What is the purpose of GMing? Some tabletop games resist having clear GMs, opting instead of equal if different roles to create the story. Other games, depending on the GM in particular, make the game all about the GM (especially when railroading and lore-dumping are happening). Can we generalize across all games? No. Tabletop game design specializes in tweaking rules to change the outcome, and that means it's impossible to say something that's true of all tabletop games. Let's restrict our analysis to what might be called "traditional tabletop games"--ones with a GM and a group of players who roleplay as some manner of conscious being.
Without the GM, it's hard to get a campaign started. We need a story input and a setting, which the GM conveys. The GM is also required to provide reactions from the world to the players' actions. And in cases of something like a die roll or when rules are confusing, the GM interprets and decides how to proceed. I wrote here recently that tabletop games are, at their core, storytelling guides, so if the GM's job is to contribute to that story and to oversee how it proceeds. So a GM exists in order to guide the story.
So how do we find the right mixture of kindness and cruelty and aloofness and presence? The answer is, frustratingly, that it depends on what's happening in the story. When the party is receiving accolades and gifts for completing the main quest, it makes sense to have a kind GM. When the party is facing off against the big bad, some antagonism from the GM is natural. But these examples are roleplaying more than the GM themselves. What about how the GM behaves in narration, combat, and other out-of-game moments?
These are the moments where GMs define themselves. Let's talk examples. My first GM, an old school AD&D player who had taught his daughter (my classmate and neighbor) to play, had a polished style. His narration was bold but aloof, keeping things in the realm of epic high fantasy; his combat was fierce and animated, and he always seemed to be rooting for the enemies even though he was obviously relieved and pleased when we came out victorious; he had the feeling of a warm father figure I never had who could be playfully stern but was always on my side. He went by Judge while GMing, and you got the sense he was weighing the balance on every roll. There was antagonism in some of what he did, and it seemed genuine to me, but it was in good fun, as in a competition. I recall those sessions fondly.
Later, I would meet a friend in college whose nerdy interests aligned with my own, and he introduced me to a handful of tabletop games which he GMed very ably. He would narrate as though in a trance and reading from a book, giving the impression that he was possessed by a story larger than him. His combat was descriptive and colorful, always grisly and dazzling, and a clear favorite part of the game of his. He would challenge players on foolish ideas, and a healthy part of each session was spent with him ridiculing the awful plans we put together. He seemed impartial. If we died, he would have been as amused as if we had completed our mission. Those were formative games, and I was glad I had the sheltered nurturing into a full tabletop gamer before meeting him.
I got to play one campaign with a close friend who was running a storytelling campaign for the first time. There were, to my practiced eye, some cracks in the GMing here. Railroading and lore-dumping happened often, sometimes multiple times per session. NPCs, all with abrasive personalities, seemed to dominate many scenes. It often felt like our GM had some thing he wanted us to do, but we didn't know what it was, and he wasn't telling us. We ended up tiptoeing around and basically asking the GM what to do to avoid the tension. Narration was extensive and focused away from the players; combat always seemed to be an excuse to show off a powerful NPC; the GM seemed upset with us often. It was a hard road, and I still don't know if I entirely understand what went wrong.
Years later, I played for a first time GM who was trying his hand at a D&D module. I will say this: the GM I just described about who was focused on his own world was less fun than a complete novice GMing. That's not to say it was fun. The first timer had no real confidence as a GM and spent a lot of time looking rules up in the book or triple-checking passages in the module. He was neither kind nor cruel, nor was he really much of anything but scared of messing up. I've lost touch with him--I hope he's stuck with it and found his groove as a GM.
Most recently, I played a campaign in which I got to break out a long-awaited character concept--the con artist, built as a Charisma-based Rogue--and had my best friend as the GM. I was surprised during our opening sessions--he's a very warm person, but he was very distant as a GM. I got the sense it was a deliberate move, though I'm not entirely certain what the intended effect is. His descriptions were smooth, detailed, and interesting, delivered as though telling a long-remembered story that happened to him; his combat was decisive and varied. The quality of the GMing was excellent, though I'm still puzzled by the distance as a GM--perhaps an attempt to embrace the same energy as my first GM, Judge.
