How Prestigous?

It is not uncommon for me to launch contests, but I have never done so through the blog. This time, I'm shelling out for some really nice dice prizes! Interested? Keep reading...
I have been researching Prestige classes recently, and considering why players decide to take them. I am particularly fond of the niche they provide players. I am currently designing a 15-session campaign where players will not level, and must choose a prestige class. Curious about designing them myself, I feel the need to be inspired. So, that leads me to the contest.

The Rules:

Design a Prestige Class by March 1, 2015, and place it as a reply to this post.
It must include name and lore/ flavor text; pre-reqs; HD, BAB, Saves, proficiencies, etc.; leveling benefits (abilities, spell progression, etc.); and must be a 5-level progression [the Prestige class only lasts 5 levels]. Do not include art. The prestige class must be your own design. You will only get one post/ one entry. You may not edit your post. What I'm looking for is uniqueness and balance.

I will choose my three favorites. Everyone will receive a die from me for participating (haven't chosen one yet), but the top 3 will receive some specialty, 3-D printed metal dice. Here they are:

First Place: Steel Twisty Spindle Dice Set (includes 6 dice/ an $82 set)
http://www.shapeways.com/product/8URJ35P3U/twisty-spindle-dice-set?li=user-profile&optionId=43294194

Second Place: Steel Sputnik d20  (a $19 - $23 die)
http://www.shapeways.com/product/TKT36XXD4/sputnik-die20?li=user-profile&optionId=41593844

Third Place: Stainless Steel Jack d6 (design inspired by the children's game, a $13 die)

http://www.shapeways.com/product/MRJD9APE5/jack-d6?li=search-results-1&optionId=40950515

 

The Last Care Bender

It's been almost a year since my last post, but then again, I've only been back to DMing for about four months. Relocating to a new state and getting a new job is exciting, but it can display your tabletop flow. I'm back, and so I hope the blog will be, too.

Today, I'm discussing "bending" -- as in rules. The last post I made about a similar topic, entitled Breaking Bad, mainly focused on rules associated with gameplay and combat. So, by extension, it was a discussion on role it, you can roll it').  This topic focuses more on the character build and the individual player. Some things to consider in this discussion: What individual player requests should be granted, if any? What are you, as a DM, sacrificing/ gaining in honoring/ negotiating requests?
the "house rules for the betterment of all" (some I still use today, such as cantrips/ orisons are unlimited, and 'if you can

I'll start here: I like to make my players happy. No, I don't care about them "winning" all the time, or find it pertinent to praise every good decision; nor am I hung up on them leaving the table frustrated. I used to care, and perhaps too much (which isn't wise, because a lot of times, I have no control over those emotions). Still, I try to operate as a DM with a prime directive; and the first and foremost rule I abide by is 'let your players imagine and create, within reason'.

"Snow, I want to build a barbarian, whose tiny in size, who rides a were-bunny, and bears a lance that's actually a magical carrot!"

My response (assuming comedy, class, mounts, and flexibility are elements supported by my game [which, because I roll with the impromptu, they usually are]):
"Yes! Let's make it happen; but only is you name yourself 'Doc' so I can constantly have the party great you with 'What's up?!'"

My point it, when I think tabletop, I think imagination. If your creativity isn't supported in a realm of possibilities, then you might feel stifled. For my players, I customize classes altogether, merely to support what they desire to build. I invent feats. I grant abilities. I replace whole spell lists. I bend the game: to support, to care.

Some examples: I currently have a player who is a ratfolk ('rat-kin', upon her request) rouge, who wanted an animal companion. She now has a ridable rat. She was also granted an ability to (a limited number of times per day) summon rat swarms (as in the spell). She now has a dagger than can extend into a jousting lance, and gets a cavalier-like bonus to charges made while mounting. Yes, I have a rat player riding a rat, summoning rats, that is a rouge, but also a cavalier. At the end of the day, what have I sacrificed? Giving an edge, and choices, to my player. What have I gained? A happy player.

