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Writers spend years creating and embellishing roleplaying settings like One World By Night and the Forgotten Realms. Game masters labor for hours on their campaign worlds, defining everything from two thousand years of global history to the color of the robes worn by a tiny sect of monks dedicated to a forgotten god. Why this obsession with minutia? To create an imaginary world that seems as complete as possible for the gaming group or, to borrow from the computer age, to create a Multi-User Shared Hallucination.

Part of the appeal of roleplaying is interacting in a setting that is exciting and different from reality yet as familiar to the players as it would be to their characters. Many GMs fill notebooks and hard disks to capacity with encyclopedic stores of information about their campaign worlds, and most can tell you more about the history and religion of these fictitious creations than they can about America's westward expansion or the current state of affairs in the Middle East. Guilty of this obsession myself, I was often frustrated by the difficulty of transmitting a similar world-familiarity to my players. Why didn't they care about the lovingly-crafted history I had designed? Why didn't they study my twelve-color map and memorize where Argl-Bargl lay in relation to Forestonia?

Answer: because most people don't know such details about the world they live in every day. Ask one of your gaming group to outline the basic history of the state you live in, or to tell you the theological differences between Lutherans and Episcopalians, or which states border the District of Columbia, or the name of the bartender that served their drinks last night. If they don't know things like this about the real world, how much less will they know about an imaginary realm they only visit a few times a month?

So should we game masters forsake the histories, religions, and societal interactions that flesh out our world? Absolutely not. These details focus the tone and "feel" of the world and can be mined for a wealth of plot hooks--but they're often too big to be relevant to the players. The history of the State of Illinois has defined my home city of Chicago, but I have difficulty relating it to my daily existence. To be memorable, familiar details must be small and repeated often. In the real world, this concept is called branding.

Say the word "Kleenex" and you need not describe the structure and use of the absorbent facial tissue. Ask your players to identify the company that uses the "swoosh" as its logo, or to name four menu items from McDonalds. No problem, right? Capitalism and its 400-lb. gorilla Advertising have beaten such details into our very souls. Branding creates a familiarity with common items that indicates a shared heritage and common life experience.

Branding can do much the same in your roleplaying game. Start with small things. The next time the PC party goes to a tavern and orders an ale, have them choose between two fictitious brands. Would the knight prefer the Amsterbock Stout or the Valonian Lager? Or perhaps the Dragonstongue whiskey? A brief description of the choices is given to the player: the Amsterbock is a dark beer brewed by Obadiah Amster, a local halfling, while the lager is a smooth, golden brew imported from Valonia. The knightly character will then choose a beer, and the player will remember the brand. The next time they enter a tavern, that knight will ask for "his" beer by name, and a bit of a shared world will be established.

The trick of branding for roleplaying games is to move from the general to the specific. Case in point: "masterwork" items in D&D 3E. "Masterwork" implies that the item was created by a master--a perfect opportunity for branding. Which master created that sword? It may well be identified with his or her name. It might be superior because of its material composition. "Damascus" steel was a real-life "brand" in the Middle Ages. Fight the urge to be lazy and group all superior items under a single generic term.

Branding does not mean that your medieval or fantasy setting will suddenly be populated with chain restaurants, billboards, and advertising agencies. It doesn't mean every product comes with a manufacturer's label attached. For our purposes, a brand can be as simple as a named style of clothing. The turtleneck shirt is not produced by a single clothier, but the "brand" instantly identifies the distinctive cut of the shirt. Consider adding a style of boots named for a particular city, or a breed of horse unique to your world. Soon, your players will be familiar with your brands and you can use this knowledge to convey information in a kind of shorthand.

For example, the PCs are looking for a local knight who has gone missing. Suddenly they come upon a bugbear wearing a Dargassian breastplate. They instantly know something is awry: Dargassian breastplates are only produced in the city of Riverwell for the Knights of Dargas. The brand has become a clue, and a more elegant hint than blurting out, "The bugbear is wearing a breastplate that looks like it might have belonged to the knight you are seeking."

Repetition is another key to branding. Modern wisdom says that until a person sees a brand at least three times, they are apt to forget it. So, when choosing the kinds of things to brand in your world, select items that PCs interact with frequently. Food, clothing, weapons, and horses are good places to start because they are items commonly purchased by characters. Repetition engenders familiarity; don't be afraid to stock the next three taverns with the same two kinds of beer. Diversify later when the characters are familiar with the dominant "brands," or when they travel to unfamiliar lands. Brand loyalty is another modern concept with application to the world of roleplaying. The basic idea is that a person who likes a particular brand will stay using that brand because they believe the brand offers the right features at the right price. A known brand is safe and familiar. In roleplaying terms, brand loyalty helps to flesh out a PC persona beyond the statistics on the character sheet. Soon, the whole party will know that Ogmar the Barbarian only drinks Dragonstongue Whiskey and that Nimrod the Bard has a preference for Casteel rapiers.

Give the PCs a few brands to assimilate, and they'll marvel at the reality and detail of your world...which was there all along, if they'd only read your notes.