Breaking Down the Fudge

Greg Barry writes:

Daniel-san... I will go back to the Lich example provided... If I randomly decide to roll for an encounter and the Lich comes up against a 3rd level troupe... You feel I should not reroll and let the lich slay the party ( I am nasty with monsters and those that think - will beat the party 50% of the time)... the other example I will make is an Item that they will need to move ion in the dungeon suffers fires damage ( and roll indicates its destroyed) should the game end because they can go no further

Now, letting a player fudge a roll involves less consequences and I will not allow that (I also enjoy a game of Toon and some of the best laughs come from a botched roll)

Also, if you are running a game and not telling a story, you are doing a poor job at Role Playing. I was in a marvel game at a con and the GM insisted that all players do a character pose at the table when they did a grand action... It was simple but it added so much to the role playing and drew some of the players out to really participate

A story do not have to have definite route in mind, and the story may not be what it appeared to be at the start of the play... in fact it may have transformed to a much different story then the ones the players set out on

90% of the time players do not know I have fudged a roll... the other 10% I actually announce that I fudge a roll and the players appreciate it because it means I did not wipe out the party in one roll most times...

So let's break it on down, shall we?

In paragraph #1, Greg describes a possible encounter with a lich and a 3rd level party.  I absolutely feel that the encounter should not be re-rolled, but the second half of the equation (and let the lich slay the party) does not follow.

Now, I cannot say what Greg would do, and I obviously cannot say what Frank would do, but I can tell you what I would do.  Having read the fiction that inspired the game, I know that, for example Gardiner Fox begins his Kothar stories with a lich encounter, and Kothar certainly could not beat the lich.  Without a question, the lich beats Kothar.  But Kothar is not killed, because the lich has a purpose.  And, if I was to have a lich wandering about the campaign milieu, I would know who he is and what he wants.  If I was for some reason winging it, and using generic wandering monster tables, my knowledge of Appendix N literature would come to the forefront, because it supplies many ways in which an encounter with an overwhelming force can be framed so that it does not result in a TPK or a hollow victory due to fudged dice.

The second example, "an Item that they will need to move ion in the dungeon suffers fires damage ( and roll indicates its destroyed) should the game end because they can go no further" suffers from different problems. First, it assumes a design in which the destruction of a single Item can halt all forward progress.  Second, it assumes that halting forward progress is a bad thing (if the PCs cannot move forward in the dungeon, in my game, they can do something else).  Finally, if you are in the habit of creating dungeons that Must Be Solved and that can Only Be Solved with a single Item, fudging so that the Item cannot be destroyed isn't helping anyone.  In fact, if the Item is destroyed in Dungeon #1, and maybe in Dungeon #3 as well, perhaps the players will take a little more care by Dungeon #4, and you will have some real tension about what happens with said Item.

If you keep fudging these rolls, that tension will never arise (or it will quickly evaporate when your players catch on).

Either way, though, the question remains:  Why are you rolling to determine if a result that you cannot live with comes to pass?  What is the purpose of the roll if only a success counts?  The answer is contained in the final paragraph:  "90% of the time players do not know I have fudged a roll."  The GM is attempting to create an illusion of impartiality, and he simultaneously believes that he succeeds in creating this illusion and that the players are appreciative that he is not impartial.

That may be the case, but I regard the assertion as one that should be taken with a large grain of salt.

Overall, I do not see either example as a case where the rolls should be fudged.  These are examples where the GM or players have the opportunity to "up their game".

Meeting a lich never automatically ends in a TPK, and even if combat ensues, the lich should have more than ample means to capture and/or control, to meet its own ends.  Only if the GM reduces each encounter to the shallowest possible outcome does a problem occur....and this is far from the "game that good" that Mr. Mentzer suggests includes fudging.

In the event of the single Item, now the players have a new problem to face - how to get past whatever barrier exists without that Item.  Even in a module that states "Only X can open this door", there is always a possibility of bypassing the door.  These adventures are not meant to stifle creative play, but rather to avoid rewarding a "Rinse, Spin, Repeat" cycle of using the same answers to problems encountered.  One need only read some of the early GenCon tournament reports to realize that creative play was intended to be rewarded (and, indeed, was rewarded).  At least one (G1) can be found in The Strategic Review.

