Catastrophe

Not a very pleasant post, yesterday, I know.  And I know that it seems out of place for D&D.  But there exists a considerable opportunity in D&D for players to see the DM as merely a tool or resource to be used for their benefit.  A player may have a deep passion for the game they play every week; they may count the days before play resumes, becoming excited and arriving in a state of euphoria and a desirious readiness to play.  It can be terrific to have such players, as their exhuberance can produce a lot of game momentum and make for a fine evening.

Unfortunately, this attitude doesn't necessarily mean that same player appreciates the effort, creativity or investment the DM has put into crafting their game experience.  Players are well able to take a DM for granted.  They may in fact feel no special connection or appreciation for the DM as a person ... while continuing to arrive ready to play, because the DM exists.

In many cases, both the players and the DM may initially assume that because there's a mutual appreciation and enjoyment of the game, everyone at the table also has an appreciation for each other. This may easily not be the case. It's a common assumption in any social setting, including tabletop roleplaying games like D&D, that mutual participation implies mutual appreciation. However, that assumption doesn't always hold true.

Both the DM and the players might enter the game with that assumption; and it might, in fact, be true at the outset. But as time passes, the individual nature of the participants can't help but undergo some kind of transformation, for better or worse. And steadily, over time, it may become evident that the latter is the case. The players may continue to show up and play because they enjoy the game itself ... or because they value having a regular activity to participate in. The DM might continue to run the game because they enjoy the process of managing the game, with it's back and forth and such.

It can be sobering for the DM to realise that things have moved away from what they once were ... and it's very easy to dismiss that feeling, to believe that it's overly self-conscious to doubt one's associates or friends, especially if the campaign has been going on so long that everyone's invested deeply into it.

Now, I tend to look at this from the DM's perspective, because I haven't played the game in about 35 years; but this can easily go the other way.  DM's can certainly take their players for granted, using them to sustain a campaign that's based on a tacit give-and-take that has, in fact, long since evaporated.  So anything I say about the players' attitude towards the DM, please understand that I'm equally speaking of the DM's attitude towards the players.

If anyone detects this shift, addressing it can be challenging.  Anything that's gone on for a long time, where individuals have been invested, is going to obtain a certain degree of calcification.  Seeking to engage others on the topic in a blunt, direct manner can produce an equally abrupt defensiveness and resistance from the other participants, potentially making it unlikely that discussion is going to resolve anything.  Even a softer attempt at broaching the subject is bound to produce some kind of undesired and possibly unwarranted reaction ... because we're mostly all on a hair-trigger and wary of a possible accusation.  We see accusations hiding in the bushes that aren't there, and are ready to call them out at the first suspicion.

So ... the truth is that the campaign can easily rot from within.  It's easy for A and B to accept C at the game table, while mildly casting disparaging comments outside the game; it's easy for C and D to do the same with E.  It's easy for B and E to have silent misgivings about the DM, yet continue to come and play because they like the DM.  It's just as easy for the DM to have those same misgivings about B, D and E.  And so it goes around.  The game continues.  Everyone continues to show up like clockwork.  But a low-level discontent begins to accumulate ... and once it starts, if it's not addressed positively, there's going to be an event.

The fallout from such situations will be significant, especially if the game has been going on some time. Catastrophic fallout from such situations can include the dissolution of the gaming group, fractured relationships among players and considerable emotional distress for all. People quit the game after this kind of fallout; and those that continue to play D&D never forget that it happened. Even when playing with a different group, in a different form of the game, the trauma remains, making trust with the new group difficult. There are feelings of betrayal and intense blamification [not a word] of the game itself, the edition or the genre, rather than attributing the fallout to actual people.

After it happens, there may never be an opportunity to validate the feelings of other people who took part.  Very likely some, most or all the participants involved may cut off all ties with the DM or with each other, depending on how the conflagration shaped itself.  A DM that's had a party explode like this may go months or years without intiating another campaign; they may quit the game entirely.

And here's the last point about it I want to make.  This isn't rare.  In fact, it's extremely common ... and it's rarely, if ever, discussed in the open.  There's so much shame and discomfort towards the event that most of us would like to pretend, first, that it has never happened, and second, that it can't to us.  That's not true.  Ignoring the prevalence of conflicts within D&D does a disservice to everyone.  It does not matter the quality of the DM, because this is about people, not one's ability to describe things or direct a game.  People are fuzzy, unpredictable things ... and yesterday's post was meant to outline how much of the time people function without being self-aware of what they're doing, why they're doing it, or even that they drew consequences for having done it.

Do not think that you, Gentle Reader, are exempt from this.  It can happen to anyone.
 

