How to Help Beginners With Magic in D&D

One of the greatest draws of Dungeons & Dragons is the magic system. Players can control great forces of nature and divine energy to harness effects that can change the world around them. But magic is one of the greatest learning challenges in D&D, and beginning players can struggle to figure out how to use their magical characters' abilities. You can help your beginners to master magic with a handful of tips in the guide below, and soon your players will be master mages. 

If you're a beginner, you may also find this guide useful to learning basic game concepts.

The first step in understanding magic is in grasping the concept behind it. The first detail to consider is the source of the magic. In D&D, magic is either arcane or divine; arcane magic uses natural forces to capture the energy required for spells, while divine magic appeals to the player character's god for use of magical energy. All spellcasting classes are divided into either arcane or divine magic. The arcane classes in D&D 5e are Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, and Wizard; the divine classes are Cleric, Druid, Paladin, and Ranger. 

Whether your character casts with arcane or divine magic, they have a distinct statistic that determines how powerful their spells are. This statistic is an ability score, such as Intelligence or Wisdom. The statistic that your class uses should be one of your highest ability scores. Let's touch on which classes use which spellcasting ability. Charisma is the base stat for Bards, Paladins, Sorcerers, and Warlocks. Wisdom is the score that fuels the Cleric's, Druid's, and Ranger's magic. The Wizard uses Intelligence for their magic. 

This ability score translates into what is called the Difficulty Class of your spells, which is how difficult to resist your spell is. Your Spell Save DC, as this statistic is known, is determined by combining your ability modifier (if your Wisdom is 16, your modifier is +3--look next to the larger number for the one with the plus) and your proficiency bonus, which is scaled to your character level, and then added to the number 8. That formula, when written out, looks like this: (8) + (ability modifier) + (proficiency bonus). If your character sheet was not written out by hand, you'll be able to find this number automatically calculated on the sheet with your spells. When you cast a spell on an enemy, they roll to resist, and the number they must beat is your Spell Save DC. 

The other vital number that shows up on this sheet is your Spell Attack Bonus. This is the number that you add to your rolls when you're trying to hit an enemy with a spell. This number is once again your ability modifier added to your proficiency bonus, but this time without the addition of the number 8. That means that your Spell Attack Bonus should usually be your Spell Save DC, minus 8. Look out for phrases like "ranged touch attack" or similar phrases about striking the enemy in your spell description--that means you're looking for your Spell Attack Bonus. 

Let's get into some other terminology used in spell descriptions. (It would be helpful to be looking at your character sheet for this part to follow along.) There's the spell's save--this is usually the Spell Save DC we already talked about, but some spells have their own unique Save DCs and will indicate it this way. Then there is the time it takes to cast a spell. In D&D 5e, you get one standard action, a move action, and a bonus action per turn, and the time it takes to cast the spell is almost always either one round or one action. If it's an action, it takes up your standard action for your turn. If it's a round, it takes up all your actions for the rest of the turn. The range of a spell tells you how far its effect reaches; this may be a distance that it affects or an area that it concentrates on, and the spell will clarify this in the description. The "Components" of a spell are also listed; these describe what it takes to cast the spell. The traditional three options for spellcasting are Verbal, Somatic, and Material. A Verbal component means that your character must speak aloud to cast the spell. A Somatic component indicates that the spell requires physical movement to cast. A Material component signifies that a special item is required to cast the spell. Many DMs don't follow the component rules very closely, so you should ask what will be required of you in this regard; nevertheless, it is good to know what these mysterious letters indicate on your character sheet. The duration of the spell indicates how long the spell lasts. It's worth noting here that a round of combat is six seconds long, so if the duration is given in rounds/units of time, you can use the 1:6 ratio to understand. Finally, a spell lists its page reference (where in the Player's Handbook the spell can be found for more information) and any further notes about the spell. This is a lot of information--look at how long this paragraph ended up being--but almost all of it will be useful at some point. Just don't be overwhelmed and don't be afraid to ask for help when you're unsure of things. 

So now you have the general gist of how magic works. But you almost certainly still have questions. Magic opens many doors to you, and it's difficult to process all the information at once. Let's address some details of the magic casting system to give you a better idea of what's going on. Each spell has a level, and this level describes both how powerful the spell is (the higher level, the more powerful the spell) and when your character gets access to it. This second detail is more complicated than it seems it might be at first glance. First, you have cantrips. These spells are considered level 0. Then, beginning at a set level (1 for the Cleric, Sorcerer, Warlock, and Wizard, and later levels for the Bard, Druid, Ranger, and Paladin), the character gains access to 1st-level spells. The character, on their next level up, gets more spell slots (uses of a spell) in their existing spells. On their following level up, they get access to 2nd-level spells. This means that you only gain new levels of spells every other level up, which means that a 3rd-level Wizard has access to 2nd-level spells, and a 5th-level Wizard can cast 3rd-level spells, and a 7th-level Wizard is able to cast 4th-level spells, and so on. This staggered levelling system can confuse a lot of players; the easy way to think about it is that the level of spell you want is multiplied by 2, and then subtract 1. So a 6th level spell would be accessible to an 11th-level Wizard (6x2=12, 12-1=11). You won't need this information directly in the game very often, but this should help make sense of the strange levelling system. 

Another important idea in spellcasting is Concentration. In earlier editions of D&D, Concentration was a skill that spellcasters used to preserve a spell's effect in the face of great distraction (such as being attacked). In 5e, Concentration is translated into a different expression; instead, it represents the idea that a spell doesn't last a certain length of time automatically; rather, the spellcaster can extend the effect as long as they concentrate on it (though there is usually a limit placed on this as well, as in "Concentration, up to 1 minute," indicating that it lasts between one round and ten rounds, depending on the player's concentration). It's worth noting that you can't cast another spell that requires Concentration while you're already concentrating on another spell, but you can still cast spells which don't require Concentration. 

Magic has a lot of rules, and not all of them are followed directly by every DM. The rules state that some spellcasting classes have to prepare their spells ahead of time, that other spellcasting classes can cast spontaneously but only know a few spells, that components are required for spells, and other considerations. As I've written before, not all details in the game are worth roleplaying, and your DM may be either a rules stickler or a loose cannon or somewhere in between. It's important to talk to them and get a sense of which of these rules you'll need to pay attention to. If you're feeling anxious about jumping in and learning magic, talk with your DM about it. They may be willing to waive certain details like components and spell preparation to make it easier for you to learn. Then again, they may add these details to what you need to monitor, and listen closely if that's the case: don't be discouraged. You'll figure it out in time. Just ask for patience and help, and soon you'll be casting spells with the best of them. 

I've addressed some big picture ideas and the details you need to understand the magic system. It's likely, though, that you still have concerns about learning and want a leg up. Fortunately, I have a few suggestions for that as well. Let's consider some tools that can make things a little easier. 

The Player's Handbook, as a standard physical book, has limitations. It's true that you can find most any information about the game that you need in it, but that doesn't means that finding all that information is easy. The layout of spells in D&D Player's Handbooks for several generations now displays short, detail-less lists of spells according to the spellcaster's class, which means you can view all your spells at once, but without the advantage of the necessary details. The part of the book that actually displays all of the details on spells is done in alphabetical order, not by class, so you would need to do a lot of searching to get that information (unless you can use the reference page listed on your character sheet, and even then, you're flipping through the book). Fortunately, I can recommend two strong alternatives to searching for spells than using the Player's Handbook. 

The first, the cheapest, and the most widely accessible is to use the many internet sites that have hyperlinked versions of the Player's Handbook information. For folks who want a hypertext version of the complete 5e spellbooks, categorizable by level, class, school, and much more, check out these three databases. With a computer or smartphone, you have access to an organized and highly useful list of spells you can cast. The only downside to using these databases is that some out there include homebrew spells from across the internet that are wildly unbalanced or which are removed from the canon of acceptable spellbooks. I recommend that you check with your DM before getting too set on a spell that you find online, as it may not be a balanced part of the game. 

A solution which is more useful and elegant, but yet which can cost a bit of money, is the official D&D spellbook cards. I addressed spellbook cards when I wrote about which gaming accessories to collect, and I still stand by my opinion. These handy little cards are decorated so that all the information I described above about a spell (like duration, range, and components) is clearly listed, along with designs that indicate what level and class a spell is. When you have the deck of spellbook cards that matches your class, you have the ability to easily flip through the deck for just the right spell, and you'll never be without the information you need. I can say that as a GM, I always have my beginners use spellbook cards, and when they are overwhelmed by searching for information on the card, they can simply hand it to me so I can help them find the important information. A well-organized deck of spellbook cards will give even the most lost newbie a chance to become a master spellcaster. 

While we're on the topic of helping beginners, let's have an aside for DMs. Whether you remember it or not, there was a time that you, too, were a beginner at D&D. There was a time that you couldn't make heads or tails or what a saving throw was or which spells do extra damage against undead or what have you. Don't let your players flounder! They want to learn, and if you take a bit of extra time here and there to help them, you'll soon have a player who can navigate magic on their own. 

