Throughout this thread, multiple individuals, including myself,
@Bedrockgames, and others, have offered detailed, well-reasoned accounts of our respective approaches to sandbox campaigns. In turn, you have persistently criticized and dismissed those views, often without acknowledging the differences between them.
Worse, your replies routinely conflate separate approaches, then pivot to rhetorical misdirection: reframing objections, invoking hypotheticals, or shifting focus mid-thread. These tactics do not clarify the conversation; they obscure it, and they make it difficult to have a discussion about sandbox campaigns.
The pattern so far reads less like an exchange of ideas and more like a campaign to undermine any viewpoint that doesn’t conform to your preferences.
From my perspective, your posts appear to present pretty truistic stuff - like your PDF of bandit stats - as if this is meant to shed some light on the benighted. You talk about "trashing the world" - as if the possibility of alternatives to DL-esque or AP0-esque railroading will be revelatory to those you are replying to. You say that "players can have their PCs attempt anything that is possible in the fiction" as if that is somehow a departure from a baseline norm for RPGing.
This is why you get some replies, from me at least, which are puzzled as to what the goal of your posts is. Because they appear to begin from a premise that I am not familiar with how you run RPGs. Although everything that you actually post about it confirms what I already understood to be your approach and which - as you know - I have also confirmed by watching youtube videos of your play.
As for your remarks about "rhetorical misdirection" and "undermining viewpoints": I am not trying to undermine viewpoints. Just as you sometimes disagree with me (and other posters), so when I disagree with something that someone says, I respond. To me, it seems that you think that I owe you a type of courtesy of deference that you don't seem to accord to others.
The bottom line appears to me to be this: you seem to object to the notion that I regard some of the techniques that you advocate as (i) not being sufficient to ensure player agency, and indeed (ii) as being consistent with railroading.
My primary creative goal as a referee is to run a campaign where the players feel like they have visited a place as their character and had adventures. Using dice and the mechanics of the game, I aim to create a kind of pen-and-paper virtual reality for the players to explore. Every choice I make as a referee is evaluated with that goal in mind.
Just as one example, what you describe here - and your description seems quite clear to me - is consistent with a game that I would experience as a railroad. Because the idea that the players should be directing play figures nowhere in what you have said.
Obviously the railroad would not have the same character as that of a DL-esque one. But that wouldn't change the fact of how I would experience the game.
Perhaps you regard what I am saying here as outrageous - I don't know. I have ready many posts from other posters, including
@Bedrockgames, explaining how they find the sort of RPGing that I prefer to lack in verisimilitude and realism and "objectivity" and the like. I don't agree with them, but I don't think I've ever accused them of "rhetorical misdirection", "undermining viewpoints", etc. To the best of my understanding, it does not violate any rules of this site, nor any norms of conversation, for me to express my views about approaches others describe, any more than it does for you or Bedrockgames or others to express your (generally rather hostile and even dismissive) views of the approaches that I describe.
I haven’t yet seen a clear or cohesive articulation of your own philosophy, just isolated points, counterexamples, and hypotheticals. If you’ve laid it out elsewhere, great, but I haven't seen it in our discussion in this thread.
I wouldn't claim to have a "philosophy". I play a variety of RPGs. Until this thread, I probably wouldn't have described any of them as
sandboxes, because I had understood that term rather narrowly. But this thread has seen other posters advocating for very expansive understandings of the term, and under those understandings some of my RPGing does count as sandboxing.
My favourite FRPG is Burning Wheel, and I have stated its core rules multiple times in this thread. Here they are again:
From pp 9-11, 24-25, 30-31, 72:
In the game, players take on the roles of characters inspired by history and works of fantasy fiction. These characters are a list of abilities rated with numbers and a list of player-determined priorities. . . .
One of you takes on the role of the game master. The GM is responsible for challenging the players. He also plays the roles of all of those characters not taken on by other players; he guides the pacing of the events of the story; and he arbitrates rules calls and interpretations so that play progresses smoothly.
