Moving Past Failure

"To understand failure, we must first understand our reactions to failure."

~ Sidney Dekker, The Field Guide to Human Error

From a young age, we're programmed that if we follow the rules, then everything will be all right.  This applies to things that are fun, such as board games and sports, just as much as it applies to anything else.  We learn, usually, not to cheat at games, because this makes the experience unpleasant for other people.

Most games that teach the process of playing are quite simple.  Virtually any child with motor skills can learn to play checkers.  A five-year old can be taught gin rummy or how to follow the rules at a waterslide.  Baseball as played by little kids just isn't that complicated, though some procedures have to be followed if we don't want children to get hurt.  Even "role-playing," such as pretending to play house and be superheroes has a logical rule set that kids make for themselves ... and all of this is well in place by the time a child is six.

Then along comes D&D.

It's clear that most players of the game recognize that "following the rules" will not ensure a good game, or even enable a bad one.  The reasons for that are clear and we don't need a follow up on this post ... but we should try to understand why our reaction to failure is so frustrating.

Some of that reaction relates to a human tendency to trust our memories.  When we remember how well D&D games seemed to go when we were young, when we were having so much fun, we shape those memories to forget things we don't want to remember.  For example, that we were playing a simplified, clumsy game structured around not knowing what we were doing and not remembering a lot of the rules.  We weren't bothered by that, because we didn't realize we should have been.  We're bothered by it now, because we know better.  We've read the rules more closely.  We're acutely aware of rules that we forget in the moment, and that taints our perception of the games we play, after the fact.  We tell ourselves, "Next time, I'm going to remember that rule" ~ and that mindset makes us feel our DMing is more work than play.

The contrary is no better.  We tell ourselves that we're going to relax, and not be so anal about the rules ... and then a player brings one up and that starts a combination of guilt, resentment and indecision.  Off game, we wind up second-guessing ourselves about where this need to "relax" and not be "anal" starts and ends, sending us on tangents where we swear we're going to play the rules-as-written, only to realize months later that this inflexibility is killing our game and driving away players.

If you're 10 years or more into D&D, you've probably asked yourself, "How is it I still don't know how to play this game?  Why can't I make my mind up about stuff?"  Much of this comes from what you still expect to see, when your group sits down to play:  a bunch of 9-year-olds laughing and jacking around, getting into situations and having a rollicking good time.  You're getting older and smarter, but your vision of the game isn't.

And every time you get smacked in the face with this discrepancy, you're surprised.

Learning from failure is only possible if you can put together why you failed.  If players are not coming to your game, it is not them, it is You.  If the players you have refuse to take things seriously, or if your players are forcing you to play 5e and you hate it, You are enabling that behaviour.  If your campaigns don't last more than a few months, that is because the approach You are taking is subverting your game.

It isn't the game.  It isn't the rules or the conflict between role-playing and roll-playing.  It is the choices that you are taking as a DM, and the behaviour you are enabling.  You can choose to blame the system and your players; or that you haven't yet seen the book that really tells you how to play; but that is just you, saying what other people should have done.  Not what you should be doing.

You still believe that D&D's rules should, or even can, work the same way that rules work for checkers or waterslides.  You still think it's just a matter of ordering everything in a certain way, and then making everyone behave and walk in proper lines, so everything will work out.  It's not your fault.  You were programmed as a child to think this way.

But ... it's never going to happen.  D&D is too complex, it covers too much ground, there are too many variances and elements.  You will never be able to finger-point and error-count your way out of this mess.

If you want to get started playing this game properly in a rational, adult, non-sentimental way, you need to start with a set of rules that you intend to adopt and that you will Never Change, no matter what argument a player makes.  In doing that, don't use your own prejudices as a yardstick.  Be smart.  Choose rules that almost every player will accept ~ and then choke down your grievances and swallow those rules yourself.  Get over your quibbles and your bullshit, and recognize that by playing rules that most people accept, you will encourage a larger choice of players willing to play.  I'm speaking of your choice.  The more universal your rules are, the less dependent you will be on corrupted, troublesome players, enabling you to boot them and fill your table with people ready to play like adults.

In deciding this set of rules, get rid of any rule that requires an argument to justify.  If there is an endless flame war online surrounding that rule, play the way that doesn't need an explanation.  Play the way that gives more to the players, that produces less argument at the table.  Yes, yes, I get that you love that system, that you think it is a really good idea, that you would die on the hill that defends it ... but if you want players, be an adult here.  Burn the rule.  Burn the fucking thing to the ground.

Your preconceived opinions, that you think are based on reason or actual experience, that are not shared by your players or supported by something other than your bias and arbitrary belief, are killing your game.  It doesn't matter if that's how you played as a child.  You're not a child.  Neither are your players.

It doesn't matter what the rules say.  This is D&D.  You're not beholden to the rules.  You're beholden to your players.

Make them happy.