Adventuring is a poor career choice. It's invariably dirty, almost always difficult, and usually dangerous. To be honest, being left to die alone in some cold, dark hole in the ground is one of the
better outcomes for an adventurer.
Yet there is a seemingly endless stream of novices keen to endure the challenges. Why? Well, it's quite simple. Intelligence agencies have known it for years: MICE.
Money might be obvious, but it probably isn't actually the best motivation, and for one simple reason. It's not that you can't become fabulously wealthy, or establish yourself as some petty king out beyond the frontier. That's entirely possible, and there are plenty of stories of those who have done exactly that. But fundamentally, you have to live in order to enjoy your wealth. And when your life expectancy is measured in weeks, not months or years, that starts to look unlikely.
That's not to say nobody is motivated by money. But it's likely to be an initial motivation, rather than an ongoing one: any self-respecting adventurer will emerge from their first expedition with enough silver1 to live quite comfortably for a while. If that first hit doesn't do it, then either something other than money is in play, or the adventurer in question has spending habits which make pawnbrokers and loan sharks rub their hands in glee.
Which, of course, is precisely the assumption of much sword-and-sorcery fiction.
Ideology creates an adventurer who is both to be feared and respected. They have nothing to prove. They owe no debts. They will meet death with a grin on their face and a blade in their hand, knowing that every foe they take with them is a good deed done.
Any character motivated by ideology will, by necessity, have a strong belief system. This might be one based on religion, and therefore one might expect explicitly religious character archetypes (Clerics, Paladins, often Druids, and others) to fall into this category. But they, too, might have other motivations. And non-religious ideology might also exist. The warrior-aristocrat with absolute conviction that goblins must be exterminated. The peasant who is certain that somewhere in the wilderness is unspoilt land where they can live free from oppression. Any of these could be quite reasonable.
Coercion is a classic, but (like money) might be time-limited. Here we find 'your loved one has been captured by the Evil Baron von Dragonstein', or 'you will die if you do not retrieve the Chalice of Eternal Life from the Well of Despair'. Such a motivation is inarguable; this adventurer will do what they must to achieve their goal. But it's also a self-limiting motivation. There's only so many times you can pull off the 'your princess is in another castle!' manoeuvre.
Oddly enough, this is somewhat better suited to a superhero game, or epic fantasy. Those genres allow for world-ending threats which compel characters to action. Frodo agrees to take the One Ring to Mordor because it is needed to save the world - not for wealth, his beliefs, or his . And while that meant he only had one adventure, it was quite a long one.
Ego is probably the most common. This may be a would-be adventurer trying to prove that they are smarter, stronger, or tougher than other. It may be someone seeking to 'get even' for a perceived slight dealt to them It may simply be someone seeking excitement not present in their day-to-day life. We all know people who indulge in dangerous hobbies for one of these reasons - and there's seemingly no shortage of people willing to undertake
cave diving or climbing the
eight-thousanders.
This is a motivation which, like Ideology, is endless. And it may even be self-reinforcing, if the adventurer seeks to get the same 'high' which they got from a previous excursion, they're likely to repeat the attempt time and again.
What does this all mean at the table? Well, for one thing I think it means that XP-for-treasure isn't actually a very good system. It incentivises getting treasure out of dungeons, but in most cases that isn't what adventurers want. For the money-seeking adventurer, it probably does make sense. But how does a game designer create a system that links character progression to their ideology or to indulging their ego?
The coerced character, incidentally, probably doesn't want progression for their story. Whether it's Mario or Bryan Mills2, the story is about using the character's existing abilities to achieve a goal.
More usefully, though: for referees, know what motivates the characters in your game, and engage with it. The character who wants to find that rich farmland? Plant rumours so they have a reason to keep exploring. The character seeking relief from a curse? Let them feel that they're making progress towards it - or feel the effects if they're not. The character who wants to prove themselves? Challenge them.
Yes, this feels like it should be obvious. But it isn't always.
And for players: know what motivates your character. When 2d6 goblins come around the corridor, what's your desired outcome? If your character believes the only good goblin is a dead one, they'll react differently to one who's only interested in getting the contents of their treasury into your treasury - or to one who really just wants to know if they've heard the good news about our lord and saviour.
Just don't get into the 'it's what my character would do' shenanigans. Your character isn't an idiot. Even if they are, you aren't. Find a way to align their goals with things your gaming group enjoys.
1: Yes, I'm a silver-standard kind of guy.
2: Mario Bros had eight levels. Taken only had three. Otherwise? Basically the same story