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Secondarily, we have the issue of Story.

Doing a character pose is not telling a story.  When Greg writes "A story do not have to have definite route in mind, and the story may not be what it appeared to be at the start of the play... in fact it may have transformed to a much different story then the ones the players set out on" I believe that he has a very different idea of "Story" than what is being discussed in this blog:

[I]f you running a Game, then you are not telling a Story.  The Players are not telling a Story.  Story is what happens in the space between the GM and the Players.  The GM reveals the setting or stage, if you will, and the Players strut about upon it.  The Story is what happens as the Players strut about and run up against the setting.  NPCs, Big Bosses, the Environment are setting.  Players send their PCs into the setting to tear things down, to change the view, to build new structures out of the existing pieces , or to hit their heads on the  Setting.  If you want certain things to happen in your game setting and you want the PCs to do it, you are not running a Game.  You are trying to write a short story, a novel, or an epic and are using the PCs as the protagonists and it is not fair to your Players.

Emphasis mine.

You will note that the blog poster agrees that Story occurs, but that it occurs not because of the orchestration of PC reaction to events, but because of the synthesis of the setting (including NPCs and their goals) and the PCs.

It is not the function of the GM to tell the players how to run their characters.  Gary Gygax talks about this in his Insidiae, and I quote here from pages 50-51:

It should be hammered home by now that the role of a game master differs significantly from that of a fiction author. The job of the game master does not involve revealing to the players the private thoughts or motivations of NPCs and monsters, nor will a good GM dictate what the players’ characters feel or how they ought to act – because he doesn’t know that. In general, a player should not be forced to explain his character’s actions, or to justify his actions to another player even if asked, unless the character’s normal demeanor has drastically changed, or the action threatens the entire party’s success or survival. Likewise, the denizens of a campaign world are known by their actions, their natures and private thoughts kept secret by the GM – unless learned by guile in play, ripped from them by magic or torture.

Also, no single antagonist or creature should become more important to the plot than the heroes. In other words, the game master should not make any NPC absolutely central to the unfolding story, because nothing controlled by the GM is more important than the development and advancement of the PCs through their interactive play. It is apparent, then, that the game master is far removed from being a “third person omniscient narrator”. Sure, he might be omniscient in regard to the details of his chosen milieu, but because he cannot know the future actions or thoughts of the PCs, he cannot be called a “story-teller” in the fullest sense.

I used this quote in a previous, recent blog post, but it bears repeating:  "It should be hammered home by now that the role of a game master differs significantly from that of a fiction author."  If you want to argue on the basis of authority, I see your Frank Mentzer and raise you Gary Gygax.

Now, if you go through all that Gary wrote, you will discover that, on the issue of fudging, he waffled.  There is never, on the other hand, a point where he suggested that it was a thing to do lightly.  Indeed, even the most "pro fudge" quotes from Mr. Gygax suggest that, for the most part, it is a bad idea.

Obeying the Dice

Recently on Facebook, I came across this post by Frank Mentzer, which reflects upon this blog post.  While the blog post is too long to quote in full, both are worth reading, and I suggest that you do.  Clearly, Frank Mentzer believes that a GM can and should fudge the dice, and can run a "player character" in the same milieu in which he is GMing.

Frank writes "Some good points are always made, but every one of these commentaries incorrectly presumes one vital point: Yes, some DMs ARE good enough to avoid the negatives that are described. Some DMs can and DO ignore die rolls (for the right reasons), and some can and do play a character (for the right reasons)."

I don't think that any one of those commentaries (and I assume he would include mine as well, as we have butted heads before) assumes that some GMs are not good enough to get away with it, merely that their game would be better if they did not.

