Is Keep on the Borderlands a Linear Adventure?

In this Reddit thread, I had a conversation with one Chojen. In case the argument was at all unclear to others, I am going to take the unusual step of diagramming it out. In this case RC is myself, and CH is Chojen. By diagramming the argument out, I hope to illustrate the logical (or illogical) connections involved.

RC: Specifically, adventures were designed so that encounters, or series of encounters, occurred in a specific order to facilitate leveling expectations.

CH: Aren’t all modules that span multiple levels designed that way regardless of edition or even system?

RC: No.

This is a function of the steepness of the power curve. An AD&D 1e adventure could span multiple levels in its intended PC range and not assume leveling at all. An old school adventure can span multiple levels, assuming leveling, but leave it up to the players to determine when they are willing to enter deeper/more dangerous areas. For a long time, player decisions determining encounter order was the norm for D&D.

CH: I only have personal experience with 3.0/3.5 onwards but even in those editions you were told at the beginning of the module what level players were expected to be at the end of it and the way it got you there was by having the design of the dungeon/progression of the adventure have you face enemies in a specific order. In Barrow of the Forgotten King for example you start facing a small pack of wolves and worgs and low level undead to fighting big encounters with multiple NPC's with character levels along with their henchmen. The whole module you're moving through this excavated tomb and there isn't really a way to navigate ahead of most of the lower level encounters.

Do you have an example of a module having the option to navigate to the hard stuff before intended?

RC: Take a look at module B2 (The Keep on the Borderlands) for Basic D&D. This module has no intended order of play. Closer caves are easier, but there is nothing stopping PCs from heading into more difficult territory immediately. The players, not the DM, determine the order in which encounters occur. This was once so much the expectation of play that the 1e Player's Handbook warns players that the DM may attempt to trick them (through sloping passages, etc.) into a more dangerous area before they are ready.

B2 was intended as an introductory module to teach both players and DMs how to engage with the game. Players starting at level 1 would be level 3-4 before exhausting the challenges presented.

Starting with Dragonlance, and becoming more prevalent though 2e until being codified in 3e, an idea arose that the order of encounters was important, and, eventually. there was a shift in the original idea that the PCs were exploring a world where they were responsible for deciding what risks they would take to the DM presenting a story where the DM became responsible for encounter order.

Once the DM became responsible for choosing which encounters the PCs would face, it became important that those encounters were "fair". Modern gaming's obsession with encounter balance is an outcome of this. In early gaming, if Eric the Cleric died, that was Eric's players fault. Now, if Eric the Cleric dies, that is the DM's fault.

Almost every problem in modern gaming arises from that shift. DMs feel the need to fudge because they are responsible for the encounters. The idea that DMs, rather than players, are responsible for pacing is a direct result of games that arise from DM, rather than player, choices. Long prep times arise from balance concerns, and godawful long combats arise, at least in part, from trying to balance encounters on the DM's side and offer at least some meaningful choices to the players.

You need to go back to see what gaming can be. I would suggest that looking at Basic and 1e adventures is a good thing, but you need to take into account that 1e tournament adventures have a more linear style to facilitate tournament scoring. IMHO, Barrow of the Forgotten King is the worst example of linear adventure design that I know.

It might not be for you, but I am a strong advocate of that original game philosophy. Enabling real player choice is, to my mind, the greatest strength of RPGs, and the most obvious thing they do far better than video games.

The above lays the groundwork, as well as the initial argument. From hereon in, I am going to separate out the threads of the argument rather than posting them sequentially. If you wish to go back and read the original sequence, follow the link at the beginning of this post.

Thread One: RC: [M]odule B2 (The Keep on the Borderlands)…has no intended order of play.

CH: I'm reading through it now and regarding the ability for players to go off course you're right but the manner in which you're describing PC's just veering off course is the same in every module, even the modern ones. Modules don't generally have walls, they have guardrails that you can hop over. Even in my example Barrow of the Forgotten King if the PC's took the insane step of just tunneling straight down in the dirt adjacent to the crypts and popped out in the final chamber with the Yuan ti they can skip to the end. The Design of the module heavily influences going in a linear fashion but there are ways to circumvent them if the party really tries.

RC: For the love of Crom, no one ever said that players couldn't find "totally insane" ways to circumvent heavily linear modules. That shifts the goal posts onto another field entirely. You've gone from "Do you have an example of a module having the option to navigate to the hard stuff before intended?" to "In any module, you can navigate the the hard stuff before intended if you try hard enough", which has nothing to do with the original point.

CH: My point with the tunneling in Barrow of the Forgotten King was to contrast it with your example of Keep on the Borderlands and show that just because you can go in a different way doesn't mean the module isn't guiding you along a planned trajectory. In Keep on the Borderlands the opening background for the module says that you're there because you've heard about the caves of chaos. The other major encounters which are beyond the players are behind natural obstacles that the players have no reason to go to because again their main goal and the reason they're here (the caves) is literally on the road from the keep. In that module the players have no reason to just randomly veer off the road and bushwack through the forest or ford the river to get to the more challenging encounters like the Raider Camp. You are very clearly meant to go to the caves of chaos and enter the lower levels of the caves to fight Kobolds and Giant rats before progressing to the harder stuff.

RC: And in your various responses you showed a clear understanding that Barrow is designed that way. You seem to have a hard time understanding that Keep is not. The caves are not "literally on the road"; they are 2-3 squares from the road in forest that is described as dense.

CH: And the caves are 100 feet tall at the highest level. Each square is only 100 yards long, at 1000 feet a 100 foot high cavern complex is pretty hard to miss.

[EDIT: I feel it is fair to point out here that the ravine the caves are located in are part of a general rise in elevation. If anything, the players might check the area because where the ravine is located the land is not rising so steeply from the level of the road. The caves are not a 100-foot high cave complex, but much smaller openings in the ravine, as anyone with access to B2 can easily see. The nearest (low) caverns are about 500 yards from the road through dense foliage. The highest caves in the clearest part of the system are some 800+ yards from the road, and, again, trees do not have to be 100 feet high to obscure small openings at a distance, if the ravine can even be seen.]

