They Don't Know Anything ... Yet

The first post of this blog talks about how I was introduced to the game of D&D back in 1979.  It briefly references having to play the game to understand it, the fact of my being given a fighter to play because it was easiest for the DM and that I was told to "watch and learn."

I believe that of course you have to play D&D to "understand" it, but the same argument has to be said for any human endeavour.  What it looks like from the outside, or how puzzling it might be, is always overcome through participating, whether it's learning how to sew, how to raise children, how to build an office building or what it's like to live with cancer.  On the other hand, I've learned through experience that it's perfectly possible to get the general idea of the game without actually having to play it ... as this is merely an explanation of the "interactive storytelling" dynamic that has been around since flip books were invented in 1860.  You're given information, you make a decision, the decision has a consequence ... and repeat.

D&Ders like to make things seem a lot more convoluted than they really are because they're super-conscious of all the choices and nuances of the game ... along with many, many interpretations and alterations of the rules that have gone on for decades — which most players, even those with only a few years experience, can't unsee.  But it's important to realise that people who have never played D&D before do not see the game as a "scary set of rules and math."  Most people expect a lot of rules when playing an intelligent, compelling game.  Most people do not see "math" as an insurmountable problem, since calculators exist ... and, in fact, since the math related to D&D is arithmatic, this is math on a 4th grade level.  Most people do this math constantly and necessarily as a part of their jobs, IF they have a university or college level education.

The rules of D&D occasionally ask us to invoke geometry (the spell effect is 30 degrees wide), but hardly ever asks for trigonometry or calculus.  I mean, I don't know when in 42 years I've needed calculus; occasionally I use algebra or simple perturbations.  But these are still lower grade school maths.  "Experienced" D&D players often invoke the trials of "math" as though speaking of math as something one needs to be a mathematician to negotiate.

People who have never played D&D before do not think of character creation as onerous or tiresome.  They've never done it before.  When the system is coupled with random generation and provides a thorough approach, the actual rolling up of a character is a fascinating process.  New players, once they obtain the needed materials, spend hours and hours generating character after character, appreciating and delighting in the process as they experiment.  They soon learn the system really isn't that complicated after all ... whereupon soon after they grow bored and conveniently forget they once had a different outlook.  Having become jaded, they assume everyone else, even brand new players, must also be bored, and so think that by providing pre-generated characters at the start of a game, or for giving to neophyte players, saves everyone that terrible, monotonous time-wasting process of character generation.

New players have no idea that being asked to keep track of so many things is unreasonable — that is, unless the DM harps on and on about how many things there are and how so many of them aren't used much, and how sorry it is that these things have to be tallied and included.  If a new player comes to the game and finds everyone else easily managing the details of their character without complaint, cheerfully expressing their anticipation of having enough money to purchase something, or reaching the next level, or finding ways to cut their equipment down to make them more effective, new players will adopt that attitude and embrace it.  If we prime the new player to see parts of the game as a burden, they will adopt the burden ... and take note of every other player's protests and complaints.  On the other hand, if the new player expects to step up and behave like everyone else, dutifully keeping track of things, THEY WILL.

Introducing a new player to a game varies remarkably according to the game table's social practice.  Bad habits perpetrate, as do good habits.  Positivity, demonstrated by the attitude of the party towards themselves and each other, constructs positivity in the learner, who then acquires the capacity to be positive with regards to the game.  When the DM hands the player a pre-gen character, a profound and definite message is being sent: you're not up to making a character; you're not meant to understand that process; we don't trust you; we don't have the time to teach you; we don't have the time to let you discover this process for yourself ... and so on.

Of course, if the "new" player actually has plenty of experience with D&D in other campaigns, they understand what to do with the pre-gen sheet.  And they may appreciate being able to skip that process.  But here I'm not discussing "savvy" players; I will address that matter later.  Nonetheless, it can be recognised that if a DM gets into the habit of using pre-gen characters, then he or she will distribute them indescriminately to everyone ... including wholly new players, players who like rolling up their own player characters (and thus have this opportunity stolen from them) and players who just don't care — thus equating all three as the same person for game purposes.  This is very definitely a mistake where learning and introducing players, even savvy players, into one's campaign.