The problem here is that, while Frank asserts that some DMs are good enough to avoid the negatives described, he offers no practical solution to those negatives.  Nor, in fact, does he offer any evidence to support that claim.  Nor does he answer the obvious logical problems with a position that a person with full knowledge of a situation has when attempting to play from a position wherein gaining knowledge of the situation is a primary goal.  This is not dissimilar to the player who wants to read the module before playing, because, yes, some players ARE good enough to avoid the negatives of doing so.  In fact, the problem is exactly the same:  the person, while playing the dissociated game, pretends to play the associated game.

(Add to that the problem of fudging die rolls, and decided aforehand that you want certain outcomes to occur, and the question begins to arise quite quickly whether or not the "DM PC" is especially favoured or the only one that the GM feels uncomfortable fudging for.  Either the GM fudges for his PC, or does not, at points where fudging only benefits that PC.  That silence on what occurs in these cases is all that one hears is not surprising.)

What we get continually are comments like "Your inexperience is showing; a good game master can have both. (Sorry you've never seen a game that good.)", which are an attempt to argue by authority rather than from a reasoned perspective, and "Sorry, I don't exist to obey dice." which is a straw man argument.  If you decide when to to roll the dice, what dice to roll, and what the various outcomes will mean, following the results of the dice doesn't mean that you "exist to obey dice" but that you have knowingly added a random element.  If you are unable to then use that random element, which you knowingly added, and still have a fun game, perhaps you shouldn't be so certain that your definition of a "good game master" is as firm as you would like to believe.  Or, maybe, when you roll the dice, you don't do it knowingly, but that still doesn't make you a good GM.

The point is not that Frank Mentzer is a bad GM.  The point is that he is making a lousy counter-argument.  Indeed, his counter-argument is meaningless in terms of actually countering the argument he presents it in opposition to.

I am no where near as absolute in my thinking as the writer of the blog post.  It may be true that "some DMs ARE good enough to avoid the negatives that are described."  I, for one, tend to believe that some GMs are not skilled enough to make a game work without fudging dice, and if you are one of these, then you should fudge...because that really is the best you can do.  I also believe that, so long as you can get a single player, you should run whatever game you want however you want.  But neither one is an indicator of quality.

The closest we get to a reasonable position is "From this POV, if you follow the rules and the dice produce an encounter that will wipe out the entire party, then you wipe 'em out. That's the rules of the game.  But the game is supposed to be Fun, and that's not. So I fudge it."

I wonder what game Frank is playing where rolling an encounter automatically wipes out the entire party.  I have never played it.  In fact, I have never played, on either side of the screen, an RPG where such a thing was remotely true.  I can just imagine the response to the GM who says "Sorry, guys, I rolled an encounter with 200 orcs.  You all died." without any input from the players as to how they handle the encounter.

If you have ever played in such a game, I am fairly certain that the problem is not that the GM didn't fudge his die rolls.

The line of thinking which makes "choosing to roll the dice and then following the results" is "existing to obey the dice" is actually similar to writing a scenario, and then determining that following your dungeon notes makes you a slave to the written word.

Likewise, in the comments, some have likened this to relegating the GM to a computer, which is utter nonsense.  In a computer game, the computer can only respond to players following pre-programmed responses.  If 200 orcs are encountered, and that encounter can only be responded to by fighting, then, sure, there is a problem.  But the problem is not in the 200 orcs, but in the way the computer can respond to the choices of the players in reaction to the encounter presented.  IOW, fudging the die rolls to eliminate encounters that you previously allowed on the encounter table because you cannot imagine how the players can respond to them without a TPK, and because you cannot respond to the ideas of the players in a way that keeps the game moving, you might want to reconsider whether the non-fudger or the fudger is responding more like a computer.

Which is not to say that a TPK is a "bad" or "unfun" outcome, even when it is the result of a random encounter.  I would have a long, hard think before I determined that an encounter that wipes out the party is not "Fun", and I would have a long, hard think before I determined that "Fun" was the be-all and end-all of all game play.  The limits we impose on our failures are also, perforce, limitations imposed on our successes.

"Some DMs can and DO ignore die rolls (for the right reasons), and some can and do play a character (for the right reasons)."