RC: You are not "meant" to go to the easier caves first; you are advised to. Nothing prevents you from doing otherwise, and in my more than four decades experience with this adventure, it is not at all uncommon for players to tackle harder areas first. It is also not at all uncommon for players (who do not know the caves are near the road) to stumble into another encounter first.

Yes, players can fight against linear design. No, that does not make the design any less linear.

Yes, there are ways to approach non-linear design which are better than others. No, that does not make them linear.

CH: I'm reading through keep on the Borderlands right now and it honestly seems the same way. There are other things you can do but you really have to go out of your way to get to them. The Lizardmen Mound, the Raider Camp, and the Spider's Lair are all across the river while the Hermit is deep in the woods. The Caves of Chaos are literally on the road and there is zero chance of wandering monsters unless you're within 6 squares of one of those listed encounters. It's 100% corralling you towards the caves, even in the notes it says the players receive advice to "stay at the beginning of the ravine and enter the lower caves first" The guardrails are lower here but they're definitely still there.

CH: As far as I know no one at the Keep is aware of any of the other encounters and with the natural obstacles in their way (dense forest or huge river) why would they end up anywhere but the caves? You can choose to go to the upper caves and potentially fight the stronger monsters but you are very clearly intended to go through the lower caves first and level up before facing the higher ones. Even if you can go out of order, imo the adventure 100% is specifically designed so that encounters, or series of encounters, will occur in a specific order to facilitate leveling expectations.

RC: [Y]ou are somehow interpreting the players having context for their choices as "guardrails". Having context to attempt to determine the level of risk you will face =/= the GM determining the order of encounters.

Yes, the Caves are indeed the main adventure site. Yes, the closer ones are easier, and the DM is advised to give the players enough information to make good choices. But the players are making that choice, not the GM.

CH: Just because you have the option to do otherwise doesn't mean there isn't a very clear intent for the players to fight the lower caves first.

[EDIT: At this point, I think it is pretty fair to point out the obvious:

CH: I only have personal experience with 3.0/3.5 onwards but even in those editions you were told at the beginning of the module what level players were expected to be at the end of it and the way it got you there was by having the design of the dungeon/progression of the adventure have you face enemies in a specific order.

CH: Do you have an example of a module having the option to navigate to the hard stuff before intended?

CH: Just because you have the option to do otherwise doesn't mean there isn't a very clear intent for the players to fight the lower caves first.

When PCs set out in search of the Caves of Chaos, they have no idea which direction they are from the Keep. The river is indeed an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. PCs which head north looking for the caves head directly toward the hermit, and this has happened in more than one game that I have run. It is unlikely, but possible, to encounter the lizardmen without fording the river if you are going southwest from the hill south of the caves, toward the river. Why would you assume the caves were near the road? Maybe, if you have only played modern games you would assume that things are placed to make them easy to find.

It is absolutely true that there can be a clear intent that X follows Y, even where there is an option otherwise, but simply making the assumption of that intent is dead wrong.]

Thread Two: RC: Closer caves are easier, but there is nothing stopping PCs from heading into more difficult territory immediately.

CH: I'm reading through keep on the Borderlands right now and it honestly seems the same way.

RC: Worth reading Melan's article here: https://www.therpgsite.com/design-development-and-gameplay/melan-s-dungeon-layout-article/

If that doesn't help explicate linear vs. non-linear for you, nothing I can say is likely to do so.

[EDIT: In the article, Melan creates a map of the choices of route available to PCs in the Caves of Chaos, and then compares those choices to other dungeons in a similar way. If you can read that and imagine that the Caves of Chaos offers only linear choices, like Barrow of the Forgotten King, nothing anyone can say will ever convince you otherwise. In fact, if you are going to either read this post or Melan’s article, you are better off reading Melan’s article!]

CH: There are other things you can do but you really have to go out of your way to get to them. The Lizardmen Mound, the Raider Camp, and the Spider's Lair are all across the river while the Hermit is deep in the woods. The Caves of Chaos are literally on the road

CH: and there is zero chance of wandering monsters unless you're within 6 squares of one of those listed encounters.

RC: I imagine you are thinking of this:

Nothing will bother the party when camped outdoors, unless they are within six squares of a numbered encounter area. For each square they are within the six square range there is a 1 in 6 chance that the monsters there will seek them; so at 6 squares there is a 1 in 6 chance, at 5 there is a 2 in 6, at 4 there is a 3 in 6, at 3 there is a 4 in 6, at 2 there is a 5 in 6 and at I square a 6 in 6 - automatic encounter. Treat otherwise as a normal encounter.

Which is fine, except (1) the players don't know when they are near an encounter area, and (2) nothing is said about daylight hours.

CH: They don't need to know because of how far and unlikely they are to be near an encounter location. The tallest part of the caves are 100 feet high, given each square is only 100 yards, the caves are 100% visible from the road. It's 100% corralling you towards the caves

[EDIT: It is really hard to read that as anything other than trolling.

As mentioned earlier, the ravine the caves are located in are part of a general rise in elevation, and the ravine is located after 200-300 yards of dense woodland. The caves are not a 100-foot high cave complex, but much smaller openings in the ravine, the nearest (low) caverns being about 500 yards from the road through dense foliage.

I have a hard time believing anyone could actually conclude “the caves are 100% visible from the road. It's 100% corralling you towards the caves” in good faith.]

[Another Edit: If the PCs have no idea where the caves are, they have no reason to follow the road. The hermit and the bandits are much closer than the caves but, as Chojen points out, the bandits are across the river, making the hermit encounter more likely. As a point of fact, I have had several groups encounter the hermit first throughout the years, so this jibes with my experience.)

RC: It is definitely true that the caves are easier to find, but they are near the road, not on it, and there is forest between the caves and the road. They are not literally on the road. They are literally within 2-3 squares of the road. The author didn't want to make "find the adventure site" too tedious, but PCs are not "corralled".

CH: They don't need to know because of how far and unlikely they are to be near an encounter location. The tallest part of the caves are 100 feet high, given each square is only 100 yards, the caves are 100% visible from the road.

