Smart Game Design Leaves Room For Player Creativity

As folks who've been keeping up with my releases throughout 2022 know, I've been doing a lot of world building and game designing. However, there is an issue I've been running into for years that I wanted to talk about, and while this is aimed largely at fellow game designers there's some leftover attention for Game Masters out there as well.

In short, when you are designing mechanics for your game, leave plenty of room for player creativity. Because the less room they have to add their own creativity, flair, and detail, the more restrictive it's going to feel... and there's a real possibility this will kill interest in what would otherwise have been a really great game.

What do you mean I can't have a glowing horn? Why not?

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Players Need To Be Able To Make It Their Own

A perfect example of game design that leaves players plenty of room to make characters and concepts their own, while still providing a solid underlying structure, is Changeling: The Lost. I've been pretty deep into this game for content design purposes, as evidenced by supplements like 100 Hobs To Meet in The Hedge as well as 100 Mourning Cant Dialects, Phrases, and Meanings, and one of the things that drew me to this game in the first place is how much freedom it gives you in your character design.

Seriously, give them a look if you're a Lost fan!

In this game you play someone who was stolen by the True Fae, and whose experience altered them, filling them up with magic. You choose a Seeming, which grants you broad abilities and weaknesses. You may then choose a Kith, which grants you an additional, smaller power if you wish.

As an example, someone might choose to play an ogre (a Seeming known for its raw, physical power and ability to intimidate). While they could make this ogre a huge, hulking individual with a massive chip on their shoulder, they could instead be petite and adorable, always trying to make friends until they get riled up. They could be a hacker, a doctor, a politician, or a guardian... all of those things are left up to the player. Same with the specific details of their appearance, from fangs and tusks, to bizarre skin and eyes, or not, it's largely up to the player. All the Seeming does is grant them specific sets of mechanics, but it doesn't tell the player how they must make their character. The same is true for the other Seemings as well. A Fairest (known for their social graces and beauty) might be a foul-mouthed bastard with a disagreeable disposition. A Wizened (the crafters and makers) could just as easily be a soldier-of-fortune with a weapon on their hip and a love of the fight. A Beast (those who were transformed into animals) might be a well-spoken professor, a private detective, or a medical technician.

And so on, and so forth.

What this game also does, though, is that the more specific an ability or power is, the less wiggle room it gives players, and the more closely tied to the setting lore it is. For example, while many kiths are quite general and open to interpretation (like the Soldier, which gives you bonuses with bladed weapons), others will have some specific requirements (such as the Metalflesh, whose skin appears to be made of a particular kind of metal, or the Far Walker who generally share an appearance more common to the yeti or sasquatch).

Then at the far end of the game you have add-ons and powers your players may choose to take, but which have organic ties to the world, and specific meanings within the setting that exist outside the character entirely. For example, an Entitlement (something that's like a prestige class in Lost's first edition, for those more familiar with class-based RPGs) is a specific organization that a character may become part of. In order to become a member the character must meet all the prerequisites, and adhere to the ethos, mission, and standards of this Entitlement. Because, in this instance, the Entitlement isn't something meant for the player to design to their own specifications and story; it's a part of the setting for them to interact with if they so choose. Like a faction, alliance, or other element, it will exist with or without them.

How Much Room Are You Giving Players?

Whether your game is class-based or skill-based, whether it's sci-fi, fantasy, horror, or a blend of genres, it's always important to ask yourself what limitations you're putting on player creativity, and whether those things improve the game, or undermine it. And, as mentioned above, whether something is required as part of character creation, or if it's something that's part of the setting rather than a tool specifically for the players.

And the question is pretty much universal to every system out there.

Why, for example, do you feel we must all be the same color?

If your game has tieflings and aasimar, do they only come in specific, proscribed varieties? Or are they more like the Primtouched in my Gods of Sundara setting, who come in an infinite array of creatures ranging from the merely unusual to the absolutely bizarre? If you have dragonborn, do they have a number of different features and body types to differentiate them (tails, wings, horns, jaw styles, etc.) or is it all down to color and energy type? Are your barbarians limited to specific backgrounds, or can you find them in noble courts as often as you do in the back waters of the wilds? Is every paladin out there a knight, or can anyone be touched by the divine, and allowed to uphold their holy vows in the face of an enemy?

