What’s more significant for these posts, however, is that, like The Edge of Destruction, it doesn’t fit with the usual format. So, as with that story, this is going to be a placeholder post rather than something more detailed. Largely because there isn’t much detail to go into.
The story is set in a pocket dimension detached from our reality. The visuals on the animated version show locations floating in a void that’s sometimes filled with images of planets or the like, and this may also be the intent of the oddly patterned backgrounds in the surviving footage. There is also a clear implication that the Toymaker can not only modify locations to suit his needs but create new ones at will. The Toyroom is only as stable and logical as he wills it to be.
For instance, while gravity and atmosphere are both Earthlike, the temperature is comfortable, and so on, this is likely only because the visitors are from Earth (or a similar planet, in the Doctor’s case). Visiting Barzans, K’Kree, or Purulu would doubtless find the environment suited them instead, at least if they were not accompanied by anyone else.
The Toymaker creates the other inhabitants of the realm from dolls, playing cards and the like. It’s implied that the souls that animate these creations are taken from people who have lost to him, since he intends to turn Dodo and Steven into dolls if they cannot win his games. Although it's not obvious from the animated version, there are only four actors playing the speaking parts, so he may be reusing some, perhaps from a limited stock.
The Toymaker himself is indestructible and immortal, essentially the same as Q from Star Trek. The only time anyone attempts violence against him, they are prevented from doing so by an invisible force field. The other characters may be more susceptible and, being sentient, they can probably be intimidated or reasoned with, but outright violence against them would probably forfeit the game being played.
It is unclear how most people would enter the Toymaker’s realm in the first place, or, indeed, why the TARDIS does so. In a fantasy game, all manner of possibilities present themselves, but it’s harder to come up with plausible options in science fiction settings; mis-jumps may be one possibility, albeit a very rare one. Similarly, while something the size of a shuttlecraft can take the place of the TARDIS as a visible objective for the players, a full-size Federation starship (etc.) is slightly different; here, you might want something that looks like a turbolift door or whatever.
When it first arrives in the Toyroom, the Toymaker blanks the TARDIS’s scanner, demonstrating that he has control over all inanimate objects in his realm, even if they did not originate there. This feature ends once his last game is beaten, but until then, it may not only entice curious PCs out but, by altering the ship’s life support, perhaps force them to venture outside if they are reluctant. In a typical RPG, it may also be necessary for the Toymaker to neutralise or vanish the PCs’ weapons since at least some of the games could legitimately be circumvented by violence.
Once they leave, the protagonists encounter floating television screens showing images from their past lives. Described as “memory windows”, we are told that these are hypnotic and can manipulate the viewer into becoming a “plaything” of the Toymaker. However, since this doesn’t happen to anyone in the story, precisely what this means is unclear… although it sounds like a TPK if everyone falls victim. It’s probably not too hard to ensure that doesn’t happen, especially if there’s a redshirt available to demonstrate the hazard for the PCs, but it’s worth bearing in mind. And at least it’s a fun role-playing opportunity, giving the players a chance to describe a scene from their character’s past (ideally, pre-campaign).
From there, we are onto the games themselves. There are six in the story, and this is a reasonable maximum for a scenario as well. As presented, they are straightforward and most won’t translate to an RPG well, so alternatives may well be desirable. The real challenge may be to ensure that the PCs do well enough to win without them feeling railroaded, given the campaign-ending consequences of failure. On the other hand, this is less of a problem in a one-off scenario with throwaway PCs, which might be the best way of using this.
Nonetheless, let’s look at the games provided in the serial.
The Doctor is isolated from the other time travellers and forced to play the “trilogic game”, which is identical to the Tower of Hanoi. Since that can easily be beaten by following a simple pattern, it’s really just a matter of how long it takes, providing the ‘ticking clock’ for the other games. For what it’s worth, the game requires a number of moves equal to 2ⁿ -1, where n is the number of pieces. So, in the serial, we see ten pieces, and thus require 1,023 moves, this number approximately doubling or halving with each piece added or taken away.
Of the other games, the first one is the only one that really requires much in the way of skill and thus could potentially work in an RPG. (Indeed, Critical Role used something very similar in one of their episodes). Here, a blindfolded character has to negotiate an obstacle course with assistance from an outside player who can only provide them with simple instructions such as ‘turn left’ or ‘stop’. Abstracting it out would require acrobatic, athletic, or similar skill rolls and, to make things more interesting if multiple PCs are involved, there could be traps of some kind along the way.
Next, we have a ‘game’ that involves placing dolls on chairs to see which one is safe. The other chairs each kill by different means – electrocution, freezing, constriction, high-velocity ejection, extreme vibration, and disintegration. Interestingly, Dodo survives the freezing chair with help from Steven, so at least some of them aren’t instant death. In any event, if the PCs aren’t squabbling, it’s merely a matter of subduing the Toymaker’s NPCs for long enough to test all the chairs with the dolls and then sitting in the right one. So you’d probably want something else here, creating an additional challenge that’s more entertaining than risk-free trial and error.
Next up, there’s a Search/Spot Hidden/Perception roll to find a hidden key while being distracted by NPCs arguing. Which, without a time limit, is going to be passed eventually, even if you make the players describe exactly where their characters are looking in detail.
Then there’s a game where you have to cross a dance floor where the dancing dolls trap you and prevent you from doing so. In an RPG, absent some protective measures, this could just turn into combat, but, as presented, it just requires an Acrobatics or Dancing skill roll to get two of the PCs dancing with each other rather than the dolls.
The final game is described as ‘hopscotch’, although this is almost as much of a stretch as the first one being ‘blind man’s buff’. There are fourteen stepping stones embedded in a floor that is deadly to stand on. Players roll dice to determine how many stones they are allowed to advance, and the first to reach the last stone wins. Players have to return to the beginning if somebody else lands on the stone they are already on, giving a slight advantage to whoever goes last.
Aside from Cyril cheating by making one of the stones slippery, this is simply a matter of rolling dice in a style that’s not unlike Snakes and Ladders – no actual skill involved. One could liven it up, perhaps, by having each stone transport you somewhere where you have to face a brief challenge (combat, say) and then popping you back again when you beat it. Otherwise, a single unlucky dice roll is all that stands between victory and a TPK.
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