Everyone else plays a protagonist in the story. . . . The GM presents the players with problems based on the players’ priorities. The players use their characters’ abilities to overcome these obstacles. To do this, dice are rolled and the results are interpreted using the rules presented in this book. . . .
When declaring an action for a character, you say what you want and how you do it. That’s the intent and the task. . . . Descriptions of the task are vital. Through them we know which mechanics to apply; acknowledging the intent allows us to properly interpret the results of the test. . . .
A task is a measurable, finite and quantifiable act performed by a character: attacking someone with a sword, studying a scroll or resting in an abbey. A task describes how you accomplish your intent. What does your character do? A task should be easily linked to an ability: the Sword skill, the Research skill or the Health attribute. . . .
what happens after the dice have come to rest and the successes are counted? If the successes equal or exceed the obstacle, the character has succeeded in his goal - he achieved his intent and completed the task.
This is important enough to say again: Characters who are successful complete actions in the manner described by the player. A successful roll is sacrosanct in Burning Wheel and neither GM nor other players can change the fact that the act was successful. The GM may only embellish or reinforce a successful ability test. . . .
When the dice are rolled and don’t produce enough successes to meet the obstacle, the character fails. What does this mean? It means the stated intent does not come to pass. . . .
Unless there is something at stake in the story you have created, don’t bother with the dice. Keep moving, keep describing, keep roleplaying. But as soon as a character wants something that he doesn’t have, needs to know something he doesn’t know, covets something that someone else has, roll the dice.
Flip that around and it reveals a fundamental rule in Burning Wheel game play: When there is conflict, roll the dice. There is no social agreement for the resolution of conflict in this game. Roll the dice and let the obstacle system guide the outcome.
This is the most player-driven approach to RPGing that I have used, because at every moment of play, the focus is on those player-established priorities for their PCs. Every aspect of play - framing, setting up resolution via intent-and-task, drawing out the consequences of resolution and feeding that into the next moment of framing - centres those priorities.
It also has a serious of ingenious elements in its PC build and action resolution systems. Part of the power of Burning Wheel is that it can handle a very wide range of situations. A discussion between two characters, about whether or not one will repair the armour of the other, can take on as much weight as, or even more weight than, a fight with deadly weapons. This is why I suggested it, to
@Manbearcat, as well-suited for playing The Fighter and The Fisherman.
And in my experience, BW is not only player-driven, but is remarkably intense, and sometimes even emotionally exhausting.
In case you are interested, here is a BW scenario I wrote in the context of the Iron DM from a few years ago:
I'll try this set as a set-up for a Burning Wheel situation. For setting details, I've stolen geographic labels from the World of Greyhawk and proper names from Dungeon World. Any others should do just as well. By my count it comes in at 750 words exactly.
The bridge
A situation for two Burning Wheel players and a GM.
Background: A river runs through the Welkwood, dividing the Elven kingdom of Celene and the human lands to the east. It was once traversed by a great stone bridge, crafted by the Elven shapers and a sign of friendship between the two peoples. The Elven bards would greet travellers and welcome many of them as Elf-friends. Seventy years ago, Ansley the Lion of Fax - lusting after the jewels of the Elves - led an incursion over the bridge. In the conflict the bridge was ruined. The Elven Protectors have left it in its fallen state, its stones lying in the long grass and the water. The Elves have retreated to their havens and citadels; and while the people of Fax now repent of Ansley's deeds, they lack the funds and skills to rebuild the bridge themselves.