I look forward to the post that explains exactly what these right reasons are, and why fudging the dice and trying to run a PC ('cause no one is arguing that the GM cannot run an NPC) are the best solutions to whatever problems these reasons arise from.  But I expect that I shall not be reading such a post any time soon.  It is easy to explain the problems caused by fudging dice; I have yet to read anything that supplies a benefit to fudging dice that does not break apart on even surface examination.

"[E]very one of these commentaries incorrectly presumes one vital point: Yes, some DMs ARE good enough to avoid the negatives that are described."

No.  Every one of these commentaries correctly presumes one vital point: While some GMs may be good enough to avoid the negatives that are described, the odds are good that you are fooling yourself if you think that you are one of them, and the odds are even better that it would still improve your game if you didn't fudge or play DM PCs, even if you ARE that good.

The Dungeon Dozen

I would like to take a moment to recommend The Dungeon Dozen by Jason Sholtis, the mastermind at The Dungeon Dozen blog.

I love books that help get your creative juices flowing.  The Dungeon Dozen (Volume 1!) belongs on your shelf along with The Dungeon Alphabet, The Random Esoteric Monster Generator, and The d30 Sandbox and DM's Companions.

Like all the best inspirational books, The Dungeon Dozen has artwork that is worth the price of admission by itself, and is a meaty book filled with tables and ideas.  In fact, it is easily among the best "random tables" books I've seen.  
If this book doesn't inspire hundreds of hours of game play at your table, you must not have bought it.

This really is top-notch work.  You can get it here.  And at the same time, you really should be following the author's blog.

Ghoul Friend

In the comments to the last post, Wyatt Allworthy wrote:

Something only tangentially related to undead causing plagues that I wondered if you had any experience making work as a ref. I don’t know how it’s done in DCC, but in A/D&D you had the situation of undead like Ghouls with a paralytic touch, or Wights, etc that drained levels. These creatures could be encountered even by low level characters, in confined crypt like places, where they might have no exits to evade them. A ghoul had a speed of 9” and characters loaded down plate armor, let alone equipment and loot would be limited to a speed of 6”, as the speed of the slower members. How can a party survive something that paralyzes its lead members just by a touch, which they will almost assuredly fail their saving rolls to fight it? Only a tiny number of these ghouls would overwhelm a low level party, almost assuredly, every time they were encountered.

I know that back in the day, parties had larger numbers of players and possibly lots of hirelings and henchmen, is that the way to manage it, or is there some way to make a 6-man special forces style team of adventurers competent to handle paralytic touch undead (let alone level draining undead).

Thanks for any insights on this one, it’s a puzzle for me.

First off, low-level characters are unlikely to be loaded down with plate armour in any game that I am running.  That’s simply a matter of expenditure – plate armour is expensive, and there is not enough “spare” cash for this particular expenditure.  Loaded down with loot is a lot easier – in a question of “keep your loot or keep your life”, smart players choose to drop the loot.

I like ghouls, and I do use them at low levels.  I have been throwing ghouls at 1^st level PCs ever since reading the evocative play description in the 1^st Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide.  As a player, I have encountered ghouls at 1^st level as well.  In one memorable 2^nd Edition campaign, the DM (the esteemed Jesse Donahue) lured the party into an un-dead haunted swamp, where the easiest way to survive was to run and hide, then run and hide some more.   At the same time, I was running my megadungeon, The Dungeon of Thale, in Venice Beach, California, and there were roving ghouls on the first level.  I think they got perhaps one or two characters over a long period of play.

But, then, these characters weren’t clunking around in plate.  That heavy armour affords you one sort of protection (better AC) while denying you another (making it hard to run away) is a trade-off that makes for interesting choices.  Dungeon Crawl Classics does that one better, by making heavier armour subject to more devastating fumbles as well.

