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Back in my days as content manager for the RPGA, I used to get a lot
of emails. A lot may be an understatement. It was not unusual for 50
to 100 pieces of electronic correspondence to pour into my overworked
inbox in a day, and that's not counting the ones from folks hawking
those little blue pills or pleads from Nigerian businessmen
desperately needing to unload their cash. These were honest to gosh
emails from gamers. Gamers with question. Gamers with problems. A good
chunk of those emails came in two main forms: DMs complaining that
players were doing or wanted to do something "broken" in one Dungeons
& Dragons game or the other; and players asking permission to do
"cool" things with their characters, or to tell their DM the cool
thing they were doing was not broken.
As you can probably guess, I often received emails from two people on
opposite sides of the screen in the same playgroup. Both were cries
for help, and the solutions often proved to be deceptively tricky.
While D&D is not a competitive game, it can sometimes seem to have
competing goals. When you're the DM, it's imperative that you
challenge and sometimes even thwart the PCs. When you're the player,
it's your job to soundly thump those challenges wily DMs put between
you and the glory and gold your character so richly deserves. While
this stress creates the fun and tension of a good roleplaying session,
it's easy to lose track of the big picture. The game is really about
building heroic experiences among friends. On one end you need heroes
that stand out of the throng and who are capable of being larger than
life and achieving great feats of daring. On the other end, it's the
DM's job to make that task possible, but fantastically difficult. When
a player can't do his job, or do it as well as he would like, he
starts scouring the rules or looking for ways to make his character
cooler. Meanwhile, the DM is left lamenting "broken" rules and having
a hard time making the game as challenging as it should be.
A good dose of this is quite normal. You'll have times in your game
where a player become excited to the point of anxious to get that next
level, start the planned paragon path, or to find that magic items the
legends say that is hidden somewhere in the Citadel of Kas. And there
are times that even the best DM's plans to challenge are thwarted by a
player toy that was forgotten or underestimated. But when a player's
frustration mounts because his character can't do cool things, or your
DM becomes frustrated every session that her monsters and traps "don't
work," these are problems. Something is broken. And in times like
these, it is often the first response to limit choice, take away toys,
and clamp down on variables. But there is another way. Learn to say,
"Yes!"
Let "Yes" be Your Mantra
I don't want to sound too much like some New Age self-help guru, but I
think that most games run into problems when the sense of wonder and
surprise is leeched from the game. And usually the leech occurs when
DMs try to limit rather than expand their toolbox. How can you stop
this from happening? You really have to just tap into some childlike
wonder.
When I first discovered D&D, I can remember daydreaming for most of an
afternoon with copies of the Monster Manual and Fiend Folio on my lap,
and just being surprised and delighted with the strange variety of
creatures that were there. Yes, some were downright strange and others
were ideas that I thought were dumb . . . but I took it as a challenge
to place them in my game and have them make sense. I never dismissed
something out of hand, because frankly those books were some of my
best tools. Sure, I might gravitate toward some favorites that I used
again and again, but I had entire books of ideas to mix things up.
Consider this case in point. The cifal, also known as the Colonial
Insect-Formed Artificial Life (I'm not joking), was a critter from the
original Fiend Folio that featured a back story and a name I thought
was absolutely stupid. And I was not alone; in 2000 the cifal was
voted the stupidest Fiend Folio monster by the readers of Polyhedron
magazine. Still, this critter showed up a number of times in my game
as a swarm-of-flies devil that served Baalzebul. What did I change
about the monster? Not much, just the name and alignment. It was that
easy. My players were scared to death of the poor, stupid cifal, which
they knew as bzazels (heck, not even a vast of an improvement on the
name front, come to think of it).