There's always going to be some limitations in a game. Spycraft is meant to portray different varieties of the super spy genre, so for all its strange gadgets and impossible feats, all the characters in it are human. Call of Cthulhu is a game that takes place in the world of the Cthulhu Mythos, and so it has certain themes it's trying to maintain, and a particular canon that exists within the world. But whenever you look at the game you're writing (or the campaign you're planning) you should always ask yourself whether you're leaving enough room for the players' concepts to breathe on their own.

Because if not, it might be a good idea to go back to the drawing board.

In Case You Didn't See It

For those who aren't plugged-in to all my new releases, my latest drop from Azukail Games is practically burning up the sales chart. 100 Tips and Tricks For Being a Better Game Master went Copper within 24 hours of its initial release, and my goal is to try to get it to Silver before the end of the month. So if you haven't grabbed your copy yet, take a moment to check it out!

Like, Follow, and Stay in Touch!

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday. To stay on top of all my content and releases, make sure you subscribe to my newsletter at the bottom of the page!

Again, for more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, and stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio. Or if you'd prefer to read some of my books, like my cat noir thriller Marked Territory, its sequel Painted Cats, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my latest short story collection The Rejects, then head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now Pinterest as well! To support my work, consider Buying Me a Ko-Fi, or heading to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron. That one helps ensure you get more Improved Initiative, and it means you'll get my regular, monthly giveaways as a bonus!

Meaningful Choice is The Cornerstone of a Game

There is a piece of advice I've encountered more than once both in gaming groups and on advice panels, which is that Game Masters should rely on the Illusion of Choice as a way to save themselves extra work and heavy lifting. And while it seems like a good idea (especially since it's a tactic recommended in products like The Lazy Dungeon Master and Return of The Lazy Dungeon Master), there is a serious flaw in it as a main strategy.

Because when someone sees through the illusion, your whole game can come crashing down.

What's in the mist? Well it's... ugh... something. I assure you.

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The Illusion of Choice, and Game Breakdown

To start off with, the Illusion of Choice means that no matter what players choose to do, or which option they take, you've already pre-determined the result. If they leave by the Eastern road out of town, they come to the city of Arendt. And if they leave by the Western road... they come to the same city. North or south, doesn't matter where they go, that city is the destination on the map in front of them. You might have to change the name of the city itself, but it's going to be the same map, the same NPCs, etc. All you did was put a fake moustache on it and hope nobody notices.

The Illusion of Choice is, put bluntly, just sleight of hand to disguise the rails the game is on. Because when all is said and done, it doesn't really matter what the players choose to do, or what options they take. You, as the Game Master, have already determined which creatures they're going to encounter, what dungeons they're going to delve into, and how the game is going to go. It doesn't matter if they fight off the first wave of orc bounty hunters, you'll just summon more until they're eventually captured. It doesn't matter which treasure chest of three they choose when given a chance to select a reward, it will always be the +2 sword. And so on, and so forth.

Which vial do you choose? It doesn't matter, they're all poisoned.

Now, just like with the use of illusions in our games themselves, this can sometimes be an effective strategy. As long as you can keep the players distracted with your left hand, and they can't see what you're doing with your right, the legerdemain works. However, as soon as your players see through the illusion and realize the campaign is on rails, there's a good chance that things start breaking down quickly. Particularly if they start testing the limits of the illusion to see whether they actually have free choice at all.

One of the major advantages of tabletop RPGs over video games, reading a book, or watching a movie, is that a player gets to participate in shaping the narrative. They create their character, control the character's actions, and affect the world as best they can. But when you take away that agency, rendering their choices immaterial to the progression of the game, the players are no longer really participating in the game. Sure they're rolling dice to swing swords and slinging spells, but they're just passing a series of pre-determined events that won't be altered by what they do in any meaningful way.

It's a trick. At the end of the day the reason the Illusion of Choice is often received so poorly is that you're tricking your players into thinking their actions mattered when it turned out they didn't. It's the same reason players tend to get upset with a Game Master who just plucks a number out of the air during a fight scene, and decides that's how many round the fight will go regardless of tactics used or damage dealt. Or why players are often less-than-enthused by Game Masters who toss out a riddle, and wait for the players to say or do something entertaining enough for them to consider it solved. Because in the end they didn't really succeed, because there was no pre-determined state of success. They could have just sat there picking their noses and achieved largely the same effect.

