Not to put too fine a point on an individual's process, it might be postulated that a serious obstacle that stands in the way of an individual's creation of their campaign begins with having a "board game mindset," which assumes that in some manner the game must already exist as a complete object before the group is asked to sit and play. We're told again and again that individuals want to start their campaign, but "first I have to make my game world," which suggests the first step to D&D is creating the game board:
And this makes sense. We want the dungeon, the murky swamp, the joke tavern, the village, mysterious tower and ultimately the battle with the big bad, as we progress from the beginning of the adventure to its end... thus its natural to think of the progression in linear, boardgame terms. The dungeon is really nothing other than a battle map, which makes sense, since that's the source of D&D gestation. So when we sit to "create the world," we naturally fall into these sensibilities, those being the ones most familiar to those of us who were taught board games as children.
This is not much altered by the progressive D&D game, either. The side scroller is just the game path above depicted as a continuous revealing platform, while the running forward progress of the Witcher is just the side scroller turned 90-degrees. By an large, we're still talking about the path-driven board game, like that described above. The mind-set remains the same: the players need somewhere to go, something to encounter, information for them to uncover, obstacles for them to address, rewards for them to acquire. Whatever the sequence may be, it is a sequence, all the more so because the board game is the structure employed. That sequence may branch, but it can only do so into other sequences, before looping back to the main sequence: specifically, some destination that the boardgame-D&D world structure provides.
There are several presumptions built into this sequential model. First, that there's little reason to go back, unless it is to find the fork to another branch that we might have missed. This sequence is already known: we have discovered everything as players that the DM has placed, so that with the exception of places like Breezyvale Square on the map above, where we want to "trade or rest" as need be, other places like Darkhall Dungeon have served their purpose. To be clear, this isn't an issue with the process itself, this is merely to make the point that the value in the sequence is forward movement, not to create a world that itself provides a continously yielding space. Sequential spaces are "used up" and the players then move onto the next.
Additionally, forward movement presumes a destination that is, in some manner, predetermined. That destination might be hard, as shown on the map above (defeat the dragon, claim your glory) or it may be something soft that the DM hasn't yet determined, but can be invoked or made when the moment actually demands it. The destination itself then competes for the game's purpose moreso against the progress itself — and some players do prefer to invest themselves into the "moment" rather than the "point," as they personally view the world. Neither are wrong to do so; our intent is therefore merely to establish that a diamorphic structure is in play... one that is created by the sequential arrangement. We are moving forward, therefore we are either experiencing the movement for its own sake or for the thing it is bringing us toward.
We must understand, however, that however immediate the individual might be prone to view the game, eventually the destination is reached. That destination might be the fork that leads to other sequences, but that in itself is a destination. More commonly, however, the way that D&D is usually structured, the "glory" is out there, waiting... and that builds a third presumption about the boardgame's sequential progress: that success or failure at that specific point is expected, and far more likely success, since game modules and most DM-built adventures are created or selected to provide destinations the players can manage. The game's rush is therefore expected to coincide with this moment: the end of the perceived hero's journey, where the players overcome the last of the obstacles, kill the monster, gather the treasure and return to town flushed with success and an opportunity to buy a whole new set of toys... or, of course, to treat the boardgame as "finished," so the next board can be brought out and the sequence played again from the beginning.
It's therefore possible to see that the board depicted above is not just a joke, but a fairly reasonable simplistic descriptive of the game's pattern. Organised and played well, the paths can be fashioned in a squidgy enough manner that the board seems indistinct and uncertain; that the players don't feel as though they're on a board at all; that the board has a sufficient number of sequences that they can't really investigate them all and thus they don't tire of what's available. The lesser DM, of course, fails to offer the measure of variety that's necessary to make the game appear rich with variety; that DM sits down with the module and says, "Tonight, we're playing Jorgeblath's Tomb, because I've just bought the manual." But then, a great many people do view this game as fundamentally in the same category as pretty much any board game, so... heck, why shouldn't they approach it this way?
None of this says D&D has to be a railroad. The number of potential sequences, and the DM's power to adjust the sequences in a sort of "butterfly effect" pattern as the players make decisions permits the sequence to shift and adjust in accordance with player choices. It isn't a board game, after all, but a theoretical, non-corporeal construct that can be re-invented on the fly, so that characters that were expected to live can die, while other characters that are perceived as impractical somehow manage to survive. The die-roll structure permits this, so that instead of the fixed structure of game board paths, we can have something closer to that which was proposed by Zelazny's Roadmarks and thus taken up by any number of later science fiction universes where "time lines" proliferate or are closed off as the players do or do not take sequence paths.
But to advantage this kind of procedural flexibility, the DM really does have to get out of the "I'm making a board for my game world" mindset. The benefit of the "time line" approach is that perceived destinations can simply be thrown away by the DM at will as no longer necessary. The issue arises when the DM, having devised the game board and having in turn fallen in love with that "great scene where the party arrives at the Murky Swamp and meets the King of the Slimes," can't let go of the concept. They must, therefore, to justify all the work done, or maintain their relationship with the moment they imagine this being, hammer the Murky Swamp into the adventure between this point and that, forcing the players to enter it and play out the scene. That's where the DM's need to control the board becomes the deciding factor on what's happening or what's available to the players.
The example expresses why DMs should not attach themselves to moments or things that have gathered weight in the imagination. Most of the time, the scene only ends up disappointing the players, who aren't in love with it because they can't see point or the whole structure, or the DM is disappointed because the players haven't acting like they "should." Attachment is what creates the railroad. But that is another post (which I've probably already written).
I take exception with the "game board as initial model" structure because the inception tends to create too much board for the players to use, too soon. The DM who therefore begins the game with the mindset of, "I must create an adventure right off for the players before we can start" only invokes the latter attachment problem. D&D is not a complex piece of machinery that must be designed and built in toto so it can be checked for digression errors before it runs. D&D is a proposal that can be written by sketching out the first chapter and just seeing where it goes... not in the sense of a collaborative project, but rather, "Okay, there are goblins west of town... an owlbear to the south... such-and-such to the north... let's see where the party wants to go and then we'll just play it by ear; when something more complex is needed, we'll build it.
Sort of like loading up with all your gear in a Louis & Clark expedition (the DM too!), not knowing what's out there or what we'll need, but we're provisioned, skilled, capable, unafraid and we'll just adjust to whatever we uncover as we go.
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