PC 1: Dagoliir (Age 170 years; Born Wilder Elf, Song Singer, lead to Citadel, Bard, lead to Paths of Spite, Griever, Deceiver)
Will B6, Perception B6, Agility B6, Speed B4, Forte B4, Power B4, Spite B6,
Reflexes B5, Steel B5 (hesitation 4), Health B6, PTGS (Superficial B3, Light B5, Midi B7, Severe B8, Traumatic B9, Mortal Wound B10)
Resources B1, Circles B3, Reputation (+1D) as the last bard of the fallen bridge
Skills: Sing B4, Lyre B4, Elven Script B3, Conspicuous B4, Oratory B5, Persuasion B4, Song of Soothing B4, Sleight of Hand B3, Sword B3, Bridge-wise B3
Spellsongs: Song of Songs B3, Song of Merriment B3, Verse of Friendship B4, Tract of Enmity B5, Sorrow of Truth B3, Rhyme of the Unraveller G6
Traits: Charismatic, Deceptive, Vocal
Lives in the foundation hall of the ruined bridge, on the eastern side of the river; wears Elven clothes but goes barefoot; in the hall are Dagoliir's Elven lyre (+1D), Elven sword and the finery of their former office.
Beliefs: The ruins of the bridge exemplify the ruin of the world - its stones shall lie where they fell, and it shall never be rebuilt!; I will never forget Ansley's betrayal - it's better that I suffer than the humans prosper; I tire of living in squalor and solitude - why do none of my kin relieve me of my vigil?
Instincts: Always greet those who arrive at the river bank - and lift their purse if I can!; Always point out what is flawed; Sing the Rhyme of the Unraveller when anyone tries to build.
PC 2: Tripp (Age 35 years; City Born, lead to Noble, Bastard, lead to Soldier, Scout, lead to Peasant, Peddler, lead to Outcast, Strider)
Will B5, Perception B4, Agility B4, Speed B4, Forte B4, Power B4
Reflexes B4, Steel B5 (hesitation 5), Health B5, PTGS (Superficial B3, Light B5, Midi B7, Severe B8, Traumatic B9, Mortal Wound B10)
Resources B0, Circles B2, Noble father (the grandson of Ansley) who denies and despises Tripp, Infamous reputation (+1D) among the nobility as the bastard great-grandchild of Ansley the Lion, Affiliation (+1D) with the brave and sturdy woodsfolk of the Welkwood
Skills: Stealthy B3, Foraging B3, Orienteering B2, Observation B4, Mending B2, Sing B2, Etiquette B3, Haggling B4, Persuasion B5, Soothing Platitudes B4, Family Secret-wise B2, Forest-wise B2, Bow B3, Axe B4
Traits: Bastard, Blank Stare, Glib, Happy-Go-Lucky, Loner, Dreamer
Wears the clothes, boots and cloak of a traveller in the woods, and soft leather armour; carries travelling gear, a knife in a belt sheath, a kit for mending, a run-of-the-mill axe and a superior quality hunting bow (+1D).
Tripp has been visited while dreaming by the ghost of Ansley; and Ansley has described how, as the Elven Protectors routed his warband, he hid a pouch of Elven jewels in the foundations of the bridge.
Beliefs: It is a great life, wandering through this wonderful wood; I am not my ancestry; Ansley has visited me for a reason, so I will find the jewels that he cached.
Instinct: Whistle as I walk; Always offer a cheerful greeting; Never start a fight.
Additional setting details: Over the past 70 years, the river's course has shifted and the place where Ansley hid the jewels is now a couple of feet under the water, below Dagoliir's dwelling-hall. The jewels are a +3D fund.
As well as the stones in the river, there are also Dagoliir's old shoes. He lost them wading through the river during the battle 70 years ago. Being Elven shoes, while they are wet and damaged they can be mended.
Torchbearer 2e has a lot of similarities to Burning Wheel, but it is not identical. It integrates some of the features of BW that generate intense, player-driven play with some techniques, around prep and procedural content generation, that are derived from classic D&D. As a result it is less emotionally intense and intimate in play, although still rather demanding on players because of the "misery simulator" aspect that
@Manbearcat referred to upthread.
As I said, this thread has changed the way I think about the scope of sandboxing, and I would now be happy to describe my TB2e game as a sandbox. Some of the procedural and map-based aspects of TB2e give
geography and
journeying and
place the sort of heft in play that fits into some ways I have seen "sandbox" used in this thread.