Lay It Out Beforehand... Trust Me

I've been a Game Master, and I've written modules like False Valor, The Curse of Sapphire Lake, and Ghosts of Sorrow Marsh. I know first hand just how tough it can be to fill in all the details, prepare every monster, and keep a list of NPCs on-hand to ensure the players always have a consistent world with organic plot and development around them. It takes a lot of prep, a lot of balancing, and a lot of feverish note-taking. By comparison the Illusion of Choice is so much easier and simpler.

And that's true, as long as you manage to pull of the trick with your audience none the wiser. But as soon as they catch the pigeon up your sleeve, the magic is ruined.

As with any other piece of RPG advice you see on this blog, remember, I don't know your group. I don't know the tastes of folks you play with, or what the deal breakers are for your table. With that said, I can say that every time I've seen players realize that choice was nothing but an illusion it immediately tanked their interest in a game. They may not have quit, but they were just marking the sessions until the campaign was over and they could play something different.

If you're interested in more advice like this, don't forget to check out 100 Tips and Tricks For Being a Better Game Master, as well!

Like, Follow, and Stay in Touch!

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday. To stay on top of all my content and releases, make sure you subscribe to my newsletter at the bottom of the page!

Again, for more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, and stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio. Or if you'd prefer to read some of my books, like my cat noir thriller Marked Territory, its sequel Painted Cats, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my latest short story collection The Rejects, then head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now Pinterest as well! To support my work, consider Buying Me a Ko-Fi, or heading to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron. That one helps ensure you get more Improved Initiative, and it means you'll get my regular, monthly giveaways as a bonus!

Game Masters, You Must Get Player Buy-In If You Want To Control Their Stories

The way a tabletop game is set up is that the players control their characters, and the game master controls basically everything else. Because the player characters are the only method of participation in the game that the players have, they tend to fall under the sole control of the players themselves. Whether they want to give their characters green hair, or make them half-elves, or go into excruciating detail on everything from the skull-shaped buckle on their sword belt to the patched whipcord of their trousers, at the end of the day their characters are the only thing the players can really control.

And if you want to limit that control as a game master, then you need to really take a moment and sell the reason for that loss of control to your table. Especially if you don't want them to collectively fold their arms and refuse to take one more step forward until you get your hands off their agency.

Never assume buy-in. Ever.

As game masters we sometimes get so caught up in our own "brilliance" that we forget we need the rest of the players to actually make this game work. And before I get into an example, remember to sign up for my weekly newsletter so you don't miss any of my new releases or upcoming projects!

One Man's Meat is Another Man's Poison

For those who've played this game...

If you've looked into playing Strange Aeons pictured above, then you probably understand the simple gimmick it has. For those who aren't familiar, this entire adventure path is meant to explore the Cthulhu Mythos aspects that are baked into the Golarion setting for Pathfinder. Elder gods, ancient cults, bizarre prophecies, horrific visions, and so on, and so forth. And when the game starts off the players are in an asylum, unable to remember the recent past. They don't know how they got there, how long they've been there, or what's going on. A large portion of the early part of the campaign is investigating their own pasts, and finding answers to these questions.

Now, I have not read the campaign books, because I'm still hoping to play this game and I don't want to spoil things for myself. However, in the player's guide it tells you very explicitly that this amnesia is for the past several years (up to a decade, I believe). As the game is written, the characters do not awaken with total amnesia, piecing themselves together from nothing as the game goes on.

However, I have lost count of the number of game masters who've said that's exactly how they want to run the game. Not only do they want to be the ones who create the stories of every PC, which the players will discover over time, but they also want to be the ones in charge of their character sheets. Everything from which classes a character has levels in, to what feats they have, to what spells they know, is already pre-set, the same way their stories and identity are... it's up to the players to "discover" it, which is the central conceit of how they'd tell the story.

Just put on the mask, trust me, it will be fun!

I guarantee you right now there are some people out there who think that sounds like an amazing game to play. They would be totally down for a full mystery and uncovering all the boxes on their character sheet as they play, in addition to who their character is and what brought them to such a bizarre and dangerous place.

