The "message" is distinct from language the way that music is distinct from an instrument. Thus, the goal is first for us to understand how the instrument works: what it does, why we need it and most importantly, how to create with it.
That is a vast subject matter, worthy of it's own book specifically prescriptive to D&D. We're going to touch on the highlights ... and even that's going to take awhile. Our goal for the present is to awaken the reader's appreciation of language; like the air, something we think very little about, yet is absolutely necessary.
Entering into D&D, we're quickly overwhelmed with a mountain of phrases and new words. There are scores of special colloquial phrases that apply to D&D as a discipline, such as "roll to hit" or "make save." There are hundreds upon hundreds of monsters, spells, abilities and the like, each of which require that we dredge their meaning up from memory on the spur of the moment, because not doing so greatly constrains the grace and elegance of play. Common words like "combat," "experience" or "intelligence" have much more precise meanings than they would in some other context. Less familiar words, like "psionics," "cantrip" or "ultravision," may never occur in any context except with D&D, including television shows obviously plundering D&D for concepts.
Once the basic terms are grasped and committed to memory, there follows an increasingly diverse set of circumstances surrounding the adventures themselves asking the players and DM to commit to memory more terms, describing characters, historical figures, place-names, mythical objects, parts of things, along with whole lists of equipment and how it works in play. Should the characters undertake shipboard adventures, sieges, the pursuit of industry, even farming, there comes even more things to know, at least as much as an amateur, as discussions of ship mechanics, tactics, the commission of trade and seasonal cycles all become part of game play. There is no literal end to this proliferation, as all human knowledge can be co-opted into the game, at any time, by any participant, merely by stating they'd like their character to get interested in that thing.
As complexity balloons, so does stress as the players and DM struggle to manage the data along with the intermingling of opinions and intentions displayed by persons of disparate natures. Every word grows in weight, so that showing respect, giving demonstration that we're listening, managing our body language so as not to intimidate, forcing ourselves to ask questions, expressing ourselves in an open-minded manner and giving strong and useful feedback all become critical skills ... or else, we have chaos. As a DM, I can use my pulpit to bully players, shut down free dialogue, enforce my expectations and end disputes through my nominal authority ... but I guarantee that my only players will be weak, deprived toadies so starved for D&D that they'll trade their dignity for the privilege of a faux-campaign. If I want the best players, then I must live up to the standard that good players set: the expectation of being able to force their will on the game setting, without my meddling. That requires an ability to express myself clearly, decently, honorably, thoroughly and magnetically. A very tall order.
Accomplishing this cannot be managed by having a "DM's cloak" in one's closet that's afterwards shed when everyday life begins. We have to practice these language skills with constancy, until they become second-nature in all our activities. It's from this meshing of D&D into other parts of life that a DM discovers the many skills in managing and attending to other persons contributes vocationally across the spectrum of our activities. If I rise to speak at a political gathering, the voice I have, the words I choose, the manner of my stance, my habit of looking at every person in the room as I speak, all come from thousands of hours playing D&D. Likewise, as a cook for 15 years, I learned to handle dozens of orders at a time, interweaving my movements around the rapid steps of other cooks, calling back to show I'd heard what I was told — while making jokes and laughing amidst the panic of stress. Those habits transformed my dungeon mastering, empowering my attention so as to manage question after question without relent. Every occupation I've undertaken, from publishing to theatre, from sales to landscaping, from furniture moving to database management, has contributed it's important part to my language and interpersonal skills. I am a DM no matter what I'm doing at any given time.
The key element of dungeon mastering is teaching. All that I've just described above is there to be learned by all the players and the DM too ... but the DM has the extra assignment of encouraging the players to immerse themselves into the subject material as much as the DM has. This means grappling with the player's subjective assessment of why he or she plays at all, evaluating the strengths that has for our game, the liabilities it creates, and then wading in to address how the player's perspective has to be re-grounded in terms of the group activity the game represents. Those strengths have to be cultivated, just as those liabilities must be wrestled with and brought to heel ... generally by explaining as often as necessary why a given player's subjective perception is inimical to the general play of all present. Relationships must be objective ... our immediate wants and expectations have to be trained to respect other people's wants and expectations. This means sometimes, we must teach ourselves not to want something we want very badly, in the present, consigning the acquisition of that want to the future.
Finding the path that leads to that Shambala in other people's heads is very nearly impossible. People are stubborn and distrustful. Their trust must be earned; they must be made to believe that there will be a future, and that we as DMs are duty-bound to make that future happen, in exchange for their foregoing their present. Promises as a DM are contracts; thus one learns not to talk lightly, which lends a remarkable weight to everything that's said through the game. If I need Jim to let Jane get her way today, then I'd better damn well plan for the day that Jane'll have to wait while Jim gets his turn. That means managing both Jim and Jane in a positive, absolutely sincere manner. That means letting Jim or Jane shout full in my face when I've said something that plainly mis-states my position ... and making it up to them, as I should. It means not getting my way, while ensuring that others — all the others at my table — get theirs.
All this offers room for the nitty-gritty of language mechanics: the use of grammar, syntax, vocabulary, control of one's pronunciation, the use of words to evoke images, the "priming" of players so as to make them respond and think in predictable ways, and of course the vast, bottomless well of semiotics. I've spent time on this blog discussing at length subjects like meaning-making, semantics, pragmatic meaning and existential learning. Each of these possesses the capacity to deepen a DM's understanding of D&D's description-response dynamics.
What we don't know about the way we ourselves think is our greatest liability ... and we must wrestle with ourselves to overcome our habitual approaches to "how" we think D&D is played or "what" we're either capable of doing, or willing to do. No manner of approaching the game is sacrosanct. I believe there IS only one correct way of playing D&D. I have no expectations that I'll ever fully learn what that is.
the theater analogy from this and the previous posts is interesting. Game presentation as performance art. We can prep quite a bit. Build sets. "define" characters. But they must be organic, and as writers/directors/performers we need to have not only detailed knowledge of the set but also what's just off stage - SR and SL and in the fly space. And what other characters are available to be introduced. Ad infinitum.
ReplyDeleteThose who DM using per-packeaged scenarios need not be aware of those spaces, those sources of enrichment.
As a director I always tell my actors that MY job is to put them in the best position to do THEIR job (which is to portray a character and tell a story.) Seems maybe I need more of this in my DMing and less boxed-in tunnel vision.
Great post as always. Everything in my life ties back to dnd eventually :)
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