Mechanics wise, I try to accommodate with balance. Here's what that looks like. Could she have been accommodated with a full druid-progression animal companion if we had a druid on the team? No, perhaps not. I do not seek to step on the capabilities of other players in the party. Would I make the ability to use a swarm endless, or even wildly numerous? No, for respect to the party members, but also because an endless supply of rats crawling along her body don't make sense. Now, if they were constantly procreating and replenishing each night they spent on her, then that's both comically gross and balanced! I consider it equally a responsibility to have players play within balance as I do to have them feel supported.

Of course, I think players have an equal part responsibility in what I accommodate. They should:

• Know what they want, and commit to it (changing your mind back and forth is frustrating, to everyone around the table, but probably mostly for the player making the request, because they're constantly learning a new character); 
• Accept negotiation as a part of the deal, and not as an attack; and on that same note, know that 'no' is a possibility;
• Recognize that attempts to create accommodation should be reciprocated with appreciation (how ever you choose to fashion that; though, this DM likes food and drink);
• and lastly, speak up when you want something (closed mouths don't get fed). 

What other DMs out there are Care Benders, and how do you do it? What have been some of your modifications? What are your challenges, and what has been rewarding? 

Lone Wolf Secrets

Welcome back readers. In this post, I want to know your secrets; specifically, those you keep around the table. One thing I have yet to utilize as a Game Master is the impact of character secrets in a game. A character secret is a tool, created by either the character who has that secret or the GM, that is meant to enhance role playing, the plot, or the overall experience itself. For example, in a group of four, Player A is seeking revenge on the main villain because they are secretly their ex-wife; but no one else in the party know is, and Player A doesn’t want to reveal because of the possible adversity they might face from other players. This is a character secret. Sometimes, we GMs ask our players to write up a secret or something similar to work them into the story. Make it interesting for them ya know? Sometimes, players ask for their secrets to be worked in. 

In the recent installment of the FearTheBoot tabletop podcast, the gang discusses how character secrets would best be used, if used at all. One point they touch on is the disruptive nature secrets can have, either to plot progression or to the experience of the other players. Consider the above example used for Player A. If the GM knows, and the player knows, what would be the point of contention for you as one of those other players? As a GM, I can recognize the plot potential and really incredible game moments that can come out of a tactful revel of a character secret; still, there is something to be considered here in opposition. 

What if we took the same set up with Player A, but we added Player B to "the know". These two, and the GM know the secret, and now we have intra-party secrets and conversations around those secrets. Some players might feel differently about this set up. Here is a list of considerations (10 to be exact, because everyone loves 10-lists) GM’s should have concerning character secrets:

1. Is the player who is asking your permission to have a secret doing it to enhance their experience or the experience of the other party members? Can you convince them to tailor their secret so that it invites the other members to be interested in it? 
2. How might would players’ characters confront another character who has an obvious secret, and how long might they allow it to go on before taking them out of roleplay?
3. Does the secret of the player have them acting within a silo at several moments throughout the game? ie. sneaking off during sleep hours, side missions, cryptic dialogs.
4. How effective are secrets that the players all know, but their characters don’t? Are these secrets as effective, or do they lose their potential for great game moments?
5. Can every character have their own secret, or is that too much?
6. What if characters all had one piece of a larger secret, and what kind of a group would you need to have in order to make that work?
7. What is the responsibility of the GM when a player is being disruptive with their secret? Should the GM go ahead and reveal it as the player might have, thus “taking it away”?
8. Do secrets work better in shorter games with more momentum, or longer games with more buildup? 
9. How flexible should a GM be to honor a player request for a secret, even if it impedes on the storyline originally created for the game?
10. Finally, what fun could these secrets have that normal game play cannot provide?