Another note for DMs: a player doesn't have to struggle with casting spells in order for them to be struggling to learn the system. My mom, who plays in a family campaign that I run, controls Broomhilda the Cleric. In the game, Broomhilda is a menacing force who loves to threaten to light people on fire. But after a couple of sessions, I began to realize that Broomhilda wasn't casting spells at all. For a Cleric to avoid casting magic is like a Rogue avoiding using Sneak Attack; it's one of their main powerful abilities. Not using magic with a spellcasting class is a sign that the player doesn't necessarily get the rules for magic yet. I'm working with my mom to use spellbook cards and teach her about how and when to use spells, but there's a lot for her to learn, and it's a slow process. This is likely what you'll face as a DM--players who don't grasp the rules but still want to play, and who are perhaps nervous to admit that they're still figuring it all out. Be on the lookout for players ignoring their abilities, magical and otherwise, to diagnose struggling players. 

So with all of this in mind, I hope that magic doesn't seem too forbidding now. Once you've learned the rules presented here, you get to start on the fun part: familiarizing yourself with your spells and how they work. A good DM makes spells have different (yet mostly predictable) effects depending the situation, so there's lots of learning left to do, and this time, in a way that should be fun for you. After all, mastering magic is one of the most high-flying and satisfying parts of D&D. So get out there, jump in, and start casting. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: common sayings by D&D race, how to develop a historical event in your setting, and a list of ideas for Big Bad Evil Guys/Gals (BBEGs). Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Deal with Party Splits

It's a classic conundrum: some of your party is motivated to do one thing, and the rest of your party is motivated to do something else. The party is at odds. Player agendas threaten to cancel each other out. It's the end of many campaigns, but it doesn't have to be. You can salvage a party split with the right story moves, and your campaign may even end up better for the split. Let me begin with an example of a time that a party split made a campaign better than it was before. 

I was just getting my feet under me as an intermediate GM, and I designed a campaign that revolved around killing off 20 members of the royal staff of a town. The players completed the first 2 contracts and then turned on the questgiver; the party was divided over the questgiver's goals, and about half the party went in either direction. The more rebellious characters decided to destroy the kingdom, and the more stalwart characters decided to defend the kingdom. At least 75% of the campaign's story became the struggle between player factions. The final battle was a showdown between anarchist forces and the palace guard, and the story resolved on the formation of a new future for the city. 

When the party split initially occurred, I was at a loss. How would I recover from losing my main quest and seeing the party divided? I wasn't sure, so I just kept running the game and hoping for the best. The players soon aligned themselves along ideological lines, which meant that disagreements about how to proceed could derail the whole campaign. But it didn't play out that way. The palace guards set to doubling down on defenses while the anarchist players worked on plans to assassinate the king. The story didn't so much disappear as reform; now I had a group of players committed to preserving a kingdom and a group of players committed to destroying it. In other words, I had two parallel campaigns that unfolded at once. This is how we should view split parties; they are two conjoined stories with one outcome. 

More recently, when I ran the Eastweald campaign, one of the three players used the final battle to reveal that he, a part-paladin named Carric, had formed a bond with Vecna, the evil god of secrets, and he turned on the other two players. The final battle became Vecna and Carric versus the other player characters. This party split is different from the one described above because it doesn't mean a reformation of the story so much as a twist. But the principle is the same. Carric turned against his compatriots, meaning that his conditions for success were mutually exclusive with the rest of the party's. Isn't this a problem? 

In both cases I've described, no one was truly bothered by the story's outcome. One player in the first campaign was troubled by the lack of consequences for the lead anarchist character in the story's denouement, but his character was in part responsible for that decision. Neither case saw the players involved feeling cheated or opposed to each other; they viewed their experiences in the story as evolving naturally from player actions and the other events in the story. Not every player will feel that way, but there are things you can do to resolve that. 

Before you begin adjusting your game for a party split, it's a good idea to check in with your players. Is everyone prepared for a party split game? Some players may find the idea unappealing, or even in opposition to what they find fun. If that's the case, you might try salvaging your campaign with an out-of-game appeal to your players: set aside your roleplaying differences and make the game work for the sake of everyone's enjoyment. It may even be possible that the campaign is simply over; sometimes players are neither willing to change their decision-making nor to face off against their friends. It may be better in that case to start a new campaign with better parameters than plunge into a game that will be unenjoyable for your players. But if your players are game for a little opposition, you have options for making a party split work. 

Perhaps the most common cause for party splits is alignment disagreement. I address this briefly in my guide to building a cohesive party; a lawful good character and a chaotic evil character in one party is usually a recipe for a party split. You can counteract this issue before it starts by building your party around a range of alignments. All good and all neutral alignments generally work together; all neutral and all evil alignments can be a good combination as well. Law and chaos are less divisive issues than morality (most of the time, at least), but divided moral alignments usually cause issues. (That campaign I described with the palace guards versus the anarchists? When I mapped the alignments of each of our nine characters, we had one character assigned to each alignment. No wonder it erupted in a party split.) So be careful at the beginning of the game and suggest the party agree on a range of alignments to prevent unnecessary party splits later. But you can work with party splits when they arise. 

The first thing to do when the party splits is to reorganize your story's stakes. Where once the party strove to solve problems together, now you have the party working against each other to further their agendas. So you need to move the conditions for success. Let's say you have a campaign where an evil god is promising lots of power in return for pushing their agenda--harming the innocent. Where initially the party was working to protect the innocent from this god, now you have a party split. Some characters insist on continuing to protect the innocent, but others find the god's promises of power too enticing to ignore. Now it's time to adjust the story. Instead of a blanket "protect the innocent," you develop a series of important communities. Each of those communities is both a population to protect and a group to target for the evil god. Now it's up to your players to square off and accomplish one or the other goal. 

Balance is very important in situations like these. If one group has a real advantage over the other, it should be for the sake of serious storytelling. For example, it would be a mistake to have the evil god offer magical help to the players supporting them; that gives them a big advantage over the defending players. You might offer this change to the story if the defending players are running away with the game and the evil god-aligned characters need a boost. Similarly, if it proves too easy for the evil god-aligned characters to target innocent communities, perhaps a good-aligned god steps in to help the defending players. Generally, though, you want your split parties to have equal shots at success, or else you will be dealing with players with sore feelings. 

The second big step to take is to become a more reactive GM. I talk a lot here about how you need improvisation skills to be a strong GM, and it's never truer than with party splits. The thing about a party split is that your story is no longer a path from point A to point B; it becomes an ideological issue for each character to address themselves. Developing your story still involves providing details and new events, but the meat of the story is now in how the players feel about the issues involved. For instance, in the palace guard scenario, the stepping up of guard activity would once have been a way to get the player characters to be working when something important happens. But after the party split, the palace guards respond to the increased patrols with vigilance and duty, while the anarchists respond to them with frustration and a greater need for creatively addressing their goals. As a result of this, your job as GM becomes less to advance a narrative (since your players will be doing that) and more to introduce ideas for the players to contemplate. 

An example of this in action: during the palace guard campaign, a common question was how harsh to be with the anarchists. Some players, like my younger brother, who played a sneaky orc named York, felt it their moral obligation to stop violence, but could not contemplate using violence to stop other violence. This put those characters in a position of moral quandary when dealing with the anarchists. But other players, like my best friend, who played an awkward dwarf named Barryn, were more conflicted in his beliefs. Barryn wanted to decisively strike against the anarchists, but was concerned about the moral impact of harming or imprisoning people who technically hadn't yet committed a crime. Many issues that law enforcers face in real life became the matter of the game's story, and it was a richer and more complex story for it. 

But it's not enough to react to the players and let them guide the story. You also need to let go of your ending. The stakes used to be the players versus the story, but now it's the players versus the players. I had envisioned the tragic fall of a kingdom and the players' shock at their involvement in it, but the players made the story about a struggle between powers and ideas. Similarly, you'll need to completely re-envision your story's conditions for ending. Let's return to that example about the players siding with or against an evil god. Where you once held the fate of a particular group of people to be the final stroke in the story, that ending will no longer work. The stakes have changed. Now your story is about the ultimate success of failure of that god's agenda as enforced by the players. As you may have noticed, a party split's effect on the story is often to magnify it and push the ending conditions into bigger territory. In this example, we go from the fate of a town to the fate of the whole world inasmuch as the god can change things. And that's fine! It's good to make your campaign about something bigger when party splits are involved. 

A word of warning, though: if your players said they're up for a party split, but you've noticed there's a negative change in the game afterward, you need to do something to address it. The most important thing in gaming is creating fun, and if the party split removes the fun, it's time to rethink things. I generally recommend letting a party split play out if your players are onboard with it, and I recommend using story forces rather than rules to solve the problem, but every situation is different. It may help to have some willing players create new characters who are onboard with the rest of the party's plans, and it may be a good idea to tweak the story so that everyone is closer to agreement. But the holistic way to solve it is to create story reasons to keep the player characters on the path they would naturally take. Think about how much fun you would lose if you had to roll a new character because the other characters were too different from yours. Is that fun? Probably not. I think most players would have more fun standing by their character's personality and finding new ways to engage with the story. So give a split party a chance if the conditions are right--your campaign may actually benefit from it. 