And if that's a version of the game you would love to play, then I wish you godspeed in that endeavor!

However, you need to make sure everyone at your table is equally enthused for playing the game with that twist before you get started. Because if you want that kind of control over the characters people are going to end up playing, you need to get people to agree to give it to you. Because if a player is more interested in telling their own story as part of the campaign, there might be no faster way to kill any interest they had in being a part of this particular table than to take that away from them.

Communication, As Always, is Key

Playing a tabletop RPG is a collaborative process. Everyone needs to build off of everyone else, and all persons at the table need to be on the same page regarding what's allowed, what the limits are, and where things happen.

And if you want to try something a little unconventional or unexpected as a game master, then you need to make sure all of your players agree to it, and that they're just as enthusiastic as you are about it. Otherwise you're going to be in for a bad time.

Or, at the very least, some awkward questions.

There is a line down the middle of the table. You, as the game master, have control of everything outside a player's bubble. If you want to reach into their territory to change something then you're going to have an easier time if you ask permission and work with them than you are going to have trying to force that change.

Because if a player has no agency in their character's actions, and they aren't contributing to their character's story, it's very likely they'll take the only action left to them and push back from the table entirely to find a game where they are more of an active participant.

Also, if you haven't been keeping an eye on my latest releases, you might have missed the news on the following:

- 100 Stargazer Kinfolk: The encore piece for my 100 Kinfolk project for Werewolf: The Apocalypse, this was the one tribe left out of the initial project that readers demanded. So I decided to give it to them!

- 100 Sci-Fi Mercenary Companies: For folks who enjoyed the supplement 100 Random Mercenary Companies for their fantasy games, I decided it was time to do a far future version for my sci-fi gamers. There's at least one more supplement like this that did a genre hop, so stay tuned!

- Captain America is Chaotic Good: The latest installment in my Alignment Deep Dives, this one has led to some... spirited discussion, shall we say? So stop in and give it a look!

Like, Follow, and Stay in Touch!

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday. To stay on top of all my content and releases, make sure you subscribe to my newsletter at the bottom of the page!

Again, for more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, and stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio. Or if you'd prefer to read some of my books, like my cat noir thriller Marked Territory, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my latest short story collection The Rejects, then head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now Pinterest as well! To support my work, consider Buying Me a Ko-Fi, or heading to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron. That one helps ensure you get more Improved Initiative, and it means you'll get my regular, monthly giveaways as a bonus!

Avoid Submission Encounters (They Throttle Player Agency)

Being a DM is a lot like being a stage magician. You're trying to create a mystique, build an atmosphere, and to get your audience to do what you want without them knowing you influenced them. Which is why you need to remember that subtlety is your friend, and you're trying to finesse your group into following certain paths. Don't use a crowbar to lay down a railroad, making it clear there is only one way for them to go in order to continue the game.

I talked about this last week in More Than One Way To Skin A Cat, which was all about DMs avoiding trampling on player agency, but I thought this week I'd focus on a specific tactic that never works as well as you think it will when it occurs to you. Namely the idea of the submission encounter.

And the total CR for this encounter is... you know what, don't bother.

Why Submission Encounters Are A Bad Idea

A submission encounter is when, no matter what actions the players take, the end result has been pre-determined by the DM. Whether it's, "you're all going to be knocked out and captured so you can get shanghaied onto a pirate ship," or, "I want you thrown in the dungeon so we can do the cool jailbreak part of the campaign," the point is that the players have no real choice, here. It's, "stand and fight until we eventually go down," or, "try to run away."

You get two black marks if running away also leads to PCs being forced into the route you pre-ordained as the DM. Seriously, keep a chase deck on-hand, and don't be afraid to use it if they want to try getting away! More on the advantages of these decks can be found in If You're A DM, You Should Get Your Hands on a Chase Deck.

It's just one guy! Come on, we can take him!

