The vast majority of my time spent at a gaming table is spent as a player rather than as a DM. As such, I am reminded of the old Stoics. I looked it up and it was Cleanthes who said the wicked man is “like a dog tied to a cart, and compelled to go wherever it goes.”
This is not the quotation that I have associated with Stoicism, however. The stoic sentiment that I remember, and I’m going to have to paraphrase here, is that we are like a dog tied to a cart and we can either run with it or fight against it. We don’t get to pick our destination but we do get to pick how beat up we are when we get there.
What does this have to do with gaming, you ask? Well, the majority of the games that I’ve played in that were not simple exercises in dice grinding were games that had one of three different philosophies. The first was pretty much straight-up railroading. The DM wanted you to do something and, consarn it, you did it. The good ones would put metaphorical carrots down this metaphorical hallway and metaphorical sticks at the other metaphorical end and the bad ones would just throw up a metaphorically locked door and wait for you to say “well, I go the other way then” (as an aside, I had one game where the DM threw up a handful of barriers and, seeing that we would not be deterred, let us backtrack and find a dozen cops… who had not yet noticed us… “aw, hell, let’s check the other direction”… which was, of course, the direction we needed to go in the first place). The second kind of storyteller has a map, of sorts. You start out in LA, you want to end up in NYC, and you want to pass through Chicago along the way. The last, of course, is on the other end of the spectrum entirely: to have an open-ended story where the players pretty much tell the DM what they think the story is about and the DM just facilitates that and throws together a plot on the fly (from what I understand, the diceless RPGs are most likely to veer into this territory).
Now, as a player, it seems to me that a hard-core railroaded story works best when you’re mostly dice-grinding. The point of the plot is to get you to the next fight and the treasure chest behind it. The treasure chest will have a map to the next fight and the next treasure chest. (Hey, there have been more than a few video games that became best-sellers based on this very formula.)
The Amber Diceless RPG game system is one that, honestly, never really appealed to me. That makes for a good special sequence of a story-heavy game but not for an entire storyline.
Which brings me to the Roadmap theory. For the most part, this tries to balance the loosey-goosey with the railroaded plotline and the way I’ve seen it handled best is when the DM has one major thing (okay, maybe two) that he wants to happen in any given session. The DM can tell himself “Tonight you guys are going to visit the scientist and get The MacGuffin from him” and anything else that happens is gravy… let the party go to the local watering hole and talk about the MacGuffin for a while and talk about visiting someone who might know about it… instead, if everyone is stumped, have them go back to their clubhouse and find out that it’s been ransacked (we were going to do that next week but, you know).
There’s one wrench that players can always, always, always throw into the works, however: their own skills.
Let’s say that you’ve got a player with a pretty decent skill in (whatever). How do you deal when they, for some reason, roll the absolutely most perfect roll they can? Like, for instance, let’s say you’ve got a player with a 5 in “Contacts”… hell, let’s make him an antiquities dealer with a 5 in “Contacts”. You dropped the MacGuffin in his lap and tell him that it looks old. He rolls and rolls *PERFECTLY*… but you don’t really want him to know what the MacGuffin actually is. How do you deal with that?
It seems like cheating to say that “everybody you call is at home and picks up on the second ring, all of them know exactly what you’re talking about but none of them know anything about it”… though, I mean, that probably would be the most straightforward way of dealing with it. “You find out, with no muss, no fuss, that every single one of your contacts cannot help you”
What would a critical failure have resulted in? One outcome that seems likely (well, that *I* would do, anyway) is the Red Herring. “Oh, yeah! That’s an Indian Artifact from the 12th Century. It discusses the Shiva Event.” If a perfect failure would give bad information, and a mere failure would give no information, it seems like cheating to say that a spectacular success would give no information quickly, efficiently, if not downright effortlessly. But, then again, you may not want to give information about the MacGuffin.
So… How do you handle this?