A final note on party splits: when I ran the palace guard campaign, even after the party split, I kept all my players together. I have heard of people running games where only the sub-parties play together, and I think that's a very interesting format. It really highlights the opposition of the parties and it eliminates the capacity of meta-gaming, which can be an issue in split parties. But with a group of well-meaning roleplayers, it actually helps to have everyone together. Watching another player take their turn and stymying your players is exciting and spawns one-upsmanship in a fun way. And in the case of the palace guards, it kept the social element of the game alive. Best friends sided against each other, romantic partners sided against each other, siblings sided against each other; losing these connections over the party split didn't make sense. By keeping everyone together, the joint story they all told became the central focus of the campaign rather than the many disconnected actions of the players on a grand story that was bigger than any one individual. Make this call based on your gut and player opinion; your players will have a preference for together or apart, or at least they will have an opinion after a session or two.

So the bottom line is this: a party split isn't the end of anything but your campaign as you knew it. You can and should encourage your players to keep at the story they're all telling together with some adjustments for their new roles. Rewrite your story's win conditions so that they allow the players more agency. And be ready to address smaller changes as you go, just as you would with any situation in TRPGs. With all that work, you'll be able to turn most party splits into interesting experiments in storytelling and roleplaying. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: how to include music in your campaign, how to use mirrors of your party to shake up the game, and what you can do with campaign continuity. Until next time, happy gaming!

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TRPG Courtesy Rules

The classic stereotype of TRPGs involves players of the game being antisocial goofballs who sit around in a basement. And while a lot of use are indeed goofballs in a basement, the stereotype is largely wrong. TRPGs are perhaps the most social games that we can play. And with that power comes responsibility: it is your job as the GM to look out for the social needs of your players. This guide will help you to anticipate your players' needs and give you the opportunity to provide a fun and balanced game for everyone at the table. 

To begin with, you want your players to be prepared for the game you're running. If your players are beginners to the game, use this guide for beginners. If they need more basic help, you can assist them with this guide to dice. If you're running a roleplaying-focused game, players can be helped with these guides to creating characters for roleplaying and to roleplaying at the table. It's vital that your players have the skills to succeed, or else they will spend the game unengaged and unsure what to do. Educating your players is the first step towards treating them well. 

Now let's move through a standard session, pointing out courtesy rules as we go. At the beginning of a session is socializing time. Players and GM alike spend time catching up, talking about games and life, checking in before getting down to the game. But not everyone is going to be able to share equally in this time. If you have a player in your group who doesn't know the other players as well, they might need some help getting to know the other players. You can pull them in by directing conversation to those players who get less time speaking. Ask open-ended questions about something you know the player is excited about, and point out things that this player has in common with the rest of the group. You as GM are the only person who will know everybody in the game, so use your position of power within the group to include everybody.

Likewise, you want to include everyone in the game as well. If you have a group of players who are very engaged with the game and who take a lot of actions, but you also have one player whose voice gets drowned out sometimes, deflect the focus onto that player's character at times. Create an in-game reason that NPCs take a special interest in this specific player character, or bestow a special mini-story on the player to jumpstart them. Think about it this way: the other players can't do anything about the marginalized player, and the marginalized player can't solve the situation themselves (or at least doesn't see how they can), so the only person who can address the problem is you as GM. Don't let your players get disconnected from the game or each other, but if you do see it happen, be ready to act to solve it. 

In roleplaying situations, the courtesy rule is to allow players to express themselves fully without restricting them beyond reason. I've addressed before how improvisation is the key to good roleplaying and storytelling, so you'll want to embody that. But you also want to watch for other players curtailing another player's roleplaying. If you have players who undermine each other in this way, address it either in- or out-of-game (in-game for first time offenses, out-of-game when it's a pattern). Remind them that everyone gets a chance to contribute and that even the most bizarre idea can be helpful. Most importantly, remind them that the most important thing at the table is that everyone has fun, so they cannot restrict the other player's fun unless it's causing game issues for everyone else. 

Likewise, in combat, people want to be able to do what seems like the best idea. If you have players who criticize each other's combat actions, you're dealing with a situation that can undermine player fun. Hopefully, you have built a cohesive party and this isn't an issue, but if it is, address it again either in-game or out-of-game, depending on how common the issue has become. The key idea here is that not everyone's fun in combat comes from completely destroying an enemy; some folks have more fun with a close fight that is rich with character moments. If this is your issue, communicate that fun is many-faced and that others' fun needs to be considered too; but you also have a compromise to make so that the combat experts get to have fun, too. I suggest granting them small bonuses in combat based on their careful strategy--this way they get to balance out the lessened damage from other player characters and feel even more empowered to do what they enjoy. 

With either roleplaying or combat, there's a chance that you'll have players who are highly opinionated about how the game should run. They may criticize or even heckle other players for making decisions that seem to the criticizing player to be obviously wrong. This is a small emergency. All players need to understand that TRPGs are a joint venture; it is a collection of people trying to work together to have fun. If the players get in the way of each others' fun, the game is a failure. Communicate to them that they must find a way to cooperate in the game. I don't think that a situation like this is inappropriate for delivering a bottom line, like "If we can't get this party to cooperate in a few sessions, I won't run the game anymore." Of course, during those sessions, you should do everything you can to bring the party together, but it's important that the players realize their good time is interconnected with the other players, and if it causes more frustration than joy, it can be better to let the game go. The possibility of losing the game will galvanize most players to meet you halfway. If it pushes your players further away, think of it as losing the complication that threatened your game. This can be delicate with friends involved, so use your best judgment, but remember that a game that isn't fun for everyone is a failure that needs to be resolved. 

An often-overlooked courtesy rule has to do with story developments. It's very common to think that you have described something exceptionally well only to discover your players don't understand it the way you wanted them to. You can tip the scales in your favor with these guides to describing combat, magic, critical rolls, and other details, but what can you do when the mistake is already made? It's simple: don't penalize your players for not understanding something. If there is a divide between your imagining of a scene and the players' imaginings of the same scene, it's not because the player or their character is failing at something. If the player character really existed and was in the scene you were describing, they would have a nearly perfect understanding of the situation. So if there's a disconnect, it's more than likely that either you failed to describe it accurately or that your player is struggling to connect your descriptions to an image of the gameworld. Let's break both of those options down: 

If you have failed to describe something adequately, there's little you can do after the fact once you've recognized the misunderstanding. In fact, the only real solution is to retcon. If a player truly did not grasp the meaning of their actions, and it seems reasonable that they would have acted differently if they knew the facts, let them change their actions. Even if it messes up your plans for the story, it's important to grant them the opportunity to act as they truly would have. If you don't, you are effectively telling your players that their agency in the game is less important than your having to move some details around to accommodate the change. That's not the kind of game you want to run, I assure you. If the misunderstanding and the corresponding action are less clear-cut, use your discretion; you can sometimes rationalize that a character behaved according to a momentary thought which wasn't entirely realized. The best guide for what to do is how the player feels about it. If they are adamant that their character would not have made the mistake they committed to, or if they seem reluctant to argue but unhappy about the result, retcon. If they're more entertained by the misunderstanding, move forward. Remember your goal is to make the players happy, so don't privilege your story over the people you're playing with. 

Then there's the possibility that the player is struggling to connect to your world. It may be that they're new to imaginative gaming like TRPGs, it may be that they're not paying enough attention to the game, and it may be that the player has a mental condition that precludes them from being totally present (ADHD, for instance). These options are quite broadly different, and yet they all have the same solution. Again, if it's a one-time issue or a rare occurrence, take an in-game moment to address it: "Is there anything I can do with my description to make it easier for you?" Players may or may not have good answers to this question, but you should have a better idea than previously what kind of solutions you might try. And it's a recurring issue, pull the player aside and address it directly: "I notice you're having a hard time keeping up with the story. Is something making it extra challenging? Do you have any ideas about how I can make it easier for you?" Notice that in both examples here, the emphasis is on solving the player's problem, not ours as GM. That's because solving the player problem effectively solves our GM problem as well. 

When you're getting into the later parts of a session, the question of when the session will end begins to arise. Many games run on a schedule; a game will last from one time on the clock to another time. But any campaign is likely to have shorter and longer sessions, depending on what happens that session. The decision to call a session is rarely a unanimous decision--you'll usually have a player or two who really wants to keep playing. But once one person really wants to end the session, it should be wrapped up as quickly as possible. Playing on when a player wants to leave is inconsiderate to that player, and I don't ever recommend playing without a player in a situation like this. It's better to pick up again later than exclude someone (especially someone who has a reason to stop playing for the session). 

