Winning over the Players

Continuing from the last post ...

It's easy to be mistaken as the wrong kind of DM.  Taking the stand as an authority figure, counselling the players on the rules and the setting, even the assumption that the players need to be "taught how to play," can suggest an inflexibility that's familiar as a form of bad game management.  If we stress the strength or thoroughness of our role, we can be seen as downplaying the importance of player contributions, or denying the player freedom of input or agency.  It's implied that players, guided to understand the peculiar game setting of a DM, are robbed of their freedom to "explore" the game world, in a way they'd choose to do so without being influenced.  Arguing a particular relationship between the DM and the players can arouse charges of "oversimplifying" the dynamic, with players arguing that negotiation or shared investment in the game is being challenged.

These charges can be difficult to address.  Unless we spend ten thousand words describing something, we're sure to be accused of oversimplifying ... and if we do take the time to write that much, we'll be accused of overthinking it.  Both are strategies employed by people who don't want to change their behaviour, whom we'll regret welcoming into our worlds, should we make that mistake.

Much of the pushback that every DM receives is based upon an attitude towards the general community, and not us specifically.  If I say, "It's my world," I'll be accused of being protectionist and exclusionary.  If I state that the narrative is my responsibility, I'll be accused of dismissing my players' right to insert things or ideas into my narrative, and thus denying their agency.  If I say that it's my responsibility to explain the setting I've invented, the rules I've invented and the reasons for those rules, I'll be accused of trying to arrange the game in my favour, condescending to the players or otherwise failing to meet a "collaborative" standard that's been imposed on many communities ... though the exact meaning of that word is never fully explained.

I've read and met dungeon masters who create settings for that purpose, and crow about their entitlement to make arbitrary judgments ... who even argue for the absence of game rules.  Some make it a philosophy, that sessions should be subject only to the DM's whim, based on a premise that the DM knows best what a "good game" needs from moment to moment.  To provide that, they say, they can't be stymied by rules that would only get in the way of the DM's freedom.

This is not what I stand for.

The presence of such people, and others who have equally reprehensible ideologies and such, have long polluted the reliability of the RPG community.  Initiate a game, and one can always expect to be accused of having a motive that some other DM had in that player's memory.  As with dating, we are not measured for who we are; we're measured upon the criteria of every other person who's ever been in our place, though of course we couldn't there for all the arguments and bad behaviour that went on.  Nonetheless, should we say anything that might resemble something that Other Half #3 said five years ago, we quickly find ourselves in Other Half's shoes, answering for what Other Half did and being counted as Other Half's twin sibling.

This makes for many landmines, for DMs as much as for significant others.  Logically, it'd be helpful to have some strategies to preempt this, to clear the air before starting and make it clear that we are not them.  This can be done as a session zero, if need be ... but I've always done it by living my life more or less to these principles, so that anyone who might play in my game has already met me, already knows what I stand for and already knows what I want from my game, through the eyes of my other players.  Therefore, with any new player, I can usually cover the basics in a few minutes, pausing now and them to deal with unclear situations as they arise, preferably at once before any resentment can accumulate.

First and always, engage in open and honest communication — not just the game, but about everything.  If I feel uncomfortable about an upcoming conflict, I'll say so.  If I'm uncertain about a rule I'm adding to the game, I don't adopt a pretense that it'll be fine, I confess that it might not work and then I'll explain exactly which weaknesses I perceive might exist.  Strength and confidence are never produced by pretending to be either; we do not "fake it" until we make it.  We must express all our doubts, all our reservations, all our honest feelings about every action or statements our players make.  Doing so helps relieve us of the burden to living up to something we're uncertain about.  Then we can concentrate on doing the job, instead of worrying about how our performance is judged.  Moreover, the sort of players we want are those with empathy and perspective, who can appreciate how difficult it is to run, how much energy it takes, what limitations we view in ourselves.  Don't be pompous.  Be forthcoming.  Then, if some player rushes to take advantage of that, we'll know exactly who doesn't belong.

