The key distinction here, I think, is in how much weight I as GM place on what "I expect to happen". It's the difference between
(A) Based on polling data, I expect that My Candidate will win the election.
and
(B) Based on having rigged the ballot count, I know the outcome.
Anticipation becomes a problem when one becomes unwilling to accept deviation from a plan, when "an adventure" becomes THE adventure.
The players didn't "bite the hook" at A, so what? Do you simply run with what they in the event DID choose to do, or do you try to get them back "on track"? What if they've done A, B and C as you expected, but then instead of choosing D or E they chose 23? What if F would have followed 98% of the time, but either the dice or a decision by the players indicates some other result?
In a sense, the attitude of being committed to a plot line puts the GM in opposition to the players. It introduces an opportunity to consider oneself to have "lost the game" if things don't go one's way. That dynamic is lurking even when the players cooperate, for what if they don't?
What I find most telling of the insidious influence is that when most such GMs "fudge" outcomes to get their way, they attempt to hide the deed. "It's okay to cheat, as long as the other participants don't know!" Why is that? What sort of response do you expect if they do discover your chicanery?
There has been a very striking shift in how the word "adventure" is commonly used in D&D materials.
In the 1st edition AD&D books, it pretty consistently has the conventional meanings of "an undertaking of uncertain outcome; a hazardous enterprise" -- and more particularly of "a commercial or financial speculation of any kind; venture". In other words, it is an expedition conceived and formed by players. The Players Handbook advice for "Successful Adventures" (on pages 107 and 109) is firmly predicated on that understanding.
That basic concept seems in recent years largely to have been displaced by "an exciting or unusual experience", in a sense that reduces the player's role to a reactive -- rather than instigating -- one. Such an understanding is pretty natural in some genres. Comicbook superheroes come immediately to my mind. To the degree that a "horror" game really elicits such a response it is likely to be bound up with helplessness (characters at least as much victims as victors).
There is certainly nothing intrinsic to a generic game of swordsmen and sorcerers that is incompatible with such an assumption. However, when we turn more specifically to D&D this is rather a "new" view at odds with a tradition several decades old. So, there is predictably some tension between those who see the game as fundamentally "about" one theme or the other.
One issue often raised is that if players don't shuffle along the plot line then the GM's preparations -- or the content of a costly module -- will be wasted. That's really a circular argument, based on the assumption that the preparation was for a linear scenario in the first place.
There is a spectrum from the "pick a path" book to the "interactive fiction" computer program, and on up to the full range of possibilities afforded by face-to-face human moderation.
(A) Based on polling data, I expect that My Candidate will win the election.
and
(B) Based on having rigged the ballot count, I know the outcome.
Anticipation becomes a problem when one becomes unwilling to accept deviation from a plan, when "an adventure" becomes THE adventure.
The players didn't "bite the hook" at A, so what? Do you simply run with what they in the event DID choose to do, or do you try to get them back "on track"? What if they've done A, B and C as you expected, but then instead of choosing D or E they chose 23? What if F would have followed 98% of the time, but either the dice or a decision by the players indicates some other result?
In a sense, the attitude of being committed to a plot line puts the GM in opposition to the players. It introduces an opportunity to consider oneself to have "lost the game" if things don't go one's way. That dynamic is lurking even when the players cooperate, for what if they don't?
What I find most telling of the insidious influence is that when most such GMs "fudge" outcomes to get their way, they attempt to hide the deed. "It's okay to cheat, as long as the other participants don't know!" Why is that? What sort of response do you expect if they do discover your chicanery?
There has been a very striking shift in how the word "adventure" is commonly used in D&D materials.
In the 1st edition AD&D books, it pretty consistently has the conventional meanings of "an undertaking of uncertain outcome; a hazardous enterprise" -- and more particularly of "a commercial or financial speculation of any kind; venture". In other words, it is an expedition conceived and formed by players. The Players Handbook advice for "Successful Adventures" (on pages 107 and 109) is firmly predicated on that understanding.
That basic concept seems in recent years largely to have been displaced by "an exciting or unusual experience", in a sense that reduces the player's role to a reactive -- rather than instigating -- one. Such an understanding is pretty natural in some genres. Comicbook superheroes come immediately to my mind. To the degree that a "horror" game really elicits such a response it is likely to be bound up with helplessness (characters at least as much victims as victors).
There is certainly nothing intrinsic to a generic game of swordsmen and sorcerers that is incompatible with such an assumption. However, when we turn more specifically to D&D this is rather a "new" view at odds with a tradition several decades old. So, there is predictably some tension between those who see the game as fundamentally "about" one theme or the other.
One issue often raised is that if players don't shuffle along the plot line then the GM's preparations -- or the content of a costly module -- will be wasted. That's really a circular argument, based on the assumption that the preparation was for a linear scenario in the first place.
There is a spectrum from the "pick a path" book to the "interactive fiction" computer program, and on up to the full range of possibilities afforded by face-to-face human moderation.
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