I’d love to hear your secrets, or your thoughts on the considerations above. When I get to a game where either I encourage secrets or a player requests one, I think my go-to guide will be this question: is your secret intended to be used as a weapon to make you a better character than other players (more badass, more intriguing, simply more…)? If so, re-work your secret. I won’t know for sure until I play through the secrets unfolded. 

As a final tidbit,  I have learned of a tabletop game called Silent Memories that inherently works with player secrets. The premise, as I understand it, is that players’ character creation stories will form the persona and character of “The Mark”. Sounds like a great opportunity for the players to influence where the GM takes the game, instead of the natural occurrence of the reverse. Any reader play this? I will look more into it. 

The Second-coming of Snow: A Blog Resurrection, Part 2 - "Stop being Racist!"

I like to think of myself as a fairly social person, but nothing makes me feel more removed from the human race like when I try to explain to someone what I’m doing with my Thursday night. 


“I can’t meet up, sorry; I’m DM’ing a game tonight.”


*blank stare*


“I’m a dungeon master for a tabletop game.”


*confusion displayed in rapid blinking*


“Ok, hmm…you know 'Lord of the Rings’?"


“Like, with the elves and dwarves and the stuff? The hobbits?”


“Yep.”


“Oh…realllly?”


The conversation goes on from there to a familiar place most of you might have been. It is that exchange which got me thinking about my next topic: the races that define our world. Think about your favorite race in tabletop. What is it? Say it out loud…


You chose that over all. And if you muttered the words of a race outside of the core, you’re ballsy…or you know, just being you. You’re bound to get some stares, particularly from those eagerly ready to defend the Human race as perfection. 


In my most recent campaign, I introduced a new race called “The Goro”— a four-armed thuggish, mass of meat with servitude demeanors (and a direct homage to the Prince in Mortal Kombat). I needed to create a race that made up a reformed prison population, set forth into a city-kingdom to reshape their lives. Because of this specific purpose, I chose to go with something original/ made-up. My reservations were that existent races, as players might see it, pack too much history. Hmm, should I have defaulted to Orcs? Would it be expected? If I made them Gnomes, would it provide more shock value or evoke laughter? If I made them human, would I simply be stirring in the flavor story of the week into a big batch of vanilla? 


I would like to think that the blank slate of a race left open the door for what my players might think could happen with this race. Moreover, I love the idea that each of my players filled in what the Goro’s actually looked like for themselves. 


Using race with intentionality is a prospect I’m truly in support of. Yes, when I think about Dwarves and Elves, I feel a sense of nostalgia for a game I’m still participating in. They are hallmarks. They are older than I am in real life and have a legacy even outside the game. Take for example, the Ivy league colleges: Princeton, Harvard, Yale, etc. Did you know that when the Assistant and Associate Deans of the academic colleges get together, they actually refer to themselves as ‘The Gathering of the Dwarves and the Elves”? Seriously. When I was working at Princeton, I learned this and was simply giddy to know they used the jargon. Still, when I’m creating a story/ campaign, I feel ultimately stifled by the core line of races; and thus, I have a fond place in my heart for looking into unconventional races. 


There are people who actually get paid to invent races for the worlds we play in and create, and in honor of those lucky bastards with the best jobs on Earth, I decided to seek them out to share some of their race cases with my readers. I contacted the following game writers/ designers and asked them simply two questions: "What’s your favorite race that you’ve created?”, and “What’s you’re favorite race that someone else has created?"


James Wyatt, writer of Oriental Adventures, designer for Eberron Campaign Setting, and co-author of Book of Exalted Deeds, to name a few, had this to share with me:




"The vanara, from Oriental Adventures, are my favorite racial creation. I'm proud of the way I was able to integrate Indian and Southeast Asian history, folklore, and myth into that book, in addition to all the things from China and Japan that you'd expect to see.”

He continues, “It's hard to name a favorite [race created by someone else], but I have a soft spot for both changelings and warforged (both of which I *helped* create), because of my use of them in my Eberron novels. When it comes to making a character for a game, though, it's usually human, elf, or dwarf. Classics!”