Lots of TRPG sessions go pretty late into the night. Player sleepiness becomes an issue. If you as GM notice that a player seems sleepy, ask them if they're doing okay and offer to wrap things up for the night. Especially if you're meeting in person and your players need to drive home after the game, you don't want to give them an unsafe ride home just to game longer. (This goes for GMs too. As a GM who has fallen asleep mid-sentence on multiple occasions, I can attest that playing when you're exhausted will only leave regrets; let yourself game with your full wits about you next time and call it for now.)

Then there's the issue of intoxication. This is a house rule to be sure, but it's a delicate one. I played in a party years ago with a strict no-booze, no-drugs policy because the storytelling and roleplaying were so serious that intoxication could throw off the game. I also ran a game where every player brought either booze, cannabis, or both to every session; this party was more concerned with shenanigans than serious gaming. It all depends on what your party wants. You as GM have the final call; you can decide on a clean game, a game where everyone has a beer or two, or a wild game. But making this choice can be complicated. 

It's important to know before you decide intoxication rules how your players feel. For some GMs, this is easy--it's just a matter of your friends getting together and relaxing. For others, you'll be gathering people who are all strangers to one another, and they may have vastly different opinions of playing while intoxicated. Generally speaking, if you have one or zero people who are opposed to your house rule, you're fine. You can work with that one person to make them comfortable while everyone else gets what they want. If two or more people are opposed to your house rule, reconsider. Everyone should feel at home and comfortable with the process of playing, and drugs and alcohol are sensitive issues for some people. I defer again to the rule I named above for retconning: if the player has a strong emotional opinion about how things should be run, listen to them. If you're dealing with two people with strongly opposed emotional opinions, consider the positions of the rest of the party as well as your own preference, and make it clear to the minority opinion holder that it isn't a personal choice, simply the one that best serves the game. 

A final note about drugs and alcohol at the table: because they impair your self-awareness, you may not even notice that your GM skills are slipping due to intoxication. This has happened to me. I was running a session of my National Treasure campaign, which had a party of goofballs who brought booze and cannabis every session, and I was high. I like to be just a little bit high to GM things these days because it calms me down, inspires a bit of creativity, and slows my thought process enough to keep me from quickly saying the first (and not best) idea I have. But there are consequences. During this particular session, I had smoked enough that my memory of what had just happened became impaired. Around the fifth time I asked my players to remind me what I had just said, a player asked if we wanted to just reschedule the session for another time. I was crestfallen. I had let my desire to party with the players impact my ability to run the game. I always keep that in check now, afraid to ruin another session, and I recommend to any GM that you err on the side of sobriety unless you're certain you can handle yourself. Remember that if a player is intoxicated, it's like their character is intoxicated, but if you as GM are intoxicated, the whole world is drunk. 

Another note about courtesy rules: when you're planning your next session, be as respectful as possible to people's scheduling needs. At the end of a session, when the full weight of the story is pressing down on you, it will seem crucial to know when you're playing next. But in today's world, it is harder than ever to schedule a session. Be gentle with your players as they carve out time for you. And since life is complicated, send out reminder messages to your players a few days in advance of meeting. Something like "Looking forward to playing Friday at 7--is everybody still in?" works very well because it reminds your players gently about the next commitment and because it offers the ability to either confirm or guiltlessly ask to reschedule. You're not commanding an army platoon, you're running a game, and you should keep in mind that scheduling is something that unfortunately but almost unavoidably complicates the game. Be ready for it, work with your players, and you'll be ready to play before too long. 

And lastly, for players: your GM works hard. They spend considerable time working to give you a happy experience. They create worlds for you to inhabit and people for you to meet. They're doing more to create the game's experience than anyone else at the table. Appreciate them! Thank them for their work at the end of every session. Show your engagement, since it's the greatest reward most GMs can ask for. Even if you're not the world's biggest fan of your GM's style, recognize that there would be no game without them. Don't be afraid to offer help to the GM with things, and bringing snacks is a universal way to thank your GM for running the game. 

That's all for you. Hopefully you can keep your games respectful to everyone and have some fun with a better understanding of everyone's situation. Coming soon: the most important thing about tabletop games, how to design a campaign setting, and rules for my custom magic system. 

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How to Help Players Find Their Fun

Regardless of what your philosophy of gaming is, it's vital that your players have fun. TRPGs have the potential to accomplish far more than fun, but we can't ignore that TRPGs are games, and games exist to create fun situations for their players. But sometimes players need a little help finding their fun. If you have a player who's struggling to get into the game, there are a number of things you can do to help them. Let's start by dealing with some of the issues that might be getting in your way. 

It could be that your players are beginners and haven't figured out the game yet. That's a common problem, but you can follow the steps in this guide to teach players how to develop their skills as TRPG players. Maybe it's more basic than that, and they need help using the dice. Or maybe you're playing a roleplaying campaign, and your players need some help creating characters that lend themselves to roleplaying. Or perhaps they have strong characters but need some tips on how to roleplay. If any of these issues are present for your players, you can solve them with the linked guides. But there's always the chance that your players are ready to play well and still need some help finding their fun. Read on to discover how to diagnose and solve these kinds of problems. 

You can recognize players not having fun when they're not engaged. That can express in a variety of ways. Sometimes it means players are zoning out and not paying attention to the game. Sometimes it looks more like a character whose actions are inconsistent. You might introduce a story moment and find that some players don't recognize how that impacts the rest of the campaign. Whatever the case may be, you've discovered that at least some of your players just aren't plugged into the game. Then it's time to roll up your sleeves, mix up your GMing style, and meet your players halfway, just like we would if the players were ignoring your story. 

Dealing with a player not having fun is less about the symptom than the disease. What I mean by this is that it's not so much about how a player is disconnected from the game and much more about why the player is disconnected. Different people express their disconnection from the game in different ways, but the root cause is what matters. Generally, players experience this disconnection for one of three reasons: (1) the player doesn't understand how to express themselves in the game, (2) the player isn't in tune with the focus of your campaign, or (3) the player doesn't feel like they can impact the gameworld. Let's tackle each one:

If your player doesn't know how to express themselves in your game, you might want to spend some time with them describing how they can do that. The roleplaying resources linked above are a great place to start that process. The important thing to understand is that a player who doesn't know how to express themselves in the game is dealing with fundamentally the same problem as a player who doesn't know their dice apart. In both cases, you're dealing with someone who hasn't yet learned the appropriate skills for interacting with the world. So treat it as a skill. Take moments in your game to offer opportunities to express themselves. There must be things that this character would feel strongly about--create situations that play on that feeling to allow the player to experiment with playing it out. 

An example may help describe this. Let's say your player's character is an orphan because goblins killed the rest of their family. So you create an encounter--either combat or roleplaying--in which some goblins approach the party. Now the player in question is in a prime position to react to the goblins in a character-specific way. But if a player is truly disconnected from the fun of the game still, they may not recognize this as an opportunity. If they treat the goblins like any other person, offer them an out-of-game reminder. "Your whole family was killed by goblins. Might that affect the way that your character feels about goblins?" This kind of prompt should put your player in a position to respond in-character. As the player becomes more experienced with expressing themself, you can dial back the directness of your opportunities. Think of yourself as a teacher more than a GM; your goal is to train your players to engage with the game. (That's where the fun comes from.)

But then, perhaps your player knows how to express themself but isn't in tune with your campaign. Ideally, you can preempt this problem by building a party that all cares about the same kind of game. But if you are dealing with a divide in this area of the game, you're going to have to meet your player halfway. Short of kicking the player out of your game, your only remaining strong option is to create experiences in the game that appeal to that player. But don't only offer them what they want; also offer them opportunities to combine what they like with the kind of game you're trying to run. Don't worry about watering down your game by including some disparate elements--you may find your other players enjoy having a mix of elements. (There is always the chance that player interests will be opposed; if that's the case, do your best to offer the best of all the worlds involved. Directly address it with your party if there's an issue--an explicit conversation can resolve lots of problems in TRPGs.)

Once again, an example will make this easier to process. You're running a storytelling/roleplaying campaign, and you have a player who's interested in combat primarily; they want to feel like a heroic badass. You respond in two ways (both, not just one or the other): give them some of what they want and some of what you want mixed in. When you notice the combat-oriented player beginning to tune out, throw in a brief encounter. And while you're running the encounter, lean into the story of it. If the encounter you've chosen is the above example about the goblins, have the goblins be very vocal and directly address your combat-oriented player. Perhaps they recognize this player character as a combat threat and team up on them--now the player needs to roleplay asking for help and speaking with the goblins. This is only a minor exercise in roleplaying, but it gets the player more comfortable with the process. Then you can continue the mini-story about the goblins for your players, and the combat-oriented player is very much at the heart of that story. 

But if your player both knows how to express themself and is in tune with the game you're running, you're probably dealing with a player who doesn't recognize their own agency in the game. This is perhaps the most challenging problem, because it means you essentially need to convey the entire concept of TRPGs to the player in a practical way. This can actually be a common issue with beginning players. I cannot count the amount of times that I have taught people to play who struggle the first few sessions with the extent to which their actions have meaning. But there is a relatively simple way to fix this problem, and it involves testing that player's character in game. 

