The Place Where Rebellion & Incompetence Meet

The image shown is from p. 8-9 of 4th Edition's DMG, How to be a DM.

Rating: indeterminate

I'm not looking forward to this; not because I don't know how to dress the subject of an instigator, but because I have my doubts that I can do it positively.

Incidentally, this makes a bad case for the "he does/she does" pronoun-use strategy.  I have hardly ever known a woman player who was an instigator, yet the choice of using the feminine pronoun here deliberately suggests otherwise.  Since we know from the credits that the book was written by, and the company is very much run by, men, this specific choice looks suspect and very much not in the vein of "inclusivity."

My etymology dictionary tells me that "instigator" arises from the Latin, instigare, "to urge on, incite," the context usually associated with shouting at sports teams to win games or the arouse the people in rebellion.  I think either is problematic since D&D isn't supposed to be about "winning" and we do have a situation where some players do resist the DM's authority.  This seems the best place to start.

"Making things happen" is a euphemism.  I think every player, whatever they're doing, are in the act of bringing about the happening of things.  Commonly, we like to associate "making things happen" with successful people fuelled by passion (and greed) set out to smash up the system in order to cause money to pour out of other people's pockets and into their own.  Here, I take this to mean instigators are people who selfishly wish to make the game all about themselves, who act out for attention, who want to go off on their own so that they can have the DM's whole attention and so on.  The way it is worded above, that they thrive in combat or dislike "having nothing to do" makes it sound like a perfectly reasonable, personal choice in how to approach the game.  Opening an obviously trapped chest, for instance, or provoking authority figures ... exactly the sort of thing that will get you killed in my game, over and over.

I'm reminded of the first online game I ran, in which the 1st level mage rushed into the town hall of a small town and decided to immediately start casting spells in the meeting hall.  He was immediately punched out by the guard and arrested, only to find himself facing a judge the next day.  I invented a storyline that would get him out of jail, because I figured at the time, "Okay, the player just needs a little time to understand how my world works."  Sadly, the player did not hang around afterwards.  I should have let him rot in jail as a message to other players, "Don't fuck around with authority."  Unfortunately, it took me several years to learn that lesson; off-line, I hadn't experienced this kind of player.

This is because someone who will "instigate" in game play will also act similarly in real life.  That I've seen plenty of times.  They're the sort who will decide they're going to teach the bouncer "a lesson," only to find themselves achieving hang time while going out the front door; or they're the type to stage an insurrection in the grocery store over the price of apples; or they're the type to argue that until they get what they think is "their due," they won't pay taxes or fix their brake-light (giving them the opportunity to rail at the indecency of the police).  These are the people who, when you go rafting with them, break their paddle in the first five minutes doing something stupid against a rock, and then sit miserably in the raft for the next hour and a half complaining because they've nothing to do.  They won't learn how to cast properly, because they can't be bothered, so you find yourself unsnarling their line or listening to them bitch and moan because they have to unsnarl their own.  They can't stop chatting on and on during the movie, and when you tell them to shut up, they call the usher to spew their grievances.  Either they scream and moan to have the football passed to them, only to drop it, or they're the player who won't pass the puck under any circumstances, ever.

Over time, you get to know the type.  In elementary school, you're forced to endure them as part of your "group," though they don't do the work and try to take all the credit.  In high school, you roll your eyes as they get thrown out of yet one more test for cheating, while crying out as they go that "I wasn't!  This is fraud!"  In university, you feel pretty good when the Prof comes in and says coldly of a student, "Mr. Garrett won't be joining us again for the rest of the semester," along with the whole class who breathes a sigh of relief.  Getting older, we recognize the signs.  We walk wide circles around these people.  We resent situations where we have to put up with them, at work, at the P.T.A., at the volunteer group that's gathered to discuss the route of the proposed city train.  Most of all, you learn not to invite them to your D&D game.

Going online, I hadn't considered that some of these people would want to play in my game world.  Not being visible, there was no way to see the signs.  For those people whose bad experiences mostly come out of attending games at conventions, game stores or other clubs, you just don't know what sort of freak you're going to sit next to when you get your character and start playing.

I have to remind myself that the advice being given by the 4th Edition book here applies mostly to such games.  It's considered bad form to be a DM at a game store or convention and kick out players who deliberately make bad choices.  Everyone, after all, has paid to take part.  In fact, conventions may draw such people like flies, specifically because they can pay their way in, whereas the rest of the world has decided they're done with these people.

My perspective is skewed, because I insist on seeing D&D in terms of my game, my group, my home, my friends.  I don't play with strangers.

I'm reminded of some football games I joined in post-high school—casual games organized through work or acquaintances—where some of the participants would tend to take things much too seriously.  There's just nothing like getting together with two people you know and 12 strangers, only to find yourself on a defensive line facing some asshole who thinks the game is important enough to try breaking your arm or leg; meaning you have to do the same with them out of self-preservation.  Some people get off on this level of competition.  I don't.  I don't get anything out of playing sports or games with people who fail to behave civilly.  I don't like spending any time with such people.  I don't like being in the same bar or on the same street with such people.  I am certainly not interested in paying for the opportunity to play my favorite game with total strangers, who might conceivably (with higher percentage odds, I'm sure), behave like idjits.

Not my game, thank you.

If, however, you do feel it is your responsibility as DM to provide these people with a place to play, for the sake of inclusiveness; if you feel that your role is equivalent to that of a public defender, where some law written in your head says that everyone deserves their kick at the D&D can, then by all means, empower instigators.  That probably will mean fudging the dice, given that they will get the group killed and attack other PCs or their allies.

But seriously, why even care?  I mean, if inclusion is the rule; if the game itself isn't important enough to defend against the entry of barbarians; then why even give a shit if the whole party is killed?  Why care about player-vs.-player?  Your decision not to hold a player to a standard indicates clearly where your priorities lie—obviously not in the integrity of the game or its play.  So what the hell do you care if the player takes stupid actions to gain attention?  Isn't that the behaviour you're enabling?  Isn't that what you want? 

If it isn't, that's an odd signal you're tapping out.

This series continues with Like a Marionette with Visible Strings