“Where are you coming back from?”
“The gaming store. I just ran a D&D game for some people.”
“Oh yeah? Did you win?”
This is the sort of question you’d expect from those people who somehow survive without D&D in their lives. They can’t imagine a game that isn’t competitive in nature, that doesn’t have winners and losers. These poor lost souls, frequently answering to “Mom” or “Honey” but rarely both, don’t see any value in a cooperative effort where success isn’t measured by the highest score, the most hotels, the fewest contusions, but instead by elements more intangible: “How cool was the battle?” “How memorable was the scene?” “How amazing was that moment?”
All of this happens under the impartial hand of the dispassionate Dungeon Master, who fully understands the differences between competition and cooperation, who bears no ill will towards these players, who isn’t interested in dominating the players, battering them down, embarrassing them, showing them who’s in charge.
I follow these tenants because I consider myself to be a players’ DM. Partly this is a result of massive self-delusion, but mostly it’s because I can remember every time I’ve seen twinkly delight in the eyes of a DM as he crowed, “Critical hit on your character! HAHAHAHAHA!” That always infuriated me. Why does he seem so delighted by my character’s misfortune? “You rolled a 1? HAHAHAHAHA!” What does he have to gain by my failures? “You didn’t find the trap… and it explodes! HAHAHAHAHA!”
I want my players to succeed. I really do. I want them to have that spectacular moment. I want them to stare down the ferocious, slathering monster, and say, “Wrong, hellish beast. This is where your reign ends. Prepare to die.” And I want them to win that fight.
Only… only…
Recently, I started running a new game assembled from total strangers found on the internet, and it’s been a fascinating experiment simply because nobody knows each other. There are no preconceptions, and even more importantly, there is no established trust. In a game of close friends, you can expect a degree of trust, of patience, of forgiveness. There was none of that here. And it was justified.
They didn’t know me. If I threw down a ruling that didn’t make sense or just seemed small and petulant, they would challenge me on it, and rarely with anything resembling grace. Naturally, that would put me on the defensive, leading me to say things like, “Hey, find it in the books,” and though I didn’t come right out and say it, it was clear in my tone: “Or shut up.”
Suddenly, despite my best intentions, my game was transforming into a competition. DM vs. players, and I was sprinting toward the jagged cliff of “Hey, look, I don’t think I’ll be able to make the next game.”
How did this happen? I’m a players’ DM, for crying out loud. I’m on your side, guys. I want to tell a deep and thrilling story together, and instead, we’re wasting time with stupid arguments about auto-failures in skill checks.
And thus came my epiphany, when the clouds broke and the sun shone down. As a DM, it is my responsibility to exterminate all traces of competition. It is on me to ensure it doesn’t creep into the game.
If the players out-think me, I must acknowledge it, and with a smile: “Yeah, I did say the villain was scared of water. Okay, you escape in the rowboat, jeering at him as he stands helplessly on the dock.”
If a player proposes an idea, I must not carefully parse every word to figure out how to warp the intent: “Sorry, you said you were going to blast the closest enemy. That’s this guy, who’s surrounded by your allies. Roll attacks on each of them.”
If a player misspeaks, or worse still, makes a “hilarious” comment at the table that was not intended for gameplay, I must not exploit it. “Hey, you were the one who said, ‘I’d like to see what the overlord’s guards could do to us.’ He cries out for his elite dragonborn guard, and they attack.”
The best treatment for the “must not” situations is a simple clarifying question from me: “The roof looks very fragile. Are you sure you want to run across it?” or “The giant ant nest looks very active. Are you sure you want to approach it?” Of course, any clarifying question will set off alarm bells in my players’ heads, but that’s only a problem if I’d miss out on a good GOTCHA, if I run the risk of “losing the game.”
Finally, there is the reality that the competition comes from both directions. Even if the DM is committed to being impartial, the players might still be into it for the competition, to put one over on the all-powerful rube-behind-the-screen. Players can forget about penalties, ignore conditions, add or subtract gear as required, or (always a favorite) fudge die rolls. How do I deal with this? Easy. I don’t. I have enough to worry about on this side. I don’t want to have to run your characters as well. If you decide to beat me, there’s not much I can diplomatically do about that.
To paraphrase the lawyers, “Better that a hundred lying, cheating players get away with it than one good player gets screwed.”