You can always rule that it’s too obscure for even experts to know what it really is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t drop a couple of hints:
“Well it looks almost Sumerian, but the cuneiform is in no language I recognise. And the scroll work is all wrong for the period. I’d say it was a forgery, but I can’t imagine why anyone would make a forgery that was authentic in so many details while being clearly fake in others. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
I was also thinking that the second phone call has the guy say “I dunno, but I need 100 silver Athenian owls! I need them bad… I’d pay $200 each for them” and the third has the guy say “Dude, I need to unload these 100 owls right friggin’ now… I’ll give them to you for $50 each.” And, maybe, the fourth phone call saying “I’m in trouble with the cops. Can you hold this $5k for me? I’ll pick it up from you in three days.”
Or similar.
This isn’t a bad approach, if you’re already stuck with that tradeoff.
If the MacGuffin is that important, I’ve already done one of three things:
(a) The MacGuffin that is that important isn’t one that the players can nail with a good roll. If you’re in an occult-heavy campaign, the little MacGuffins might all be occult, but the Big MacGuffin is a spindled wankle rotary engine thermagigger, and nobody in the group has History (Mechanical Engineering) – 21.
(b) The party member who has the skill and nails the roll already has some reason not to trust everyone in the party (either because of an NPC or possible double agents in the party) and thus when they nail that roll, the GM says, “Everybody take a 10 minute Snack Break, I need to talk to Joe” and then there’s a garage conversation that involves A Big Reveal but Holy Crud How Are You Going to Play This subtext.
(c) Tell the player everything there is to know about that MacGuffin, but change it on the fly. It’s missing the capstone jewel. It doesn’t have the scabbard. It only works during the Full Moon, and that’s 10 days away (now you’ve stuck yourself on a time table, but this can be fun, too). It was last owned by such-and-so, but he died mysteriously last year and it disappeared from his estate (hiding who had it last). Whatever.
Of the three, (b) only works in certain types of campaigns (but then it’s a good standby) and (c) is the most fun, because it makes you change your story.
Patrick, I’ve been thinking about this and I think that I don’t like B at all because it involves collusion between the DM and a player. Now, have *I* colluded with a DM before? Of course. (Most recently, I think it was because I felt like the game was disproportionately “The Jaybird Show” and I worked out with the DM a way to get me taken hostage and held in a dark room for half a session.)
That said, it’s a dangerous game when you start doing that. There has to be a *LOT* of trust.
Well, (b) works in the types of campaigns between Horror/Espionage (where you have to do this sort of thing occasionally, even if you have no double agents/cultists embedded in the party, just to keep the players eyeballing each other with suspicion) to Paranoia (where it’s expected).
But otherwise, yes you’re totally right. I should have specified *what types* of certain campaigns 🙂
The three options are:
1) roll with it. So the PCs were unexpectedly able to overcome a challenge or gain knowledge in ways you didn’t expect and hadn’t planned for. Oh well, the game can still go on.
2)offer tidbits. No, the PCs can’t tell that this necklace summons an avatar of Bast. But they know that the design in ancient Egyptian and the necklace was likely used by the high priestess of bast’s cult.
3)say please. Just ask the players not to have their characters do the thing you don’t want them to do. Be upfront about it, and explain that the game will go in a cooler direction if they choose another course of action.
Number three is a bit underused–it sort of feels like cheating. But in many ways it’s the most satisfying for the players. They don’t feel like you’re secretly trying to screw them over, because all the screwing over is out in the open and agreed to by all.
Please only works on some things… and some characters, both in and out of the game.
Unless the dice rolls eliminate major portions of ~story~ I’ve never been stressed by players missing encounters by getting lucky with a dice roll. So I had planned for them to have to hire someone to figure out the McGuffin because it was designed to be REALLY hard to figure out. They roll lucky (or spend a lot of plot points). Okay… on with the story.
