Ehem… *cracks knuckles*… Ehehehehem… Wait. Why am I clearing my throat, I’m typing.
Hello everyone, Sarah here, aka Mishann, better known as the girl who attempts to be witty or at least mildly humorous but often fails because… well it’s hard. Today, I have some super important things to tell you; things that require the amount of attention that only two cups of coffee can provide. Please prepare yourselves.
Okay… In west Philadelphia born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days… no that is not right. Let’s try this again. I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was! To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cauuuussee! That is not right either. Hmm. I’ll work on that for next time.
Sir Lord Grandmaster Ocean Spray Cranberry Man asked me to write a post for his DM education blog because of what I’m assuming is a severe deficiency of judgement on his part. (In case his choice name didn’t already make that fact evident.) That and he wanted me to share my perspective on D&D, as a player.
Backstory: I grew up in a family with six children before the internet was really a thing; it existed, but it made terrible noises that made the whole experience unpleasant and not worth it. So, unlike the children of today, who rely on goats screaming and candy crushing for entertainment, my siblings and I turned to the outdoors, card games, and board games. Lest you be fooled, we also played a truly staggering number of video games, by which I mean like the number of bad movies Nicholas Cage has been in. It’s also noteworthy that you should never challenge any of us to a game of Age of Empires, unless you want to leave full of sadness and wonder. (Anyone catch that pun? Nope, okay. Cool.)
Because there were generally at least 2 or 3 of us who were bored (never tell your mom that you are bored. Seriously, don’t. There are chores you don’t even know about yet.), we nearly always had someone with whom we could play games. We were always looking for new games to play, so it was no surprise to any of us when James (Cranberry Man) supplied a new offering for us to play at grandma’s house.
This game was Dungeons and Dragons (4th Edition). We spent two hours setting up character sheets for everyone and consuming more sweet tea than anyone ever should. Then the game began. Excitement, wonder, and goblins filled the room; well, actually, a lot of confusion, questions, and rolling the wrong dice entered the room, but it was not long before each of us became invested in this new experience.
After defeating what seemed like a thousand hordes of devious foes, we reached our first boss, a young white dragon. (The vicious beast had been awoken from his slumber by a certain rather ill fated thief who thought metal buckets would make highly discrete yet fashionable footwear.) Five seconds and several tremendously loud clomping noises later, the dragon leapt toward our party and initiative was rolled!
Quick aside: It’s important for an adventurer to carefully consider what items he or she brings to a boss fight. For example, instead of bringing bean dip like everyone else, my character (Mishann) brought fire. And not just any fire. That’s right folks, magical fire. Now, let us pause for a moment to discuss the magic fire in question. It cannot be extinguished. Period. It will forever burn. Where did I acquire such a wondrous artifact? Simple, from the map.
Allow me to explain. For this particular game, James had decided to use a pre-printed dungeon map, which included large braziers in several rooms for illumination. James had previously stated that this dungeon had been long abandoned, so upon entering one particular room, I enquired as to how the fire had continuously burned over such a long period of time. He thought for a moment and hurriedly replied “It’s magical. It can’t be extinguished.” Cha-Ching!
I casually asked if I could perhaps capture some of the fire in my glass jar. (I’ve played Zelda. I know the rules!) Cranberry man scoffed and replied in the most eloquent fashion saying, “Uh, sure…”
Alright, back to my story. As it turns out, white dragons really hate having unquenchable enchanted fire thrown directly onto their faces and as a result of this interesting bit of trivia, the entire party escaped without a scratch. (The indigenous flora and fauna was less lucky.) Did we triumphantly acquire untold and marvelous riches on that day? yes. Am I proud that my actions broke the game? Very.
Fast forward past trolls and frog creatures to the end, the final battle, the big dance. Our quarry was a wizard of the most dubious sort. You know the type. Powerful, magical, usually wears some kind of pointy hat. This specific wizard was all those things and more. He was a mad scientist.
As we faced off against this mystical foe in what appeared to be some kind of magical laboratory, we were told that the wizard was standing immediately behind a workbench full of luminescent chemicals and magical concoctions. We rolled for initiative. (Insert slow-mo dice rolls here.) I was the last to roll but, as I’m sure you’ve already deduced, lady luck saw fit to grant that coveted first turn to yours truly.
So, like any sensible educated Dragonborn would, I consider my recent exploits involving a certain unquenchable brand of fire. You recall, yes? A moment later, I threw the entire jar, full to the brim with “you know what”, directly onto the table of chemicals and potions. Then basically the whole world exploded. With the party still at the room’s entrance, the only damage dealt (and believe me, there was soooo much damage) was to a particularly unfortunate wizard. Take that snarky wizard man. You shouldn’t have done bad stuff or whatever.
My first game was an epic adventure to be sure but more importantly it sparked my interest in the game that brought all of us together here. Years later, most of my siblings and I are still playing D&D and loving it more than ever. (Maybe you’ve heard our podcast.) Grandmaster Cranberry is still trying to defeat us with ridiculous bosses, I am still a dragonborn who adores magical fire, and the creative freedom allotted by D&D is still creating opportunities to bond with loved ones through games.
-Sarah
DM Lesson #1: “Let the players win”
Thanks sis. That was great! That’s my sister Sarah everybody. (Thunderous Applause)
Ok, let’s get down to brass tacks. Though I am sure many of you already understand my intention in having Sarah tell this story, I figure it couldn’t hurt to go ahead and do my job anyway. If you already figured it out, feel free to stop reading here.
There are some DMs, many of whom I know and hold in the highest regard, that miss out entirely on what I personally believe to be the single most important aspect of role playing games. Fun.
Allow me to explain. The game that Sarah just described was one of my first DMing experiences. Though I’d previously played tabletop RPGs a handful of times as a player, as a DM I was as green as grass. During my preparations for the encounter, an arduous task with which I’m sure many of you are quite familiar, I had conceived of dozens of possible outcomes to each scenario, each of which were designed to subtly direct my players along the path of the story that I wanted to tell.
Magical fire was not a part of my plan. It was a poor choice of words; a mistake, plain and simple. But it was something I had to address.
Having come from a largely competitive gaming background, this anomaly immediately registered in my mind as a threat, a solitary monkey wrench in my otherwise flawless design. How could she break the adventure I’d so carefully planned out for her? It was in that moment that I remembered something I’d read the night before in the 4th edition dungeon master’s guide.
I apologize in advance but I can’t remember the exact quote or to whom it should be attributed. I think it was Chris Perkins. To paraphrase, it said “The story itself belongs to the players. It’s a dungeon master’s job to help players tell the story they want to tell. No more. No less.”
In that moment, I had a choice to make. Would I snuff out a player’s creativity and save the story I’d so carefully written or would I let the adventure become something more? If you’ve heard our podcast, it should be pretty obvious which choice I made.
It is my personally held belief that this philosophy of “letting the players win” can make or break a DM.
Sometimes I cheat dice rolls to help players be awesome. Other times, I forego dice altogether, allowing the wacky antics of my players to prevail in spite of utterly improbable odds. (Dance battle anyone?) Have I accidentally vaporized first time players who were “a little too careless”? Sure. What good DM hasn’t? (Still really sorry about that L.B.)
But ultimately, when push comes to shove, players always have more fun when they are allowed to win. That said, this philosophy does create a pretty serious problem. How do you, as a DM, create a significant enough challenge without crushing a parties hopes and dreams?
Want the answer? You’ll have to wait until next time. DM lesson #2: “Preparation” And who better to explain that than Conquest or Calamity Loremaster, Will Honea.
-See you later alligator.
