Objectives I

In the first years after Dungeons & Dragons came on the scene, the problem of how to explain what the game is and how it's played proved to be a conundrum. At the time, it was a game unlike any other — and though many tried hard to wrap the concept up in a neat and tidy package, it was clear that D&D in its grand complexity would defy a simple explanation. Over time, efforts to describe the game reliably were replaced with efforts to sell the game to newcomers, regardless of accuracy. An aggregate answer arose that D&D was essentially "make believe," a simplification that was instantly understood by all. Unfortunately, it was also a simplification that was dead wrong. 

Make believe is a form of unstructured participation which seeks to express a child's whims and desires, almost entirely without restraint or any necessity to take problem solving into account. D&D is a staggeringly complex game in which structures and rules are fused delicately together. D&D is full of barriers and stumbling blocks that are deliberately put in place to frustrate a player's desires. 

When a player comes to believe that all their fantasies are there to be fulfilled by the game, only to discover that they must first problem solve and depend upon the whim of a die, and not their own will, the consequence is that the player is made to feel cheated and misled. Rather than appreciating the game's rules, players learn to hate them. Having been told that D&D is a game of escape, they quickly resent every set-back, every expectation that they should solve problems, every moment in which they are expected to show patience. Being promised that D&D is about acting out their selfish wants, they soon begin to act out selfishly whenever those wants are momentarily denied. 

As a DM, I do not run my game to fulfill the wishes of my players. I approach the game world as a difficult, dangerous, threatening place, which rewards risk and condemns entitlement. This is true regardless of the fantastic locations, strange creatures, magic items and treasures that are found along the way. Many books and pundits will praise D&D because it provides these things, like a smorgasbord just waiting for the player to come along and scoop them out in large heaps upon their plate. I praise D&D because it does not provide these things easily! Fantastic locations are sheer hell to reach and threatening besides. Strange creatures are not arranged like exhibits in a zoo — they are there to kill you if they can. Magic items are infuriatingly hard to find. And treasures ... these are in the hands of persons and beasts who will hold onto them until they are ripped from their cold, dead hands. The game world as a whole is not friendly; it is not a party; and it absolutely is not about players pretending that something is true just because they would have it so. 

Yet that is the message that is sent throughout the game community. The result of that message has been the creation of petulant players who demand more and more of DMs, who feel less and less in control of their games ... and thus, less and less inclined to put up with constant wheedling, ultimatums and clamoring asks from players who expect to do nothing to get their bottle.

Though often argued to the contrary, I hold that player characters are not the protagonists of a story. There is no "story," not as a predetermined narrative. The events that take place in the game are, and ought to be, a collection of moments like we experience in real life: things to do, places to go, problems to solve, ambitions to fulfill, all of it accomplished while traversing a winding, unexpected course to which meaning is assigned afterwards but which, in the moment, seems raw and incomprehensible. D&D ought to be about managing and enjoying the immediate, the here and now, with its hilarity, triumph, panic, desperate chance-taking and hope, peppered with relief and the appeal of something accomplished by one's own hand. A story may be diverting; it may have interesting ups and downs; but it is, essentially, only a story. 

D&D permits the player to confront events as though they were really happening; the events may be fictional, but the emotions attached to those events are not! Players really can know fear and exhaltation. They may not actually die, but they can feel the honest, prickly sensation of loss and remorse when it happens to their character. Much is made of the dangers of D&D being "too serious" ... yet no one suspends professional sports because a team wins and a hundred thousand fans flood out into the streets to light fires, turn over cars, break windows and start fights. D&D deserves to bring as much joy and bitterness as any other beloved activity, no matter what damaged participants might not have the wherewithal to bear the strain of that relationship. 

Therefore, upon creating their characters, players should not expect to be given directions or worksheets as to what is expected of them. They should have precisely what we have in life: a vague understanding of what we are able to do and a clear understanding that if we do not do it for ourselves, we won't survive. And one other thing: an appreciation that, unlike in real life, if our efforts and ambitions, and time spent, explode in our faces and leave us dead and dying on the battle field, it does not mean the end of our gameplay. We can brush ourselves off, value what we've learned, and try again. 

Players must understand that their characters are expected to live. Everything else is up to them.