The only time I worry is where there’s something else that has to happen to keep the plots going. Yes they need to find someone to explain the McGuffin, but they also need to meet his daughter who is really a vampire and that sets off a major side plot. SO they roll exceptionally well. They learn: That the for-most expert on the McGuffin is professor sosandso. If I get challenged I point out that if they’d not rolled perfectly they’d only have hints about who to show it to; it’s just that rare.
And as to talking to the players, I had to do that in my recent DND game. I found out that my players were pretty bribe-able, but sadly the cost of their interest was pretty high. High enough that within a few levels their gear (if it were available) was going to unbalance the game. I had to level with them. If they kept insisting on high fees to do X I was going to have to:
a) Severely limit what magic items they would have access to.
b) Spike the prices listed in the PH on those items
or
c) rob them.
I was okay keeping the campaign going with inflated prices, but they had to know that I’d have to inflate ALL the prices to keep the game mechanics balanced. In the end they agreed to a light Ret-Con to get their cash reserves inline with what worked mechanically.
I’ve seen another approach: the anti-railroader GM. There are 500 different plots, all going on in the City of Many Happenings. Depending on where you go, and where you sit, and what you do, you’ll get involved in Something. Stuff happens, some on your own init, some on other people’s — it’s not quite a “what do you think the story is about” but more of a “Hey! you look useful! Want some plot?)
I’ve had characters that would break the story. Empathy as a primary skill, used rather indiscriminately (one colorful version was using it on a ghost).
I like Patrick’s (c) and Alan’s #3. Other thoughts about what the epic win on the contacts roll means:
You call three dealers and they all know EXACTLY what the thing is. Unfortunately they don’t agree. The true information is split among the three, and the players now need to sort that out.
And/or those dealers now all have hired thieves and assassins to relieve the PCs of the Maguffin.
And/or make the PC ask very specific questions and give very specific answers. If the player is smart enough to ask all the relevant questions, great. Otherwise, they may miss important things like side effects, likely previous owners who might be standing outside ready to take the Maguffin by force, and so on.
An even more difficult question may be what to do if the PCs decide they should drop/sell/destroy or just ignore the Maguffin.
I swing more towards railroading than not. That is mainly because I have never liked wheel spinning and that happens more often than not with a wide open world. It is a rare group that no one has a problem with that. Typically the one that have no problem with spinning their wheels also have no problem with being moved along with the story either. I think it more depends on how blatant and forcefull the railroading is that makes it bad by a GM. Having the locked door that even a natural 20 cannot get through, nor teleported through, nor etc is bad form and way to blatant. But you can find a middle ground as a GM to nudge your PC in the direction the story goes. The GM does need an open mind and to add things that seem to be important to characters as well, that way the player feel they do have some choices.
I think that balance is what makes most games fun, not going all one way or the other.
“Oh yeah, that’s a Mayan jade death mask. It’s worth a lot and probably stolen but if you know the right people in the right places you can make some serious bank. Why don’t you give old Sinister McEvil a call and let him know that I sent you. He’s the specialist in these antiquities.”
Once you head over to Bigbad Manor and meet Sinister, he dismisses it as a fake after giving it a thorough going-over handing it back to the players suggesting that they not waste his time in the future otherwise he won’t be as civil to them. Since he’s such a mensch, he snidely recommends they visit the Oddity Museum on Strange St. and Weird Blvd. who’ll give them $1000 for this masterful fake.
Over at the Oddity Musem they are beset upon by cultists with macuahuitls. Item gets stolen, or not, and it’s clearly a set-up. Angrily heading back to Bigbad Manor they find it in flames and they are prime suspects for arson according to the local constable.
