—storytelling through image and reaction, not exposition. In film, editing isn’t invisible. It’s everything. Each shot delivers precise narrative weight:

• Long Shot — Establishes the world. Where are we?
• Medium Shot — Shows action. What’s unfolding?
• Close-Up — Reveals emotion. What does it mean?

At the table, those shots become:

• Orient – Describe the location and what’s in motion.
• Advance – Highlight the action taken or witnessed.
• Invoke – Reveal a character’s reaction, a detail that stings.

Then cut.
Don’t give them answers. Give them anticipation.

Every cut creates discomfort—and that discomfort is power.

II. Suspense Lives in the Cut

Hitchcock didn’t build suspense by showing the bomb go off. He showed the bomb under the table, ticking while characters talked about the weather. The audience suffers—knowing what the characters don’t.

That’s what editing gives you at the table: control over time, sequence, and information.

• The shark isn’t scary when it’s on screen. It’s scary when the yellow barrels rise.
• The alien isn’t terrifying when it attacks. It’s terrifying when it disappears into the dark.
• Your villain is never more powerful than when he’s off-stage—but felt in every shadow.

In a TTRPG, cutting away isn’t just pacing. It’s a weapon.

III. The D6 Intercut Trick

Here’s the mechanic:

• Give each group a few minutes of focus. Let them advance.
• When the scene reaches tension, roll a d6.
  • On a 4–6, cut to the other group.
  • On a 1–3, let them push one beat further.
• Repeat. Let the dice shape the rhythm.

This adds unpredictability. No one knows when the curtain will drop. Every moment feels like it could be the last before the cut.

IV. Cut With Intent

You’re not just managing time. You’re amplifying suffering.

• Split the Party — Yes, on purpose. Give them simultaneous stakes that matter.
• Cut at the Cliff — End each beat on the question, not the answer.
• Cross-Cut the Stakes — One group’s failure raises the pressure for the other.
• Match Cut for Drama — End with an image, begin with a mirror.
  (The paladin raises his blade → the sage slams shut a tome.)

You’re not fading between moments. You’re slashing between them.

V. Example: The Siege of Avelmor Keep

Fantasy: The knight’s shield shatters under undead assault as the rogue’s torch flickers in the tomb. A whisper in the dark—cut.
Sci-Fi: The engineer fights the override controls while zero-G combat rattles the station hull. One circuit overloads—cut.
PsychScape Historical: One resistance cell sabotages the factory. Another leads a defecting scientist through the fog toward freedom. A spotlight appears—cut.

Each beat ends in uncertainty. Each return feels earned.

VI. Try This at Your Table

In your next session:

1. Create two or more threads with simultaneous tension.
2. Structure your scenes:
   • Orient — Where are we?
   • Advance — What’s happening?
   • Invoke — What does it mean?
3. Cut before resolution.
4. Let the silence between beats build pressure.

And when they groan—don’t apologize.

That’s the sound of players trapped between scenes, desperate for answers.

They’ll remember the blade. Not the wound.
The silence. Not the scream.
The wait. Not the reveal.

That’s not cruelty.
That’s storytelling.
That’s Pure Cinema.

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