I was certainly hoping one of the game designers would pick a race with an animalistic aesthetic. I feel like these are some of the most underutilized in the bunch. What are your thoughts on adventures of the monkey, toad, feline, and insect kind? No, I’m not talking about being in Wild Shape…


Ed Greenwood, the father of Forgotten Realms, may have not given me much in content; but he certainly surprised me. He couldn’t identify a favorite race of his own creation; though, his non-selfie selection is among one of the oldest races to exist and yet unknown to those unfamiliar with the Hollywood canon. 

"Beholders, I think...because there's still an aura of mystery about them, and the idea of so many supra-geniuses and what they might make of their lives intrigues me,”notes Greenwood.


Wow, an aberration race as a favorite! This side-line tackle makes me smile. A race more than ten years older than I am (I’m 27), having graced the pages of so much fantasy literature STILL intrigues a man that has long been cognitive of the game’s possibilities. 


Finally, Stephen Radney-Macfarland, a Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Designer at Paizo Publishing and co-developer of 4e  D&D, shared this with me:


"My favorite race that I have created? That's a hard one. I've done a number of them somewhat recently, including all the sample races for the Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide race builder (and those entry's races in Pathfinder's Bestiary 4). Of those races I think my favorite is the wyrwood--a race of living constructs, which are a basically wizard's experiment gone rogue--Pinocchio without the heart. I will admit they can be a challenge to play, both on the player's and the GM's side, but they have great story potential.”


If you haven’t read the Pathfinder’s Bestiary 4, stop reading this and go check it out. No, wait, finish this; then go read it. The homage to horror icons is brilliant. The wormwood is another example of the unconventional as favorable. When I’ve heard players wanting to be constructs as player characters, I’ve always heard them talk about the build in a bulky way. Seldom have I ever considered a Small construct to be the go-to thought, let alone an option. Perhaps I’ll play this race in a game soon and write a review of what I thought.


He continues, "As for my favorite race I have not created, 

that race is actually not in a game supplement at all (or at least not that I know of) but I would love to stat them up. That would be Jeff Vandermeer's gray caps. Fungus creatures that inhabit--or more like haunt--his novels. I talked to Jeff about writing them up when I worked on D&D, and he liked the idea, but I never got around to it. There are some IP hoops to jump through. But that is not the only problem. To be honest the race is so strange, I feel like I would have to spend weeks brainstorming and asking Jeff stupid questions before I could even approach a first draft of these critters. They are extremely cool and creepy, and advise anyone who loves weird races to check out Jeff's work. All that said, they have appeared in a number of my home games.”


Boom! Stephen drives home the validity I needed in this interviewing adventure. Sometimes, races so intriguing just need the breath of game incorporation. 
I’m going to drop the mic there and simply ask, what’s your go to race? Classic or avant garde? How would you/ have you incorporated them on the table?

The Second-coming of Snow: A Blog Resurrection, Part 1 (The Story of a Deeply Complex Departure)

Last year, I launched my first campaign and became self-inaugrated into the amalgam of amateur dungeon masters. "Hi, my name is Snow. I am a Dungeon Master. I do dungeon mastering.” I could go into what that all meant, with anyone who cared to ask; and my-my, what an earful they might get about what I think I do -- creation, manage, co-exist, structure; oh, and have fun with friends around collections of food/ leftovers. Yet, I decided to do something I’ve longed to do for some years: start a blog. I transferred the energy I had with running a campaign into a complimentary project. So, with that said, would anyone like to guess where my blog went once the campaign started to fizzle? 


The correlation, whether I realized it during the writing freeze or afterward, is a stark one. I didn’t, by the game’s end, feel like an accomplished DM. My flow of topics for the blog, my willingness to write, vanished. Recently, I’ve been granted True Seeing, and I’ve noticed some hidden pathways in my adventure as a blogger. I start this two-part resurrection with an epiphany. If no one else reads, if no one else plays, you’re still a blogger, and you’re still a dungeon master.


