Team Play

Such advice as this depends upon players who are willing to set aside every sense of their personal achievement in favour of the possibilities that multiple persons acting together can achieve. This isn't easy. Players of this out-of-the-ordinary game tend towards attitudes of personal independence, self-sufficiency and the belief that they can thrive without having to rely upon others. Many feel beset for having the sort of personality that wants to play D&D, keeping it hidden from some, elder family members included, still believing the stigma that existed in the 1980s hasn’t disappeared. This creates a certain siege mentality among players, a mindset of defending their personal identity which undermines trust and potentially creates conflict between party members.

Players who are individualists of this sort see acting independently and without the need of cooperation as a right, and therefore disregard the group dynamic.  They see the game's challenges as a personal test of wit and resourcefulness, rather than something that's solved through collective effort.

Humans encounter a similar situation when they are inducted into an army, the ultimate group-based activity, where they learn that acting independently and disregarding the group dynamic quickly leads to chaos.  In an environment where collective action is essential to success, the instinct to "go it alone" is discouraged at every level.  Soldiers are taught to rely upon one another, to trust that their comrades have their back... and to understand that success is rarely the result of a single person's initiative.

Many of the strategies for how players might be better players tend to support the each-as-individuals model. Advice that "we should not tell the other players what to do" goes against human nature, since in most cases of crisis, shared knowledge and the quick thinking of one individual, aware of all the resources at hand, including people who are just standing around, always makes the difference between failure and success. In emergencies or complex situations, someone often has to step forward and make suggestions, not because they want to dominate, but because they see the potential in the collective abilities of those around them. This isn't about controlling others but coordinating action to ensure the best possible outcome.

Human nature, especially in moments of stress, defaults to leadership and collaboration, where individuals contribute based on what they know or have observed. D&D, as a game, mirrors this reality. When a player sees an opportunity or identifies a critical resource, they naturally feel inclined to share it, to guide the group toward a solution. Disregarding this impulse to offer direction can limit the group's efficiency and leave valuable contributions untapped.

Worse, it encourages a "let them die" attitude. The one player with greater experience, knowing that another player is about to do something ill-advised, might choose to remain silent, either on the grounds of, "Well, each player has to decide for themselves," or, "I'm justified in not saying anything because this is a game, and I'm not supposed to give unsolicited advice." This mindset does more harm than good, as it undermines the very concept of a collaborative game and turns potentially valuable moments of group interaction into a test of individual failure.

By withholding insights or suggestions, that experienced player is allowing mistakes to unfold, not for the sake of the group's overall growth, but in adherence to an artificial rule about individual autonomy. It can foster a sense of isolation rather than teamwork, as those who know better are left watching others stumble, rather than stepping in to help guide the party to success. In a game built on collaboration and shared victory, remaining silent under the guise of "letting each player decide for themselves" ultimately weakens the party's cohesion and trust.

If we toss out this mindset and take the position that experience has the responsibility to give advice, a wealth of life-saving strategies emerge. Rigorous pre-determination of player actions, coordinated through discussion and sometimes led by the "smartest player," can prevent many problems before they even arise. For example, if I know that my character is most effective positioned on Jerry's shoulder, like the left outside linebacker next to the left end, then at the start of a fight, I know exactly where I want to be. This isn't guesswork or improvisation—it's based on past experience, on the understanding that my skillset works best from that position.

The ordering of a party in D&D, in this sense, is no different from deciding which person should play which position in a football lineup, with guidance from a "quarterback," who manages the plays.  The participants can all speak with and directly to the DM, expressing their intentions and actions personally, but the positioning and coordination gives some semblance to what they should be doing and when.  In most cases, I see parties trying to create entirely unique strategies in game play on the fly, without person-to-person coordination.  Sometimes this works well... most of the time, it ends in a befuddled mess.

This does not just apply to combat.  We are, as I described before, all moving our pieces in specific ways in order to gain the best advantage.  This advantage is not carried out against the dockhand or the would-be paid assassin we're trying to hire, but in confrontation with the dungeon master.  We should know, as a party, who is best able to ask questions at moments of interaction that are most likely to put the DM off his or her game.  We should know who speaks the smoothest as the party member, regardless of their character's charisma.  And with such information, we should "set up" plays before going and meeting the local burghermeister or alchemist, with agreements that John will smooth him over and Deirdre will pepper him with questions, while the rest of the party writes out their ideas on notes and shoves them at one talking player or the other.

D&D is not chess, it's football.  It's four, six, ten players arranged in position and setting themselves up to "sack" the quarterback.  The absence of this strategic coordination is baffling.  Truly, what usually happens evolves from a belief that D&D ought to be reactive, rather than proactive... and keeping the players off-balance, disunited and often in a state of in-fighting is one way that a second-rate DM can maintain control over the bunch.  Which should not be the DM's prerogative nor the DM's option.

Parties must be encouraged to view their actions in a larger context, which has been the central subject of this and the last two posts.  They have it in their capacity to greatly increase their chances of survival in a fight, as well as effectively strengthen their joint actions, in every part of game play, once they willingly choose to leave their prejudices against group activity at the wayside.