An aside, if the story calls for people to begin in NYC, head to Chicago, stop in Colorado Springs before heading up to Seattle and the players decide to leave the Big Apple and make their first stop in Colorado Springs then by gum they’re gonna meet up with the bad guy at the Broadmoor instead of atop the Sears Tower. When the villain gets away they’ll do a perception check and find a matchbook for O’Bama’s Bar and Grille on Michigan Avenue with a date scrawled in blood that’s a week from that encounter. Now when they return to Colorado Springs they’ll probably have a contact or two and won’t be completely lost, feel empowered without complaining too loudly when you unleash the wendigo living in the Manitou Springs sewers on them.
I am one who detests railroading so much, to such a strong degree, that I have pretty much given up gaming, on account that I cannot seem to find a GM who does not railroad a lot — by my standards.
Anyway, so take my comments with that big, huge grain of salt.
To your question, I think it is a mistake for the GM not to reveal the MacGuffin. That’s dirty pool. The player paid his points, bought his skill, got his roll, now, you Mr. GM, give it up and tell him. Then roll with the punches.
I think any hint of “plot” in a game is a mistake. It is overvalued. Sure, it is nice if it emerges naturally, but it is not worth the damage that the pursuit of plot entails. Value the direct *experience* of playing the character, the here and now, the facing the conflict, the uncertainty, the plans and risks, and success or failure. If in the end it looks like a plot, cool. But don’t try for that.
I think a GM who goes into the game either wanting or not wanting to reveal any particular thing is making an error.
I talked with one of my DMs about this last night and he said to me that you should never, never ever allow the player to roll for something that you don’t want to see catastrophically fail or catastrophically succeed.
If you want them to notice the envelope on the fireplace mantle, tell them about it when they enter the room. Maybe make it traffic cone orange. Don’t risk a failed spot check.
If you don’t want them to find out about the MacGuffin, don’t let them make the roll. Don’t risk a Legendary Success.
Yes, this makes sense. Ideally, the DM is ready to enjoy that Legendary Success in all its improbability. And then give the players time to high-five each other as you generate more gaming stuff for them to screw with.
Y’all might find this post and ensuing discussion interesting. That Steve Lawson guy seems to be a glutton for punishment in the comments: http://dndwithpornstars.blogspot.com/2012/02/hunterhunted.html
I think I get what he’s saying but it does seem like he’s saying that there are two separate railroads… but, to run a little bit with that… instead of two, why not four?
If we’re running with the get to the safehouse vs. get caught by the baddies, we know that the safehouse is the one track. But you could get caught by the baddies either 1) in town, 2) out of town, 3) down by the docks. Each of these would give a different “failure”.
Yes, well then, you may be as delusional and illiterate as I am.
I love reading Zak’s stuff. Mostly when I try to talk to him about it though, it ends up kinda…disappointing.
I wish that GMs would think less about their “cool story” and “what needs to happen” and remember how cool it is to just to experience stuff as a player, the here and now. Players will drive the conflict, if you get out of their way and learn to improvise.
Characters should pretty much always notice everything. What they don’t see isn’t in the game.
GM: “You cannot tell what the artifact is.” (Read: I’m making you jump through hoops. Prepare for boring.)
Players: sigh… “Fine. I’ll go do the thing you obviously want me to do.”
Or….
GM: “You learn the artifact was created by the ancient Babylonian priests. Rumor says it can curse its owner. But, if the owner can control it, instead grants massive power. Anyway, there is a series of symbols on the side in some crazy script. According to this one website you find, they read ‘Murgor’s Eyes’, whatever that means… So, what do you do?”
Player: “Uh–hmmm, well…. I give it to John!”
It’s very reasonable for you to not know everything. But play it like Tex Murphy — you’ve got eyes, dammit!
Cryptic squiggles are at least somewhat decipherable…t hey look like language. Write it out for the player.
Of course, in a REAL game, you may never actually find someone who can decipher the damn thing.
Hey, would you ask me to rip the door off of a car in real life because my character is The Thing?
Then don’t ask me to do a sudoku puzzle because my character is Mr Fantastic.