I sometimes try and put on a persona as an out-to-get-you GM in order to encourage my players to try harder and work together to beat me. Still, the facade usually dissolves when I cheer as they dismember my BBEG or murder him in bed with a concubine.
I agree with you 100% about not worrying about cheating. There’s just too much to handle for the GM to also play disciplinarian. Plus, cheating has just never been a problem in my games. Maybe I’m blessed with great players (and I am…), but they seem to be just as happy when they fail as when they succeed, as long as there’s a cool story behind it.
I feel I’ve done my job as GM when the players forget about me. When they really hate the villain, or are focused on the puzzle or how to get out of the trap, and I’m just somewhere “out there” beyond their preripheral vision. That’s when I’ve got ’em. That’s the point where their imaginations have taken over and I am nothing more than the physics that holds it all together.
Transcendental GM’ing. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does…. there are few feelings to beat it.
.-= greywulf´s last blog ..Fourth Edition D&D Long Term Test: Powers =-.
Great bit of self analysis! I’m like you, and like you, I’ve probably fallen into that trap from time to time. Of course, I don’t play with strangers, so that helps.
If a player is better versed in a subject (whether that be rules or, say, Japanese history), then I’ll let that player question my ruling or statement and will most often make changes based on his expertise.
I’ve never been much of a player, but I have played with a competitive GM, and all that promotes is either rules lawyering or “let’s not follow ANY hook this bastard dangles in front of us”. I’ve been extremely naughty at doing the latter, usually heralding my departure from a particular game. BAM! And I’m gone. Couldn’t stay after that, really.
.-= Siskoid´s last blog ..Human Target – Hey I Liked It a Lot! =-.
DM Vs. PC’s is a perfectly valid way to play the game – as long as everyone knows what they’re getting into. Just as I find playing chess to be fun occasionally, competitive RPG sessions have their place. That said, I much, much prefer a cooperative setting, with an emphasis on plot and action rather than ‘winning’. It’s all about your own personal preference.
That said, it does suck to get the former when you expect the later and vice-versa, which is why it’s key to communicate with your players so that everyone knows what to expect.
Dixon, thanks for this fantastic article…though it ends a bit abruptly; I want part two!
I can totally relate to this. About a year and a half ago I started running a game for a group composed almost entirely of perfect strangers. While things are improving all the time I have had more than my share of “ummmm….guys? I’m really not out to get you” moments.
There are some difficult challenges for the unfamiliar DM to overcome, and it can be further complicated when the player group knows each other very well. Falling into the Player vs. DM trap is all too easy in this situation, and I constantly find myself trying to work out new ways to overcome it. In fact, I recently called a “meeting” which took up most of a session to plead my case and explain this as pointedly as possible. Things have improved quite a bit since then.
Like Micah, I also enjoy stepping into “Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!” mode, not because I relish their doom, but because it can help unite them in common purpose against a villain. It can be treacherous in the situation you describe, although there are benefits as well, especially once everyone has all relaxed and gotten into the game. During one particularly memorable encounter with a major villain in my campaign, one of my players finished a line of dialogue with “…and then I spit in YOUR FACE!” XD I don’t think she even realized how she phrased it. I knew that I was doing a good job with getting them to hate the villain, but that I was also too closely associated with him. Tricky, tricky, tricky.
Earning the group’s trust is a HUGE, important step to making it work with folks you don’t know all that well. I still don’t feel like I’ve mastered it…but I’m getting there.
I’ve always been a DM who was on the side of the players, and a player who bristled when the DM gloated about his minions’ impending victory over we poor players. However, recently I got a chance to play with a DM who managed both. It was eye-opening for me. He carried on about his bad rolls, lamenting the pitiful damage he was doing when he had the potential to do so much more. He shouted “critical!” when he rolled it. He chortled maniacally when we walked face first into his traps. He came across as hyper-aggressive. It really had me questioning whether or not I wanted to play with him.
But then I realized he was listening to our ideas. He acknowledged when players came up with great ideas, and adjudicated them fairly. His encounters were often really well-designed. The mysteries of his game world were compelling. When we the players were given fairly free reign to choose a magic item, I chose something right out at the bleeding edge of acceptability (and had a backup because I was sure he’d say “no.) He said “yes”, but changed it slightly until I hit 5th level, when it would function in all its glory. What a great solution!