Now, I know what some of your are thinking: Umm, without a group, no, you’re actually not a dungeon master. At to that argument, I offer this refutation and a modification to an old movie saying. "If you build it", you are an architect; regardless if "they will come". Towards the end of my final campaign days, I solicited feedback from my players about what they thought about me as a DM, what they thought about the game, and asked them to share some advice for me going forward. Some replied. Some flat-out ignored it. While I would be lying if I said this didn’t shut me down, I would also be remised if I didn’t acknowledge that the silence left room for some much needed introspection. To get my act together as a DM, I needed to have one night of simply doing what I felt was natural. Rather than end the campaign I had been running for 5 months, I created a one shot for the group; but set it up as if the game could continue. In just that game, I validated for myself two points which I knew were true all along: failure with a group happens, and trying too hard as a DM is a fallacy. 


I’ll relate this to my profession. In a teachers’ meeting, a faculty member talks about how students just aren’t engaged with learning, how they have an unhealthy relationship with the education. Straight up, they’re lazy. We’ve been saying this for decades, and we find news ways to say it, new scapegoats to point fingers at; and yet, we never own up to the reality that we may just not be effective at what we do. In the future, I hope I am not a DM who claims to know what I’m doing based on the fact that I’ve been doing it for years. I’ve read so many posts online from DM’s who refuse to shake up their system or cater to their audience. To each their own. May I never abide by the rules of ritual. 


To end this rant, I leave this advice for DM’s, especially new DM’s out there: Try less, Fail to allow failure to continue, and Shake it up. Yay, now I have officially completed my prestige class as Motivational Hippie.

Your party doesn't need a Tank; it needs a chef !

I have never outright awarded any player of mine for food they've brought to game, nor do I think I would; still, I consider offerings to the feast of the DM as almost sacred. If for nothing else, it pays tribute. This Deity of the Dice has been spoiled, and I could not be more pleased.

Let's be clear -- this has largely been true, as far as I can attest from other DMs' confessions: a happy DM keeps his party happy in return. Food just happens to be the schema commonly framing that cycle.

All jokes set aside, I am no "Bacchus of the Orc Throne", but my games are constructed around a great deal of work and effort to keep my players entertained, engaged, and content with setting some time aside for tabletop every week. So yes, I appreciate some gratitude. Gratitude is Chicken Soup for DM Soul (remember that series?).

Pirate Treasure Map themed cupcakes!

Details matter -- the pirate gummy bleed out

I have a particular player who could have been born in the kitchen, next to the warm and fuzziness of an oven's heat, wafting apple pie scents on a cozy Autumn afternoon. Yeah, she's that good. She, famously, goes to great lengths to create and satisfy her friends' bellies; but for her DM's, well, she is probably her adventurer party's greatest ally. 

On the launch night of my new campaign, to which my players had a great deal of story exposition prior to playing, she brought in a tray of cupcakes that completely represented the world the players were in. Oceans, floating kingdoms, rare and magical stones...and all this presentation with an equally impressive taste. In another game DM's pirate game, this same player brought cupcakes that resembled a full treasure map, including swashbuckling gummy bears and Swedish fish infested oceans.

Come on, what DM wouldn't feel completely honored? 

What foodies have been a part of your games? Is there bribery afoot?

I wonder if I should start being bribed? Hmm...

Paper or Plastic: Are tabletop tokens facing a paradigm shift?

So, you're a player, and your character is on the map, charging in for an attack on the boss of the night: what are you pushing/ carrying along the squares? Is it the fine craft of a classic miniature? If so, did you paint it yourself? How much did you pay for it? Have you used it to shape your character, or is it the other way around? Do you even care?

One of my players brought this topic to my attention for the blog, and I've been M.I.A. ever since. I've thought about it, from a player perspective, but more importantly, for the sake of this blog, from a DM perspective.

