Oil to my Elbows

The image shown is from p. 11 of 4th Edition's DMG, How to be a DM.

This gets harder.

Each step along the process of re-inventing D&D into this sludge takes us a little further down the road of subverting the DM's control over the game and his or her authority.  Note the choices being made here.  The player's invented background is reframed as "building the campaign world."  The DM needs "help" in creating details about the player's missions.  In the spirit of inclusion, "each" player takes a part in defining the game world; and the DM is encouraged to make sure the player's background is relevant to what happens next.

Yes, there is lip service paid to the DM who wants to "take as much control over it" as they want.  But note that 9/10ths of the text is distinctly written contrary to this idea, and that the language used for how much control the DM takes deliberately presupposes the DM will want to surrender at least some control over the game world to the players.  Expectedly, the DM will be lacking in being able to create the complex setting required: so, we're expressly told the DM should feel free to seek help.  Don't take so much all on your own shoulders.  Share it around.

Then, right at the end, after cajoling the reader into accepting this perspective, the passage slaps us right in the face:  let the player's help, but don't let one of your players help too much.  Spread it around.  The writers know perfectly well that the creative abilities of the players will differ considerably; and that there will certainly be one player with lots and lots of ideas, and others who will complacently bow to that player's will.  The writers will have seen, as we all have, that giving the party more power usually translates into giving ONE PLAYER more power, creating a conflict between two people at the table that pushes the rest out.  Therefore, this warning.  However, the writers don't think its necessary to tell you how this revolving around one player happens, or what to do when it happens. 
"Oh, hey, when this happens, don't let it."  That's all that you, as a DM, get.

Time to warn you again: if 4e is your thing; if the above seems rational and appropriate, stop reading here.

Obviously, the whole passage is horseshit.  From the above, gone are the days of Gygax, Arneson and others who ran games from "on high"—when it was a privilege to die at the hands of a lauded DM.  The company has heard the cries of a thousand frustrated and overtaxed DMs who have said, "It's too much, I can't manage all these details," and they have come back with an answer.  Don't do it yourself.  Ask for help.

This is a disaster; understanding why and how it's a disaster asks for trust in something we've come to disdain.  The company, and many others besides, have never gotten comfortable with the authoritarian status of the DM.  There are too many ways in which that power can corrupt individuals, especially the nine y.o.'s we've targeted as our best market.  There are too many ways in which encouraging authoritarianism at the game table can backfire with the distrustful, criticizing public.  We have parents wanting to know why their children are spending so much time dedicating themselves to a game, not to mention the outsider's perspective of one child telling other children what to do and think.  It's upsetting.  Coupled with DMs folding under the pressure, and that ever-present need for inclusiveness, I can understand why the befuddled nonsense written above looked like a good fix for the company.  It encourages new DMs to feel they have a "crutch" to lean on (the other players), everyone is made to feel like their equals and they're all entited to take part, and the notion can be sold to parents and the public that D&D is a "co-operative game," when it plainly looks to an outsider like there's a boss and followers.  Problem solved.

Except it isn't.

DMing doesn't work as a collaborative effort, any more than tennis would work better if the players collaborated with the chair or line umpires.  There are too many ways to interpret the rules, too much information that has to be specifically held back from the players to create a "fog of war," too much room for players to gamesmanship the DM, for collaboration to work as a practical method of solving the DM's work problem.  If anything, trying to cater to the needs and expectations of character backstories is MORE work, not less.  Now, not only do you have to provide the setting, you also have to tailor that setting in just such a way that all of the players (and especially that one vocal player) feel personally stroked.  Effectively, we've put the DM in charge of everyone's emotional fun; a very common argument for the company, but as we've often seen, an ill-fated situation for a DM that's already wallowing.

On the whole, we don't trust or like authority.  We don't like when authority comes down like a hammer on our expectations and self-will.  Players I've had who insisted on grabbing the reins of my campaign by constantly pushing against every rule, or contriving to get around me or the players, or acting solely in their own regard, have borne me a heavy grudge for slapping them back for such actions.  Rules may be discussed outside the game, but during the game rules are there to be accepted and followed; there is a right time and a wrong time for challenging them.

I cannot be "gotten around."  I've had a lot of players try it and I am fine-tuned for the signs; those signs exist in a lot of circumstances and not just D&D; I've had plenty of experience across the board.  I know many, many people who can be gotten around, and how, and I've watched it play out for the worse many times.  I understand why and how the heavy-handed approach I see players try with me will work with another DM.  I also see that when a player says, "I haven't played in many years, but I'd like to try your campaign," that this is a warning sign.  It means, "I haven't been allowed to play."  Or, "I've gotten tired of being able to get around DM's so easily—Alexis, you seem like a challenge."  I'm not a challenge.  I'm a smart, draconian shithead.  I will see you coming, I will tolerate you so long as I feel you're still contributing something to the campaign ... and when you no longer are, you're gone and I will feel no regret whatsoever.  I cannot be gotten around.

It is perceived that a "good game" derives from creative application of the rules and, like the text above, the joint participation in the "story" that provides the players what they think they need or require.  We're fed a steady diet of rhetoric dictating that working jointly on any activity, not just D&D, is the best way to ensure that everyone has a good time.

Cooperation is a wonderful thing when the perameters that need to be accomplished are understood.  I could not prep and cook meals, wash dishes, dress plates or serve 350 people during a three-hour rush at any restaurant I've worked at.  I rely on cooperating and being cooperated with others, who all get what we need to do, to make the food, pump it out, handle the accidents and mistakes, speak respectfully and even cheer each other on with jokes, observations and candid behaviour.  Some of the best crews I worked with understood that work required an amalgamation of group think.  

I remember a running joke in one restaurant, when we used to do $7000 a night in today's money, that consisted of random people shouting out at random times, "Can't we all just get along?"  This would follow any statement with the least taint of conflict.  The server would say, "You forgot the sauce," the cook would answer, "Oops, sorry," and someone down the line would call out, "Don't fight!  Can't we all just get along?"  And everyone would laugh.  We all played the game, it deflated stress—and when we tired of it, some other phrase would rise up and be dominant for a time.

I could not have done that dangerous, sloshy floor work, in an environment filled with boiling hot oil, water and fire for 15 years if I did not know how to cooperate and bail out others.  I once saw a fellow worker slip, fall and land up to his elbow in the fryer, 500 degrees F.  His scream cut the air and the full restaurant went dead silent.  We knew what that job was, just as people know what a job is in a factory, on a train yard, a construction sight, at sea or in the military.  In jobs far more dangerous than my, cooperation is a line between life and death.

This goes to argue, however, that there is a VAST difference between "cooperation" and "collaboration."  People often conflate the two.  We knew our jobs in the kitchen; we knew the safety mechanisms and the health codes.  We did not collaborate on those things.  Those things were decided for us, and we cooperated with those decisions.  The sense that people have, that things work better with multiple people making decisions, is a fallacy deriving from those people who resist cooperation.

Players who resist the rules, or resist having concern or respect for others, who act out, who challenge the DM, who battle and cater to themselves with elaborate character backgrounds, who want to contribute their two cents to the setting or the campaign, who want their opinion about how the world should work made official ... these people are NOT cooperating.  As such, they are the problem.  The text from 4th edition not only fails to understand this, they are actively promoting a lack of cooperation specifically to appease the loudest, most annoying voices in the game culture.

Content like this has gone a long way towards killing the game, by replacing it with a doppelganger.

And now, 13 years later, in its 5th edition guise, the doppelganger is alive and well and probably beyond the reach of correction.

This series continues with The Sermon Today Is...