I’ve learned a lot from him in a short time as a DM. I’ve been a DM on and off for 27 years. I realize that there is still a lot for me to learn about DMing, and some of it will come at the hands of DMs who choose to be competitive.
.-= anarkeith´s last blog ..Dungeons and Dragons 4e Encounter Planner =-.
Am I going bald in that picture?
Fantastic article! I agree whole heartedly. It’s such a blast to play with a GM who isn’t out to get the party, but is looking forward towards the parties, or players, “moment in the sun”.
I’ve played many games and I must say, those are the GM’s you remember as the years go by.
And Dixon, I would love to be one of your players.
Thanks for the great article and yes, let’s see part two.
Luven Lightfingers
I’m use a completely similar DM style. I believe it is my job to make the characters and players feel cool and awesome about what they achieved or attributed to the story.
This doesn’t mean i’m a soft touch on them, and characters will often die. Especially when the rogue storms a room full of trolls on his own, but at the end of the day i’m always asking myself how can i make my players: a, enjoy themselves and b, say the words ‘that was great’ or ‘my character is awesome’.
I personally believe that as DM it is you position to guide the story by empowering your players not opposing them.
Great Article
Scott
Like Micah, I sometimes talk like I’m a DM out to get my players as a bit of playfulness or to push them to be more involved, but generally I am extremely happy to see the PCs come out victorious and really enjoy how they often ruin my plans or completely destroy an encounter.
I agree that there is probably more to discuss on this topic, and hope you’ll write a continuation for us sometime soon!
A great article, as always.
My look at “winning the game”. Back in the 80s, I introduced AD&D to so many people, we have a few new players every week at the table, and new one kept coming to see what we were doing. Only a handful stayed for long, and most of the ones leaving said the same thing “Boring, you couldn’t win!”. The most memorable player was this guy, that you could see what weekend we got him to the AD&D table, in the police records, as he had no more arrests or report from that day. He stayed until he moved to the other side of the world, literally. So, not everyone is suited for cooperative play, many want to win, alone, poisoning their fellow friends to get the loot them self, I think that’s why playing evil is so huge among the younger players.
Being the “cooperative DM”, and I’ve been that for the past 30+ years, I see my place at the table as the one who will help the players drive the story, not the one that will by any means stop them from doing that.
But, I always think that making stupid things will render your character dead. If someone jumps of a cliff trying to establish that this ring he just found really is a ring of feather falling, and it is not, will render the character very dead, just like Darwins survival of the fittest.
But if the players do the best they can, doing things right and smart, but still lining up 1s on the table, round after round, the game has to still be fun, same goes for players lining up 20s. If someone kills or solves everything all the time, not leaving anything to the rest of the PCs as he/she make critical after critical, you still need to feed the other players their share of fun.
So, my bottom line is, keep the table fun, for everyone.
.-= Totte Alm´s last blog ..Pimp your market – part eight =-.
@Micah: Fully embracing the hated baddie role is an intriguing idea, but I just don’t think I’m mature enough to keep it all in fun. I have been bolted together with an ALL-competitive or NO-competitive nature (sort of a binary system), so once I start acting bad, I’m pretty sure my game will BECOME bad.
As for the cheating, I’ve also been blessed with a group of thoroughly, annoyingly honest players. It’s those moments when they need a particular die roll (third strike on a death save, gotta get this hit to end the desperate battle), when I almost wish they’d do a little fudging to yield a happier ending.
@greywulf: You’re absolutely right about being “forgotten” as a GM. It’s what I meant when I wrote about the impartial, or more accurately, invisible hand. I love the line about being “nothing more than the physics that holds it all together.”
@Siskoid: Surrendering control (even a little) to a player’s knowledge or expertise is a wonderful and terrifying proposition. It requires a vast amount of humility to come right out and declare, “This is something I don’t know, and even worse, something you know better than me.”
@Quasi-Human: Granted, it’s entirely my own limited perception, but it feels like DM vs. Player scenarios would work really well in one-off games and not-so-well in campaigns. It just seems like it would become exhausting to always run inside an Olympic-level competition. Of course, you make a good point about communication, where you can lay out right at the beginning: “This is the kind of game I’m planning.”
@Matt Goodwin: Thanks for the read! As for Part 2, I thought it was getting a little bloated as it hit 900 words, and am not too sure what I would follow up with. Of course, maybe I’ll be beaten senseless by inspiration and discover there’s a lot more gold to mine here.