I have a fairly extensive TB2e actual play thread here:
Torchbearer 2e - actual play of this AWESOME system! (+)
Regarding extraordinary events, I’ve already explained how they arise in my campaigns and linked to a relevant blog post. If any part of that was unclear, I’m happy to answer specific questions. As for how other systems handle extraordinary outcomes, my focus in this thread has been to explain the techniques I use to run sandbox campaigns, not to contrast or critique other playstyles.
Your last paragraph highlights a fundamental misunderstanding of how my campaigns actually function. In my campaigns, players do not formally “declare actions” in the sense you describe, except in structured situations like combat. Instead, they roleplay their characters verbally and visually, often using miniatures. When I referred to first-person roleplaying earlier, this is what I meant: play unfolds through natural back-and-forth interaction between myself and the players. They speak as their characters. I roleplay the NPCs. The flow adapts to the needs of the moment. It’s closer in spirit to LARPing than to any kind of narrative first mechanic. Even in combat, I still stress “describe first, roll second.”
Extraordinary events emerge from play, typically when I make hidden rolls for NPC reactions, or when players make skill checks, usually during roleplay. An extraordinary result leads to an extraordinary outcome.
A good example of this was during one of the times I playtested my Deceits of the Russet Lord adventures. The Russet Lord was a powerful winter sidhe lord with designs on a local pilgrimage site called Woodford. Keep in mind there were hours of roleplaying prior to the situation I am about to recount. That by the time the party entered the Russet Lord's lair they were well aware of its nature, although not of its details.
The situation occurred toward the end when the party found the Russet Lord's lair and made their way to his throne room. There was a bit of first-person roleplaying at first, with me as the Russet Lord and the players as their characters. The group was a bit cocky and disrespectful, particularly the burglar in the group. I, as the Russet Lord, lightning-bolted the burglar and demanded the party's surrender.
They steeled themselves to make a last stand and were ready to begin combat and roll initiative. One of the players, who was roleplaying a knight, stepped forward and challenged the Russet Lord. Now it wasn't a "I challenge you", no, the player made a short but awesome speech that was very much on point in regard to the Russet Lord's sensibilities. The player didn't have any special insight or information about the Russet Lord but made a very good educated guess based on what I did and said while acting as the Russet Lord. He tailored how he roleplayed his speech accordingly.
A Locution check was called for, and the player rolled. Based on the player's speech and the Russet Lord's personality, if the player rolled a normal success, the Sidhe Lord would let him go and kill the rest of the party. The party had wrecked part of his lair, they weren't going to escape his punishment. But the knight made an impression on the Russet Lord, and that gave him an evil idea, so he was willing to let the knight go for a time.
But the player rolled a natural 20 on his Locution, so the above never happened. Instead, as the Russet Lord, I said yes and accepted the knight's challenge. I, as the Russet Lord, and the player, as the knight, squared off and fought—and the knight won.
That’s what I mean by “extraordinary events” in sandbox campaigns. They don’t happen because the referee or the player wants them to. They happen because an emergent situation develops, and an unusual roll interacts with roleplayed intent in a way that’s consistent with the setting. That’s what makes it organic.
In the RPGs that I've talked about in this post - BW and TB2e - "extraordinary events" don't occur
simply because the referee or the player wants them to. They occur because the dice together with the fictional logic of the situation dictate that they should occur.
There are two basic possibilities. The first is that the player declares an action, attempting to achieve some extraordinary event which - insofar as it is extraordinary - involves succeeding against a high difficulty. The player wanting it to occur is a
necessary condition of an extraordinary event occurring as a result of a successful action declaration, because on a successful action declaration the player gets what they want, and all the GM can do is embellish. Here's an example from actual play of BW:
My PC is Thurgon, a warrior cleric type (heavy armour, Faithful to the Lord of Battle, Last Knight of the Iron Tower, etc). His companion is Aramina, a sorcerer. His ancestral estate, which he has not visited for 5 years, is Auxol.