RC: Not according to the adventure, which clearly has the caves/ravine visible when you pass through the forest:

The forest you have been passing through has been getting more dense, tangled, and gloomier than before. The thick, twisted tree trunks, unnaturally misshapen limbs, writhing roots, clutching and grasping thorns and briars all seem to warn and ward you off, but you have forced and hacked your way through regardless. Now the strange growth has suddenly ended - you have stepped out of the thicket into a ravine-like area. The walls rise rather steeply to either side to a height of about 100’ or so - dark, streaked rock mingled with earth. Clumps of trees grow here and there, both on the floor of the ravine and up the sloping walls of the canyon. The opening you stand in is about 200’ wide. The ravine runs at least 400’ west (actually 440’) to where the western end rises in a steep slope. Here and there, at varying heights on all sides of the ravine, you can see the black mouths of cave-like openings in the rock walls. The sunlight is dim, the air dank, there is an oppressive feeling here - as if something evil is watching and waiting to pounce upon you. There are bare, dead trees here and there, and upon one a vulture perches and gazes hungrily at you. A flock of ravens rise croaking from the ground, the beat of their wings and their cries magnified by the terrain to sound loud and horrible. Amongst the litter of rubble, boulders, and dead wood scattered about on the ravine floor, you can see bits of gleaming ivory and white - closer inspection reveals that these are bones and skulls of men, animals, and other things...

CH: Pretty sure that's from the pov of you at ground level while your vision is obscured by the tree line. On the flat ground near the road/approaching it you'd have a clear view of at least the rock formation.

[EDIT: I think that I’ve made my point about the caves being visible from the road – assuming that the road is even the first thing you follow – fairly clear by now. It is abundantly clear that the adventure was not intended to be an exercise in frustration. You are intended to be able to find the caves. On the other hand, neither are the caves “100% visible from the road” or the module “100% corralling you towards the caves”.]

Thread Three: RC: The players, not the DM, determine the order in which encounters occur.

CH: even in the notes it says the players receive advice to "stay at the beginning of the ravine and enter the lower caves first"

RC: [P]layers may receive advice to tackle the closer/lower caves first, but they do not have to follow it. Nor is advise always useful; if they trust the evil cleric in the Keep or decide that "Bree yark!" is goblin-language for "We surrender!" they could be in trouble.

[Y]ou are somehow interpreting the players having context for their choices as "guardrails". Having context to attempt to determine the level of risk you will face =/= the GM determining the order of encounters.

Yes, the Caves are indeed the main adventure site. Yes, the closer ones are easier, and the DM is advised to give the players enough information to make good choices. But the players are making that choice, not the GM.

Chojen goes on to say: “So again, the entire point of everything I've ever said was in service to replying to the line from your original post:

Specifically, adventures were designed so that encounters, or series of encounters, occurred in a specific order to facilitate leveling expectations.

None of that has anything to do with choice, more about how the encounters you play and face as a player are generally tailored to the level they're at. Even in Keep on the Borderlands the insanely hard encounters that you can walk into immediately in the caves like the Ogre or Bugbears aren't outside the realm of possibility for a party of 6-9 level 1 adventurers to take on and defeat.”

And, again we go back to:

This is a function of the steepness of the power curve. An AD&D 1e adventure could span multiple levels in its intended PC range and not assume leveling at all. An old school adventure can span multiple levels, assuming leveling, but leave it up to the players to determine when they are willing to enter deeper/more dangerous areas. For a long time, player decisions determining encounter order was the norm for D&D.

We don’t have to worry about “the insanely hard” encounters, because the power curve is shallow enough that “the caves like the Ogre or Bugbears aren’t outside the realm of possibility for a party of 6-9 level 1 adventures to take on and defeat.”

But, outside of that, when you look at the map to the Caves of Chaos, the really difficult caves – the temple and the minotaur, can be entered first if you are so inclined. The order of encounters is not up to the GM; it is up to the players. Even those encounters, because of the shallower power curve, might be surmountable. I played KotB before I ran it, and the first cave I entered was the minotaur’s. And we defeated the beast, although not without sacrifice.

You are not "meant" to go to the easier caves first; you are advised to. Nothing prevents you from doing otherwise, and in my more than four decades experience with this adventure, it is not at all uncommon for players to tackle harder areas first. It is also not at all uncommon for players (who do not know the caves are near the road) to stumble into another encounter first.

CH: The original comment I responded to was:

Specifically, adventures were designed so that encounters, or series of encounters, occurred in a specific order to facilitate leveling expectations.

The Keep on the Borderlands fits that definition to a T.

RC: You clearly are just trolling here.

A bit about the goalposts.

(1) [M]odule B2 (The Keep on the Borderlands)…has no intended order of play.

(2) In B2, closer caves are easier, but there is nothing stopping PCs from heading into more difficult territory immediately.

(3) In B2, the players, not the DM, determine the order in which encounters occur.

(4) [Modern D&D] adventures [are] designed so that encounters, or series of encounters, occurred in a specific order to facilitate leveling expectations.

None of these goalposts have moved.

In conclusion, by untangling the threads of this discussion, I hope to make it clearer to the reader. Keep on the Borderlands is not a linear adventure.

 

Context and Player Responsibility

I was involved in a recent reddit thread, which was related to a situation where a GM allowed a vampire (I presume PC) to be murdered as the other PCs stood around in shock and did nothing. I am of the opinion, unequivocally, that the GM did nothing wrong in the situation as described. 

The gist of it was this: The PCs decided to intimidate a group that they didn't realize were expert vampire hunters. Then they decided to threaten them with their vampire friend. Although the details are not given, I picture the result like an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer while the other players stood by and did nothing. The GM then expressed regret that they didn't make the consequences/context clear enough to the players before they decided to act rashly.

I have written a long piece about Context, Choice, and Consequence, which you can find here (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). There is no doubt that the GM's job is to provide context for choices, but the question is: Whose job is it to determine if there is enough context to make a choice?  In other words, if the players make assumptions about the situation, is it up to them to check their assumptions, or is it up to the GM to ensure that their assumptions are correct?