The same is true if you look at monsters the other way around. Maybe
you have a monster that thematically works for you, but on the first
encounter your PCs trash it with ease. Now consider this problem: You
have a whole adventure to go and your plans included these guys
popping up more often than not. The solution? Do a quick assessment on
where the monster's deficit lies, and fix it on the fly. You can make
some kind of subtle but noticeable difference to the next encountering
of the monsters (a simple "these guys seem faster," "they shimmer with
eldritch energy," or "they are wearing better armor" will do), and let
the PCs have it. While players feel a sense of accomplishment for
beating down a group of baddies fast, that accomplishment wanes
quickly with repletion. Players want to be challenged. Oblige them by
any means necessary. Give monsters more hit points, better defenses
(usually a level raise does the trick), or maybe an interesting power
that shoves them in the right direction.
Keep this sense of wonder and flexibility in mind when deciding what
you'll allow as PC choices as well. I know there's been a some virtual
rumblings about dragonborn and some of the newer D&D races from folks
who (like myself) were weaned on Tolkien. But you have to realize that
fantasy is a language, and that languages expand and change --
especially when the language is discovered and loved by younger users.
When I was a kid, all I wanted to write, draw, and paint was the
fantasy of Moorcock, Leiber, Howard, and Tolkien . . . and of course
D&D. The adults around me told me I was wasting my time. Often,
cruelly and with much certainty, they said the flights of fantasy I
loved were dumb, or pedestrian, or childish. They were wrong.
Now the tables are turned, and I'm the adult. It wasn't so long ago
that I sat in a meeting at my other gig -- as an instructor at a local
art school -- and I sat around and listened to other instructors
complain about how the kids liked drawing all this over-the-top anime
fantasy. They called it childish, pedestrian, and a waste of time.
Guess what: They're wrong, too. What those kids are drawing is the
future of fantasy and it's coming fast. If I were you, I'd do my best
to understand it and embrace it, and go out of your way to find a fit
for it in your game world. Join the conversation instead of denying
it! One of the greatest strengths of D&D and roleplaying games as a
medium is the shared aspect of it. Sharing is compromise. Sharing is
being flexible. Sharing is saying yes. Sharing is fun!
Keeping your mind open to new wonders isn't all about picking monsters
and allowing players to have options, though. The philosophy of saying
yes is at its most powerful during actual play. In a world where
wizards can cast fireball and stop time, and rogues can scale sheer
cliffs and steal a gem the size of a dragonborn's egg right under the
steely gaze of undead guardians, there is very little a DM should say
"no" to. Sure, the blatantly impossible might be out (most the time),
and you DMs are going to have to use your best judgment when it comes
to the improbable, but everything else should be in the realm of,
"sure, and here's what you have to do." One of your best tools for
this is the skill system in D&D.
Skills, Challenges, and Yes
If you haven't noticed yet, the skill system in 4th Edition is broad
and flexible. That's on purpose. It really isn't there to strictly
limit what characters and critters can do, but to give us guidelines
for use under a very simple and reliable game mechanic -- the skill
check.
Here's just a simple, small example of what I mean. In my game, one of
the first things the PCs typically do is try to find out what they can
about new enemies with the use of Knowledge checks. They do this to
metagame a little (which I admit I encourage . . . I like to reward
play skill as well as role skill) plus they know if they roll high
enough, I give bonus information. In one game, a size Large lizardlike
creature approached, and characters trained in knowledge Nature blew
their check to identify it. The player playing the rogue asked he
could use Streetwise to recognize it. I said yes, made a significant
increase to the DC of the check, and let the rogue roll. One high roll
later, here's what I told him: "You recognize the strange lizard from
the painted sign of a tavern you often frequent. It's a basilisk. The
next time you're in town, you should commend the artist on the sign's
realistic depiction of the beast." The player's response: "Cool."
