Thursday, October 6, 2022

Dare to Be Stupid

In my post about my ongoing Twilight: 2000 campaign, I mentioned that the players are frequently afflicted with analysis paralysis. By this, I mean that the players sometimes spend sessions doing little more than discussing the pros and cons of the various options available to their characters rather than making a decision and acting on it. I don't mean to sound harsh in pointing this out, particularly since some of these sessions spent discussing options have actually been very enjoyable. They're more like in-character strategizing than what is usually meant by analysis paralysis. At the same time, I can't deny – and I suspect many of the players in the campaign would agree – that not every such session has been so enjoyable. Indeed, far too many have amounted to little more than the characters spinning their wheels, hoping that the "right" path ahead becomes clear.

Caution, of course, is to be commended. At the same time, an abundance of caution is not the gateway to adventure – and adventure is the point of nearly every RPG I've ever played. For that reason, I've come to realize that it's vitally important that every group of players have at least one player willing to be That Guy™ from time to time. You know who I mean: the fighter who rushes headlong into combat with nary a thought to his (or anyone else's) safety; the thief who sneaks ahead to pick the pocket of the High Priest of the Temple of Chaos, the halfling who decides to find out what the lever in the middle of the wall does by pulling it, etc. etc. 

Some of my fondest memories from roleplaying campaigns involve players leaping before they looked, whether because they felt it was "what my character would do," an impish sense of fun, or simple boredom. Whatever the reason, recklessness proved vital to shattering the vise grip of caution over many a session. One of the many joys of a roleplaying game is the ability to do things, through your character, that you'd never do in real life. This includes acts of supreme foolhardiness that, even in context, don't always make sense – yet are undeniably enjoyable nonetheless. 

Lest it appear that I'm laying the blame for circumspection solely at the feet of players, allow me to demonstrate my own role in encouraging it. In my House of Worms campaign, there's a player character named Kirktá, who's a young and inexperienced priest of Durritlámish. He joined the campaign as a 1st-level character, while most of his companions were 4th or 5th-level at the time. Kirktá is physically weak but very eager and so, from his earliest days in the campaign, would often rush into battle with his trusty staff, even though there was a good chance that even a single blow against him would result in his death. Every time Kirktá's player stated his character intended to do this, I'd always ask, "Are you sure you want to do that?" To his player's credit, he almost always forged ahead, in spite of my warnings.

I intended my questions to act as a reminder to Kirktá's player about the seriousness of what he was planning for his character to do. I'm not the kind of referee who revels in players making bad decisions and suffering the consequences. In general, I prefer to make sure everyone is aware of the possible consequences of what they say they're doing. At least, that's what I think I'm doing. Lately, though, I've come to realize that my regular "Are you sure you want to do that?" might be encouraging the very overabundance of caution that sometimes brings the action to a grinding halt. My Jiminy Cricket act might be having an adverse effect on the campaign by throttling the brash enthusiasm that is the very stuff from which good gaming is made.

It's a sobering thought and one I've been thinking about a lot lately. One of the seminal moments in the history of the House of Worms campaign, one that set into motion so many of the terrific sessions my players and I have had over the last seven and a half years, was when another player did something foolish by desperately casting a spell while wearing metal armor. By all objective standards, that was a stupid thing to do – and thank the Lords of Stability and Change that he did. Looking back on it now, that moment forever altered the trajectory of the House of Worms campaign and made it what it is today, namely, one of the best RPG campaigns in which I have ever participated. Had that player been more cautious, had he looked before he leaped, who knows where we'd be today?

All of which is just a longwinded way of saying that caution is often the antithesis of adventure and adventure is what we're all here for, right?

15 comments:

  1. As an exclusive play-by-post GM, I can understand Leroy's move. Such a pre-battle discussion would've eaten up a week of time.

    In a computer/video game, Leroy should do what a football coach once told our team: "Temper your aggression with sound judgment."

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  2. I have two gaming groups that I run. One is full of very experienced players, and a large portion of the time they debate, inspect, wait, observe, try to think of every angle before moving forward. The other group, all people with considerably less experience in rpg's, gleefully leap into one dumb thing after another! It's a blast to run the 2nd group, occasionally a chore to run the first.

