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Message: <blockquote data-quote="EzekielRaiden" data-source="post: 9257434" data-attributes="member: 6790260">Because some people enjoy that. Why do the vast majority of gamers not use it? Because it isn't interesting to them. Look at the Steam achievement stats. They show that many, many people have played. They show that very, very few have completed Honor mode. Why? Because most people aren't into that level of grind or difficulty. They have lives and families and friends who want to play other games (because dear Lord, multiplayer BG3 takes forever.) Maybe they can play at most a couple hours a day, a few days a week. Call it 4-6. Even if you aren't trying to explore every nook and cranny, BG3 is a 40+ hour game. That's multiple months of gaming for someone like this.Uh...actually the VAST majority of people do play on normal or easy difficulty. According to Steam, only 3.1% of all players have beaten the game on Tactician mode. Even when normalized for the number of players who have beaten the game in general (19.1%) on Steam, that's still (0.031/0.191 = 0.16, so less than a sixth of all people. According to Larian a few months ago, only 34,000 people had even attempted Honor Mode, out of the millions of people who have played—and only ~500 had beaten it, less than 0.1% of players.And I say none of this, absolutely none of it, with any intent that these things should be removed or left unmade. High difficulty modes are (often) a lot of work, but they are often a recognition of the most dedicated and invested players. These players should be supported, even if it is costly, because that dedicated core is a key part of the community. Even though only a tiny percentage will even attempt it, let alone complete it, the gesture is worth the cost.But don't tell me that this is what most people want. Because it objectively Isn't.Then don't do that. I am not interested in discussing "you took away all consequences" because that is a trivial straw man. I would much rather discuss, y'know, the massive space of possibilities that aren't "take away all the consequences and leave the players just observers," and are instead examining...literally anything else about the topic.None of this applies to my game. At all. My players are deeply invested in the story, because they know I do respect their choices. They take combat quite seriously—indeed, they often worry far more than they ever need to! And we've been playing for almost six years (April 2018). One of my players who had to leave for IRL personal reasons even explicitly told me that, of all the several tabletop games he was in, mine was the only one that was actually hard to depart, which was a very touching compliment.And yet I told them at the outset that I would work to ensure that (again...) random, permanent, irrevocable deaths wouldn't end their characters' stories. Death might still occur, but they will be able to do something about it, or it will contribute to that character's story rather than unceremoniously deleting it. That has, in fact, made them bolder, given them the confidence to take occasional risks and do what their characters would want to do rather than what they as players know would be safe, because they don't feel that they need to protect their ability to participate. They don't act like insane idiots because they know that there are consequences for their actions—and suicidal stupidity isn't random, is it? It's quite clearly intentional.Then let me ask you point blank, since apparently my previous effort failed:If you were dead certain, absolutely no doubt whatsoever, that a particular result would upset one or more of your players during the game, would you still do it?Would you knowingly upset your players in order to maintain your image as an impartial judge? Or would you be willing to show partiality, in whatever way would result in not upsetting your players collectively? Note, I never mentioned "save them from their actions." That's your phrase, which you keep injecting into this. I am simply speaking of partiality as an adjudicator. If there were something that was not "saving them from their actions," but which was showing partiality in order to avoid upsetting folks, would you do it?Then don't! Don't "protect" them! You can offer solutions or build new directions that don't do that.Why must it ALWAYS AND ETERNALLY be "protecting" players? There are zillions of other ways! You keep harping on the trivially bad DM behavior when there is a whole universe of nontrivial and constructive options!I have never, not once, said otherwise.This isn't a random death. It would be the players being suicidally stupid after multiple warnings that what they are doing is extremely foolhardy. My players would have run for the hills the moment they heard the first "Are you sure you want to do that?" They are actively risk-averse to an almost humorous degree. Such a situation as what you describe would not ever occur, because they wouldn't ever even consider such a stupidly suicidal act—and because they know that, if they did, there would be consequences.So who are you arguing against? Because it looks to me like you have simply set up yet another CR 0 Straw Golem in the practice yard.And I keep telling you...here, let's use font support.