Now technically, by a strict reading of the skill system, this
wouldn't be allowed, but what's the harm in saying yes? You want to
create a more complicated matrix where a succession of checks leads
toward a more complicated goal? That's exactly what skill challenges
are there to help you design. When you do this, there is a natural
worry that you are not being as "correct" as you could be. Let that
worry melt away and remember what you are designing for. Most of you
are not writing a published adventure for Dungeon Magazine. You're not
writing a supplement. Abstract game concepts like balance and
percentile precision play second fiddle to creating a memorable and
fun game experience at the table. That's what those abstract concepts
are for anyway. They attempt to create a system that is fun, rather
than an "infinite" number of play instances. In your games, you have a
level of intimate knowledge that gamers and developers wish they could
have over that theoretical infinite number of play instances. Don't be
afraid to prioritize that very special knowledge above the letter of
the rules.
In short, let your players occasionally "outsmart" the skill system
when the inspiration (or desperation) arises. Give them a chance for
success and failure, put those DCs where you think they belong, and
even if the end result is failure, your players will feel like he can
try anything that seems reasonable (or even possible) in the game
rather than relying on the game to tell him what is reasonable (or
possible). It is that level of flexibility that makes a roleplaying
game shine over games subject to the binary tyranny of computer
programs. Be nimble, be ready, be fun. Sure, sometimes goofy things
will occur, and over time you will learn how best to say yes in your
game. But take that chance; only fun can ensue. If may feel
uncomfortable at first, but with any skill practice makes perfect.
The Mail Bag
It's that time again . . . Let's see what's in the mailbag.
Better Late than Never?
I love playing D&D, and look forward to every Saturday, when my group
gets together. My problem is that we are supposed to start at 3:00,
but we usually don't start until at least 5:00, and usually not until
6:00. My players are just always late . . . well, at least one of them
is, but even when he is not late someone else is. What can I do to get
my players around the table on time?
Wade-ing Around Wade
In these situations, the first solution is always to talk to your
players. More often than not, things like this really bother folks,
and more than one in a group, but no one brings it out in the open
because they are afraid of creating a fuss. That's a mistake. Be calm.
Be reasonable. Show some understanding, but explain to everyone (not
just the person who tends to be late), that you would like to get as
much game time as possible so you want to start the game on time. Be
open to changing the schedule. Maybe starting at 3:00 is too early, or
it's flush up against some other activity contributing to that
player's tardiness. Pushing the game start time to 5:00 may just be
the realistic solution you're looking for.
Once you've had that talk, here's another, more proactive trick to get
people around the game table on time. Keep playable copies of each
character's sheet and have each player designate a second, and maybe a
third. Start the game on time, and if a player doesn't show or is
running a little late, have the second run the character until the
player does. This accomplishes a few things. First it makes sure that
if a player is missing, his or her character doesn't just drop off the
face of your game world. Better still, it ensures that you aren't
saddled making decisions for the character (you have enough going on).
Lastly, few players are comfortable with the idea of someone else
playing their character, even their best friend. Sure they might say
they don't mind it, but they are more likely to show up on time when
the consequence for not showing up is their character's decisions are
being made by someone else.
Opposites Attract
After reading your article, "Marking Marked and Other 4e-isms", I got
some of those Alea Tools magnet markers, but they are driving me
crazy. The magnets in the tokens are so strong that adjacent
combatants keep on attracting and repelling at inopportune times. I
like the way they mark things, but man this is annoying. I wish you
would have pointed this out in the article.
Paraphrased Pete
So I call this reader Paraphrased Pete, but this is a question (or
rather a complaint) I received on our message boards about the article
in question. I've paraphrased it to fit the tone and size of the
article.
Yeah, I've encountered this too, but while it has created the
occasional comical effect, it really doesn't bother me the way it's
bugged you. Still, I see your point, and I should have pointed out
this issue in the original article. There are solutions though. One
particularly message board participant pointed out that you can place
a steel sheet under your play surface, to give a focus to the magnet's
pull. You can find them at your local hardware store, but bring some
magnets with you. I hear that sometimes aluminum sheets get mixed in
with the steel, and the former metal will not have the same effect.
Feel a little daunted by the prospect of lugging around steel sheets
to the game story or the local convention? Well, you're in luck. A
company called Dark-Platypus Studios makes a portable and flexible
magnetic receptive 1-inch gridded play map. I don't have one myself,
but I have heard some really good things about them.