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  3. I have this piece of advice in my Basic Rules for the Majestic Fantasy RPG.
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    Be prepared to coach the players from time to time, particularly if your campaign has a lot of setting details that are important. Otherwise, the players may become uncomfortable as they don’t understand how you are going to rule when they try something as their characters.
    =============================
    And like a good coach I know that I am not playing the game for the players. And that over time the amount and type of coaching they will need from me will change as they gain experience.

    But the fact they know I will be there as a coach as well as a referee takes a lot of the anxiety away and as a result the players are more willing to interact more with the setting of my campaign.

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  4. Also this as well

    Often players are often not as knowledgeable as their character would be. If the player is missing an obvious detail that their character would know, then politely coach them on what they need to know. Also, let them reconsider their action in light of this new information. This will allow the players to become more comfortable and be more proactive. The amount of times you will need to do this will vary on a case by case basis. In general, it is best to be generous until the player gains some experience with how the campaign is run. As the campaign progresses, players should need less coaching.

    This stuff comes up often enough that I made the whole chapter free to download.
    https://www.batintheattic.com/downloads/When%20to%20make%20a%20Ruling.pdf

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    1. I do something like that at times by having the player roll on a specific stat like INT or WIS. If they make it I hint or even tell them exactly what it is, it not, they missed it.

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  5. In the ideal adventure (which is seldom, if ever achieved), there aren't good or bad choices, just different complications, consequences, and possible rewards. All player choices should lead to something interesting happening.

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  6. When my players start overthinking and it looks like the game gonna stall because they want to make a perfect plan, that is when I bite them in the ass with events in the game world or random encounters.

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    1. You have anticipated a future post I'm planning to write on this very subject.

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    2. Raymond Chandler's famous writing tip is often applicable to roleplaying. "When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun" works fine for getting things moving even when you change it to a wizard with a wand or an orc with a sword.

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  7. I'm playing a Dwarf Rascal in an EZD6 campaign right now, and I've done my best to avoid turtling (what my groups have called AP).

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  8. My group was overly cautious playing Twilight 2000. I think the lethality of modern weapons and lack of healing magic were probably to blame. I remember we had fun but don't remember any adventure details, none. It was all just trying to stay alive.

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  9. I had something of the opposite experience, I don't remember many of the T2k groups I've run being very cautious? The early groups were teens, but maybe I'm a bit of a softie as a GM?

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  10. @OP: Another great post, James. I agree we're all here for adventure. So what are we doing as DMs to foster or squash the spirit of adventure in our players?

    Is the sacred OSR ideal of a tough DM, that isn't afraid of TPKing dumb players, teaching the players to be less and less adventurous? And do those merciless lessons cause analysis paralysis?

    Our players are overthinking everything? Afraid to choose? Afraid to act? We might have ourselves to blame.

    Weirdly, that fearful approach is somehow awarded the status of virtue; ten foot poles and survivalism > sword and sorcery.

    Is Conan looking merely to survive? Do Conan and Aragorn even own a ten foot pole?

    I would argue that reckless PC mistakes shouldn't kill them, but instead just set them back, resulting in different adventuresome options.

    In The Hobbit, how many times did the protagonists get captured instead of killed? James Bond gets captured by the master villain all the time. It doesn't result in his death. It results in an enlightening dialogue with the villain - usually over dinner, and a thrilling escape.

    Likewise, our games need to encourage experimentation. The players are only human. They will make mistakes. Every PC mistake shouldn't result in death.

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  11. This has been my gaming life for the most part over the past 10 years or so. What happened to gamers' sense of bravery and need for the thrill of adventure'?

    Chiefly it appears my older groups (and the gamers from those groups) were more adapt at assessing situations, weighing options, and making decisions very rapidly. As important (if not more so) was their being OK with the consequences of those decisions, whatever they might be.

    Attempting what we called 'a really good Bad Idea' was what was remembered from the campaign years later, regardless of whether or not it was effective. Few stories are told with any great fondness that go, 'And so they made a plan, executed it perfectly, and won with little trouble or daring. The End'. Who'd read such a book? Who'd see such a movie? Surely not I.

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