An illustration I drew based on Jesse's game

Things that I have found adjust the odds against ghouls are teamwork, good use of magic, having a cleric on hand, and having an elf or two in the party.  In DCC, you should also consider burning that Luck in order to make your saving throw, especially if you are the last PC standing.   In many games that I have run, ghouls shun sunlight, and will not willingly enter it or an area of continual light.  Having some areas that the PCs can retreat to, while leaving them with a serious problem that still needs to be solved before their own food runs out, can be fun for all concerned.

I’ve run James Raggi’s Death Frost Doom to great effect, using the DCC ruleset.  How you deal with a horde of ghouls and zombies is a major part of that adventure.  At first, the players thought the answer was “you fight them”…but that is not a very viable answer in Death Frost Doom.  Sometimes, in a good adventure, fighting should not be the best option.  Sometimes, it should be a suicidal option.

If you go poking around crypts and barrows at night, you should expect to run into the un-dead.  If it is possible, save your explorations for daylight hours.  At least that way, you may be able to retreat into the sun.  As you explore, consider how you can use the areas you have already examined to your best advantage.  Mindless creatures, especially, may be lured into traps that you discovered and bypassed.  There might be choke points where a few can hold off many.   There might be places where a barricade can hold foes so that the archers can do their work.  Never underestimate the value of a spear or a pitchfork when you can hold your opponents so that they can’t reach you.

Even so, sometimes, you have to let the dead devour your fallen so that you have a chance to get away.  And sometimes the ghouls get you.  It is completely okay to have the entire party wiped out after mere minutes exploring the Barrowmaze.  Those are the risks adventurers face.  

Hooks and Win Conditions

It is strongly my position that my job as GM is to supply players with context, from which the players make choices, and then I adjudicate the consequences of those choices.  This adjudication, which includes both success and failure, as well as every grey shade between, creates a new context from which additional choices are made.

The players' choices do not come from a menu.  Every ruleset embodies certain default choices within a framework of rules, but that does not mean that players cannot have their characters attempt anything, even if that "anything" requires an adjudication from outside the rules or modifies the rules themselves. The players are not guaranteed to succeed, and I will keep the rules in mind, but if the players come up with a reasonable means to fuel a spell with a major sacrifice, in keeping with the game context, why wouldn't I allow it?  The "reality" of the game milieu trumps the "reality" of the ruleset.

What does this have to do with hooks?  Well, adventure hooks are sample win conditions that the players can latch onto in order to set goals for themselves, allowing them a sense of completion once some goal has been met.  The adventure hooks given for any scenario are not the only possible win conditions for that scenario.  If playing G1, for instance, the players might simply wish to rob the giants.  They may wish to subvert them, turning them from one evil master to their own uses.  They may merely need to get to the Hidden Chapel of Elder Weirdness in order to complete a magic item they wish to create.

Creating and offering hooks is a part of the creation of context for the game milieu.  Selecting from hooks, rejecting hooks, and reforging the information from hooks to meet some new goal are all part of the process of choice, and that lies entirely in the players' court.  When creating portions of the game milieu, the wise GM considers how those creations can be used, and what win conditions the players might accept to bring a session or group of sessions to a satisfying close, but the GM should not impose win conditions.

Yes, the GM is justified in believing that most players will accept win conditions, such as "survive", when placed into a situation where survival is threatened.  However, beyond such very broad goals - and sometimes, even then - players are surprising.  Exactly how long will you strive to reach the Grail in the collapsing temple, Indy?  Even though you will probably die if you wait too long?  What do you value more?

Recently, in the Comments section of this blog, a situation was discussed in which a GM had set up a campaign, wherein he imagined that his players would be attempting to stop the undead causing a plague. Two players had other ideas; they devised their own goals, and their own win conditions. If I was running the game, I would not have ended it for this reason.  I supply context, the players make choices, and then I adjudicate consequences.  Rinse, repeat.

Also in the Comments section, a situation came up where the players and GM discussed the goals of the characters prior to the campaign beginning, and the GM in question was unable to see how this limited the choices of the players.  The players and GM discussed and came up with an initial context, the players made choices as to how they wanted to approach it, and then....well, those initial choices delimited what choices could be made as the game went forward because they sharply differentiated between the context of the players and their characters. A condition of the campaign world was determined to be natural ahead of time by all involved, even though the condition of the campaign milieu was that many people believed it to be supernatural in origin. Characters wouldn't experience certain facets of the implied milieu because, having accepted the de facto hook, they no longer had the full range of options that would naturally exist in that milieu had they not.