We should stress our individuality.  This is our world and our rules.  It doesn't matter how the book does it, or how it was done in someone else's game.  As stated above, this doesn't need to be stated aggressively.  We can say it openly, expressing what game is being made by doing it this other way.  I have problems with the way traditional D&D awards experience.  I've chosen to award experience differently, for these reasons, because of how I've been disappointed with past results.  State things in just that way: here's what I didn't like about that; here's what I'm trying to achieve; here's how I'm hoping to achieve it.  This is different from what others are doing, because I am different.  My vision is different.  My game is different.  Not for reasons of vanity, but because I honestly believe that my dissatisfaction with past methods can be overcome with better methods.

Demonstrate that positive behaviour.  Be empathic towards other players.  If they want to do something that the rules deny, encourage them to think of something else that is possible.  Consistently make choices that align with our values, as we've stated above.  Stand firm on points, but be prepared to listen to a players' point of view.  This can be difficult.  I've had players shout at me, throw dice and other objects at me, threaten me ... and in such moments, I've given in to my emotions too, acting as badly as anyone.  But we review that behaviour in ourselves, reflect upon it, make our amends if need be, and resolve to do better.  We're humans, not angels.  We'll lose our temper and become unrestrained, because we're passionate and we believe in what we're doing.  But we're also able to better ourselves, and to learn that a positive response is, in every situation, the better option.

Be mindful of the company we keep.  Just as the above, if we're open and it's mocked, if we're positive and it's insulted, if we're honest and firm and that gets us accused of things we're not doing, observe that the player at our table may not belong there.  We can make a lot of concessions for a lot of reasons, and we should always try.  But game rules are rules.  If the majority are here because they've come to accept those rules, and if they've been here long enough, then a rule shouldn't be changed just to pleas one player.  D&D is a community known for quite a lot of negative behaviour.  It's often going to be necessary to distance ourselves, and our game, from those persons who don't accept our values.

Take the time to reflect.  I've used that term in the above, but let's look at it.  A DM has a lot to do in a session; it takes considerable energy to maintain focus and momentum in a game, to field questions quickly, to make adjustments for others, to correct mistakes without dwelling, to be precisely expressive when detailing the setting — as any small error might spoil the surprise — all while maintaining a friendly, jovial, open, honest, positive demeanour while imposing rules disallowing the players from action.  It's a balancing act.  One small aggression, in the wrong tone, can stir up a player's dissatisfaction quite easily ... especially when measured against instances where the die might destroy a player's most favourite magical item or cause death.  In the game's time frame, an emotional wound can easily go overlooked and unaddressed.  Thus we take time, after, and often, to think about our last game — if possible, from the point of view of every player.  Can I remember what each said, that might provide a clue as to who had a good time, who seemed a bit sullen as the game broke up, or who failed to do well by dice or play?  Puzzle it out.  Reach out to anyone who seems to need it.  Being self-aware of how our actions affect others can strengthen our ability to resist dismissiveness while maintaining our integrity as a DM and as a person.

All these things assume patience, a desire to lead by example and, as stated repeatedly, a resolution to educate others.  Sit at my table and I'm going to educate you about me, about what I'm doing there, about why this rule or that matters to me, about what these other players want as individuals, about why I chose to make my setting in this manner or that, about what motivates the non-player denizens of the setting and so on.  I call it "education;" another might call it providing exposition.  For me personally, the player's exploration of the game's setting or world can't be precluded by my guidance, because there's vastly more world than I could hope to intentionally describe in a lifetime.  Moreover, because I run the real world, Earth, circa 1650, anything the players could possibly suggest to be included in the game's setting must, by definition, already be there.  If a human imagination can think it up, then the only limitation is whether or not it can be made with 17th century materials and knowledge.  Along with, of course, what D&D rules also allow.

Pulling this and the last post together ... we can't control the assumptions that others make about our intentions and our policies.  We can control how we respond.  We can control what work we've done to provide explanations for our choices.  By adhering to the policies above, we can put to rest concerns of players who fear "being controlled" by the DM — excepting those whose motive is about controlling the game themselves, who don't belong in our campaigns.  Taking a strong, paternal stand as a DM can be loving and giving; it's only those who cannot trust that will find some evidence of our desire to exploit them.