The Truth About Fun

From p. 7-8 of 4th Edition's chapter, How to be a DM:

"The last essential component of a D&D game is fun. It’s not the DM’s job to entertain the players and make sure they have fun. Every person playing the game is responsible for the fun of the game. Everyone speeds the game along, heightens the drama, helps set how much roleplaying the group is comfortable with, and brings the game world to life with their imaginations. Everyone should treat each other with respect and consideration, too—personal squabbles and fights among the characters get in the way of the fun.

"Different people have different ideas of what’s fun about D&D. Remember that the 'right way' to play D&D is the way that you and your players agree on and enjoy. If everyone comes to the table prepared to contribute to the game, everyone has fun.

"Everybody plays D&D to have fun, but different people get their enjoyment from different aspects of the game. If you’re preparing and running a game for a group of players, understanding player motivations—what they enjoy about the game and what makes them happiest when they play—helps you build a harmonious group of players and a fun game for all."

Rating:  true

This is a little bit of therapy, though perhaps some folks need that.  In a larger sense, however, we're not talking about fun.  We're talking about maturity.

Break down the above without using "fun" as the carrot, which is the message.  Be responsible for yourself.  Focus on the game.  Treat others with respect.  Don't be selfish.  Cooperate.  Basic virtues that smooth the road for yourself and for other people.  When someone isn't cooperating, and is being selfish, deriding others, derailing the game or acting unconcerned; or demanding that other people need to act in a certain way ... not only do we not have fun (which is a reward people understand), we also build memories of gaming that discourage us from wanting to play in the future.

I imagine my regular readers expected I'd disparage this section on fun but I must tell you, this is the first group of sentences that all make sense and all need to be there.  On the surface, this may seem like the usual drivel, but it targets every problem you'll have as a DM.  Problems that you're bound to ignore, because it's uncomfortable confronting others—especially your friends, about their poor behaviour.  Most of the time you'll let it pass, for reasons you won't think about.  Let's break that down:

1.  You want to please them.  They're your friends.  Even before the running starts, your thoughts will be full of, "I hope they like this adventure" and "I had better do it this way, or they won't have any fun."  Chances are, you spend most of your life fine-tuning your personality and your choices for the sake of other people—and you believe that you have to do that or other people won't like you.  If this gets to be a constant habit—and I notice that it is with most people—then after a time you'll be seen as a "go along, get along" sort of person, and others around you will make assumptions about your willingness to tag along with them to the bar they like or take part in the activities they like.  If you occasionally find yourself in situations where you're not having a good time, while others around you seem to be, you have probably become this sort of person.

Being concerned about ensuring the happiness of others and "respecting them" is not the same thing.  We're responsible for our behaviour towards other people.  We should speak considerately, help when they're in distress, ensure their welfare, give them a leg up when they need it and act like a good host, so that they have comfort and feel safe while they're in our homes.  There are things we should do towards seeing that they have a good time.  We lay out snacks, we clean the bathroom and the play space, we shower, we have our books ready, we maintain a positive attitude about the game and we ask them how they are and show we're listening to them.

We do not, however, change ourselves to suit their needs.  If we don't want to see a hockey game, we say so, and expect them to take our opinion into account without judging us.  Maybe we'll see that hockey game, but we want some recognition that it isn't our first choice and that if we go, we won't be expected to act like we're as excited about it as the next person.  With D&D, as a DM, this adventure is the best we have today.  If the players don't like it, oh well; I wasn't able to do better and they ought to understand that.  If I feel the adventure needs this, then it does; fun has nothing to do with it.  A DM has to take risks, see what works, do their best, judge how to do it better in the future and try things out, even if that means a faceplant now and then.  A DM has to be bold.  A DM cannot spend all their time obsequiously trying to ensure that others have fun.  If the players feel respected, they shouldn't need to be ingratiated.

Chances are, however, if you have this urge to please others, that probably runs pretty deep and you're not going to rid yourself of it without a lot of work and undoubtedly therapy.  The need to ingratiate will be a crippling element of your DMing and your players will walk all over you, because that's the signal beeping atop your head.  If you can't draw the line, you can't DM.

2.  You won't adjudicate.  That is, you're incapable of taking sides when a squabble or fight starts.  It can be hard when you're put in a position of having two friends fight.  You don't want to pick one over the other; you don't want to be seen as favouring anybody; and you worry that if you support Fred, George will hate you.  So you sit, helplessly, while the fight goes on, eating up the game, muttering out stupid sooky phrases like, "Can't we get along," or acting the self-righteous tyrant and shouting, "No one will fight at my game table!"  Both tactics will only prove you don't care about what the players obviously care about—they're fighting over it, after all—you only care how you will be perceived.  You only want others to behave as you expect them to.  Your lack of investment in the squabble is a sign of your selfishness.

Most likely, this is how you are all the time; and chances are it arose from a conflict-heavy childhood, in which your parents argued constantly, causing you to adapt to that by hating argument and automatically retreating from it.  You didn't know this defense mechanism would also force you to see those conflicts only in how they affect you, since there was no one around to explain the conflict, why it was happening or give you a chance to engage with the subject matter as opposed to the irrational shouting.  As a result, you hate shouting, or even voice tones that suggest shouting will start soon.  When that conflict-detector kicks in, you stop listening.  Out of habit, you shut down, the words cease getting through and you just want everyone to stop it.  So that you will be more comfortable.