In a bit of coincidence, both of these situations involved a plague, and both involved undead. In the first, two players decided to treat the plague as though it were a naturally occurring event (although the GM wanted them to go hunt vampires), and in the second, the players knew it was a natural event which they could profit from.  There was no point in investigating potential supernatural causes or cures, and no real decision making involved in determining whether or not sorcerous types were responsible (and hence no question about the ethics or advisability of using magic, burning purported witches at the stake, and so on).

In both cases, a predetermination of what the players were supposed to do took away what, to my mind, are vital elements of player choice.

Hooks present options.  They are not intended to be straight jackets.  Win conditions are ultimately chosen by the players, not the GM, and a group of players can operate in the same game even with very different win conditions.  Sometimes even opposed win conditions.  The players decide that, not the GM.

Supply players with context, from which the players can make choices, and then adjudicate the consequences of those choices.  It is beautiful in its simplicity.

Is there room in the boat?

I am thinking about creating a megadungeon for Labyrinth Lord (as well as one potentially for DCC), but with excellent products like Barrowmaze, Stonehell, and the Castle of the Mad Archmage available, is there still room in the boat?

What do you think? Is this an idea worth pursuing?

Silent Nightfall.....Epic? Final Session

On Tuesday, my players finished their sojourn to Silent Nightfall. In the end, caution was selected as the better part of valour, and all survived. Normally, I don't answer player questions about the backdrop of the game because, hey, if they want to know what foozling the begummmertz is going to do, they need to figure that out in game. In this case, we did a question period afterwards, and were able to determine that some, but not all, of the PCs could potentially have died.

At 8th level, DCC characters potentially have the resources to make light work out of Silent Nightfall, but the set-up and the unknown prevented the players from taking too much for granted. Between levels 2-4, probably up to 6, is ideal for this location. But you can make even 8th level characters sweat.

Failing Forward

This post comes about in response to some questions asked by YagamiFire, to wit:

What are you feelings regarding the current trend of making failure "attractive" as an option by virtue of "failing forward" in game design? To what extent does this impact the legitimacy of a challenge? If "the game must go on!" eliminates some failure scenarios because the players might find those scenarios undesirable...would you say that that undermines the concept of failure? Should failure from a PC stand-point be undesirable from a player standpoint with undesirable consequences that accompany it?

Good questions, and I will do my best to answer them.

It is my belief that the GM should not "guide" the action to a specific outcome. On the other hand, I do believe that part of good design is seeding a location with enough material to allow unexpected things to occur, for both good and ill. It is my firm belief that the early TSR designers, for instance, did not expect every last bent copper piece to be found, and thus seeded treasure in excess of what would usually be found so that, if a player happened to think to look inside the giant lizard's gullet, there was a chance of actually finding something.

I am well aware that there are some who imagine that every scrap of treasure in a published scenario is intended to be found, even though the only quote available on the subject, in Module B1, says exactly the opposite:  "Although monsters will inevitably make their presence known, treasures are usually not obvious. It is up to players to locate them by telling the DM how their characters will conduct any attempted search, and it 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." (p. 24).

There is nothing inherently wrong with offering the chance to "fail forward" in a scenario. Having unexpected good come out of failure can actually offer sweet moments in the game...but the word "unexpected" is key. Like the expectation that finding cool treasures spawned the idea that they would follow you around until you did discover them, the idea that some form of good could come out of failure ceases to become surprising when there is reason to expect that most failures will be anything but that...failures.

What JRRT called "eucatastrophe" - the feeling that, when catastrophe is assured, sudden hope changes everything - is a powerful feeling, but it only works when catastrophe seems inevitable. It doesn't work when failure is expected to be "failing forward".

