jeffortless

[jeffortless]

They Really Do Mean PARTY

irst session in the books! Today I'll be talking about how I felt it went and my players' experiences. Spoiler alert: hot dang was it fun running D&D around a table again!

So the first thing I wanted to do with my brand new baby players was play a quick learning campaign with pre-generated characters. We ran through a "learn to D&D" adventure I found on the popular Dungeons & Dragons resource site, DMSGuild.com. The adventure is called "A Most Potent Brew" and was written by Richard Jansen-Parkes and is available for free, or with a suggested donation (I happily gave $5 and highly recommend picking it up).

We began our session with our characters responding to an ad looking for help. They met in a tavern (as you do) and went around introducing each other. Their pre-made characters came with plenty of juicy background info, including each character's ideal, bond, and flaw (three characteristics of character building that help inform roleplaying). Some of my players read this info, others did not. Either way, they took to roleplaying pretty enthusiastically, if only reading from their sheets at times or spitting from the top of their head.

This was an area I felt I could have done better in explaining, as some of that information was supposed to be somewhat secret, or something that a character would only share with a trusted confidant. This is to help create inter-party narratives and conflicts that will resolve over time and works to create a more dynamic, living world. Of our party of erstwhile complete strangers, everyone kinda bared all (with our paladin even going as far to make sure everyone knew that his flaw was "a weakness for carnal pleasures"), but I didn't want to "correct" anyone, as this is no great loss. There is no lack of player-generated content in D&D campaigns; any “lost” opportunities are almost immediately replaced in less than a session. However, if I were to do it again, I would have quietly asked each player what they thought their character's motivation was. Just having them deliberately consider this for a second and then ask if it was correct (trick question: whatever they think their character’s motivation is can be the answer—it's their character!) will provide an accessible framing to understanding their character and start forging a real, empathic relationship.

Of all the rules and numbers and dice and modifiers in D&D, roleplaying is hands-down the most difficult thing to teach and learn. However, any lack of experience with roleplaying can be made up with openness and enthusiasm. Thankfully, my inhibition-free (FRIDAY NIIIIIIGHT!) group really stepped up to the plate and made our table an open and encouraging place, and I'm very excited to continue sitting at it.

Altogether, we had an inebriated little blast. Our cute co-opted miniatures from a Dracula board game were dancing across the tiny surface of an iPad that displayed the scenario's grid map. We laughed as battleaxes got stuck in ceilings and rats were thunderwaved to bits against stone walls. The puzzle (with a riddle even!) presented an interesting challenge for them, but a good roll and a careful hint later (and one really nice saving throw!), and they blasted right through. Some very fun loot was found and we all finished appropriately exhausted, loopy, and ready for bed.

There was only one thing I wish had been different (and I'm sure will be in the future). The party was tackling some nasty giant rats when it became apparent that the group needed a break. This can be a difficult spot for the DM to manage, as players' priorities stop aligning with each other at this moment, creating extra-table conflict. We had a lone giant rat left and one player turn to go, and every bone in my DM body was screaming for that encounter-resolution—it can almost feel personal. At the very least, it’s hard to ask more from people who have to pee, need a smoke, have nothing in their glass, and have already given you well over an hour of their time; but I felt that it was a proper table etiquette teaching moment. I pulled everyone back to the table in a bit of an awkward manner to watch a single D20 thrown. The attack hit, the rat died, and the group took their break, a little underwhelmed at the big deal that was made over a pretty anti-climactic conclusion. It’s interesting to see how this can 100% be chalked up to game sense though; the new players couldn't quite see the writing on the wall for this particular gaming moment. The more we play, though, the less something like this will occur.

Next time, our party will take their first few steps into a much larger, and darker, world as we take on The Sunless Citadel from Tales from the Yawning Portal.

[jeffortless]

[jeffortless]

Magic Made Real

The giant rat hisses below the towering barbarian, its distended body curling up in preparation to strike. Sensing its intent, the warrior hoists her greatsword high above her head, eyeing the beast's neck. A loud CLUNK sounds from the stone ceiling above her and, as her strike descends, she finds her hands empty, her sword firmly lodged in the ceiling from the force of her upswing. The rat glances upward at the stuck weapon, bearing its yellow teeth in what can only be a grin...

So the one thing that really needs to be known before having anything to do with Dungeons & Dragons is that it is a dice game. The characters in your party may be stealthy assassins, genius scholars, or veteran soldiers; but no matter the level of their skill, chance will always be a factor. Even as the game progresses and your character's statistics increase to levels that almost render failure obsolete, it always remains a possibility. You see, when you roll a “1″ in D&D, regardless of modifiers, you trigger what's called a critical failure. When this happens, as a Dungeon Master (DM), I like to come up with some colorful catastrophe that renders a character prone on their rear, their weapon stuck in the ceiling, and whatever they hoped to accomplish that much farther from their reach. My DM in the game I play uses a randomized result from a cruel “Critical Failure” table to keep the chaos rolling. Whatever happens, your heart drops into your stomach, groans revolve around the table, and you're probably looking at quite a mess.

In a D&D campaign in which I'm a player, my character has garnered quite the reputation for rolling these critical failures. Frustrating for sure, but that's what you get when you play dice games. In my case, I feel that it's what I get A LOT when I play dice games (more on this later). This last game session, I was about to roll a 100-sided die (d100) to see how my Tabaxi Rogue's social advances toward a particularly alluring Gnome harper during a drunken evening in a bar were received (this kind of roll isn't standard protocol in a game, it was more just for giggles). Before I let the die fly, I said, "I bet I roll a 1," based on my dynamic history with the number. Wouldn't you know it, I rolled a 1. Almost like magic. In fact, exactly like magic.