At the start of the session, Thurgon had the following four Beliefs - The Lord of Battle will lead me to glory; I am a Knight of the Iron Tower, and by devotion and example I will lead the righteous to glorious victory; Harm and infamy will befall Auxol no more!; Aramina will need my protection - and three Instincts - When entering battle, always speak a prayer to the Lord of Battle; If an innocent is threatened, interpose myself; When camping, always ensure that the campfire is burning.
Aramina's had three Beliefs - I'm not going to finish my career with no spellbooks and an empty purse! - next, some coins!; I don't need Thurgon's pity; If in doubt, burn it! and three instincts - Never catch the glance or gaze of a stranger; Always wear my cloak; Always Assess before casting a spell.
<snip>
The characters continued on, and soon arrived at Auxol,. The GM narrated the estate still being worked, but looking somewhat run-down compared to Thrugon's memories of it. An old, bowed woman greeted us - Xanthippe, looking much more than her 61 years. She welcomed Thurgon back, but chided him for having been away. And asked him not to leave again. The GM was getting ready to force a Duel of Wits on the point - ie that Thurgon should not leave again - when I tried a different approach. I'd already made a point of Thurgon having his arms on clear display as he rode through the countryside and the estate; now he raised his mace and shield to the heavens, and called on the Lord of Battle to bring strength back to his mother so that Auxol might be restored to its former greatness. This was a prayer for a Minor Miracle, obstacle 5. Thurgon has Faith 5 and I burned his last point of Persona to take it to 6 dice (the significance of this being that, without 1 Persona, you can't stop the effect of a mortal wound should one be suffered). With 6s being open-ended (ie auto-rolls), the expected success rate is 3/5, so that's 3.6 successes there. And I had a Fate point to reroll one failure, for an overall expected 4-ish successes. Against an obstacle of 5.
As it turned out, I finished up with 7 successes. So a beam of light shot down from the sky, and Xanthippe straightened up and greeted Thurgon again, but this time with vigour and readiness to restore Auxol. The GM accepted my proposition that this played out Thurgon's Belief that Harm and infamy will befall Auxol no more! (earning a Persona point). His new Belief is Xanthippe and I will liberate Auxol. He picked up a second Persona point for Embodiment ("Your roleplay (a performance or a decision) captures the mood of the table and drives the story onward").
Turning back to Aramina, I decided that this made an impact on her too: up until now she had been cynical and slightly bitter, but now she was genuinely inspired and determined: instead of never meeting the gaze of a stranger, her Instinct is to look strangers in the eyes and Assess. And rather than I don't need Thurgon's pity, her Belief is Thurgon and I will liberate Auxol. This earned a Persona point for Mouldbreaker ("If a situation brings your Beliefs, Instincts and Traits into conflict with a decision your PC must make, you play out your inner turmoil as you dramatically play against a Belief in a believable and engaging manner").
The second possibility is that a player declares an action, and the action fails, and hence the GM narrates some extraordinary event as the upshot of the PC's unsuccessful action. Here are two examples from actual play of TB2e; if you read them, you'll see how they illustrate the less "intimate" and more externally-oriented focus of TB2e compared to BW:
Fea-bella's player had revised her Instinct, from a camp/town/journey mapping instinct back to her "read everything I see" instinct. So when I mentioned the writing on the wall behind the 12' long sarcophagus with an icy lid, she started reading it. Of course these were cursed runes but the player succeeded on the Will test, and so realised that if Fea-bella kept reading she would free Duran, the trapped demon of the Outer Cark.
The PCs then worked out the demon was trapped in the icy sarcophagus in front of them, and was a larger-than-life-sized version of the strange idol at the entrance to the dungeon. As per his instinct, Golin identified the weak spot in the sarcophagus - its icy lid! And Telemere spotted the treasure chest at the feet of the demon. So the players came up with the plan of roping the demon down at the upper end, while breaking the bottom to extract the treasure. I checked the Hunter obstacles and learned that trapping a monster with snares or nets is Ob 6. Needless to say that check was not a success, and so when the Dwarf shattered the lid, out came the demon . . .