From the previous series, it should be clear that I think that the maximum good, from a player's standpoint, comes from being able to play the associative game. The sort of metagaming that comes about from deciding what forms of failure are off the table works against this. It also works against the idea that the player's choices have any value - if the choices lead to failure, so be it. I have written in the past that the GM should never include a consequence for failure that he is unwilling to live with, and that is because players must be allowed to fail if they are ever to experience true success.

Balance of Power Part V: Function and Dysfunction

One of the oldest problems in philosophy is the question of evil. Why is there evil in the world? Especially if you believe that there is Someone in charge of the universe, what is the purpose of evil?  We are not just talking about wrongdoing here, but also illness, predation, the need to kill other things in order to survive, tragic accidents, and sheer bad luck. Surely an all-knowing and all-powerful Someone could arrange it so that these things simply do not happen.

We have all seen this thrust arise in gaming over the past decade - railing against PC death, save-or-die mechanics, campaign or adventure premises that seem to be one thing but turn out to be another, etc. In some game systems, characters can only die if the player chooses to put that option on the table. The rise of Challenge Rating (CR) type mechanics from 3e D&D onwards has led to an expectation that "challenges" be "balanced", where "balanced" all too often is taken to mean that the PCs should succeed without any undue loss. And, the advice now seems to go, you should consider fudging rolls or statistics to ensure that the expected outcome occurs. There is a sense that some believe that a saving throw doesn't represent a last chance at survival, but is rather something that should be repeated until an encounter is over or the character wins. Medusa doesn't simply turn you to stone - she slows you down to make the fight harder, but ultimately you triumph!

All of this boils down to the same philosophical problem: Why is there evil in the world?  With an all-powerful GM to look out for the PCs, why should the players ever fail?

None of us wants bad things to happen to ourselves, or to those we love, but at the same time most of us gave up watching programs or reading books where nothing bad ever happens long ago. Indeed, it is hard to imagine anyone making it through grade school without demanding more solid fare. I have found that few even make it past the age of 7 without developing some desire to have real problems occur in the fiction they are exposed to. This is not to say that they want Gollum to devour Bilbo Baggins, or Smaug to catch the hobbit burglar out, but the destruction of Lake Town rings true, as does the death of Thorin, Fili, and Kili seems right.

The GM has several jobs to do - provide a game milieu that makes sense to him, and that he is interested in running. Provide the players with context so that they can make choices, and determining the consequences of those choices. The players have a job to do - make choices within the context available, and role-play their characters.

If railing at the universe worked, then we would all rail at the universe whenever something bad happened. There are players who follow this principle in rpgs, because sometimes "railing at the universe" (through the agency of the GM) does work. A GM who changes rulings due to such railing does harm not only to his own enjoyment of the game, but also to the enjoyment of the other players. Rewarding railing such breaks the fourth wall, and effectively punishes players who accept the universe as it is.

We can imagine a GM who both encourages rules disputes, and then uses those disputes to split the party between "supporters" and "non-supporters" of the GM's position....but why would we do such a thing? First off, encouraging rules disputes perforce limits the associative game by forcing the players to think in terms of rules, rather than in terms of the fictional "reality" of the game milieu. Secondly, rules disputes automatically split the game participants, whether it is the intention of the GM or not. If they did not split the game participants, there would be no dispute.

I am not encouraging the GM to be a dictatorial monster - if you are that GM, your players are right to leave your table. What I am saying is that the GM has a responsibility to be the referee...to judge the rules as impartially as he is able to do. Trying to foist off that responsibility onto the players helps no one. Yes, discuss why rulings were made at a suitable remove from game play. No, do not encourage rules disputes during the game.

There is a reason that so many early games emphasized that the GM is always right, and it has nothing to do with stroking the ego of the GM. It is because - in the hands of a competent GM - that is the way traditional rpgs work best. And your goal, if you GM, should never be to be less than competent. A GM who uses "The GM is always right" to feed his own ego, or to make the game suck, isn't made better by encouraging rules disputes. A GM who is doing a good job, to the best of her ability, is at best hampered by rules disputes, and at worst hamstrung.