After losing our collective crap and suffering through me closing down Skype in bitter protest (we play online), I came back to the game ready to face my fate. My critical failure resulted in the general populace of the tavern witnessing what could only be described as a scene as Bird on the Ocean (my character) had an emotional breakdown while apologizing to a robot because Bird had killed its progeny (D&D gets wild, kids). Because of this critical failure, Bird is now labeled as nothing short of a "weirdo," a creepy and sad version of the once bright and colorful eccentric he used to be.

My character, like all characters in D&D eventually will, has gone through some crap. Not only has he seen friends die and missions fail, but he's been imprisoned, lost a friend's family relic, and is deeply in debt. On top of that, all those 1s that I rolled have really messed with his confidence and self-esteem. It only stands to reason that, during what was supposed to be a celebration of a well-earned victory, Bird drank too much and let go his inhibitions, his inner fears and self-doubt rising to the surface for all to see. When this fateful critical failure was brought into the world, I felt my character end. Not die (though it was really embarrassing), but end. Not only was this the proverbial straw on my Tabaxi's back, but I was also informed that I’ll be taking over DMing on this campaign in a few months. My time with Bird on the Ocean is coming to a close.

And I was sad. I still am! I rarely get the chance to sit down to play D&D as anything other than DM, so I was ecstatic to create a really cool character. And I fell in love with Bird on the Ocean and his naive and optimistic outlook on the world. It's hilarious the parallels that I can draw between my excitement over playing this character and Bird's character arc. And as much as I can appreciate that, I'm also pretty disappointed in where Bird has ended up, but only in regards to expectation. Objectively, his tragedy is a good story which I am so glad I got to experience. And I'm extremely excited about Bird's future beyond my time with him; I have some awesome ideas of how I can include him as a non-player character (NPC) in a future campaign that I DM. This whole experience (partnership even!) has been bittersweet, heartfelt, but above all, real. My feelings and desires for Bird have been as real as any other emotion I have, despite him being entirely made up.

You know, exactly like magic.

So let's go back to my personal relationship with critical failures. I feel that bad luck has colored a lot of my life. Not in any truly detrimental way (I'm as privileged as they come), but just annoyingly. So much so that my D&D party notices. So much so that I vent to my significant other (SO) about it. So much so that I can call a 1 on a d100 and nail it. At best, I'm frustrated. At worst, I feel cursed. Like my soul's got fleas. And maybe that's true? Maybe something is cosmically wrong with me? It would certainly be a convenient excuse! But, as my SO posits, it's just as likely the reason I roll all these 1s is because I believe I do. That I "The Secret" these shockingly bad rolls into the world, one self-actualizing toss of the dice at a time. And really, isn't it more likely? After all, the feelings I feel about Bird on the Ocean are convincingly real despite being totally made up in my imagination. I mean, that's pretty solid precedent right there for thought actualization in D&D being just as likely as.... ugh... "soul fleas." I divined a critical failure into the real world, carved right there on the face of the die, simply by saying the word.

That's casting a gosh darned magic spell right there, folks. 'Scuse me, an owl just flew through my window (Yeah we cross-pollinatin’ ‘round here!).

But honestly, take one small step further and you might find reason enough to hope that magic could be real. And reader, there is not a single one of us who isn't absolutely titillated at the thought of a magical world.

This is what I think makes D&D so intriguing to so many people (I believe it’s a lot more than anyone thinks, like everyone). It not only enables you to cast spells, but it enables you to cast spells. It helps you make real connections to people and ideas that don’t exist until you will them into being. It shows you that there actually is more to discover and explore and create. It helps you realize that we're not done yet.

This blog is going to be about my experiences DMing a party of true first-timers. Both to D&D and roleplaying in general. I'll be detailing the successes, failures, lessons, and mistakes I make while DMing a group of new players. I won't be posting session recaps or anything, but I will talk about some highlights, at least in reference to my players' experiences. I'm going to be paying close attention to the specifics of what excites them and what bums them out and what I, as a DM, learn from it. I plan to stay away from a lot of game-speak as well, and instead focus on the player experience and RPGing in general. Some of the lessons I'll be learning may be old news to veteran DMs (in which case, please point me to cool blogs or helpful resources of which I can make use), but there's a chance I might stumble across some intriguing insight that might inform what's so dang attractive about the phenomenon that is Dungeons & Dragons.

Next week I'll introduce our players, the characters, and the game as we all get started on a weird and exciting little journey.

Thanks for reading!

- Jeff

[jeffortless]

Adventurers Wanted!

Greetings and well-met, traveler! Or re-met? Either way, welcome to my resurrected blog. I’ll be posting an introduction later today that outlines the intent behind this blog in detail, but essentially, if you enjoy roleplaying games (or are academically interested in the phenomena of RPGs), you’ll probably find some value here as I try to wax poetic about the expansive world of roleplaying games.

I’m going to take strides to ensure that very little experience with gaming or roleplaying should be necessary to enjoy the content herein, but I strongly encourage any readers to ask questions and challenge me if more clarity is needed. I also want to state out of the gate that this is a safe space accepting of all races, creeds, colors, beliefs, sexualities, genders, and traumas. I will make efforts to be empathetic toward others, open to criticism, and willing to change behaviors revealed to be problematic. I will take this approach not only in my writing but in the treatment of my players as well.

With that in mind, our first series will focus on the iconic game of Dungeons & Dragons. In this blog, I’ll be detailing my observations as I take on the role of Dungeon Master and bring a party of brand new players into the fold.

Thanks for reading!