The first step is an out-of-game conversation. This can be simple or in-depth, depending on your needs. A player who generally understands TRPGs but who is a bit too hesitant to take meaningful actions (or recognize the capacity they have to make choices) can be addressed with a direct reminder that the gameworld is realistic and responsive; if they do something, it will have consequences. Push them to try being bolder with their character actions. Usually, people will respond by pushing the envelope, which teaches them the true limits of their agency. Or you might have to have a larger conversation if TRPGs are a concept that the player is struggling with. Give them your best description of how much power they have as characters in the world--stress that they can do anything at all--and invite them to push the envelope. And then follow it up with step two: testing them in-game. 

Just as we have met our players halfway in each of these examples, we are now meeting our players in a liminal, strange place. The basis of the in-game test is this: if the player character were placed in a dramatic situation, would they react in a way that shows they grasp the full scope of a TRPG's freedom? Since this is usually a problem that confronts beginning players, you want to be gentle with the test. Here's a simple example that would work for most players: the player character in question is approached by someone. This person identifies themselves as an inventor and an entrepreneur and wants a small investment to create a specific device. (For Listen Check, I ran this with an inventor who had developed furniture which could both change forms and shrink to the size of a book, and the players really got into it, each investing money.) But then, unlike how it played out in the podcast, the inventor begins asking personal questions of the player. Now the player has to decide between investing in an obviously good idea and dealing with the invasive questions. The inventor's motives are difficult to discern. It's unlikely your player will simply invest or simply walk away. If the player character seems about to abandon the conversation, have the inventor change tactics and try desperately to keep talking to the player character. (Have the inventor primarily interested in the struggling player and ignore the rest of the party, which places further suspicion on their connection with the player character.) There doesn't need to be a major ending note--it can just be a strange moment with an NPC--but it will jar your player a bit into acting in specific ways that are hopefully both in-character and illustrative of more than a binary choice. 

If your player "fails" this test, by which I mean they do not take much more ownership of the game than previously, don't give up. Create situations which are character-specific. Some scenario you can create will eventually teach your player that they can make differences in the game as they see fit. If you have a trusty and experienced player who the struggling player gets along with, privately ask the experienced player to help the struggling player. Have the experienced player talk to the struggling player in-game, pushing them to become richer and more motivated in their portrayal of their character. 

This has addressed players who have specific disconnections with the game, but there's always a chance that your players still haven't found their fun. For situations where people just aren't into the game, you have two main strategies. First, and perhaps most easily, you can have an out-of-game conversation with your players. It won't spoil the fun or break the reality of your game to talk about it from this perspective. Ask them if they feel driven by the story, which characters they like the most, what ideas they would like to see come up in-game, specifically what experiences they want. (You might do this at the beginning of the game to build a campaign out of player suggestions, but it's not a bad idea to revisit these questions mid-campaign.) Then get to work, since you'll have a better idea of how to reach your players. 

But if talking it out doesn't work, you can still mix things up as GM. Use what you know about your players to create stories that appeal to them. Recognize the combat strategies they like and create encounters that make them change strategies. Take the moments and NPCs that your players respond to most and reorient the story around them. Never be afraid to rewrite--a customized story that responds to the players will always be more interesting and enjoyable than a static adventure. And most importantly of all: never give up on your players. If you can't get them invested with your best efforts, try something else. It is my deeply-held belief that literally everyone would enjoy a TRPG given the right focus and party; you just need to get yourself in tune with them. Remember that from your perspective, the player might be struggling, but that from the player's perspective, the game itself is struggling. You are collaborating with your players, so hold up your end of the bargain. 

A final suggestion about finding your fun: if you're really in a dead end, mix up the type of game. There are hundreds of TRPGs, and one of them is bound to strike the right balance. Maybe you just need a break from your favorite system. If you don't want to learn a whole new system but you do want to mix things up a bit, try out my Cats one-shot or my Con Air one-shot. They're simple and easy to pick up, and trying them out may strike a chord with your struggling players. Just don't give up on your players or on TRPGs. There's always fun to find. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: what works when telling a grand story (and what doesn't), how to develop player character businesses, and my variant rules for gods in D&D. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Keep Your Game Balanced

A classic concern in TRPGs is in keeping everything balanced. The developers of whatever game you're playing strove to make it a balanced experience, and they likely relied on hundreds of hours of playtesting and refining to strike the right balance. You as a GM can undo all of this careful balancing act with a single action. How do you keep things in the sweet spot, where all the players are equally powerful and no one can magically wave away serious story issues? The short answer is that everything is already kind of broken, and as long as you can compensate as you play, you'll be fine. But of course, it is more complicated than that. Let's dive in. 

Before I go further, let me address the elephant I see in the room. I am not a crunchy numbers GM. If you've seen my guide to improvising encounters, you know that I care more about momentum and storytelling than Challenge Ratings and to hit ratios. I cannot provide you a guide to keeping each number in check; rather, I can offer you a mindset for adjusting to the changes you make to the game. If you want a statistical balance, there are dozens of resources for each TRPG to keep it in line with the creators' intentions, but if you are interested in keeping your roleplay-oriented game balanced enough to be interesting, read on. 

I asked my mystery campaign group for some ideas to write about here, and both Montana's and Beor's players asked about balance. Specifically what they wanted to know was this: What do you do when a player tries to break the game (what if they succeed)? Bigger topic could just be about handling "failure" as a DM. And: How to politely decline character ideas and why you would do so. I.e., a character wants to play a god in a level 1 one-shot. I'd like to handle each of these ideas in turn. Let's start with a player trying to break the game. 

Many GMs have seen it: some players set out to break the game. Maybe they're a min-maxer; perhaps they are exploiting a homebrew rule you've set; they might just be ignoring the spirit of the game you've set out to be more powerful. Whatever the case, having a single player character who is significantly more powerful than the rest of the characters creates problems. People generally play to experience the agency associated with TRPGs, so feeling less able than another character can diminish the player's experience. Sure, some player characters are more capable of certain things than others--a wizard's powerful magic is counterbalanced by how frail and physically unintimidating they are, for instance--but if a character is far and away more powerful than other characters, the balance is off. Especially with beginning characters, we want everyone to feel relatively balanced. Here are some tips to keeping things in order:

For starters, one cause of an overpowered character is the line between beginning and experienced players. To a certain extent, it is your responsibility as GM to work against this. You can use this guide for beginning players to get them started, but you'll want to guide them through the character creation process so that they aren't completely in the dark with it. But there's always the chance that a player will use some knowledge of the game to get ahead. My first thought for an example is when players choose exotic races or classes--these have been less heavily tested and are more likely to be unbalanced. One might look back at Gerald from the Eastweald campaign as a bit overpowered; goliaths are unstoppable in combat, and his access to magic via his custom class made him highly intimidating in a way that other characters would struggle to embody. I generally try to discourage exotic races and classes unless the player is really connected to a specific idea, otherwise I run the risk of granting them unbalanced power. A good general rule is this: if the player has a significant story reason for their background, allow it, but if they're looking more to capitalize on numbers, encourage them to express that idea via the core backgrounds. I know that this generally runs counter to my philosophy of gaming, but consider this: I am not barring players from participating as they see fit--I'm asking them to engage with their characters in a way that benefits the story rather than the numbers. I recommend this for any roleplay-heavy game. As Orson Welles so famously said, "The enemy of art is the absence of limitations." Give your players a few limitations (small suggestions), and they will create interesting characters who strike a balance. 

To keep your player characters balanced from the beginning, you'll probably need to use your first session as a diagnostic tool. Provide a few challenges in your opening session--some skill checks you plan to use regularly, an encounter, some roleplaying exercises--and take note of who is the most talented with each type of challenge. If the same player emerges as the best at most things (discounting the luck of the dice, considering only bonuses), consider adding a conditional handicap to that character. You can do this gauging of talent by just looking at character sheets if you're confident with that method, but there's no drawback to balancing after the first session. If a single player is overpowered enough to necessitate a change (if it affects how fun the game is for people, that is), you can develop a story reason to adjust that character. Perhaps they have upset their god, who revokes some of their unbalanced power. Or perhaps they are injured in a way that leaves permanent damage, lessening their impact. The main story might come into play--the BBEG might use magic to siphon off some of that character's powers, and only defeating them will restore their powers. You don't want your player to feel short-changed, though, so be judicious about this process. Only resort to this strategy if a player has successfully broken the game. You can rebalance the game later than the first session with a similar strategy, especially if a level up or a magical item unbalances things later on. 

One of the most important elements of this process is addressing it with the player. I personally opt for a direct conversation. "You built your character so well that the other characters can't compete. I need to have a collaborative spirit here, so I want to curtail your character's powers a bit. Will you work with me to balance the game?" Most players will understand and play along. What you absolutely do not want to do is come off as accusatory or blame them for breaking the game. They were trying to have fun and may not have recognized that their fun can put a damper on others' fun. Present it as a challenge to that player: how can you still succeed even after being powered down a bit? Once you are working with your player to solve the problem, it will be much easier to balance things. If the player is upset that you want to reduce their character's power, empathize with them; explain that you don't want to impact their fun, but the game as a whole needs to remain balanced for the good of the party. Remember to be diplomatic in this conversation, as you'll need that player's cooperation to make your balancing changes work. 

