The DM's Role

There are those who would argue that I overgeneralise my beliefs about DMing, that there can't be a universal approach across all Dungeons and Dragons groups.  I agree.  Anything I might say here is probably going to be a disaster if the reader indulges in 5th edition, as the rhetoric spoonfed to those participants argues very highly for a DM that scrapes and grovels before the players, so that they'll be sure to get what they want.

I am old school.  Not in the sense that I run an old-school style game, which I don't, but in that I believe that for the most part, most people haven't a clue what they want.  Which is not to say that I know either.  I embrace the believe that people can change, even that they want to change, but that it can't happen unless we're faced with a terrible crisis, which we must overcome.  I don't believe a DM should make a player's life easy.  I don't think players should necessarily get what they want, even if they earn it.  There are philosophical lessons that apply here, about people who sacrifice everything they have to obtain something they perceive to be of great value, only to be disappointed when they discover that wealth or magic or what have you turns out to be a dud.  The Monkey's Paw, for example, by W.W. Jacobs, or The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant, or The Pearl by John Steinbeck.  Even the very simple line channeled through the character Spock, that having is not necessarily as satisfying as wanting.

These are themes not usually applied in D&D.  The game is taken by most in the same spirit as Monopoly, in which only happiness is gotten through the acquisition of Boardwalk and Park Place, or the elimination of every other player ... because the difficulties of wealth or public perception are divorced from that simplified game.  They can be divorced from D&D too, if that's what's wanted.  The result is a hollow, frivolous game deserving of the reputation that it's for children and not serious people.  We don't have to go far to find pundits arguing vehemently that the game ought to be shallow in this fashion, as it's supposed to be "fun."

I'm a bit old for activities based on wish-fulfillment.  This is why the stand I take, that the DM's role is to govern or make judgments on the player's actions, holding them to a standard that many would find uncomfortable or even aggravating.  The world we know holds people accountable for their actions; those players who want to remain unaccountable, especially to the DM witnessing their play, are interested in a very different "fantasy" than the one I believe in.

I thought it might be useful to discuss the sort of pushback we might expect running D&D in the manner I proscribe.  We should assume that various players will have a different understanding of the game's purpose or goals than the DM, who are here in our world to play another style of play than the one we're offering.  Starting with ...

The DM's Authority.  Not an easy subject to address.  I've made the argument that the DM needs to take a position like Lieutenant Dan:  that it's my place to smarten you up, teach you my game, give you the fundamentals on how to survive and ultimately make you a better player as I see it.

This is going to ruffle the feathers of many a player, who perceives the game to be more collaborative than I've stated — and that the DM is a "guide" rather than an authoritative figure.  As such, the player expect the DM to incorporate the player's ideas into his or her setting, including backstories and suggestions for the adventure's unfolding narrative.  Under this rubric, players might desire to introduce elements such as locations or factions they think should be in existence, give their expectations for what they want and insist that the campaign adhere to a certain tone.  In like manner, players could feel it's their right to suspend certain actions or events the DM might propose, since we're all equal here and obviously, as individuals, we have a right to circumscribe what's important, while censoring what's not.

I've never encountered this player; or, perhaps, the idea is so anathema to the way I run my game, or the way anyone ran their game up until the company handed official status to the cranks for the run-up to 5th edition, that such persons are booted so fast as to make one's head swim.  This late series of posts should have conveyed the solid, constant work that would need doing before a game could be run at all: writing out rules, maps, obtaining materials (I said nothing, incidentally, of trying to find appropriate dice in the mid 1970s), organising a playspace and selling the idea to high-functioning individuals.  It's idiocy, to me, to imagine some johnny-come-lately assuming an authority to tell me what my game world's going to be and what it's going to do.  My players aren't customers, to whom I'm beholden to give what they want.  My players are prizewinners, who are lucky enough to participate.  I can afford to see it that way because my style and approach allows me to pick and choose players who fit with my perspective.

A counterargument is that allowing players to contribute and make suggestions increases their satisfaction ... and that not doing so leaves potential creative value on the table, unexploited.  It's usually assumed that if a DM is inflexible, that must mean that he or she is also "dictatorial" ... which is why I've employed Lieutenant Dan as a model.  There are always soldiers who hate lieutenants; and there are always soldiers who think they can do something better.  And there ready to believe, pretty fast, that all lieutenants are "dictators" — primarily because they cannot see what's really going on, or why, or how the unpleasantness required by the lieutenant is necessary.  I take the stand the army takes; of course players can contribute, and give their ideas, and feel a part of what's going on — as soon as they earn that privilege.

Player Dependency.  This hinges on the assumption I've made that players need me to interpret the game world and rules for them.  There are players who take considerable umbrage to this, who believe that they ought to be free to figure out the nuances of the setting and rules for themselves.  In their eyes, the DM's intervention hinders their sense of agency and discovery.

I have had this sort of player now and then, though never a woman.  It's the sort of person who won't follow instructions, won't ask for directions, won't use a tool in the manner that's intended and who sees advice as a means of control.  Such persons want to treat D&D as a video game, where they can fiddle and test things as long as they wish to the detriment of time spent playing the game.  The process ignores that there are other persons present who maybe just want to get on with things.

The perspective is that of individual player agency, not party agency.  It also assumes the DM's intent in guiding the player's understanding of the rules and setting is to be a hindrance, which is a viewpoint that's been calcified by much BAD design and advice in the D&D community.  Every voice that's made an argument that a "great" way to create excitement or immersion in a game is to arbitrarily fuck with the player's fairly gotten gains or their welfare has contributed to the sentiment that a player should view the game's presentation as a minefield.  Wise persons move very slowly over a minefield.  Therefore, the player shouldn't assume the DM is credible or a reliable source for knowledge.

I don't like being thought of as a liar, whatever the reason.  I have nothing to gain by misleading players.  There are more than enough plain obstacles in front of the players, I don't have to hide a whole field of them in the dirt below the player's feet just to make sure they don't trust me.  I've had very, very little of this issue in real life, perhaps because the other players are just as ready to boo and hiss when a single player needs to ask questions to which everyone else already knows the answer.

I've encountered the issue mostly with online settings.  I assume, therefore, it's also more common with tournament games, where an individual feels no attachment to others at the table, because we don't know each other and we won't be seeing each other again.  It's up to the DM to prioritise gameplay over the individual's need and uncertainty, ensuring that the game progresses efficiently.  Some time can be made for players to explore and learn independently — there are always large parts of game play designed expressly for this purpose.  With regards to the big picture, however, players must learn to take much of what the DM says on faith, or they don't belong in the game.

This post has gone on longer than I expected.  I need to hump my ass to the pharmacy and get my flu shot and my covid shot today (one in each shoulder; done it before, with no issues or after-effects).   I'd hoped to explain how — in light of the above — the DM has to resist downplaying the importance of the player's agency and contributions, and has to resist the urge to overguide the players.  It's very easy from the above to assume that I'd do either ... though again, Lieutenant Dan wouldn't.  Players, like soldiers, must be taught with the express purpose of helping them stand on their own two feet.  It's not the goal for the DM to be constantly correcting the players actions, or constantly rehearsing the setting and the rules.  Like the players, the DM has to be flexible (which is, in the film, Lieutenant Dan's flaw).

We can talk about this with the next post.