The important, dividing line between a submission encounter and a difficult one is that even in the most difficult encounter the enemy has limits that were set by you before anyone rolled initiative. It has a set armor class, a set number of hit points, and all of its abilities are already on the sheet. If there is more than one creature in the encounter, then you know how many of them there are. If there are other creatures around who might show up to participate, you know how many groups there are, and what circumstances (combat is loud, war horn is blown, signal flare is lit, etc.) will bring them running at the PCs. All of that is fine. Even if the PCs are taking on impossible odds, like trying to fight a dragon while they're level 2, or storming into an encampment that they know has 300 orcs in it, that is not a submission encounter.

A submission encounter is specifically where you keep the fight going until the dice eventually roll in favor of your bad guys, and create the result you want, as a DM.

Go back to the dragon example. Say that your preferred outcome is the PCs being spared by the dragon, in exchange for doing it a service... the problem is that they're actually high enough level to take it. Not only that, but they score some serious critical hits using the right weapons, and by the numbers, this dragon should be seriously dead. If you choose to keep feeding that dragon phantom hit points until he eventually K.O.'s the party so you can run your cut-scene, that is a submission encounter. Ditto if you sent a squad of orc bounty hunters to capture the PCs, but they took that squad out, so you just have more and more orcs come streaming out of the trees until, eventually, the PCs are taken down.

What's the big deal, you might ask? If it's in the interest of the story, why would players object?

The simple answer is because they're here to play, not to sight-see. If the DM is going to declare that a thing happens, regardless of their input, abilities, or strategies, then why waste their time pretending they have free will? Most of the time the answer to that question is, "because if I just make this thing happen, I worry that my players won't have fun, or that they'll object to how I did it."

If that's the case, then stop trying to force a certain course of action to happen.

Instead, prepare an encounter that is likely to be challenging and/or which should accomplish your goal. If the players genuinely defeat it through the use of clever tactics, lucky rolls, class abilities you forgot about, or whatever else, don't take that win away from them. Let the players win, and accept that your plot was foiled with grace and dignity. Then, ask how it changed things overall. If the bounty hunters were sent by a lieutenant bad guy, does he step up his plans to capture them by sending a bigger goon squad next time? Or by sending a lieutenant to use different methods of capture? If the local big scary monster is killed, did it have allies who are looking for revenge on his killers? Or, if the goon squad that tried to capture them were sworn officers of the law, does their failure to apprehend the PCs now mean there is a general watch out for them, bringing every bounty hunter, man-catcher, mercenary, and glory-seeker out of the woodwork to try to find them to claim the reward (like some of the folks in 100 Random Mercenary Companies, for example, who specialize in this sort of thing)?

Remember, you don't have to make the thing you want happen the first time. Let events take their natural course, and see what happens. Even if your plans for a given encounter don't succeed, use that as fodder to make the next encounter they have to deal with. Especially if there were survivors from the first one who might carry word back to their masters about what happened.

Anytime there's an encounter, ask what happens whether the PCs win, or whether they lose. That way you already have a flow chart to follow, you can more easily roll with what's going on, and you won't feel the need to keep spawning monsters until your players figure out that you're just going to keep chucking baddies at them until they eventually give up, surrender, or run away.

That's all for this Moon Pope Monday installment. If you agree, disagree, etc., then toss your thoughts in the comments below. If you'd like to see more of my work, head over to my Vocal profile (or just check out my Gamers archive). Alternatively, you could stop in at the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio, where I help out from time to time. To keep up on all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, to help support me so I can keep bringing great content straight to you, consider either Buying Me A Ko-Fi as a one-time tip, or go to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to give me a tip once a month.

Lastly, if you have a hankering for a good book, head over to My Amazon Author Page where you can check out some of my work, like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife!

More Than One Way To Skin A Cat (Avoiding Railroading At Your Table)

It's not easy being a DM. You have to keep track of an entire cast of characters, run a world, balance how much time every player gets dedicated to them, keep track of combats, and craft a tackle box worth of adventure hooks to get the PCs out of bed, the tavern, or the brothel. With all of that going on, DMs should be given a little slack if they get sort of myopic when it comes to how the party is supposed to get from A to B. However, if you find yourself constantly setting up plot points where there is one und only one way to solve the challenge you've put forth, you might need to back up a little.

And pull those ties up behind you on your way out.

Some doors only have one key, that's true. But you shouldn't be overly picky with how your group chooses to acquire the key, if you see what I mean?