I argue that this is part of the players' game. A role-playing game contains both informed and uninformed decisions. It is not always easy to tell which is which (which is why rumor tables often contain false or misleading information). Part of play is trying to figure out how much you know. There is a reason why divination spells exist.

There is also a big difference between an informed decision that is a sort of "devil's choice" (hazards all ways) and one where there is clearly a "right choice". If there is a "right choice", and the players uncover it through their actions, then finding it and utilizing it is their victory. If there is a "right choice" and the GM warns them every time they choose something different, then the players might as well not play through those events. The GM can just narrate the choice they are "supposed to" make and move on. In short, providing this sort of context is just another form of railroading, which removes agency from the players involved.

So, yes, a lot of this post is just my Reddit comments with slight reworking or additions. Here we go.

If you want the players to learn that thuggish tactics work unless you tell them otherwise, by all means make sure that you telegraph when they should tread lightly. If you want the players to learn to think before acting, continue to allow the natural consequences of ill-considered action to occur.

It is not the GM's job to make sure that the players understand who any particular NPCs are. It is the players' job. The GM's job is to ensure that the means to figure it out exist.

This is no different than their being thuggish in their tactics and not helping their friend. It isn't the GM's job to adjust things to their tactics. It is their job to adjust their tactics to what they are facing.

Now, there were some disagreements, as happens. In particular, the claim was made that this position encouraged murderhoboism and harbors mismatched game expectations. 

Muderhoboism

Players being required to think before they act are not encouraged to be murderhobos. Quite the opposite. Allowing players to assume that they can simply murder anyone they meet  encourages murderhoboism.

The GM is under no obligation to tell the players which NPCs they can successfully murder and which they cannot before combat begins. In fact, doing so reinforces murderhoboing. I don't know if that can be overstated.

Mismatched Game Expectations

Likewise, mismatched expectations are a result of expecting the game milieu to adapt to you, rather than expecting play to adapt to the situations you encounter.

This doesn't assume that the players and the GM will come to the same conclusion about a specific situation. It assumes that it is the player's responsibility to draw conclusions and act accordingly. What the GM wants, does not want, or expects has nothing to do with it. If the players come up with a way to completely and utterly defeat what the GM had imagined was going to be a major challenge - good for them! We will discuss this again in reference to player agency later.

Likewise, it is the player's responsibility to seek out information. It is not the GM's responsibility to hand it to them on a platter. Not surprisingly, if a player doesn't realize that committing murder has consequences, the root cause is either

(1) the GM never enforces rational consequences, or

(2) the player really isn't thinking things through.

In case (1), yes, the GM is to blame. Because consequences are not "obfuscated"; they are pretty direct. Otherwise it is entirely on the players involved.

The GM might want to ensure that he communicated that a chasm was 100' across before the thief tries to jump across it, but the GM is not obligated to remind the thief that they can't make that jump. That decision is made by the player. Not pointing out that the thief cannot possibly make that jump (barring magic or some unusual circumstances) is not obfuscating information, and it is not failure to communicate.

The disagreement is not about whether or not the players know there will be consequence; it is about whether or not they should know what those consequences will be before they act.

If you are playing a traditional role-playing game, you can examine things like the combat rules to know how absurd it would be to expect fully informed decisions. If you decide to attack, you do not know whether or not you will hit until you roll. You do not know how much damage you do (if you hit) until you roll (in most games). The game itself is designed to prevent you from knowing the outcome.

(Including the GM. They may know AC, attack modifiers, damage range, hit points, etc., but they are not omniscient. They don't know how things will play out until the dice hit the table - in some games moreso than in others!)

The same thing goes for skill checks. Checking for traps does not necessarily mean finding traps. Trying to climb a wall does not mean that you will even be able to start, let alone offer a guarantee that you will not fall.

The GM's job is to provide the context for choices made by the players. The players' job is to make choices (including seeking out more context). The GM then determines the consequences of the choices (either through die rolls or some other method), creating the new context for the next set of choices.

It is, emphatically, not the GM's job to determine whether or not the players understand the situation outside of information their characters have. It is the job of the players to decide how much context they need. If they feel they do not have enough context, the game is full of ways to gain more. Asking questions and proceeding cautiously is just the most obvious.

None of this means that the GM cannot add context without player input; but it is emphatically NOT unfair if the GM does not.

The GM does not have to remind you that a dungeon might have traps, or that your roll to check for them might have failed, or tell you that opening the door will release a spear trap that might kill you.

I am not a child. I do not need you to hold my hand.

Player Agency

If the GM believes that players need their hands to be held, and does not enforce rational consequences for player choices, then that GM will need to warn about consequences, repeatedly and often.

On the other hand, if the GM believes that their players do not need to have their hands held, then enforcing consequences for decisions allows the players to take responsibility for their own actions, for good or ill.

Both are self-fulfilling propositions. The first GM will need to continue hand-holding; the second GM will not. In both cases, it is the actions (or lack thereof) of the GM that sets expectations for the players. Of course players are going to be shocked if the GM holds their hands again and again and suddenly does not. Of course the players are going to assume that their might be consequences before they act if they have encountered that in the past.

I am not saying that one group of players is better than the other. I am saying that the GM of the first group is artificially preventing their players from reaching their full potential. Literally, the GM is robbing the players of agency by ensuring that their choices align with the GM's expectations before they can be resolved.

If, as a player, I said I tried to open a chest, and the GM stopped me and told me that it might be a mimic, then when I failed to search the room stopped me and told me that I might be missing some treasure or a secret door, I would not want to keep playing in that game. The player gets to make decisions, and the player owns the consequences for those decisions, for good or for ill. So what if I missed the treasure? So what if the mimic killed me? At least the outcome was based on the choices that I had made.

And, maybe next time, I would prod a suspicious chest with a 10-foot pole before opening it. Or maybe I would defeat the mimic against all odds, or be able to open a dialogue with it. And, if so, or if I found that treasure or secret door, the victory would be mine. Because my choices mattered. Because my reading the situation and realizing that I needed more context mattered. I am actually playing the game.