The players' (and their PCs') first response was to try and trick the demon into thinking they'd deliberately released it and so were owed a reward (ie the treasure in the chest). They won, but with a compromise - which, after a bit of back-and-forth that included me as GM taking some remarks made by them at face value, ended up being that they would sacrifice Megloss on the altar to the Outer Dark. The demon duly went off to procure Megloss from his house (which, as already mentioned, sits directly atop the dungeon).
Duran brought Megloss back pretty quickly, but not so quickly the players couldn't divvy up the loot from the demon's treasure chest, which first required Korvin to pick its lock; though in the course of this the Dreamwalker failed what was her first attempt to cast a spell (no successes from 4 Arcanist dice for an Ob 1 Mystic Porter), and d opted for a twist - a Wizard of Earthsea-style shadow coming out of her heart and scurrying off into the darkness (it seemed very fitting given she had just been party to an agreement to sacrifice a fellow Elf to the Outer Dark).
Megloss then addressed Fea-bella and Golin, insisting that they try and drive the possessing spirit out of Krystal, Megloss's housekeeper. The PCs wanted to leave the house back into the village (ie the players wanted to enter Town Phase) and so we resolved this as a Convince conflict. The players won, after a very long number of rounds (about 9), but there were compromises required: Megloss had to keep his promise of food, and the players promised to come back and help Krystal after they had recovered in town.
<snip>
The PCs then returned to Megloss's house, to keep their promise. Fea-bella made her Lifestyle roll, but Golin didn't. Which his player had anticipated: when helping one of Fea-bella's Resources checks he'd spent a Fate point to get the success check on his own Resources, and the failure was what he needed to increase his Resources to 3. So Fea-bella was Fresh, while Golin remained Angry and Exhausted (but at least his coin soaked his Resources tax).
I rolled the weather for the first month of autumn - rain. Not auspicious - as I said, the PCs would not be able to equip the sun streaming through the windows onto the possessed Krystal.
Megloss told them that he had been using his Healing to keep the still-possessed, still-restrained Krystal alive. There was discussion of what sort of spiritual conflict to attempt - the players opted for Bind, so that the spirit could take the looted spellbook (from the aptr-gangr alcove) into Fea-bella's dreams (as Golin's player had suggested last session). Fea-bella took the spellbook out of her backpack, and Megloss asked what it was. She answered that it was the tome into which the shadow spirit would be bound.
The PCs rolled 6 hp, with Golin as conflict captain (relying on his research into Gebbeth's) - 3 for Fea-bella, 2 for Golin and 1 for Megloss as a helper but not an actor. The spirit rolled 7 hp (based on its Possessing nature). At first it seemed the PCs might do well, as they dropped the spirit to 6 hp in the first round. But then in the next two rounds the spirit regained its lost hp and reduced the PCs to zero.
I had a look at the compromise descriptions for Bind conflicts, and settled on the following (with no quibbling from the players): the spirit left Krystal's body - which was left a lifeless, soulless husk - and entered Megloss. It took the spellbook with it, into Megloss's dreams rather than Fea-bella's. And the unnatural spiritual activity caused the rain to get heavier - a bolt of lightning struck the house, destroying its front half and leaving the PCs outside in the wet, while Megloss remained dry in what was left of his home.
The general view on the player side was that this was a bit of a disaster - Fea-bella and Megloss had been reaching some sort of rapprochement, and Golin was close to making friends. And all that seemed to be undone, plus the spellbook was lost.
I hope the above description, together with the examples, makes it clear why, in my view, a GM's decision
in advance that some extraordinary outcome is impossible, and that only the most plausible thing will occur, is an obstacle to extraordinary events occurring.