<h2>I DON'T FREAKING DO ANY OF THAT. BECAUSE THERE ARE INFINITELY MANY WAYS TO AVOID THAT. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THEM INSTEAD?</h2>There. Have I made myself sufficiently clear?By definition, if a character is dead and never coming back, their story is done. Permanently. Other people's story may continue, and they may care or not care. But that character is done, forever. They experience no further consequences. They suffer no further setbacks, face no further agonizing decisions, feel no further emotions, face no further dangers. They no longer exist. They have ceased to be. They have expired and gone to meet their makers. They're all stiffs; bereft of life, they rest in peace. They are ex-characters. (To appropriate from Monty Python.)Two examples. One from my current game. The other from a game where I was a player.Our party Druid had been learning a lot about the foundations of magic and how his tradition is, effectively, just one perspective, and perhaps limited in some ways. When the party had geared up for a dangerous fight (attempting to slay an engorged, powerful mind-virus spirit of savagery and entropy called the Song of Thorns), as the coup de grace, he used the Shaman magic he had learned...to invoke the One, the (claimed) omnipotent monotheistic deity of the Safiqi priesthood (the dominant religion of their region, loosely based on IRL Islam.) The player had expected this to be a death for the character, as he was wrapping up the Druid's participation—this is the aforementioned player who had to bow out for IRL reasons I won't share here. Instead, I invoked a Biblical concept: the Druid "walked with the One and was no more, for the One took him away" (the unique and mysterious fate of Enoch, the only Biblical patriarch who is not said to have died in the text.) This was explicit to the player that the character was removed, and was going to have some Responsibilities as a result of his choice, but that there was a path to his return, should he be able to do so. The player was pleased that this fit the theme and concept he was aiming for in an unexpected way, and later on did in fact return for a brief while before going away again (the character is now a student at seminary as part of the consequences of his choices.) I didn't protect the Druid from anything, he paid a price for his prayer, and has fundamentally changed who and what he is as a result of his choices. But I did provide a pathway for that character's story to continue (or, it now seems, conclude elsewhere), if the player was interested.As for the second example, I will try to be more brief. This was a 4e game in a homebrew science-fantasy space opera setting. My character, a Paladin in mechanics and behavior (story for that is complicated), died from a nasty crit at a bad time, instant death, no death saves. I temporarily played an NPC that had tagged along with the party during this time. The long-lost precursor race that had created my character's species (as soldiers and engineers/workers mainly) could revive the dead, but it was not something they would do at the drop of a hat. The party had to convince the Archivist (sapient AI caretaker) of the Astilabor containment facility to revive him, and it was all, "Why exactly should I do that? I could just create another, it would be much more efficient." Two party members gave their reasons, and then the irreverent, smart-aleck dronesmith piped up with one of the most touching appeals I've ever heard, even though up to this point she had been mostly sarcastic or a chaos gremlin toward my char: "He was the only one who spoke to a dying presence and learned what it had to say. [pause] ....and he was my friend." Such a simple phrase, and yet loaded with emotion.That is the kind of consequences, and story, you can get from actually building a pathway to revival, rather than just brute-forcing a get-out-of-jail-free card. A character who is normally so chipper and irreverent baring her secret deep and abiding respect for someone else in the party? Sweet wounded Jesus, that's what I live for in TTRPGs. No amount of daring thrills or clutch saves can match that kind of poignant, emotional revelation. And even better, my character has no idea, because he was dead at the time! So much roleplay potential, so much future story, all because a death, that had been both random and permanent, wasn't irrevocable—but revoking it was made into a story of its own, with its own consequences and problems. (And believe me, there were consequences because the group chose to look for a way to revive my character rather than immediately address the problems this planet was facing at the time.)</blockquote>

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