Paradoxically, the GM who prevents you from failing also prevents you from succeeding. After all, success is only success because failure is possible. The GM who prevents you from making bad choices by layering on information until you make the choice they want you to is really just playing your character for you.

In the end, that isn't why we play these games, is it?

What the Players and the GM Know

Some people will argue that the players only know what the GM tells them. This is patently untrue in most game systems.

Unless the world/system is completely different, the players know that there will be trees, and horses, and rabbits, and a sky. They know that there will be people, and that those people will usually behave to one degree or another like people behave.

They will know that stabbing a creature with a sword does not generally improve its health. They will know, from the rules, what kind of creatures they might encounter (at least to some degree), how magic or technology works (at least to some degree), etc.

They will have a basic understanding of gravity and other laws of physics, from their own experience and from the rules. A PC might be able to survive a greater fall than would be likely in the real world, or defeat creatures in single combat that one would not expect a real person to succeed against, but the rules will make these things clear...or at least clearish.

If you can buy a sword, that not only implies that swords exist, but that creators of swords exist, and that sellers of swords exist. Indeed, the players know a great deal about the world before they sit at the table for the first game session.

They know the general picture. What they do not know are the details. Some details they will learn as they go on. Some will remain forever hidden. Some the GM will tell them upfront ("Beyond the door is a 30-foot square room with a chest near the center of the room") and others they must discover through their actions (the secret door in the far wall, the treasure buried beneath a loose flagstone, that the chest is a mimic).

Likewise, the GM is not omniscient. Until the PCs lay their plans, and the dice hit the table, the GM definitely knows more about the situation. But no one knows how the situation is going to unfold. Some GMs will fudge die rolls and change monster hit points in order to control the outcome. I have written a lot about this topic. I don't think I need to rehash it again.

One of the joys of a swingy system like Dungeon Crawl Classics is that I never know how an adventure - or even an encounter - is going to play out. Comparing this to a "finely balanced" game that relies on GM fudging to provide the balance, and I definitely prefer the Chaos of a finely unbalanced engine of adventure!

Player Intelligence

By and large, players are not stupid, and do not need to be treated like children.

It is the hand-holding GM who imagines their players foolish, not the GM who allows them to take responsibility for themselves. Players by and large adapt to the GM. If the GM hand-holds, they will adapt their strategies to take that into account. If the GM does not, they will likewise take that into account and behave accordingly.

Players are smart. They are going to play intelligently the vast majority of the time. The GM who thinks they need to handhold their players or those players will not be able to know there are consequences for rash actions is the one who imagines that they have stupid players. If your players are unable to play intelligently, it is because they are faced with a game that does not require intelligent play, or that rewards dumb play. 

That is not the fault of the players. That is firmly the fault of the GM.

Conclusion

In one video game analogy made in the reddit thread, the players are mashing buttons without trying to find out what they do beforehand, and ignoring the consequences of what mashing those buttons do. This is not the GM's fault. At all.

And the GM in the original post didn't simply decide what was "going to happen". There were plenty of opportunities for the dice or player choices to change the outcome. Again, this speaks to how the GM is not omniscient. 

Those who imagine that because the players try the "I intimidate" button and it doesn't work, they should just keep mashing it, and either the GM is supposed to tell them it isn't going to work or just make it work to match player expectations would certainly be surprised in any game I run.

The NPCs in the OP didn't just jump out of nowhere and kill the PCs. There was an interaction. There was communication. The players did not pick up on it. When it became a fight, what was happening was also communication. The players still did not pick up on it. None of that is the GM's fault.

Frankly, if the elite vampire hunters in the OP didn't do something about the PCs willfully consorting with - and threatening them with! - the undead, the GM let them off extremely lightly.

And that, maybe, is the GM's fault.

How I Roll

I have utilized several methods of rolling dice over the years. When I started the game, polyhedral dice were not even widely available, and chits were used. Eventually, cheap plastic dice appeared. You had to colour these in yourself to make the numbers legible. The 20-sider was numbered 1-0 twice, so that you coloured one side one colour, and the other side another colour. Say, red indicated 11-20, while white indicated 1-10.

Nowadays, I have a huge collection of dice, and have multiples of everything in the Dungeon Crawl Classics dice chain several times over. But the tools don't matter as much as what you do with them. So here is how I roll.

(1) Almost everything is rolled in the open. In the DCC core rulebook, Joseph Goodman gives the advice to roll the dice in the open, and I second it. You can have players who believe you are not fudging the dice without doing so, but when they see the dice fall, they know it to be true. Die rolls in the open are way more exciting than dice rolled behind a screen.

(2) Some things are still rolled behind the screen. Attempts to find traps. Attempts to locate secret doors. Basically, if the players should not know the result, the dice remain hidden.

The goal here is to create the same level of uncertainty in the players that their characters should experience. Is there a trap that we just failed to find? Perhaps we should still be cautious....

Some GMs prefer to allow the players to roll these checks, and then use a "control die", secretly rolled by the GM, to modify the player's roll, or to set the DC for the check. This gives the players an illusion of having some control over the result, but I find it unsatisfactory. First off, you are adding an extra roll for no good reason. Second, the illusion is pretty easily pierced. Third off, the results may be skewed.

To indicate what I mean by the last, consider the case where a PC has a 1 in 6 chance of noticing a hidden door. Then the GM rolls 1d6 to determine what actual number the player must roll to make that 1 in 6 chance. The odds shift. The chance of one six-sided die coming up on a "1" is 1 in 6. The chance of two six-sided dice coming up on the same number is 1 in 36.

(The struck out portion is incorrect; see comments, below.)

(3) I let the players roll damage for the monsters. First off, this ensures that I will never fudge damage to save a PC. Secondly, it gives the players a clear understanding of their opponent's damage potential - part of that context thing I am always going on about. Finally, doing so really keeps the players involved. When the GM inflicts 24 points of damage on your beloved elf, you might be tempted to blame the GM. When you are rolling the damage yourself, you begin to really hate your opponent.