This leads us into our next issue: declining player decisions. Generally speaking, game-breaking behaviors are not a clear-cut issue. There is no action that would always be game-breaking, nor an action that would never be game-breaking. It all depends on context. I think back to the first session of the mystery campaign, when Montana used the spell "Speak with Plants" to question a dandelion in the alleyway where they found a murdered woman. I as DM had not considered that he could find a witness so easily--I had not considered that Montana could simply talk to a weed growing in an alleyway and have a description of the murderer. Using "Speak with Plants" is not a game-breaking action practically ever, but it meant that the party had cut a lengthy step in the plan completely out. It kind of broke the game. By a similar token, "Speak with Dead" could have turned the murder victim into an encyclopedia of information about the murder. (The reason for this unbalance is simple: D&D is not designed to tell mystery stories, so using the system for a mystery means that some effects are not intended for use with what I'm trying for.) Had "Speak with Plants" truly stymied my plans as DM, I could have denied the use of the spell. But doing so would leave a bad taste in the players' mouths--"Why can't we use a basic spell to investigate?"--so I would have needed an appropriate story reason, like the dandelion in the alleyway having been closed up because it was nighttime when the murder happened, thus not being able to act as a witness. But at the time, I played along because I liked the creativity of using the spell. (Side note: I think it is always better to let your players unbalance the game with creative thinking and then compensate for it rather than turning down ideas to keep your plans intact. Remember that improvisation and rewriting plans is part of your job as GM; don't deny your players' plans just so you don't have to work as rebalancing.) 

But let's say a player comes up with a truly game-breaking action that you have to deny. Perhaps you're running a game about protecting a royal family from assassination, and an assassin manages to get past your defenses and kill the king. Now the cleric in the party wants to cast "True Resurrection" on the king to negate the effect. (This happened to me years ago; the party had split and I had to decide between keeping the king dead after one player had killed him and allowing the king to come back via the spell.) To allow "True Resurrection" to work as intended would have made the killing of the king (the entire point of the campaign) meaningless; if he could come back as though nothing had happened, what was the point in protecting him in the first place? I had a decision to make as a DM, and I decided to deny my cleric's player. "True Resurrection," I ruled, could bring the king back, but in a weakened form and for only one week; further, should he be killed again, no spell could bring him back. 

This was a drastic choice. By reducing "True Resurrection" to such a weaker spell, I made it effectively impossible for dead player characters to regain life after dying. I made the assassin player's actions permanent. I made the cleric fundamentally useless to the king he served. But the other option seemed much worse. The whole campaign had been driving towards assassination attempts on the royal family. The assassin used stealth, invisibility spells, social cunning, and lots of strategy to kill the king. To deny all of that to preserve the spell's integrity seemed to defeat the purpose of the campaign. But you can see how balance factors in here: either player actions hold meaning, or game rules do. I chose player actions because I was running a roleplaying campaign. Choices like these are judgment calls, and you should make them based on what the goal of the campaign is. If balanced combat is your goal, then you would probably choose to make "True Resurrection" function as the handbooks direct. What matters, though, is consistency. Balance relies on the players being able to predict the outcomes of their actions to a certain extent--so if you're defending the sanctity of your story or the balance of combat, stick to your guns. Your players will learn (or you can explain to them) that you are making these choices with a consistent reason in mind, and that will improve their ability to participate. 

A note on this idea: it's tempting to view TRPGs are systems where the fun and the magic just naturally flow. But it's work, and it's more specifically group work. Everyone in a tabletop game has joined in a kind of compact: I put forth my time and energy, and I get in return a fun experience with my friends. More specifically, players are looking for a particular experience. Key to those experiences is balance. Balance keeps it so that all the players can meaningfully cooperate, and it makes it so that participating in the story or combat is open to everyone. Most players will understand when you have to curtail a certain detail about the rules or a character as long as it serves to balance everyone's experience. If it's not obvious (and it rarely is) why you're rebalancing things, have a direct, out-of-game conversation about it. It's better to have everyone on the same page than try to handle balancing solely in-game. 

Let's tackle something that was suggested by Beor's player: what do you do if a player wants to be a god even as a low-level character? This one requires even more out-of-game talking. I've written before about what to do when your players don't know enough about the game to play confidently, but what about the opposite, when the player is a little too confident (but still might not understand why they need to stay balanced)? This falls into two categories: your player is too confident because they know the game, and your player is too confident because they don't know the game. 

If your player is a veteran to TRPGs and comes in wanting to dominate the game, have a conversation with them. You might have already dealt with this issue when building your party; hopefully, you have selected players who all agree on what they game should be like. But let's say for illustration's sake that you have a player who's trying to min-max in a roleplaying-focused campaign, and it's thrown off your encounters. Talk with your player and try to figure out how to compromise. Maybe you allow them to remain excelling in combat but with the twist that encounters only happen when your players are focusing on roleplaying. Maybe you reduce the number of encounters in your campaign to maintain your focus. Then again, maybe your player gets into fights because they know they'll win. Then you have two main strategies. You can be a nice GM and address it with them out-of-game; explain that they should respect what everyone wants from the game and try to invest that player in roleplaying. Or you can be a mean GM: overwhelm them in combat (enemies target specifically that character because they're such a threat) or handicap their character (they might lose an arm, rendering two-weapon-fighting and shields impossible). Make the decision about whether to be nice or mean depending on how the player is acting. If their heart is in the right place, be nice; if they're trying to steal the spotlight or deliberately disrupting the game, be mean. 

But maybe your player is confident because they're new. You experience this with players who are strongly into video games most often, but anyone can come in a little too hot. It does create issues: an over-confident player can be reckless, they can drag the party into bad situations, and they might drive the focus of your campaign to the side in search of ways to display their power. Again, you can be nice or mean. A nice GM will scale up and down encounters in difficulty or frequency to suit the party. A nice GM also talks to the player in question and pushes them towards the focus of the campaign. You can take the advice from how to deal with players ignoring your story and meet them halfway--allow the player opportunities to shine in a balanced way while still providing the story you're telling. But you can also be mean: let the player get into as much trouble as they like, but have appropriate consequences. In the National Treasure campaign, I had one player who would kill any NPC they thought they could get away with. When they killed the head guard in a small town, they got the whole party run out of the area. This places the balancing on the other players, who can now roleplay being upset that their plans were scrapped due to this player's bursts of violence. Complaints from other players pretty quickly changed this player's tune, and the bursts of violence stopped. (This is a form of the "evil character in a good party" problem, which you can and should avoid by carefully building your party.) But when you can't solve that problem until after it's already happening like I did in that case, you can always push the story to meet the player's challenges. In that example, the party was run out of about 80% of the towns they initially visited, often because of this particular player. The other players adjusted in their own ways, and I made the guards in the towns they visited hardier and less corrupt to lessen the desire to kill them. It's rarely a numerical change that can fix these problems; story solutions not only solve the problem, but introduce new opportunities for roleplaying. 

Finally, Montana's player's big question: How do you handle failure as a DM? Failure, in this specific case, refers to a game becoming unbalanced. Well, as the solutions above suggest, I think the answer is in twisting the story. To illustrate this point, I'll refer to a mechanic I'm using in my mystery campaign. For each unit of the story that my players complete (learning a secret involved in the mystery represents a unit), I grant them a statistical bonus. For the first two sessions, it was a +1 to all Investigation checks. The third and fourth sessions grants a +1 to their choice of Persuasion of Insight checks. The fifth session, the halfway point in the story, grants a bonus of both +1 to Investigation and the player's choice of a +1 to either Persuasion or Insight. Investigation is one of the main skills in the campaign, so granting a small boost to each player character's skill represents both getting better at what they're actively practicing and a classic game reward: something that makes what you've been doing incrementally easier (while at the same time, the story-based checks go up by a similar increment). Likewise, Persuasion and Insight are important skills for getting the truth out of people, which are critical in my story (perhaps even more important than Investigation).  

But I'm granting bonuses without the party leveling up. Doesn't that throw off the balance? 5e is very sparing with skill bonuses, especially compared to 3.5; a bonus of as much as +6 is a huge bonus for 5e skills. And Montana began the campaign with a +9 to Investigation. Doesn't giving him an additional +3 over the first half of the adventure break the game? Especially when the core mechanic of moving the story is so far from an average score, this could radically affect balance. Montana is a professional private investigator, so it makes sense that he's especially skilled with this stuff, but what about Beor's and Ais' abilities to keep up and contribute? My answer is simple: yes, it all breaks the game, and that's okay because I can compensate for it. 