Let me set the mood: You are a new player being brought into a group. You enter the room, where game is already underway. The table is set: map, characters, monsters, and in full-swing. The table is mounted with all types of miniatures, some medium, few huge, and one colossal.

Now, Replace the image with card board cut-outs, those similar to what you see in classic boardgames, such as Clue. Does this change anything inside of you? Are you less enthused, less impressed, more intrigued, or merely indifferent?

Here are the contenders: miniatures vs. pawns (and every other substitute).

Miniatures, the reigning champion:

Career: Miniatures, what I am calling the fan-favorite, are timeless; that is, they are routed in history and tradition. There is an undeniable nostalgia experienced players have with miniatures, and an aesthetic magnetism attractive to new players who lay eyes on them. Representation wise, miniatures are almost synonymous, both in language and in body with the game of tabletop, itself.

Stance and Style: 3-D models set a tone. I don't care how good your image on paper is, your tower of cardboard is less foreboding than a mountain of plastic. In my experience, there is an "oh s***" moment when your players realize you are carrying over something to the table that requires you to lift with your knees. Exaggeration? A little bit, but you get the idea. Ask those who favor dragons. They're more likely to connect with the "fun" of plopping a breath-weapon miniature onto a map. 

Miniatures, for the most part, hold up. They literally stand, and in some cases, can take a beating before they start to function less reliably. Nit-picking, I know; but for some people, this matters.

Miniatures don't have to be the same. Model-wise, you may own the same mini four times, but a good paint-job not only personalizes your miniature, but it can also show your talent and dedication for the game to other players.

The Right Hook: Merchandise and collection are a huge, immortal component of tabletop as a recreation. Companies thrive from selling them; and players, like with any hobby, have proven that rarities, brand loyalty, and product appreciation is still important to them -- and so, they keep shelling out the clams. And let's face it, when a player-collector shows off their booty, you can help but stare and hope to fondle with care. Sharing moment: While I am proud of my dice collection, I only own six miniatures; and well, that makes me sad inside.

Achilles' heel: Price. Miniatures, to those with cobwebs in the pocket, or simply life-expenses that take precedence, are an unattainable luxury. You can get one here and there, maybe even assemble a small faction through gifts over some time; but, especially as a DM, when that sorcerer mini has been your last 2 NPCs, your enemy from three weeks ago, and the character your new player chooses to play their arcane caster, it can get kind of annoying. 

Pawns, the formidable contender:

Career: The new kid on the block is simply this -- a pawn star. Still, I am cautious to call these contenders new. Perhaps in the lifetime of tabletop, new is appropriate; but pawns have some years of presence under their belt. The "Quiet Revolution" of tabletop, as quoted by a blogger over at The Rot Grub called pawns' introduction back in 2011, started probably most notably in D&D's 2010 Monster Vault release with circular, lay-flat punch-outs, and soon after with Paizo's 2011 Beginner Box (including 80 stand-up, cardboard pawns). When the major game companies offer pawns as the entry experience to their game, they are making a statement about the place of pawns in the industry.

Stance and Style: Pawns are simply a "get what you pay for" product. Like the difference between your crappy printer at home and your best print-joint (FedEx Kinkos, and what not) down the road, at the table, a picture is a picture. You may enjoy the classic monster designs of the companies that publish them, and thus either pirate their design from the internet, or buy direct. You may enjoy, instead, to find appropriate fan-art to the characters of your game and apply them to your own crafted pawns. You may, as I once saw a DM do for 10 of his players in the same pirate world, create pencil drawings on tri-fold cardboard to fit the caricatures of his party; that is, custom design to your own artistic fabrication. Either way, pawns lend themselves well to an open canvas -- the image you want on the table is the one you're going to get.