Image by Tomi Tapio K from Helsinki, Finland. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

Sudden & Dramatic Reversals

He turned toward the arch — with appalling suddenness the seemingly solid flags splintered and gave way under his feet. Even as he fell he spread wide his arms and caught the edges of the aperture that gaped beneath him. The edges crumbled off under his clutching fingers. Down into utter blackness he shot, into black icy water that gripped him and whirled him away with breathless speed.

-          Robert E. Howard, Jewels of Gwahlur

Think about the best gaming sessions you’ve had. What are the things that remain strongest in your memory, the gaming stories that you tell repeatedly, or laugh about years after the events? The chances are that these stories revolve around dramatic reversals – the times where you thought you were on top just before the shit hit the fan….or you thought you were facing certain doom just before the dice tipped in your favour.

Grab just about any book on novel writing, and it will tell you the same thing – a chapter that begins with things look up should end with things taking a turn for the worse, and vice versa. Why? Because the sudden reversal is a common human experience, and dealing it speaks to the heart of our existential dilemma. No matter how good our lives may seem, there is always a reversal at the end.

Role-playing games can incorporate these dramatic reversals in several ways. Among them are:

(1) Intentional Shifts. When some precondition is achieved, the reversal occurs. For example, in 4^th Edition, when a monster became “bloodied” its new condition might change its combat statistics. In Dungeon Crawl Classics, the Death Throes of a creature might create a new creature altogether – which might even be more dangerous than the creature it originated from! One example of this occurs in my own AL 1: Bone Hoard of the Dancing Horror, where defeating the Dancing Horror triggers the creation of the Hoardling.

Consider also adventures, such as Joseph Goodman’s The People of the Pit or Michael Curtis’ Frozen in Time, where achieving the win condition of the scenario triggers a reversal that the PCs may not survive. This is nothing new. First edition module A4, In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords, ends with the eruption of a volcano that could spell the end of tardy adventurers. I feel certain that many of my readers can easily call other examples to mind.

Other “fortunes shift” triggered events occur within the context of the adventure itself. There is an excellent example of this in the first instalment of the Savage Tide adventure path. Another great example of a sudden dramatic shift in fortunes (almost certainly) occurs in Death Frost Doom.

(2) Potential Shifts. In a non-linear scenario, the layout of an adventure can include elements which can provide great weal or woe, but which only become active on the basis of the players’ choices.  A trap, a monster, or a hidden treasure may all make the difference between success and failure.  A series of the same can create a series of dramatic shifts, tracking the PC’s fortunes both fair and foul.

You will occasionally hear some wag claim that the original Basic and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons modules were intended to allow every possible XP to be gained. In other words, every monster was to be fought, and every treasure was to be gained. This is regardless of what the authors themselves said:

[I]t is quite conceivable that they could totally miss seeing a treasure which is hidden or concealed. In fact, any good dungeon will have undiscovered treasures in areas that have been explored by the players, simply because it is impossible to expect that they will find every one of them.

-          Mike Carr, In Search of the Unknown

These same wags will often express perplexity at the deviousness with which certain items of treasure are hidden: How is it even possible for the PCs to find them?

The answer, of course, is that the PC’s weren’t meant to find them, and they weren’t not meant to find them. The game – and the dramatic reversals in the game – require that the PCs either find them or do not based upon the game’s actual events. These games were not intended to be a linear “adventure path”! To set up this sort of sudden dramatic reversal, the Game Master merely need to seed his adventures with all sorts of potential boons and mayhem. Then sit back and see which the players trigger.

Panic had momentarily touched his soul at the shock of that unexpected reverberation, and the red rage of the primitive that is wakened by threat of peril, always lurked close to the surface of the Cimmerian.

-          Robert E. Howard, Jewels of Gwahlur

(3) The Devil’s Bargain. The PCs gain an item that seems harmful, and then discover a way to gain great good from it. Or the PCs gain an item that seems useful, but discover that it comes at horrific cost. There are a few items like this in D&D, and quite a few in various Goodman Games or third party DCC modules.

Note that this doesn’t always have to be an item. Dungeon Crawl Classics also does this with class abilities – you can call upon your god/patron, but then your god/patron gets to call upon you. Michael Curtis’ adventure, The Chained Coffin, includes a literal Devil’s bargain

(4) Random Results. You want to know why players pay attention to critical hits and fumbles? Because the results matter. And, unlike all of the other forms of dramatic reversals described above, this isn’t the GM playing you. This really is just pure, unadulterated luck, good or bad. Regardless of the consequences, there is a lot riding on those dice.

Through the use of dice, random tables, and similar means, a game can bring real sudden change into play. Fortunes can be made and lost. That it is not the GM, but the impersonal dice, doing this to you is a good thing.

There is a scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where Indiana Jones faces yet another thug. This thug has a sword, and it looks like another tough fight is about to begin. Then Indy draws and shoots him down. Sudden dramatic reversal right there, and one of the most memorable scenes in the movie.

The thing is, it wasn’t scripted that way. There was supposed to be a big fight. The story goes, Harrison Ford was tired from filming all day, so he drew and fired as a joke. The other actor went along with the joke. The director thought that it was brilliant, and, rather than try to enforce the lavish fight he had imagined, went with it.

Consider this in game terms. In effect, Indiana Jones gets a critical hit that ends a “tough” encounter immediately. Imagine what would happen, though, it Steven Spielberg decided to “fudge” that result, and demanded that the complex fight scene he had imagined would take place regardless. That might have been a fantastic fight scene. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, we would have lost one of the scenes we remember most from the movie.

And that is the point. Spielberg himself experienced a dramatic reversal from his own expectations, and he was wise enough to realize that this was a good thing.

May we all be so wise!

Balanced Encounters

When people talk about “balanced encounters”, they may mean one of several things – anything from creating encounters that are generally appropriate for a dungeon level (as with early D&D) to ensuring that the PCs can win every fight with an “appropriate” risk and expenditure of resources (as with the base assumptions of 3e and 4e).

What underlies this, of course, is a simple question: If the PCs fail, who is responsible?