Especially in roleplaying campaigns, you'll have players whose characters are specialized in certain things. This goes back to classic party design (a balance of strikers, tanks, healers, and experts to keep a party ready for anything). It's not necessarily a broken game if every character has a time to shine. In the mystery campaign, all the characters have access to magic, so that doesn't unbalance them. Ais is actually from the city the game is set in, so she gets access to special information that only she knows. Beor has a variety of magical abilities like his werebear condition and his druid background that make him someone who often grants an important outside perspective on things. Montana's proficiency with investigation skills means he often plays the face of the party, but that doesn't mean he always is. In fact, Montana's high bonuses to skill checks mean that he is likeliest to notice important details, but due to the randomness of roles, he is not the only one who can notice these details. And his identity as a private investigator gives him an excellent set of reasons for being so well-suited to the task. Here we have a story reason for something that is unbalanced, which means we can counterbalance it with another story reason. 

So I've broken my game a bit by granting the players stat bonuses to what they're mainly doing. So what? I'm running a storytelling game with lots of roleplaying. Should dice really be the deciding factor in whether that story progresses? What if my players are all at a critical juncture and must notice a particular detail to progress, and everyone fails the roll? It would be ridiculous to hold them back just because the dice said so. Isn't it more interesting to grant the players a success based on their intentions? I have made my mystery players significantly more formidable as investigators, and that actually works well for my storytelling purposes. Not to mention, game design would call for the skill checks to get harder as the story progresses. Since 5e doesn't increase skills when you level up, my players would be always reaching for a particular DC which would grow further and further out of reach. So I broke my game a bit to compensate for the changing experience of the game. What appears to be breaking the game (adding stat bonuses) is actually a remedy for using the D&D system for something it wasn't designed to do (telling a mystery story).

Some GMs would look at Montana's +12 to Investigation checks and dismiss this as a broken game. But as I hinted out in the last paragraph, if you're using a TRPG for anything besides its directly intended purpose (often combat), you're going to need to compensate for the way you're breaking it by stretching its purpose. All of this is to say that an unbalanced game is never a failure. Failure indicates that the game is broken beyond repair, but unbalance in a TRPG just means you have some details to compensate for still. 

Exact balance in a game is for D&D battle royales, where the calibration of each number must be precise for the system to work. But for storytelling games, you don't need exact balance. You just need a system to work well enough to support everyone having the experience they're looking for. Some of the conditions I've described above might not even be problems to solve; for instance, a combat-focused player in a roleplaying campaign might be a welcome presence so that everyone knows combat is handled and can focus on what they really enjoy. Similarly, an overpowered character who doesn't diminish the roles of the rest of the party can be very helpful. (My most recent character, a cleric named Asa, is fairly overpowered by most standards due to high ability rolls and some great starting equipment, but since he's the group's healer, no one minds him kicking ass as long as he keeps the party healthy.) Pay close attention when diagnosing balance issues to whether they're causing the other players or the story to suffer. If they aren't, there's very little harm in allowing an unbalanced detail to stand. 

So, "failure as a DM" when it comes to balance is really about whether you can recognize balance issues and correct them if they call for it. Any unbalanced detail can be changed by the story to better reflect what you're trying to accomplish. If you're worried that your game is unbalanced, just determine what would fix it and develop a story reason to implement it. The only balance issues that signify "failure as a DM" come from DMs who fight so hard for mathematical balance that the reality of everyone's experience is lost. TRPGs are an art more than a science, so strive for the right effect more than the right method. 

That's all for now. I hope that as you strive for a balanced game, you are successful, and remember always to treat your players as unique ingredients in the meal that is your game. Coming soon: how to help players find their fun, what works when trying to tell a grand story, and my variant gods rules. Until next time, happy gaming!

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What to Do When Your Players Ignore the Story

When I started writing Over the DM's Shoulder five years ago, I wasn't sure what would come of my efforts. Now, five years and a long break later, this is the fiftieth post on this site. I thought that I would use this special post to answer a classic GM question that is near and dear to my heart: what to do when your players ignore your story. I've addressed this idea in the session notes for my mystery campaign; when I handled it there, I described how I reacted when my players decided to spend time on band practice rather than investigating a murder. Every experienced GM has a similar experience--sometimes the players are simply motivated by other things than following the path of a story from start to finish. If you've read the linked session notes, you already know how I feel about this kind of experience, but what about if it's happening to you? What can you do? 

I argue that your best path depends on the situation you're dealing with as a GM. Generally, you will fall into one of three categories: the players don't understand how to stick with the story, they are not motivated to advance the story, or the players are interested in other things. These issues can be difficult to diagnose; all of them express as your players not following your story, but they are caused by very different things. Within each of these categories are a few ways for players to express their disconnection with your story, and I can suggest solutions for each one. Let's start with the first category: players who don't understand how to stick with the story. 

Generally speaking, players who don't know how to follow the story are not going to express it because they think they do understand what's going on. You can recognize this issue by seeing players confidently make story choices that don't reflect the information you have tried to give them. For instance, let's say you've presented your players with a BBEG who you wanted to be a little ambiguous at first to increase the drama of the players discovering their evil intentions. But because of your subtlety, your players think of the BBEG as a fairly neutral or even helpful entity. Now you have players who aren't poking around the BBEG like you want them to, and even an in-game prodding strikes the players as unremarkable information. What to you do to course-correct? 

For this example, I recommend that you try to solve the problem with a matter of degrees. Over the course of a session or two, insert increasingly suspicious information about the BBEG. Don't force your players to view them as the problem; just guide them into moments that show that the BBEG has an agenda that would adversely affect them. Your players may grasp this at your first gentle prodding, and they may still be unsure after your most obvious prodding. But so long as you can get the players to realize that the story you're telling them is specifically about something, you'll be on the path to a happy game again. 

Generally speaking, though, your players will understand the big picture without too much work on your part. The more common issue with understanding the plot is that players either don't understand what the limits of your story are or that the players think they're walking a path designated by you when they really aren't. Both of these issues arise more during storytelling/roleplaying games where detailed information can be mistaken. Let's consider how to deal with each one. 

Your players might not understand the limits of the story if you're telling a story that is wide-ranging rather than narrowly focused. My mystery campaign is an ideal example. I'm trying to tell a story about a mysterious set of events that seem to grow broader and broader in scope as the mystery progresses. This leaves my game wide open to speculation on what is and is not part of the players' responsibilities. To wit, in a recent session for the mystery campaign, the players discussed what they believed was their goal: solve the initial murder, and ignore the web of murky details surrounding it. I as GM have been developing this campaign as a story that takes them from the murder to something much larger. But my committed roleplayers have portrayed their characters as weary of the investigation and reticent to get further involved. This is a limits problem: where does the edge of the story reside? 

The solution for this particular problem can be reached with some gentle herding. The party in my mystery campaign wants to find the person who murdered the initial victim; they have a good description of the murderer, but no way to find them. So to assert that the web of details is connected to the murder, I am bringing the murderer back into the investigation. Previously, they were a spectre the party could only hopelessly chase, but as of our next session, they will be once again at the heart of the mystery. This will show the players that the murder and the web of details are related enough to pursue both, solving our limits problem. 

Your players may think that they are pursuing the story when they are actually off in the weeds doing something else. This is an issue that can exist on a small scale, as when players get hung up on a detail you didn't mean to be significant, or on a larger scale, as when players begin to push in a completely unplanned direction. The issue here is not a miscalculation of the story's limits, but an entire misperception about what content is in the story and what isn't. Let's look at an example that includes both minor and major misunderstandings:

Let's say that you're running a campaign and the main story you've planned for involves a primal magical force that is clawing its way into this dimension. Your players are trying to figure out what is causing this rift, and they learn from an Arcana check that the magical force is mostly evocation magic. The players take this information and run with it (but in the wrong direction given your plans). They head to a library and pore over spellbooks to learn about evocation spells and how to counter them. But you as GM had planned that they would take another hint about where the magic rift appeared, and now you and your party are disconnected. To make things worse, that small misinterpretation leads to a bigger one; now your players are talking about how to use evocation spells to fight against the magical force, which will only make the force more powerful. How do you get out of this bind? 

Whereas the solution to the limits problem is to maintain the structure you've planned for (when your planning cannot be altered without radically changing everything) and just reorient the players, you have choices with players on the wrong track. If it's a minor misunderstanding, such as the evocation magic investigation mentioned above, you can adjust your plans and allow the players to be on the right track in your revised adventure--in the new version, evocation magic hides secrets which will help the players succeed. You might do this because investigating the type of magic is actually a pretty good idea and you want to reward your players; you might also go this route because it's generally a good idea to let the players decide the direction of your story and work with them. 