Set The Stage, And See What The PCs Do

As a for-instance, let's say the first arc of your campaign is about a company of orcs raiding a small town for food, supplies, and treasure. Your goal is to have the PCs scuffle with the Red Hand, win a couple of smaller fights, and then move on the main force to roust them. Pretty basic, but there's nothing wrong with a setup if it works.

And it doesn't TPK the party right out of the gate.

However, what do you do if your players want to take an alternative course of action? For example, say that the halfling rogue wants to sneak into the Red Hand's camp during the night, and assassinate the commanders in their beds (perhaps while making it look like they were killed by a rival group)? How about if the bard and the paladin want to negotiate with the Red Hand, and see if they could be hired as mercenaries to protect the town and patrol the region (the logic being that these orcs are sentient beings, and thus they would see that being paid to do nothing but keep the peace is preferable to risking life and limb in raids)? What if the half-orc in the party wants to "defect" to the Red Hands, poisoning their cook pots and utensils so the soldiers are incapacitated?

What if, what if, what if.

Now, a good DM will look at the course of action proposed, and decide whether it is technically possible to achieve. For example, sneaking into the camp and killing the leaders in their sleep is doable, if difficult, provided the party all make the necessary stealth checks, and perform all the right actions. On the other hand, defeating a champion in single combat may be a notion that the Red Hands find childishly quaint. If they win, they'll insist on your side agreeing to terms, but there's nothing in their culture or code that says losing one duel means you have to pack up and go home. It's also possible that they're already being paid, and thus you'd need to outbid their current masters... that might not be possible, but it would mean the PCs' strategy failed for a logical reason.

A bad DM will just say no, none of those alternative ways will work because you have to do it this way.

It doesn't matter how high your Stealth check is, you won't be able to sneak into the camp, much less into the commander's tent. Even if you're invisible. No, the Red Hand will not talk or change their course of action, because they are not here for sensible reasons that could be discussed during the course of diplomacy; they exist only for the PCs to fight and kill them in order to gain XP and level up. Unless your solution is some form of, "We assault their camp," it will not work.

Tell The Players What To Do, Not How To Do It

There's an old piece of wisdom I once heard associated with the military. Captains give the orders, it's the sergeants' job to figure out how to fulfill them. Just as commanding officers are concerned more with results than with methods, so too a good DM should be more involved with the end goals the party is trying to achieve, rather than the specific methods for how they achieve them.

Because sure, you might need to acquire the Four Sacred Keys of The Great Winds to unlock the Gate of Aeons in order to stop some huge, encroaching threat. That's perfectly sensible. So the first goal is to get the four keys, cool. Don't micromanage how the party does that. Do they raid the temple Indiana Jones style? Do they pass the traditional test to prove themselves worthy? Do they pull a Mission Impossible and come down from the ceiling to steal the key from under the noses of the monks guarding it, sight unseen?

Who cares how they do it? As long as they make the rolls and their strategy follows the rules of the game world in terms of possibility, then let it ride. It will maintain the players' agency, and give you a lot more unique approaches in terms of how your players try to solve the problems you put forth.

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday installment. Hopefully some folks out there find it interesting, and if you've got questions (or DM horror stories to share), leave them in the comments below. For more work by yours truly, consider checking out my Vocal archive (or just going straight to my Gamers page), and stopping in on the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. To keep up on all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you want to help support Improved Initiative, you could make a one-time donation by Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or give me a little every month by becoming a patron over on The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page. Either way, there's free stuff in it for you!

The First Rule of Improv Often Applies to RPGs

Improv theater, for those who've never seen stuff like Whose Line Is It Anyway?, is a kind of theater where actors get together, and start making stuff up off the cuff. Sometimes the actors are given a prompt from the audience, a general theme, or a prop they have to incorporate, but there's generally no script, and nothing is figured out in advance. In many ways it's similar to what happens around the table when we sit down with our sheets and our funny shaped dice. And there is a single rule that makes improv work, and which can help everything around the table move more smoothly.

Never say no.

With so many possibilities, don't walk around shutting doors.

"No" Kills Pace

If you watch improv, then you'll see that everything a performer adds to the scene is now canon. If one person declares it's Sunday in the scene, then it's Sunday in the scene. If someone says they're getting a call, then they're getting a call. And if someone asks how your character's trip to Montego Bay went, then you definitely took that trip (or, at least, you told them you were).