Look back through forums focused on 3e, and you will discover all sorts of complaints about the CR system.  I have not been an aficionado of 4e, but I imagine that similar observations related to that system’s encounter budgets also occurred. The books, essentially, offer a way for encounters to be “balanced”; if the PCs fail it is either because the books failed, or the DM didn’t follow the guidelines.

The first time I encountered this was in 2e, where the DM was encouraged to fudge in order to save the PCs. In 1e, there was certainly language that suggested that the DM was allowed to do so; in 2e the suggestion was that the DM should do so. 1e’s “balance” was focused around campaign-length play and mechanisms that allowed the players to estimate their risk. A prime example of this is that, in general, the deeper one delves, the greater the treasures and the risks. This, of course, was not absolute – PCs may encounter “Monster Level” 3 monsters on the 1^st level of the dungeon.

Moreover, while these tools were available, reading the advice to players in the 1e Player’s Handbook, it is clear that players should expect the DM to try to trick them into undertaking more risk than expected. Long sloping passages that lead down to another level without being noticed, chutes that do the same (but obviously!), and traps that cut off retreat are to be expected.

In 1e, not only is managing risk the player’s job, but the DM is expected to make this difficult. Not impossibly so – the DM is not supposed to be a jerkwad – but difficult enough to push the players into upping their game.

The modern obsession with balanced encounters starts with the idea that it is the GM, not the players, who must find the balance point. In a game where the GM forces the players to dance to his tune (and thus forces encounters upon the players, ala 3e, 4e, or most “adventure paths”), it makes sense that the GM has an increased responsibility to make those encounters “fair”. Applied to all gaming, though, the idea is a nightmare. Every time you hear that the GM has “made a mistake” and has to “correct an encounter” as the reason for fudging, the idea that the GM should balance encounters is at its heart.

I do not like games where the book, or the GM, is supposed to balance the encounters. I like games in which the GM is supposed to allow enough context to exist (which does not, by the way, mean that the context simply appears without being sought out by the PCs) to allow the players to generally balance the encounters. And which allows the players to be wrong. 

Some players will "play it safe", while others will take great risks, courting disaster in order to have a chance for great rewards. That is, to me, part of the interest of the game.

Tough Love

Here is a little bit of GMing philosophy - when you play in my game, I am on your side. I really hope that you do well. I just won't do anything to ensure that you do well. Want to attempt something unusual? I will entertain what seem to be reasonable arguments. I will assign what seems like a fair chance, to me. The odds are good that, if I make a ruling, that ruling is skewed in the players' favour.

But the dice still fall where they may, and I will fudge neither rolls nor statistics nor monster behaviour to ensure either your success or your survival. I want you to succeed - I really do - but I want you to succeed in a meaningful way. That means giving your opponents the brains that they should have, and it means allowing bad things to happen as well as good. That means allowing a TPK to happen. And happen again. And happen again after that. Unless you do something to make it not happen.

When I brought this up on DragonsFoot, I was told that this was smoke and mirrors - the GM cannot both be on the players' side and act as an impartial referee. Let me rephrase that, because what I am saying is that the GM can be on the players' side and still understand the importance of refereeing impartially. Just as a player can advocate for his character fairly, without cheating. Hoping for a good outcome does not mean you screw the game in order to ensure it occurs.

If I was acting against the players, or even creating a completely impartial scenario, it would be all too easy to create situations where TPKs were inescapable. I would have a thick folder filled with the dead, and no players at the table, because, really, what would be the point? Even a "killer" dungeon like Death Frost Doom or The Tomb of Horrors is more player-friendly than a similar situation would "realistically" be.

And I play games with people I like. I feel for them when they lose a beloved character. I am happy for them when they succeed beyond hope.

I am on their side.

But I won't do anything to make them win. And the dice may not be.

And it is not always obvious to the players that I am on their side, either. It's fun when the going gets tough, and I am grinning like a hyena waiting for a wildebeest to fall. Even though I hope they find a way out, I relish the tight spot for what it is. 

These are not contradictory positions to take. Any player worth his salt relishes the dangerous moments as well. Although she might not be able to focus on her enjoyment of those moments at the time (being busy with trying to find a way to survive, or mourning the loss of a character), but those are the moments that are relived through gamer chatter days, months, and years later. 

A good GM is on the side of the players, and wants them to do well and have fun, but is not on the side of the characters. A good GM knows that pulling punches removes the value of choice from the players, just as a good GM ensures that context is available for choices, but doesn't force context on the players if they choose to ignore it/not look for it. A good GM allows the players to make choices, and allows the characters to live or die by the quality of those choices.


A GM who punishes characters when the players make good choices, or coddles the characters when the players make poor choices, is undesirable. Both remove the greatest value that the tabletop game offers over other forms of entertainment.

Some players may think they want easy victories, or even guaranteed victories, but handing crap like that out is not what someone on your side does.

Call it tough love.

Fan Expo 2014

Photos courtesy of Toronto Area Gamers

As previously mentioned, I was scheduled to run three games at Fan Expo 2014, having been asked to volunteer by the wonderful folks in the Toronto Area Gamers.

On Friday, I was scheduled to run The Imperishable Sorceress, which had been published as a Free RPG Day adventure by Goodman Games in 2013. On Saturday, I was scheduled to run The Arwich Grinder, which appeared in Crawl #9. On Sunday, I was scheduled to run The Thing in the Chimney, which was initially available as a free adventure for Christmas 2012, and then made a part of Perils of the Cinder Claws, along with a sequel adventure, by Purple Duck Games for the 2013 holidays.

Friday went well, with a TPK occurring in the cold halls of Ivrian the Unkind. The players failed to listen to Ivrian’s instructions, and the cleric attempted to invoke divine power to deal with the first demon. And failed. They also failed to obtain almost all of the treasures that could have helped them with the adventure – being initially afraid even to touch the magic sword. With very little oomph left to the group, the survivors perished when they met the waspmires on the face of the Cleft Mountain. Still, it was fun.

