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.