I love the “spit in YOUR FACE” moments, and treasure every one of them. Those are times when you know the story took hold of the players’ throats, and they are totally captured by it.
@anarkeith: Isn’t it gorgeous when you get the perfect antagonistic players’ DM? I can count the number of times I’ve experienced that on ONE FINGER. Even when it felt like the circumstances were running against us, the DM always came off as totally objective. He wasn’t a cheerleader, he wasn’t a Snidely Whiplash. He was just there, telling a story that included all of us.
@juan: Are you seriously in that picture?
@Luven: Thanks! It’s funny how reluctant some DMs are to give those sun moments, as though they were coming out of the guy’s personal bank account. I’m not suggesting a constant shower of adulation, easy combats, and magic items (honestly, who wants that???), but what about that one glorious instant where the player really feels heroic?
@Scott: Yes, absolutely. You have it exactly right. Heroic Easy. Where’s the fun in a lack of challenge, or more importantly, a lack of danger and consequences? If you decide to commit to a non-competitive game, one of the hardest parts is going to be to remain truly objective… letting that silly rogue die under the hands of the trolls, for instance. By the way, Danger & Consequences is a good name for a rock band.
@Bartoneus: It’s quite a step to take, celebrating the players’ victories, even at the loss of your brilliantly constructed encounter. I just have to constantly remind myself of what it’s like on the other side of the screen. It’s scary out there. I might be putting up a brave front, scoffing at the critical hit against my little halfling, shrugging about having to use my last healing surge, but in fact, I’m terrified. The DM might be silently cursing himself for only putting 6 kobold minions in this room, and all I’m seeing is a half-dozen opponents which might–*gulp*–kill me.
@Totte Alm: I’ve definitely seen the games where the PCs turned on each other, looting a fallen comrade instead of bandaging up wounds, abandoning the group at the moment of highest need. It breaks my heart, both as a player and DM. “Aren’t we all in this together?” But no, that’s not why that one player games. And that’s fine… for him.
I like your example of the person testing the ring by jumping off the cliff, and I’m really, REALLY hoping that’s just an outrageous, fabricated example. Nobody in your game actually did that… right?
@Dixon: No, no one have ever done that, but I’ve seen thing close to that. The best one ever was one of my more experienced players, who, in character of a opportunistic rogue, when the party was to rest in a room in a dungeon, said to everyone “I’ve check that door and no one can come through it.” (in a room with two doors), so they rested for the night.
They survived, but they got pretty beaten up, when the monsters entered from both doors at the same time, with only one person holding guard, the rest sleeping with armor off (only leather on).
A long time ago, I realized I was not playing a game against my players, I’m playing a game with them.
It is my job to reflect the world around them, and to create the proper reaction of the world to their actions, without pulling the punches to affect their expectations.
And dometimes they are not cooperative within the inside of the game, and that’s fine. Some play evil characters, and that’s a lot of fun.
I run a very low HP, very deadly game, and it is too easy to kill them. It becomes ‘our game’ as soon as they roll up a character. It needs to dissapoint me when they fail, I need to share their triumphs when they succeed, I need to feel pride with them as they grow as characters and players.
I have 1 player I have kept for 33 years. I have 2 more I have kept for 27 years. I have another bunch all about 6-10, and a waiting list.
It is our game. I am lucky to have each and every one of them.
.-= LordVreeg´s last blog ..added The Steel Libram of steel sile =-.
My character jumped off a cliff once.
I had a Ring of Air Elemental Control, and part of its powers was the ability to Fly. Well, earlier I had taken it off and lent it to the cleric for a particular tactical operation involving dragons and flying heal spells, and I had forgotten to get it back.
When presented with a VERY high cliff, I stated loudly and proudly, “I AM GOING TO END IT ALL!!” and jumped off.
The next 15 minutes were spent with the DM figuring out whether I actually hit the ground before the cleric caught me, whether there was any associated damage to his catching me (the Gwen Stacy effect), and the rest of the players laughing hysterically.
It became a code phrase for exceptional stupidity – “I may have walked blindly into that obvious trap, but at least I didn’t shout ‘I AM GOING TO END IT ALL’ “.
These things DO happen. They happen to ME, but they do happen. And sometimes, it becomes part of the legend of the game.