Victim Card

The term "victim card" typically refers to a situation where someone portrays themselves as a victim in order to gain sympathy or some form of advantage. This can involve stressing their hardships or past traumas in a way that deflects responsibility or justifies certain actions. Sometimes, it's used to manipulate emotions or perceptions in their favour, especially in conflicts or disputes where they may be at fault. Essentially, playing the victim card involves using one's victimhood as a tool for personal gain or to avoid accountability.

The danger of the victim card is that when someone relies on playing it, and others don't respond with the expected sympathy or support, it can lead to an escalated conflict or consequences that the "victim" isn't prepared to manage. This increases the alienation or aggrievement of the individual, so that any resolution that might have been obtained in the original disagreement is now well in the rear-view mirror ... and, in fact, a complete catastrophe is now in progress. A resolution is impossible, because any possibility of open or honest communication is gone. The accused party is deeply insulted and hurt by what they perceive as unfair manipulation or deception, leading to a complete breakdown of trust.

Meanwhile, the accusing party is put in a completely untenable position. If they double down on their original position, they risk exacerbating the conflict and further damaging the relationship. On the other hand, admitting that their original purpose was to seek advantage is impossible, since the original purpose of the manipulation for advantage was almost certainly to avoid having to admit to either a wrongdoing or a shortcoming. Doing so would require a significant amount of humility, vulnerability and self-awareness.

It's the self awareness that's at issue, isn't it? If they were self-aware to begin with, they most likely wouldn't have attempted the manipulation in the first place. Often, it's the lack of self-awareness that contributes to the person resorting to manipulation tactics. If they could accept a shortcoming in themselves, they'd just admit that and move on. If they were aware that the wrongdoing was their fault, they could confess it, apologise, and move on. But from the start, they're able to do neither of those things, because they've already begun to veer away from those self-aware discussions, long before the victim card is played. They've already chosen to manipulate as a form of self-protection ... which is how they see their position. "I am protecting myself." They're not even aware that they're doing this through manipulation. They believe they ARE a victim; and they believe that because, from their point of view, they've suffered the sorts of things victims suffer.

This articulates a very common and complex psychological pattern. Indeed, individuals who resort to this form of manipulation nearly always HAVE experienced tremendous moments of hardship, trauma and actual injustices in their lives. These experiences can deeply shape their perceptions and coping mechanisms — one of those being to accuse and attempt to control others who are around them. They see this as a way of asserting their own sense of agency or seeking validation for the pain they've suffered.

Unfortunately, the strategy of playing the victim card can be quite effective, especially if the accused person is susceptible to manipulation or lacks awareness of the dynamics at play. People who use this tactic often find they can rely on the empathy or guilt of others to aid them in avoiding accountability or gain sympathy ... perpetuating an ongoing cycle of manipulation and conflict. And because that cycle isn't sustainable, individuals who rely upon it find themselves increasingly isolated and unable to develop healthy, genuine connections with others.

Much, much harder, however, is when the someone playing the victim encounters a person who is not only self-aware but also skilled in maintaining their stance without yielding ground, possibly from a lifetime spent in a position of authority or in the military situations, the dynamic can become unexpectedly intense and distressing for the accuser. Having encountered someone who is plainly manipulative, the first response may be one of incredulity or disbelief at the accuser's attempts to garner sympathy. They're almost certain to feel a strong sense of resolve in standing firm against what they perceive as unjust or indecent behaviour, choosing to act unilaterally in order to protect themselves ... and being self-aware and secure in their convictions, has no need to seek validation.

But ... in a public confrontation, the "victim" appears to be the victim. There is no way around this. The demeanour of the defendent is, in fact, less emotionally engaged; lacking in either sympathy or support; wholly callous, cruel and — depending on what they might say — contemptuous in one degree or another.

Thus we have one of the most difficult situations that has arisen in our society, where individuals who manipulate are framed as "the good people" while individuals who stand for their beliefs and who refuse to be manipulated are "the bad people." There's really no way out of this conundrum. Sometimes I'm rather pleased that I'm only going to live another 10 or 20 years, as watching this situation evolve over the last twenty convinces me that when I'm 80, it wouldn't be a such a bad time to just bow out.

The Gentle Reader can probably guess that I'm in the middle of experiencing some of this nonsense. It is the reason that there was no Saturday Q&A yesterday, and not even the desire on my part to explain at this time that it wouldn't be written. Anyone who has been in my position, who is familiar with standing their emotional ground, who doesn't need validation to feel good about themselves afterwards, nevertheless cannot help but be affected by the toxicity and the pure, unpleasant foulness of having to deal with the situation. Our distress actually has very little to do with the accuser, who can be conveniently dumped on whatever human garbage heap that's available. Our distress arises from the disquieting unpleasantness that these people exist, that they're everywhere, that they cannot be wholly avoided and that they will never, ever, receive any of the counselling they so desperately need, nor the consequences they have so richly earned.

It's something that we, who did what we had to do to be better people, have to live with.