The Right Hook: Affordability. Whether you're buying a set of 30 punch-out pieces for the cost of one standard miniature off Amazon (free shipping), or printing them out yourself, the bottom-line is you are certainly having more to bring to the table for less financial output. 

Achilles' heel: Impact, and perhaps this is subjective. Beyond the thrill of punching out fresh pieces, these tokens lose their marvel quickly. When you're catching the thin-side of your pawn, you're losing the presence of it adding to or impacting the environment. Imagination and being fully-engulfed in story/ mechanics/ the camaraderie of the game/ etc. may remedy this; but in comparison to its opponent, there's just less pizazz.

So...Who wins this fight in your opinion? Who are you placing your bets on for the future favorite in the game?

A Rose by Any Other Name: Are story crossovers and motifs simply embezzlement?

Recently, one of my players smashed DM's who choose to run story lines for their players that borrow from common motifs. The specific example he gave was the "world is going to end all along and there was nothing your group could do about it" storyline. I wonder was level of storytelling does a DM need to have in order to be conceived as fresh, or at least not a thieving, lazy reciter-of-olde. 

I have been open about my current game's storyline, drawing inspiration heavily from the Final Fantasy series. Kingdoms are names after summons, magical items drawn directly from in-game content, and a storyline that will certainly unfold similar to many of the games. After his rant, which was far from baseless (quite genuine, in fact), I wondered if I should reconsider where the story should go. 

One of the coolest crossovers I've ever seen actually came from my best friend. He created a game around the entire game design and concept of the MegaMan series. His players could only play the Warforged race, or simply robots/ constructs. The idea was we had to take down eight robot masters, each of which had a power we could take from them upon defeating them. The actual gameplay had platforming, puzzle rooms with insta-death consequences, and we players functioned on a 3-life system. Despite his three players (me included) not having much background in hardcore MegaMan'ing, it was easy to see that the essence of the game was a complete rendition of the video game. In fact, I would bet the ending, had we finished, would have had a classic the enemy is defeated, or is he? scene. 

I have included the drawing I did of my Warforged character for the MegaMan game. It was a Warforged Tattooed Monk (etched, I guess). Let me know what you think.  :)

I know, I know, crossing over famous genres (video games, literature, television series, etc.) is not quite the same as relying on motifs older than I have been alive; but, which application is worse...or better...or best received? 

In my opinion, utilizing any of these is in a way paying homage to storying-telling that has had stood the test of time. If told/ experienced in compelling ways, or even in new complex ways, these storylines can still be thought provoking/ dramatic/ tear jerking, and all that jazz. I'll certainly revisit the drawing board, if I aim to impress with this current game I am DM'ing. Perhaps I will find ways to retell what I have always loved about the FF series, but his time, in ways even new to myself. 

Breaking Bad

Homemade rules are like cooking meth: your end product can have high pay off (especially if you pull it off masterfully), but you run the risk of the whole experiment blowing up in your face.  It's no mystery among the players in my games that I'm fond of bending some rules in any tabletop platform; and I can argue that published books often remedy their own past rulings because, well, they don't always gel with the game. Simply put, some rules are meant to be broken.

When I studied American Folklore in college, I did an anthropological study, well, more of a collection, around the American house rules found in Monopoly. My main method for the collection was interviewing and observing game play. I was pleasantly surprised when I found out rules existed that in 20-something years of living and playing the game, I had never even heard of. Take this one for example: when you own more than one rail road, you may warp from one track to the other, if you happen to land on one of them. Further, you could charge players any fee you wanted to allow them to warp on through, if they happen to land on one as well. Fascinating concept. Want to avoid a string of high-priced, renovated neighborhoods? No problem. 

Then there are some rules of Monopoly so famous, they are commonly thought of to be the actual rules. Take the "Free Parking" space, for instance. Ask yourself, what does the space do? What are the rules around it? If you answered anything other than "nothing at all", then you have played the game incorrectly long enough to believe the space has a purpose; or, as I argue in this post, you have chosen to adopt a make-shift ruling absolute, because it is better than what originally existed. 