A useful approach to the introduction of a new player can be taken from the social practice related to apprenticeships.  This is not merely a matter of introducing others to the base learnable materials associated with the game, but also reproducing a functional, affirmative mindset among all the players that establishes play.  I already have a group of constructive, enthusiastic players who are supportive of each other.  Introducing a new player, I want that new player to learn how to be constructive, to feel that enthusiasm is rewarded, and to participate in the support of other players beyond themselves.  Teaching someone How to Play is much more than teaching the rules or telling them when to roll dice, but also includes the attitude that's expected here, at this table, where you're being allowed to play.

This is no different than any other group activity, or any trade where multiple people work together towards a common goal.  It's not enough that you have the skills to be an electrician; you're sent to work in the field, with other electricians, to learn how to behave like an electrician does ... and those who chafe at being told how to act or conduct themselves, who act too rashly, who conduct themselves too independently, are denied their ticket.  This denial happens for two reasons: one, because no employer wants this person around, which gives the school a bad reputation as an insitution; and two, because people who cannot conform get killed.  Failing them so they find some other occupation is saving their lives.

Allegorically, the same principle applies to D&D.  Selfish and unsupportive players, players who brood over undesired rules and search endlessly for exceptions, those who seek to be rewarded for behaviour other than problem solving and risk, are those who forget what the game's meant to be about, or why we're here together, or the needs of others.  They're so busy grouching silently about what they want and not getting that they'll miss details, fail to grasp fully what's happening, make assumptions about what to do without sharing with others ... then bull their way ahead when overcoming obstacles.  This pattern of behaviour produces untenable situations that lead, again, to death ... though thankfully only a fictional one.

An apprenticeship takes a two-tier approach.  First, that the apprentice learns every part of the activity from the start, without exception.  The apprentice creates their own character.  Each part of the character creation is lightly explained the first time through, and then time is taken to explain these details again and again until the apprentice understands every part of the character creation process.  Judging from my experience, this takes about four or five years. (joking)

Second, the apprentice is corrected, as often as necessary — in a supportive manner, arguing that yes, you're allowed to make mistakes, but you're expected to know what the mistakes are.   I won't hesitate to let a player choose a bad spell for their spellcaster.  But I also won't hesitate to explain later why it was a bad choice and why I'm ready to let the character make a better choice.  Players are not sacrosanct in the way they manage their characters.  They are, and ought to be, subject to the criticism of every player around the table, and the DM also, because none of us are playing this game by ourselves.  We are playing together.  This means that ANY decision made by every player affects all the players, always.  If you choose a rather feckless spell for your mage when a better spell may have been more supportive of the group, then every person in the group is entitled to weigh in.  And you, dear player, are expected to accept this criticism ... and either defend yourself effectively or comply with the group's opinion.  If your defense of your choice is valid, others around the table, including me as your DM, are the sort who can recognise it and change our minds.  But if your defense is so invalid that it changes no one's mind, you are expected to change your mind.

This is why my players have no trouble disagreeing with me, or taking me to task when I cannot effectively explain my position.  I've trained them to be this way, with me and with each other.  This approach may strike many, many players out there with, "Oh my fucking gawd, I have my own opinion, thank you!" ... but I assure the reader, it makes awesome game runnings.  Those who want to be individuals in their game play should play chess.  Or video games.  D&D is a community; and the participants of my game are expected to act like they're a part of that community.

New players have zero trouble with this.  They have no preconceptions of how they're supposed to play, so they cheerfully jump into the supportive community model without hesitation.  They find the instant collaborative encouragement and advocacy as the vital element that makes the game fun and exciting.  They love and adore the idea of winning against a monster as a team, since everyone else exhibits that same ideal.  It doesn't occur to new players to seek shortcuts and gamesmanship advantages because they see no one else pursuing these.  It would never occur to them to ask if they could use a shield and a two-handed weapon at the same time, because on the face of it the question is ridiculous, given their non-game experience.  It takes a participant with lots and lots of D&D under their belt to pose most questions that try to circumvent the rules in such a fashion ... and they usually occur because some other DM said "yes."  New players simply haven't been trained to approach my campaign from the perspective of other campaigns.

At the same time, any time some new player introduced to my campaign tries to play with someone else, the disappointment has nothing to do with the rules, the edition or the amount of roll-vs.-role playing.  It has everything to do with the incessant, poisonous self-involvement of the other players and especially the DM.  Having been introduced into a positive D&D environment, the intrinsic lack of personal support from others around the table is unpalatable, to say the least.

In short, I ruin players for other games.  Been doing this for forty years now.

With my next post, I'll take a whack at those critical first hours when a new player sits down to play.  I can only explain these things as I do them; I can't hold in much regard why or what impels other DMs to do what they do.