But for bigger issues, like the decision to fight the magical force with evocation spells, you have to make a harder judgment call. Can you afford to rewrite a bit? Maybe it's ultimately best to allow your players to succeed with their plan. I generally believe that players should be rewarded for good ideas even if it breaks my prepared notes, but you should find the balance that works for you. If you can't adjust your planning, allow the players to try their strategy and let them fail, but without punishing the party. No player character deaths should occur unless your players are being reckless and obstinate. They've tried a route that seemed appropriate and found out it didn't work; this is a natural party of a story. (It's called the middle--most every story's middle is about failing at something until you eventually get it right.) So provide them a scene that proves they were on the wrong path, drop a suggestion of what path to start on instead (and don't be afraid to be a little direct here; if your players were just confused, give them something clear to compensate), and move back to the story you're trying to tell. 

This covers what to do when your players are confused about the story. But it's just as likely that your players are simply not motivated to progress the story. This might be because your story is not motivating them or possibly because the characters themselves are not motivated by the story. In either case, you can diagnose this issue when your player characters are getting invested in details rather than the big picture. Pay close attention to what your players say to each other when they discuss your story. If they describe it in basic terms without the details you have provided but discuss side details with relish, you probably have players who aren't motivated. 

Let's say you're running a campaign about a dungeon from which emerges monstrous creatures bent on destroying humanoid settlements across the countryside. Your players have tended casually to this quest, but they are spending more time talking to tavernkeepers and townsfolk than worrying about the monsters. You're likely struggling to impress upon them the importance of the quest. Now you need to determine if it's the players or the characters who aren't motivated. Listening to the players talk is again your best tool. If your players discuss their interests out-of-game, you're dealing with player issues; if they speak in-character about their motivations, you're dealing with character issues. Both have simple solutions. 

You're running your story about the monster-spawning dungeon and your players care more about townsfolk than your quest. The players themselves are the ones who don't connect with the quest; now what do you do? I recommend isolating the thing that your players care about and recalibrating your adventure to tend to those interests. In this example, where the players are invested in the townsfolk, put the townsfolk in harm's way by making them the target of the monsters. Now your players are serving your story in order to connect with the thing that matters to them. 

Similarly, you can address character disinterest by focusing on what the characters care about. Let's say that in the monster-spawning dungeon example, your players' characters are really interested in becoming powerful enough to take on a minor NPC who has antagonized them. So you again align the two goals; the reward for dealing with the monsters is increased power (not just via experience, but via magic items and stat boosts). Now your players and their characters have a stake in following your story. All it takes is some creative moving of the goalposts, which is bad in a debate but vital in TRPGs. 

Some characters, however, are tough nuts to crack. Especially with characters designed for roleplay, you will occasionally encounter a character who doesn't align with quests very often. My strategy for dealing with a disconnected player character is to add a detail to the quest that directly involves that character. Let's say a player is controlling a character who is a halfling rogue, someone who doesn't get excited about combat so much as conversational tactics, and they don't care much about the monsters at all. Add a detail: that character has a magical aura about them that attracts the monsters. How and why they attained this aura is up to you, but it will make that character unable to ignore the story, as it will follow them wherever they go. Now your player may be invested in ending the aura's effect for roleplaying reasons, and that's enough to move them to progress the story. 

The last category of disconnection from the story is that players are interested in specific things outside of your story. Again, this is mostly a problem for storytelling/roleplaying campaigns, but it can easily derail a campaign if you're not careful. There are generally two reasons a player might be interested more in something else besides your story: they are more invested in a side quest than the main quest, or they are looking for opportunities to roleplay, which they have an easier time doing with a non-story moment than during investigation of the main quest. The solution to these problems has less to do with rewriting your plans like the above examples and more to do with creating new content for your players to engage with. 

I started this article by addressing how in the mystery campaign, my players have strayed from the main path to get invested in details. As mentioned, they leaned on band practice as a plan rather than investigating a murder; they have also interrogated someone I meant to be a footnote at most and pulled a five-footer. This doesn't mean that they're a bad party. In fact, none of the issues in this article mean that players are failing; it just means they're responding to things other than what you intended them to. But especially with this category--players interested in non-story elements--what we're dealing with is not a communication breakdown, but rather an indication that the story isn't working as we're intending. So solving the problem means, as I mentioned above, creating more content to bridge the players into the story. 

Let's address side quests becoming a central focus first. Remember that we're not necessarily trying to push the players into the story; we're trying to meet them halfway. I'll use an example from the mystery campaign since it has lent itself so much to roleplaying trumping the story. The players intended to speak to high roller Clover Loom about the reports that she had offered to pay someone to steal from and/or kill the inventor Lyssbetonk Cogswagon. But the plan the players and their characters devised was to convince Loom to start a business with them. They pitched a unique business using false identities, and they ended up spending considerably more time discussing their business plan (a decoy) than investigating Loom herself. I found myself wondering how effective this strategy would be. As it turned out, the player characters allow Loom to go unquestioned for the most part, opting instead to infiltrate the high roller circle in town. This is not a failure, however; they did get the information they needed, and they allowed themselves entry to a closed society that would benefit them later. Why penalize the players for taking a different strategy than I would? They were leaning into roleplaying, and so I responded by adjusting my plans. I started considering the ways that different people in the high roller circle would respond to the unconventional and upstart party, and although this choice by the players also means playing the long game (which I hadn't considered), I think it's a great digression for the story. Remember that you as GM are not just trying to tell a story. You are trying to help tell a story. Let the players make choices like this. They're not so much ignoring the story as inspecting all their options and being creative. This is ultimately what I want from my players. So I move to meet their new goals, and the story shifts to suit what is coming. 

And then there's the drive to roleplay. This could only be an issue in the most specific scenarios--I would argue that it's only a problem when it negatively affects the other players' experiences. That's the kind of problem you can deal with via my guide to building a cohesive party before it becomes a problem. But by and large, when your player characters are driven to roleplay rather than progress the story, you've effectively diagnosed what they care about. Now you can do two things to give your players what they want: give them more opportunities to roleplay in new ways, and get their favorite characters involved in the story. This is less of an either/or situation; you should really do both to make your game ideal for your players. 

Let's start with how to give roleplaying opportunities. You can do this in a myriad of ways. The easiest is to let up on the GM reins and just let the players spend some time doing as they wish. This is also a great way to check in and see what your players really want; they'll be doing it, so recognizing it is easy. Be ready to be in-character for whatever NPCs they encounter--feel free to use my NPC database with its detailed descriptions of characters you can drop into your campaigns. Roleplaying also grows out of small, less consequential quests. Perhaps a street urchin asks for help dealing with a corrupt guard, or a widow needs someone to carry the coffin of her late spouse. These micro-quests are less about success and failure; they should require very little rolling of the dice. Rather, they should be situations with rich possibilities for roleplaying. Add as much emotion to these scenes as possible, as that is the fuel roleplaying often relies on. These small touches are simple and will pull your players into the possibilities of their roleplaying. 

So now you've allowed your players the space to express themselves in the freedom of not sticking to the story. It takes a certain level of comfort as a GM to manage this; you need to be willing and able to improvise as you go, and you have to trust that your players can have fun without the direction of a story they're dutifully following. But once you're there, and your players are in the zone, you'll find the rewards are quite limitless. Players and their characters will both be more engaged in whatever happens, and that is really chief among my goals as a GM. But you don't have to abandon your story! In fact, you can use your players' desires to roleplay to get the story back at the center of their experiences. It just takes some creative writing like we used with the monster-spawning dungeon above. 

Let's say that, hypothetically, my mystery campaign players decided ultimately that they are having more fun masquerading as rich folks than they are solving a crime. It allows them to roleplay more effectively and they're portraying their characters as being fed up with being investigators. (This is not that far from the case currently.) How do I get them to get invested in the crime again? In fact, I have quite a few options. I could allow my murder mystery to recede into the background for a while and let the players experience the game as they're trying to; perhaps the story will orient in a new direction, or perhaps the murder mystery will return to the players' interests. I could push the murder mystery back into focus by having high rollers start turning up dead with links back to the original murder; this might convince the players that the murder mystery still matters. I could allow the players a campaign that goes much longer than I anticipated, giving time to truly build their business and infiltrate the upper echelons of society; perhaps the city guard, who are forcing the player characters to complete the investigation, grows tired of their traipsing with the rich and begins trying to sabotage their new business. I could even use story agitator Dirk St. Patrick to put more pressure on the party; perhaps Dirk has no scruples about blackmailing the party over their secrets and their roles in the high roller circle. All of these represent attempts not to correct the players, but to meet them halfway. 

That's really the bottom line with all issues when your players are ignoring your story. It's more likely to indicate that your story is broken than that the party is broken. So diagnose the issue and push yourself to give the players what they want. If you're pushing them back to your story, try something new to hook them. An out-of-game "I need you all to follow the story" is an awful tactic--it removes the simulation of free will in the game, it places your story on rails, and it denies you the potential to solve these issues with your players. Instead, create more content to satisfy your players and give them incentives to return to your planned content. It's a simple strategy, but it works very well if you're sensitive to your players. 

These guidelines should help to both get your story back on track and give the players what they want. It's a "best of both worlds" scenario--everybody's happy when the GM and the players are all working together. Coming soon: my accents resource, how to balance your game, and how to help players find their fun. Until then, happy gaming!

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