Other people care about things.  Other people care enough that they will fight to defend their positions on what they care about.  Peacemaking is not accomplished by telling everyone to be peaceful.  Instead, we resolve the matter.  We step in, impose a formality to the argument, giving each person to state their side, and then WE pick one of the two sides and give our position.  As a DM, we do that with the weight of being the person in charge of the game.  And yes, that's what we are.  We are not just "another player."  We're running this show; and we do so legitimately because we listen, we consider both sides, we render our judgement and then we turn to the loser and explain, "Here's why I didn't take your side."  Then, if we see the winner gloating, we turn and we say, "What the hell are you smiling at?  I agreed with your position but you could have been more polite in making it.  Shake your friend's hand"—or words to that effect.

If you can't settle arguments, and the players can't settle them either, those arguments will fester and grow and consume your campaign and both friendships.

Chances are, if you're unable to handle conflicts as I've described, you won't be able to change that behaviour easily.  Once again, problems handling conflicts is an issue for you and your therapist.  There are many roles and professions that involve regular, difficult conflict resolution: police officer, doctor, call center operator, sales manager, restaurant server.  Another one of those roles is dungeon master.  If you can't resolve conflicts, you can't be a DM.

3. You think the game is about you.  The DM has the most power at the table and is the least important person as regards the game.  This makes very little sense to some people.  During a game, I invent the description, I invent the non-player characters and I invent the speech coming out of their mouths; I run the fights; as I've already explained, I am the table's croupier.

However, I do not lay bets.  I do not win anything.  I do not coordinate a plan.  I do not have an ambition that needs achievement.  Oh, yes, I want an adventure to sort itself out and reach a climax, but I'm a very good DM and I know well in advance, months, sometimes years in advance, that eventually the players will open the door or discover the chest or meet the guy that sorts out the mystery.  This is a done deal for me the minute I concoct the adventure in my head.  The "ambition" is to concoct the mystery; running the mystery merely involves methodical attention to the details.

Most DMs, I think, don't get this.  Even after I explain it, the numbers don't add up.  My description above seems ... lacking.  "What?  I'm supposed to just 'run' the game?  Where's the fun in that?"  Exactly.  It isn't fun.  The players run around, fighting monsters, feeling the fear of failure and the triumph of victory, twisting their brains to figure out the mystery or deciding what they want to do from thousands of interesting possibilities ... and I just sit there, asking, "What do you want to do next?"

I am amused at what players decide to do.  I feel tremendous satisfaction when something I've described gets the players really going: fuddling around trying to figure out how to get in the castle; turning pale when some really horrific monster is only mentioned as possibly being in the neighbourhood; or rubbing their hands with glee as I pour out treasure at their feet.  I'm disappointed when a monster I expected to give the party real trouble fizzles out and dies in a few rounds.  Not because I loved the monster, but because I've just realized I should have thrown three of them.  I'm disappointed in myself; I don't give a damn about the monster.  I don't love any of my monsters.  They serve a purpose and that is all they're good for.  I hate it when I listen to DMs wax on about how much they love some NPC who's just been killed by a player.

That is because DMs like this want the game to be about them.  They think the game is about them.  They think because they do all the talking and designing; because they have the last word; because they call out the bets and rake in the house's take; that somehow, this whole game revolves around them.

This is called primacy.  We all have it to some degree.  It starts in us when we're babies and we don't know what the world is all about—but we do figure out fast that it is about us.  We cry and we get fed.  We're uncomfortable and we get changed.  Life is pretty straightforward; and it's obvious these massive giants in our universe are here to please us.  Slowly, we learn the truth.  That truth is hard and unpleasant.  We're not the center of the universe.  We're not here to be served.  We're expected to do for ourselves, and care about other people and act appropriately in ways that do not involve bawling for the things we want.  It's awful.  It is a huge step down from being a pampered baby.

A certain number of people are raised by parents who believe that the child's happiness is the ultimate goal, and that every other emotion or expectation is subservient to that goal.  They think the child should be happy all the time, and if they're not, then something is wrong and it has to be corrected.  The result is that many of these children grow up to be people who are not at peace with their other emotions.  This hurts them and it hurts their relationships; and when they drift into a role where it appears that everyone else gathers in a circle at their feet, and hangs on their every word, making responses that appear to confirm that they are the most important person in the room, they fail to recognize the actual parameters of their role and end up acting like an enormous douchebag.

This happens all over this culture, from low-level managers who don't see that their role is to facilitate sales and productivity, to minor officials who see themselves as supernumerary gatekeepers who are designated to preserve society by keeping out the hordes ... to dungeon masters who think that because they've built the game and its their table, that they are the most important player and that, obviously, it is their job to cheat the dice, railroad the players and make sure that everyone has a good time, THEIR WAY.  So they can feel good about themselves, as the person who knows what's best for other people!

If you are this person, then either you stopped reading five paragraphs ago, or you absolutely do not think that you are this person and you're already self-explaining the seven reasons you're not like this—and anyway, I don't know what I'm talking about, that's obvious.  There is nothing that can be done about these people, except to stay away from them until they're hit accidentally by a truck or something.  You know, a bad thing that's an act of god, so none of us feel bad or responsible or anything.

It never happens soon enough.

Honest.  There ought to be a policy of ensuring that everyone gets therapy, just to effectively locate these people and weed them out of positions of authority.  They will never, ever, willingly put themselves in a place where others have the power to judge them.  So most of the time, unless they get caught committing a crime, none of these monsters ever get therapy.

Last remarks.

"Fun" is easy.  It happens when the people around us are not actively behaving in weak, selfish, abusive or otherwise self-aggrandising fashion.  Clean up your gaming group, clean up yourself, and fun will come naturally.  People online often say, "A good game needs good players."  Truth is, we can teach people how to be good players.  It is much harder to teach players how to be good people.

This series continues with Acting!