Jay,
no, that’s not what I’m saying. Put people around to advise, give assistance. But for the love of pete, your mysterious artifact should be Interesting To Look At.
Yeah, props and drawing and such are cool, if I understand your point. Then again, I actually like to use my imagination, so — there are tradeoffs. Anyway, I think my point stands regardless of the presence or absence of props.
But the serious point: of course players need not know everything, but I find GM’s frequently err *way* too much on the side of ignorance. What the players don’t see isn’t in the game. And if you (the GM) are thinking, “Just wait till they get to the good part: The Big Reveal! This will all come together so cool!” — well, the good part might not come. You might be setting up the big-boring-slog, when *The Cool* could be happening right now.
*The Cool* is playing a fully realized character in a cool, dramatic situation. Danger, risk, conflict, Now!
*The Not Cool* is being a scripted actor in the GMs pre-planned story. “Just wait! This will be soooo cool!”
Just my opinion. Your mileage my vary. There are many rooms in the house of gaming.
“don’t ask me to do a sudoku puzzle because my character is Mr Fantastic.”
I’m suddenly a little nervous about our game this Saturday.
Generally, what Jeffrey is describing is when the Game Master has a particular story to tell. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this, but it doesn’t work at all well if the players are trying to invent their own story. You need the right alignment between players and GM.
Me, I like it when the players throw me a screwball (I used to freakin’ *hate* it, but I used to overengineer the plot like I overengineered the world. Now I just overengineer the world and look at unexpected player actions like… huh, okay, we can go off on this tangent).
I’m reminded of Gregor’s saying from the Miles Vorkosigan books: “Well, we’ll just see what happens.”
Suddenly had a vision of “The Matrix RPG”
Player: “I take the blue pill.”
DM: “Uh, that’s the pill where you forget you know anything about the Matrix.”
Player: “Yes, that’s right. True blue, that’s me.”
DM: “Well. Roll to see if you take the red pill by mistake!”
Right. That’s a total “non-choice” choice, which strikes me as a waste of time. (Which is why so many games end up as fifteen minutes of fun crammed into six hours.)
We had a GM that would always make us play through a lengthy session where we “got our powers”. Like, if we don’t get our powers, there isn’t much of a game, so what are we playing this part for? Is it possible to fail? What happens if I do? Do I scrap the character and make another? Do my choices really matter much? Can we skip this part, since there is only one reasonable outcome?
No doubt there are players who would love the long, tedious, not-much-happens session of getting his powers. *shrug*
I played in another game where we had to get to the downtown library. We had to go there! There was no other choice! And we had to take the subway! Every other path was deadly-dangerous! Only one way! So, yeah, the subway. We were *literally* being railroaded.
I didn’t take the subway. That was the last game I ever played.
(Feel free to write me off as a bitter ex-gamer. The label is fair.)
I imagine that that’s a DM who wanted to be a director.
What was going to happen on the subway that couldn’t have been re-imagined on the fly for a city street, or a bus, or a taxi? The subway is going to take the players somewhere other than the library? So can a taxi, so can a street (well, maybe an alleyway, where the players run chasing after a pickpocket who just stole The Important Dingus), so can a bus. Baddies attack? Baddies can attack anywhere. Someone without enough imagination to re-cast the encounter or event in a different location shouldn’t be DM’ing in the first place.
Since I got back into the saddle a few months ago, I’ve had the most fun rolling with the punches when my players do something I hadn’t thought of. For instance, I wanted them to solve a riddle to dislodge a Magic Dingus and Set The Innocent Victims Free, but one of them lost patience with the riddle-solving, and threw the recently-slain corpse of a Baddie on the Dingus. I figured that was sort of like the “Indiana Jones versus Scimitar Guy” solution, and let it work out that way.
This might be the most elegant solution yet.
Create a problem without a solution and just figure out that the players will come up with something awesome.
I have my own reasons for hoping this is an elegant solution/approach. 🙂