“So any time you see a player about to do something “Showing a lack of common sense; ill-considered; unwise” it is almost universally because they don’t understand the situation well enough to predict the consequences of their actions.”
http://hackslashmaster.blogspot.com/2014/02/on-deadly-difference.html
Curious thoughts from our various GMs. I feel like this article coddles players a little too much.
Over the years I’ve noticed that most of the serious arguments between players and GMs blossom in these sorts of situations.
Players can be absolutely certain about all sorts of nonsense that doesn’t even remotely seem reasonable to me. Since I get to be God and call the shots in the end, my version wins, and the players feel fucked.
These days if I see any hint that the players do not understand the possible consequences of their actions, I do disabuse them of their false notions fairly quickly.
Unintended consequences are fair game, and I use those a lot, but if the player that X=Y, when I know it to be A, I do let them know about it. Nobody has fun realizing they weren’t smart enough to get it.
Over the years I’ve noticed that most of the serious arguments between players and GMs blossom in these sorts of situations.
Players can be absolutely certain about all sorts of nonsense that doesn’t even remotely seem reasonable to me. Since I get to be God and call the shots in the end, my version wins, and the players feel fucked.
These days if I see any hint that the players do not understand the possible consequences of their actions, I do disabuse them of their false notions fairly quickly.
Unintended consequences are fair game, and I use those a lot, but if the player that X=Y, when I know it to be A, I do let them know about it. Nobody has fun realizing they weren’t smart enough to get it.
Well, if you had told me that I wouldn’t have done it. Serious breakdowns that way. I agree Doyle Tavener.
Well, if you had told me that I wouldn’t have done it. Serious breakdowns that way. I agree Doyle Tavener.
Putting aside the fact this article is rather poorly written, the premise is something I have not encountered in years. This is probably because I play games with very simple rules and low prep. When there aren’t a lot of rules to stumble over, and when the story is emergent (as opposed to having the GM plan every goddamned hut in the village), you have a lot of freedom to just roll with what the players are doing.
A player is clearly doing Thing X because he finds it fun to do so. A good GM recognizes this, weaves it into his prep, and makes the player feel like a prescient rock star. This line of thought is reflected in one of Dungeon World’s best GM principles: “Be a Fan of the Characters.” This doesn’t mean you hand everything to the player on a platter – quite the opposite. You should fill the characters’ lives with constant, nerve-wracking danger. But then when the players take actions to get out of that danger, you need to be ready to respect their choices, and then celebrate with them afterwards, even when they fail spectacularly. This is what separates the best GMs from ok GMs.
Not to necessarily imply I am one of the “best” GMs, but here is a recent example from a session you played in, Ferrell Riley . In our last Anthology DW game, your fighting monk went toe-to-toe with a rampaging bullette. This was a bad decision from a character preservation standpoint. I knew the bullette would swallow your character whole if you flubbed it. But it was an amazing decision in terms of being true to your character and doing what you found to be fun at that moment. Unfortunately, your monk died. But here’s what made that result satisfying to everyone at the table (despite his death):
1) It was an honest result. Three flubbed rolls led to that death (which, in DW, is a lot). In the fiction, it was always a long shot that the monk could defeat the land shark, and death was a legit outcome.
2) We celebrated the character afterwards. Everyone thought it was amazing he sacrificed himself so the rest of the party could survive. We spent a few moments talking about all the awesome things the character had done. In all, it was a fitting and satisfying send-off. I felt like the monk, short-lived though he was, had earned a spot in our Hall of Great Characters. We did a similar thing when Kerry Harrison ‘s long-term barbarian character, Gorm, died. We took a good 15 minutes after the session to reflect on him. And then I went about making sure Gorm would not be forgotten – principally by incorporating his charred bones into a magical item that was important to the story.
Putting aside the fact this article is rather poorly written, the premise is something I have not encountered in years. This is probably because I play games with very simple rules and low prep. When there aren’t a lot of rules to stumble over, and when the story is emergent (as opposed to having the GM plan every goddamned hut in the village), you have a lot of freedom to just roll with what the players are doing.
A player is clearly doing Thing X because he finds it fun to do so. A good GM recognizes this, weaves it into his prep, and makes the player feel like a prescient rock star. This line of thought is reflected in one of Dungeon World’s best GM principles: “Be a Fan of the Characters.” This doesn’t mean you hand everything to the player on a platter – quite the opposite. You should fill the characters’ lives with constant, nerve-wracking danger. But then when the players take actions to get out of that danger, you need to be ready to respect their choices, and then celebrate with them afterwards, even when they fail spectacularly. This is what separates the best GMs from ok GMs.
Not to necessarily imply I am one of the “best” GMs, but here is a recent example from a session you played in, Ferrell Riley . In our last Anthology DW game, your fighting monk went toe-to-toe with a rampaging bullette. This was a bad decision from a character preservation standpoint. I knew the bullette would swallow your character whole if you flubbed it. But it was an amazing decision in terms of being true to your character and doing what you found to be fun at that moment. Unfortunately, your monk died. But here’s what made that result satisfying to everyone at the table (despite his death):
1) It was an honest result. Three flubbed rolls led to that death (which, in DW, is a lot). In the fiction, it was always a long shot that the monk could defeat the land shark, and death was a legit outcome.
2) We celebrated the character afterwards. Everyone thought it was amazing he sacrificed himself so the rest of the party could survive. We spent a few moments talking about all the awesome things the character had done. In all, it was a fitting and satisfying send-off. I felt like the monk, short-lived though he was, had earned a spot in our Hall of Great Characters. We did a similar thing when Kerry Harrison ‘s long-term barbarian character, Gorm, died. We took a good 15 minutes after the session to reflect on him. And then I went about making sure Gorm would not be forgotten – principally by incorporating his charred bones into a magical item that was important to the story.