And how would I describe my style? I tend to blur the lines between in-game and out-of-game selves. I am openly on one side and one side alone--the players having the best time possible. In narration and table talk alike, I voice my opinions on how impressive player actions are, how much I don't want a narrative let-down, and how much I enjoy moments players create. I think it's important that my players know that I want them to have a good time.
I'm very warm and kind as a GM. I've gone out of my way to design custom classes, homemade campaigns, and whatever else I can to help players have a good time, and I try to be very friendly about it. After all, it's work I enjoy. Why would I be anything but nice--I'm playing my favorite kind of game with my friends and we're being creative together, which is awesome.
That's not to say I don't seem impartial with the rules. As far as my players know, every die roll I report is exactly what happened, and I do maintain a sense of balance. I'll admit that if things are really going poorly for a player character, I will fudge a roll to let them catch a break. I'll admit that I have erased some hit points from enemies when things were looking bad for the party. But again--I'm here to make sure the players have a good time. Dying meaninglessly would not be a good time. To my players, these are memorable close calls; to me, they're averted disasters. And I only fudge very sparingly if I can help it, since the dice are there for a reason after all.
To me, it is a matter of leaning into the moment, and it is a matter of personal taste, so it's not as though there are any hard and fast rules. But the moment I realized that I as the GM was playing a game with my friends and not against my friends was the moment that everything became clear to me. I will say that as a rule, antagonism is a pretty toxic thing to bring to the table when the goal is fun. GMs who try to murder the whole party, storytellers who bully the party into following the script, GMs who don't care how a player's experience goes--these GMs create bad feelings in our community. First time gamers leave the community after bad experiences with antagonistic players and GMs. I'd wager that these tensions from playing the game together restrict how strong of friends those people can be.
If, on the other hand, you say to your friends something else, it could be different. "Hey, I want to play a game with you. We'll conquer foes and have adventures and enjoy laughs and create a story all together. How's that sound?" I like the sound of that. I like it a lot more than, "If you think you can defeat my dungeon, you're wrong, but I'll let you try and die if you want."
In my experience, there is something of a culture of competitiveness and dismissiveness amongst tabletop gamers. No matter how I have approached the community, I have been ignored or dismissed. Sometimes I have said, "Hey, "I've been GMing for 18 years and have a massive website about tabletop games--I know about this stuff." I have not been believed. I know that antagonism and rudeness and not caring about the players all that much is actually pretty common in our community. And nevertheless, I will say it once more:
We are here to have fun with our friends. There is no need for anything but happiness and enjoying each other's company while you tell a story together. The GM does not win when they kill they party or reach the end of their written adventure--they win when they have a good time, and it's much easier to do that with the players than while fighting against them.
When I look back on my first days of D&D in Judge's basement with fresh popcorn and big blankets, I think the thing that meant the most at the time was having Judge around. I didn't have a father figure, and Judge was kind and attentive and funny and played games with me. It was his warmth that brought me in. As I stayed, and I got to know tabletop games, it became something bigger--an obsession that has fueled me since. But without my kindly neighbor Judge, I don't know when or where I would have found tabletop games.
I have been told by friends that they play tabletop games today because I invited them to play with me. They liked me--they trusted me--and my kindness and friendship carried them partway. Tabletop games did the rest of the work like they did for me. And you, humble GM reading this, you too can bring people into the community. You too can be kind to your friends and bring these beautiful games into their lives to share with you.
I'll be a little sassy if a player tries to convince me of something outlandish. I might roll my eyes at a bad joke. But I don't oppose my players ever. If you do, I would ask you to reconsider, because things can be so much better.
That's all for now. Coming soon: a pirate D&D one-shot, a guide to the planes, and what perfect GMing looks like. Until next time, happy gaming!
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