In order to be functional, any relationship must meet at least two criteria:

(1) Is power in the relationship shared fairly?

(2) Does each person in the relationship have the necessary rights needed to meet his or her responsibilities?

As to (1), either the players or the GM can end the game, but only all the players together have the ability to end a specific campaign, although the GM has the power to do so.  Without the GM's materials, the other players can create a continuation of sorts, by inventing (or buying) their own materials, and without the players, the GM can continue to use the same game milieu with others, if he can attract new players.

The GM has the majority of the say, because the GM does the majority of the work. If you expect someone to do the majority of the work, but have no increased share in power, then you are actually advocating a dysfunctional relationship. The world is full of people who advocate dysfunctional relationships. Usually, they advocate them for other people, while blithely ignoring their own advice, or they advocate them in their own favour.

IME, in most games there is no question about whether the GM or the players are going to walk, as long as condition (2) is met. Really, most people are able to talk out issues and make compromises, and most people are able to respect the work of the other people at the table.

As to (2), I have written - a lot - about what the GM needs. Let us turn for a moment and look at what the player needs. The player's primary responsibility is to play a character and make choices within the game milieu. That means that, unless there is some form of external compulsion involved that makes sense within the context of the game milieu - and even that should be used in very, very, very, extremely very limited amounts - the player gets to choose what the character does. Period. End of the sentence.

The GM does not get to tell the player what his character would do. The GM does not get to demand that the player approach the game with a specific goal or mood in mind. The GM does not get to demand that the players work together. All of these things fall outside the GM's purview. Only in the rare case, where an issue external to the game is being played out inside the campaign milieu, should the GM intervene. Demanding that the players choose a single goal that they work together is the GM version of being a rules lawyer, or demanding that the campaign milieu works in accordance to your expectations.

Now, if you are not interested in letting players play the associated game, or the GM play the dissociated game, you can come up with different forms of functional relationships. And, as a player, if you can find a GM who wants to run what you want, or if, as a GM, you can find even a single player, you should always run the game you want the way that you want.

But, for me, there is always a chance that bad things will happen in the game world because it is necessary for the associated game that it be so. It is also necessary for an interesting game. My job, as GM, is to provide interesting context and consequences that follow rationally from your choices. Your job, as player, is to play your character and decide what your character will do. I will respect your job, and I expect you to respect mine. We share this game. We share the power, based upon what we contribute and what our jobs are. We share the success or failure of each session. I am not out to screw you over, but it is my job to make sure you can make choices that do screw you over, just as it is my job to make sure that you can make choices that result in your coming out on top.

Gary Gygax talks about this in his Insidiae, and I quote here from pages 50-51:

It should be hammered home by now that the role of a game master differs significantly from that of a fiction author. The job of the game master does not involve revealing to the players the private thoughts or motivations of NPCs and monsters, nor will a good GM dictate what the players’ characters feel or how they ought to act – because he doesn’t know that. In general, a player should not be forced to explain his character’s actions, or to justify his actions to another player even if asked, unless the character’s normal demeanor has drastically changed, or the action threatens the entire party’s success or survival. Likewise, the denizens of a campaign world are known by their actions, their natures and private thoughts kept secret by the GM – unless learned by guile in play, ripped from them by magic or torture.

Also, no single antagonist or creature should become more important to the plot than the heroes. In other words, the game master should not make any NPC absolutely central to the unfolding story, because nothing controlled by the GM is more important than the development and advancement of the PCs through their interactive play. It is apparent, then, that the game master is far removed from being a “third person omniscient narrator”. Sure, he might be omniscient in regard to the details of his chosen milieu, but because he cannot know the future actions or thoughts of the PCs, he cannot be called a “story-teller” in the fullest sense.

Finding people who want to play, if you let them play their characters, and you don't punish the rest of the players by rewarding the weeds, has always been easy in my experience. Likewise, finding a GM if you respect the position, and if you don't act like a weed, has never been difficult. If you feel like you are coming to the game "cap in hand", from either side of the table, you might consider trying this yourself.

And that's the end of this series.