No matter how odd, unusual, or silly stuff gets, the only real ironclad rule of imrpov is that you don't say no. You can alter, modify, or mess with things as they currently exist in the scene, and you can invent new stuff, but at no point can you fold your arms and refuse to continue onward. Because to do that will completely destroy the suspension of disbelief that makes the improv work, and it brings the all-important flow to a screeching halt.

Often with disastrous results.

So, the next time you sit down, remind yourself that your game needs to go forward. And the only way for you (and the rest of the table) to go forward is by agreeing to participate in the scenario. If you ever find the phrase, "But my character wouldn't do that," rising to your lips, stop, and re-examine the scenario. Find a reason for your PC to participate.

Playing a selfish jerk who is thinking about refusing the request to do some pro-bono monster hunting to save an orphanage? Well, you may suddenly discover that this character has a soft spot for abandoned children, and he's willing to go to the mat for these kids so they don't have to face what he did when his parents were killed. Got yourself a hard case who thinks that going to the ball is a load of fru-fru bullshit? Ask if there's someone there he'd like to impress. Or, failing that, remind him that it's a party full of free food and alcohol. The sort of rich stuff only people with money can afford, as opposed to the hogwash down at the dive you've been hanging out in.

And so on, and so forth.

Your characters are under your control. Find a reason, and go forward. Otherwise it's like the DM pointed you at a door, and you refused to walk through it. Nothing is going to happen until you kick it open.

Also, beware The Dangers Of The Phrase "I'm Just Playing My Character".

The Other Side of This Coin

With that said, it's important to remember that player agency is still very much a thing at the table. Which is why it's best for a DM to describe and present, without taking actions on behalf of the players, as I laid out in Some Thoughts On Player Agency.

Put another way, if you're the DM, present the players with the door. Trust that they will walk through it on their own, without telling you, "No." Because they have to be given a choice, otherwise you're just telling a story at them, which isn't fun. Preserve the back-and-forth, and everyone will be happier for it.

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday update. Hopefully there are some folks out there who found it to be helpful. For folks who'd like to see more of my work, check out my Vocal archive (particularly my Gamers page), or stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you want to help support me and my work, then either become a patron over at The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page, or Buy Me A Ko-Fi! Either way, some sweet gaming swag will be yours as a thanks for your help.

Some Thoughts on Player Agency

One of the topics that I've seen come up a lot in recent months is player agency, often placed in contrast with DM authority. How much control should players be expected to cede for the good of the game, and how much trust needs to be given both by the DM, and by the players? What acts are actual infringement of player agency, and which acts are just your DM being a dick? Or your players being dicks? Or just everyone being a dick all around the table?

You know, the tough questions! 

Well, I'll be honest, I don't have all the answers. I do, however, have some answers, and I thought I'd put them out there for players and DMs to chew on.

A Working Definition of Player Agency

Before we can go any further, let's outline a working definition of what player agency actually is. For my purposes, player agency is the player's final say over the actions their character takes in a situation when there is no mechanical compulsion forcing them to act differently. Not the results of those actions, mind you, but simply what is being attempted.

Put another way, if you want to punch that guard, you are more than welcome to try. There is no guarantee you'll succeed, and it might be a really stupid idea, but if you want to make the attempt then that is your decision.

For example, let's take a look at Brian. Brian's decided to put together a half-orc barbarian named Krakkar. When the party walks into the local tavern after their adventure, if the DM says to Brian, "Krakkar orders a strong, stout beer, and begins to tell the tale of your adventure," then Brian is well within his rights as a player to hold up a finger for a point of order, and tell the DM, "Krakk would order wine for himself, and for anyone else in the party who wants a round. He'll answer questions if they're asked, but he's not talkative, and has no interest in boasting. He doesn't need to tell everyone about his deeds, because he's already done them, and that's enough for him."

A proper reward after a long day hunting bandits.

In this example, the DM attempted to give narration to a player's character, but the narration in question was out-of-character for the PC, and usurped Brian's role as the player. It's a minor thing, unimportant in the long run, but a clear-cut example of a situation where the DM took away player agency by telling the player what their PC does, instead of asking the player which actions their character would take in this situation.