Clog our Mailbox!
Your game needs saving, or you have some game saving advice of your
own? Drop us a line with the words "Save My Game" as your subject
line. Maybe next month we'll talk about your problem or feature some
bit of advice that comes from the mailbag.
You can also join the game saving conversation on our message boards,
but piping in on the discussion of DM tips and tricks. Stephen makes
it a point to visit and chat with those who agree and disagree with
him.
About the Author
Born on a stormy Christmas day, in our nation’s capital, during the
Nixon administration, the stars were definitely wrong when Stephen
Radney-MacFarland came screaming into the world. Spending most of his
impressionable years as a vagabond and ne’re-do-well, Stephen
eventually settled in the Northwest to waste his life on roleplaying
games.
Once that RPGA guy, Stephen is now a developer in RPG R&D where he
doesn’t create the traps… he just makes them deadlier. He also teaches
a class on roleplaying design for the Art Institute of Seattle,
molding the minds of young and upcoming designers. Be afraid. Be very
afraid.
Everett
non dire no ai giocatori, sfrutta le loro energie creative
di di si
se c'è un master cosi a Milano fatemi un fischio che corro !! :P
Everett
> se c'è un master cosi a Milano fatemi un fischio che corro !! :P
Mi state facendo venire voglia di comprarmi D&D ed iniziare a fare il
master di D&D.
Rob
>son pigro oltre ogni limite , mi fai un riassunto in italiano ?
"Quando lavoravo per il RPGA, ricevevo un sacco di email dai
giocatori, a volte erano giocatori che avrebbero voluto fare questo o
quello nelle loro partite e volevano consigli su come convincere il DM
che non era sbilanciato, a volte erano DM che chiedevano consigli su
come impedire che i loro giocatori facessero questa o quella cosa
sbilanciata, e a volte gli capitava che scrivessero entrambe le parti
dello stesso gruppo.
E fino a un certo punto e' normale, ma non deve diventare un problema.
D&D non e' un gioco competitivo, ma il DM ha il compito di porre i
giocatori di fronte a delle sfide e i giocatori quello di risolverle.
Ma l'obiettivo vero e' di divertirsi con gli amici. Percio' anziche'
limitare e frustrare i giocatori, il DM dovrebbe imparare a dire di
si'.
I manuali sono li' per dare idee, non per limitarle, se qualcosa non
va bene, si possono sempre fare degli aggiustamenti, cercando di
mantenere il senso del fantastico.
Sulle razze nuove: il fantasy sta cambiando, e chi storce il naso a
priori fa esattamente quello che facevano coloro che disprezzavano
Tolkien: il reazionario.
Anche le abilita' sono state riscritte semplici e ampie apposta. Non
devono essere un limite ma uno spunto. Al limite si puo' aumentare la
difficolta' del tiro del dado, ma lasciare ai giocatori la
possibilita' di fare cose al di fuori degli schemi aumenta il
divertimento globale.
Il master del singolo gruppo rispetto a chi scrive un manuale o una
rivista ha un vantaggio: conosce i suoi polli e non ha bisogno di fare
qualcosa che si adatti a tutti."
Io sono sempre stata un "master buono" nel senso che non mi e' mai
piaciuto limitare i giocatori, anche in tempi non sospetti, quando
tutte queste teorie sul GDR nemmeno sapevo cosa fossero. Non posso che
approvare!
Parvati V
--
"Cosa e' celvello? Pai non ha cosa del genele" - Pai, 3x3 occhi
UnaMoleDiDadi (TreEmme Torino): http://umdd.altervista.org/
http://parvatiquinta.blogspot.com/
Uh... a parte che prima dice una cosa, poi spende 5 righe a smentirla
(XD), il resto mi pare abbastanza giusto.
grazie mille per la traduzione !
Everett
*salva il testo*