A DM has the opportunity, when it comes to the rules of the game, to make some stuff up. If it is intentional, and it works, why not? I've known some DM's to change whole feats, integrating them into others, because let's face it, no one wants to waste a whole feat on some the lame options that start some really attractive feat-chains. DM's who carries over made-up rulings across games and throughout different player groups has a unique opportunity, perhaps, to build something of a legacy for themselves. 

I do, however, think DM's have a responsibility to inform players that some rules are made-up. As a player who for certain thought "retreating from battle" allowed me not to provoke an attack of opportunity, boy did I feel stupid when I brought this rule into a game of experienced players. 

When it comes to rulings, it should be a simple, mathematically-moral equation: breaking the rules can be bad, making the rules can be good. Create something unique that many players love, and you have something of a Dm'ing legacy; do the opposite, and go down in infamy. 

Acting vs Recitation: Do you prefer a DM who prepares more or Impromptu's more?

I've gotten different feed back over this topic, and I guess it depends on the type of game/ players/ chemistry involved, etc. Still, I beg the question, which is preferred by the quorum, a DM who prepares for game, or one who wings it?

For those who prepare, I can see how much they care about the game. Work is work, and when the evidence is there, it's hard to argue that there has been some tender, love, and care in making a great game happen. I think the strength of these DM's lies in their maps, puzzles, complex battle sequences, etc. Down side? Perhaps overly complex systems and frigidity can create an environment that stifles the players.

For the "on the spot" DM's, some upside may be their proven expertise of the game. Knowing the rules and mechanics of the game well enough to roll with the punches as they come creates an organic style of play that is both respectable and impressive. Some strengths, in my perspective, lies in these DMs' abilities to role play NPCs more effectively and validate players freedom to "do what they want". I think some problems arise when the impromptu results don't add up over time to something meaningful to the story/ environment of the game/ preferred environment of the players. Plus, it's easy to blur the lines of an impromptu DM and a lazy one.

Your thoughts?

Blowing it Too Early: First-time experiences

Let's face it, your first time is something you were eager to jump into. Whether you kept it cool and laid-back, to seem like a can-do-no-wrong pro, or you had the nervous energy of prepubescent about to transition, you never forget your first time. Chances are, you made mistakes; a lot of them, even. But, consider, what did you do right?

If only there were a counsel of parents with DM careers that read like CV's, or a place for the experienced to gather (ahem, I seem to like this spot) so they could offer some tricks for trade. Though, there is something thrilling about getting right into it. Me, I was a planner. My first map was an elaborate prison with four wards. When I was done with the skeleton of the architecture, I marked in detail of the jail cells. I should also mention I chose, as my first time, to co-DM. He looked at me draw some bedsheets on my bed, and said, "Oh...look how pretty. You gonna add some wallpaper, too?"

I share with you, as my first post, a chance to reflect on the classic good/ bad/ ugly of first time DMing. Here how you can share: tell me your platform (D&D with edition, Pathfinder, etc.)/ tell me how many players you had/ and finally give me one thing you think you did wrong AND one thing you know you right. 

My first-time can be an example:

Dungeons and Dragons, 3.5 Edition: 4 players (I co-DM'd)

The Bad: I chose players that had limit commitment to the over-elaborate setting my friend & I created. They enjoyed the game, a lot; though, their schedules were too all over the place. Had I really thought about it, the group would have never worked out beyond a few games -- and that is exactly what happened. What did I learn, be honest with myself about the commitment your players can have. It'll save you some time to know how much they can offer.

The Good: I checked some long-standing traditions at the door. For me, the notion of playing alignment to the letter, and following the "can be done and can't be done" is just short of shackles. Open, honest boundaries about what your game lends its players to do, spoken EARLY on, is okay in my book. Limitations as an after thought? Bad move.

The Ugly (Optional): Not enough food to go with the booze.