At this point, the imaginary spectators who might judge the game having been removed, the ground appears. The DM is not curating an experience. The players are not attempting to achieve an ideal. There's no one left to ask, "are we doing it right," nor is there any reason to think that a "right" exists. The DM ceases to perform. Aspects of the game that were invented to "improve the experience" are thrown away, not employed, not added, not invoked. No session zero exists because the remaining people just TALK to each other. No backstories are needed because it does not matter where the characters come from or what they did or who birthed them, because none of that has anything to do with the game. There are no "stories" because the players do not need to make "sense" of the experience, they don't need continuity, it doesn't matter if the process of game play is fragmented or if is lacks reason. It's a game. We play it to play the game. Not to lift ourselves up in some way that has nothing to do with the game.
The DM is not a storyteller, not a curator, not a therapist, not a host or a caretaker, not responsible for making sure others enjoy the game, not someone who takes responsibility for why someone else is there. We're people each taking part and that's all. I'm not here as DM to ensure that you feel seen. I see you, that's my part done. Your "feeling" seen, that is your problem. If you're here for emotional support, you're not here to play. You should go somewhere else.
The demand to be "seen," to be supported, to have one’s personal arc honored — those are all extensions of the broader social climate where every interaction is expected to affirm identity. The noise we don't want here. When a player's character dies, no one at the table is responsible for the emotional management of that fact but the player... and in this small, appreciated and isolated group, we expect every player to carry their own baggage. The DM is not a porter.
In this quiet, stripped-down form, play can breathe again. It looks smaller, quieter, more sensible than what we've been taught to expect. The characters are just people, not heroes. The events are just events, not pre-ordained story arc milestones. Fate does not exist. No one needs to perform silly voices; no monologues are necessary. The party can say, "We fill the sailor in on the details," in a perfectly normal tone of voice and the sailor is up to speed. Just like that. No one needs to give an impromptu speech when a danger is overcome. The DM can simply say, "You see the Prince and he wants you to fetch a jewel from a castle on a nearby island. I'll give you the name and location." That's it. No long winded back and forths, no putting the players on the spot to speak correctly in a Princely setting, no non-game relevant pressure being put on people who aren't interested in being actors and don't find performing in front of even their friends comfortable. "Acting" can't be measured, there are no points for it, the characters don't gain skills from it and its not necessary to game play. Those who miss this feature? They need to get that drug from another dealer.
The DM describes, the players respond; the world moves forward. Without the need to perform the emotion of their characters, they're free to express their own emotions. To get excited when a die roll lands well, without concern for whether the character "ought" to be excited. Intra-party conflict ceases when the need to perform evaporates; just as we're all friends in real life here at the table, our characters are all friends as they fight zombies, harpies or jellies. It's an honest occupation... we're killing to survive, we're killing to rid the world of bad things, we're killing for money. It's not a reflection on our real world behaviours or outlook. It's a game. It doesn't have to justify itself. It's merely what happens.
Suddenly, all the events within the game are a display of honesty. When George comes to Chris's aid in a fight, it does not matter that George is playing "Ethan" and Chris is playing "Telmar." The real life George is helping the real life Chris. It's actually supportive, what one friend would do for another. In a game of risk and reward, good choices, bad choices, consequences that amount to, at worst, having to roll up a new character, no one has to wonder about what their game play says about them. We're not competing against each other.
The DM isn't the enemy. The DM is the facilitator. The steady rock upon which the players rely; the generous benefactor who gives treasure because its fair, the reasonable judge who lets the player argue the veracity of a new rule interpretation, the reliable friend who is prepared to overlook a character death by providing a last minute appearance of a friendly cleric able to raise the dead. This is far more honest and reasonable than cheating at dice behind a screen... which a DM doesn't need to do if everyone at the table can appreciate the observation, "Hey, you know, I don't think Ethan should have died either. Whatta ya say I just have a cleric show up?"
When the DM doesn't have to perform, when the DM doesn't count his or her value by the "status" they hold, there's no reason to impose an invulnerable Chinese wall between the DM's presentation and the players' perspective. The DM can make a mistake and say, "Oops, your right, that didn't hit, don't know what I was thinking," and gain respect through honesty and fairness. The DM can begin a session with, "You guys were right, that rule really isn't working like I hoped, I'm good to drop it," without feeling that he's failed, and without feeling humiliated or a loss of face, because the players are liable to go, "Oh thank god, though I did think it had some benefits." The game doesn't have to be perfect. The rules don't have to be inviolable. The DM does not need to sit on a throne on high and cast dictates upon the peasants. We're friends, we're playing, and the DM is just another participant.
Nearly every public discourse that has taken place in the last 30 years has struggled to deconstruct, harass, exploit, vilify or otherwise destroy all this. Players who will never play in our game scream their demands at how our game ought to be played; DMs we will never play with or beside scream their epithets about what's right and what's wrong and why we need to change what we're doing to fit their expectations. A company that will never personally give us a thin dime of financial support, nor take one tiny step to assure that a game space we rely on will still be there following the next quarterly change in presidental leadership, demands not only that we continue to buy their product and consider it "official," but that we need to upend all the rules of our present game occasionally so then can sell a new version to appease their shareholders. The internet has been the enemy. The voices that exploit D&D as a prop for their enrichment, who prance and preen themselves as bookwriter and game makers and performance artists, have done everything possible to ruin our game play for purposes that are obscure and, at best, merely disruptive.
It's time to walk away from all of it. If you ever really want to just play D&D.
Admit that this cult thing really isn't working for you.
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