Saturday, I started with five players, but one was taking care of a baby. One should not take care of a baby and play in The Arwich Grinder. He bowed out when they reached the attic. Of the remaining 16 0-level PCs entering the funnel, 14 were still alive when we were warned that the room was going to close about 45 minutes before the game was scheduled to end. They had just begun to examine “Hell on Earth”, so they might not have done as well if we had continued. Still, it was amazingly impressive, as the dice showed the game’s Judge no love, and player caution prevented them from doing anything truly stupid. And it was a lot of fun. Letting the dice fall where they may, if nothing else, ensured that the players knew how exceptionally lucky their 0-level PCs really were.

Sunday, I didn’t have enough sign-ups to run through The Thing in the Chimney, but last-minute players allowed me to run for a foursome. They burned through the adventure, avoiding most of the potential combats, but all dropped when a pair of hands came from the chimney. “You are drawn up into the chimney, one by one. There are some crunching sounds. Then your boots fall into the ashes.” Lovely. Especially in contrast to the humorous tone of the rest of the scenario.

Because there was so much time left, I ruled that the fruitcake helped them (because the halfling ate it all), giving each 2d6 hit points back, and allowed them to face the Cinder Claws himself. Yes, this was a fudge – but it was also a fudge in a one-shot game, where everyone knew it was a fudge (no lying about it!) and agreed to turn the clock back. They also knew what the “real” events had been.

In the ensuing battle, two PCs dropped again before the Cinder Claws was defeated. When rolled over, after being dragged through the portal, they were discovered to be dead. A fruitcake can only do so much.

But the players had burned through the adventure so quickly that I still had half the time left. And they were asking if I had another scenario on me. Having the core rules, I had them generate three 0-level PCs each and ran them through Joseph Goodman’s The Portal Under the Stars. It was well received. In the end, two new “heroes” emerged from the adventure site, and they were the two who ran.

One of the players then asked if he could join my weekly game. This was a young gentleman who had never played DCC before, but who really liked the pace of the game. A lot of things can happen, and you don’t always know what they are going to be!

NOTES AND OBSERVATIONS

I was recognized from having run other DCC promo events in the past, which was nice.

You can, apparently, be voted MVP by the other players if you do a good job role-playing being cursed with a desire to eat human flesh.

The big draw this year seemed to be 5E, but Pathfinder retains a strong hold on the Toronto crowd. I didn’t see anyone playing older edition games, which was a bit sad.

The Goodman Games swag program continues to surprise players. I was repeatedly forced to tell people that, really, they could have that mechanical pencil, that button, those bookmarks, that graph paper, etc., because the publisher provided it to me to give away to players.

It was very kind of the Toronto Area Gamers group to invite me to run games this year, and I would certainly be willing to do so in the future. Next time, though, I will be running all-new never-before-seen material, and players willing to chance their PCs’ fates on the dice and my gentle adventure designs may be able to gain playtest credits as a result!

Fudging: I Fail My Will Save (Shoulda Fudged?)

I make two broad assertions: (1) playing with fudging is a difference in kind (not merely style) from playing without fudging, and (2) fudging is not a good solution to the problems that pro-fudging people usually claim it to solve.

In examining arguments here, I point out that there is a problem with how the discussion itself is being "fudged". I do contend that there is potential harm in fudging, and I do think that any pro-fudging position that purports to address the material honestly is going to have to address that factor.

Answering these questions demonstrates a willingness to engage honestly; it does not answer the broad assertions. It may provide data that does help examine the broad assertions, however. In a poll on Dragonsfoot, of 112 respondents, 55% prefer that their GM does not fudge (41% strongly), but 14% did say that they prefer fudging (2% strongly), so if your group consists of that 14%, and especially if your group happens to consist largely of that 2%, not fudging may harm your game, and you will have to take that into account. Those people would, undoubtedly, hate my game.

But, to the degree that the polls discussed here reflect the norm, the odds are in my favour. If Ulan's poll is reflective, and over 40% of GMs fudge die rolls, including combat die rolls, and 55% of players prefer not to have these rolls fudged, there is a large enough spread that everyone might simply line up nicely. We have no way of knowing from Ulan's data how many GMs might be suitable for that 55% of players who prefer no fudging, or especially for the 41% of players who strongly prefer no fudging, because he is not only looking at fudging in the poll, so other material (such as house rules) skew the data.

As to (1) determining what is a difference in kind (not merely style) is a subjective evaluation. Dogs and cats are both mammals, and they are both living things. They are both kept as pets. Is keeping a dog a difference in style or kind from keeping a cat? Are the animals themselves just different "styles" of mammal, or different kind? What about coyotes and wolves? Do you want to cut "kind" off at class, order, genre, or species?

This is no different than examining whether or not different editions of D&D (or related games) are different versions of the same thing, or different things. In both cases, the evaluation is subjective.

As to (2) if you are not fudging to solve the problems that pro-fudging people usually claim it solves, then the reasons why these specific claims fail shouldn't affect you. If you want to argue that pro-fudging people do not claim that they fudge to solve those problems, it is easy enough to find discussions of fudging (including in this thread) where those claims come up.

Or perhaps you take exception to the claim that choosing to accept the result of a die roll does not make you a slave to the dice?

Or do you take exception to the fact that I strongly prefer no fudging, and believe that it makes for a better game? Because I do strongly prefer no fudging, and I do believe that it makes for a better game. While it is certainly true that the type and degree of fudging are important in determining how it may affect a game, I don't believe that fudging does not affect a game. And while one may make a claim that fudging is just another form of GM fiat, and that I am okay with GM fiat in general, it does not follow that I am okay with any form of GM fiat. I would not recommend "Tiamat First" dungeon design, for instance. Nor is "I can do worse than X, therefore X is okay" a valid argument in my book.

(Obviously, I also disagree with Frank Mentzer's assertion that giving these ideas consideration is going to harm your game.  Whether you agree with me or not, thinking about these things is more likely to help your game than anything else.)

Frankly, in the series of posts (blog and forum), I should not have let myself be drawn down the rabbit-hole of ever-finer distinctions.  The point was never "Your game will suck if you fudge!" - and that is a straw man which is easy to burn.

crossposted, with slight alteration, from http://www.dragonsfoot.org/forums/viewtopic.php?f=11&t=63701&start=420#p1514721