Mechanical Compulsion, and Losing Control

Player agency is pretty ironclad most of the time. Any action you want to attempt, whether it's tracking down a piece of lost history in a library, or charging into a dragon's cave, is within your right to try. Even if the action is stupid, or has little to no chance of success, you are free to do it, or not do it as you desire.

Sometimes, though, the rules state you must take certain actions. Whether you like it, or not.

What did you say your Will save was? Oh... that's not good...

As a for-instance, suppose Brian's barbarian fails a Will save against the spell Cause Fear when he's level 2. Failure means the character is frightened, and must flee from the source of that fear. Even if Krakkar is a hard-nosed, never-say-die kind of fighter who would rather die than run from a fight, the mechanical effect of the spell supersedes that personality trait.

We see this all the time when it comes to magic. You're forced to become friendly, you're forced to flee, or you're forced to follow the instructions of the caster. A few bad saves can, and do, make it possible for someone else to dictate a player character's actions. However, if you agree to play the game with those spells active, then you have agreed that there are ways you can be compulsed to act. Just as you have also agreed that there are ways to avoid those effects, and counter them using class abilities, spells, and in some cases just simple ear plugs.

Some More Things That Aren't Attacks on Agency

My definition of player agency is pretty simple; you have control over the things your character says, attempts, etc. unless a mechanical compulsion makes you do otherwise. However, there are some folks out there who believe that any time a DM tells a player no, that is somehow an attack on their agency. So let me be extra clear, here. If a DM disallows certain races in their game, or bans certain classes, or says no to a character concept, that isn't them taking away player agency. Especially if those things are made clear before a player agrees to join a game, and was informed of those restrictions in advance.

Put another way, if your DM says only good alignments, base races, and base classes, and you show up with a chaotic evil dhampir ninja, that is you refusing to play by the rules as they were set up, not your DM taking away your freedom.

Seriously, Typhus sounds like a ball, but he's going to get wrecked by his party-mates.

Other things that are not taking away player agency include telling you that the items you want to buy are not available in the local area (particularly if they're powerful magic items), making it clear that there are no other ways into the enemy's impregnable fortress except for the one secret entrance you managed to uncover, killing NPCs you care about, and even killing a player character.

Those things might be frustrating, they might be done for the wrong reasons, or they might even be done as a result of bad rules calls. But they have nothing to do with your agency as a player.

Cooperation, And Asking Rather Than Telling, Solves Problems

The easiest way to solve questions of maintaining player agency (and of running better games in general) is learning how to ask, instead of tell. For example, if you're the DM, present the facts of the scene as they unfold. The party enters the Duke's audience chamber, and the steward asks them to kindly state their business to the lord. Instead of telling the players whose PC steps forward, or what they say, end the narration and ask, "all right, what do you do?"

Essentially, recognize that the game is a tennis match. You serve the narration ball back to the players, the players declare their actions, and if necessary dice are rolled to determine outcomes. Then the ball goes back to the DM, who swats it back over, etc., etc.

And if you're a player, ask the DM if the course of action you want to take is possible, or if the things you want to add onto your sheet are possible. As a for-instance, don't tell the DM you're buying 10 alchemist fire flasks at the rural county store. Ask the DM if that many are available. Or, better yet, roleplay with the shop keep to find out if there are that many, if you can negotiate the price down, or where you could get a line on that sort of item if it isn't available here. Instead of assuming you have access to any and all materials in the game, ask the DM what restrictions there are before you start building your character. And if there is a restriction you don't like, ask why it's there, and if there's any way you could get a waiver, or have an exception made.

Lastly, remember this. We are here to come together to play a cooperative game. If there are problems at the table, talk them out, and work on them. And if you aren't enjoying a game, there is nothing that says you have to keep playing. Or running, if you feel that your DMing style just isn't going to provide the game your players are looking for.

That's all for this week's Moon Pope Monday post. It's technically Wednesday, but I got my wires crossed and accidentally did my posts out of order. But if you want to see more gaming material from yours truly, then check out my Gamers archive. It's growing a little every month. To stay on top of all my recent releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, and if you want to support Improved Initiative, head to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page. All I ask is $1 a month, which goes a lot further than you would think.