D&D General [rant]The conservatism of D&D fans is exhausting.

[EzekielRaiden]

Edit: As an addendum, if you rely on stated GM principles to keep the GM in check from abusing the rules - what is the problem with accepting the age old trad GM principle that the job of the GM is to ensure the game is enjoyable for everyone!

Three problems.

1. It doesn't actually tell us anything. It is only the tiniest bit more specific than "do what is good, avoid what is bad". That standard is utterly uninformative, because "good" means "a thing worth doing" and "bad" means "a thing that is bad". Further, "enjoyable for everyone" is, as I know you well know, nowhere near that simple, because a lot of the time something needs to happen that might be undesirable or even unpleasant for a brief time, in order for a longer-term fulfilling experience to occur--so it's not only useless in the generic, it's already missing critical details that can directly lead to problems (the "tyranny of fun" problem).
2. It isn't stated anywhere. Being stated is in fact extremely important. Things left unsaid, genuinely never said anywhere, aren't actually guidance, nor can they meaningfully function as limits. Note that this is different from DW's "never speak the name of your move" Principle, which is simply saying "yeah, putting a verbal signpost on every action you as GM take would be harmful to the experience, so please don't do that." What you're describing is an alleged principle that isn't actually said anywhere. It's simply presumed every GM knows to do it.
3. Even if we skip over the previous two concerns, this isn't actionable. It is abstracted so far from any actual actions you could take, it can't actually inform actions. It can only serve as a very, very weak reminder; functionally identical to "think about what you do before you do it". Not particularly useful there.

Compare this to the three Agendas (the core, overriding goals all DW GMs need to fulfill) and the more numerous, but narrower, Principles (the specific directives which guide action). Note that Agendas are goals, so they are not meant to be specific action-able things, and are instead something to keep in mind as you choose actions, and to review what you've done to make sure you're sticking to them. I'll be including the full text (which I can do as it's a CC-BY thing), including the descriptive text, so I'll be putting things in spoilerblocks.

Spoiler: Agendas

Agenda​

Your agenda makes up the things you aim to do at all times while GMing a game of Dungeon World:

• Portray a fantastic world
• Fill the characters’ lives with adventure
• Play to find out what happens

Everything you say and do at the table (and away from the table, too) exists to accomplish these three goals and no others. Things that aren’t on this list aren’t your goals. You’re not trying to beat the players or test their ability to solve complex traps. You’re not here to give the players a chance to explore your finely crafted setting. You’re not trying to kill the players (though monsters might be). You’re most certainly not here to tell everyone a planned-out story.

Your first agenda is to portray a fantastic world. Dungeon World is all about guts, guile, and bravery against darkness and doom. It’s about characters who have decided to take up a life of adventure in the hopes of some glorious reward. It’s your job to participate in that by showing the players a world in which their characters can find that adventure. Without the player characters the world would fall into chaos or destruction—it might still even with them. It’s up to you to portray the fantastic elements of that world. Show the players the wonders of the world they’re in and encourage them to react to it.

Filling the characters’ lives with adventure means working with the players to create a world that’s engaging and dynamic. Adventurers are always caught up in some world-threatening danger or another—encourage and foster that kind of action in the game.

Dungeon World adventures never presume player actions. A Dungeon World adventure portrays a setting in motion—someplace significant with creatures big and small pursuing their own goals. As the players come into conflict with that setting and its denizens, action is inevitable. You’ll honestly portray the repercussions of that action.

This is how you play to find out what happens. You’re sharing in the fun of finding out how the characters react to and change the world you’re portraying. You’re all participants in a great adventure that’s unfolding. So really, don’t plan too hard. The rules of the game will fight you. It’s fun to see how things unfold, trust us.

Note how much more specific these things are than "ensure the game is enjoyable for everyone". The first puts front and center the world, and fantasy. You should be concerned about what's in the world, what makes sense in it, and--vitally--what makes it fantastical. When framing scenes or doing your session prep, keep the fantastical in mind. The second emphasizes that this is a game about adventure; when the characters are doing things, they should be adventuring. They aren't here to do bookkeeping. They're here to rescue dapper swains, fight evil princesses, and romance beautiful dragons. (Or was that rescue dapper dragons, fight evil swains, and romance beautiful princesses? Hah!) And, finally, play to find out what happens--emphasis mine, but it's clear that's where the emphasis should be. That is, while prep is good, don't turn prep into control. You should be here to discover what will happen too; you may know a few more of the ingredients, but you don't know how they'll mix nor what the final product will be.
(Also, note that Apocalypse World has functionally identical Agendas, they're just focused more on the weird and post-apocalyptic.)

This is all much more specific in terms of goals, and in being more specific, they are far more useful for guiding action. These goals cannot be summarized as "do what is good and avoid what is bad" like "ensure the game is enjoyable for everyone", and all of them inherently avoid the "tyranny of fun" problem.

Now for the Principles. Warning, this is long because there are a lot more Principles than there are Agendas--for a good reason, too many high-level goals gets confusing. Principles are what direct you toward specific things and away from other specific things.

Spoiler: Principles

Principles​

• Draw maps, leave blanks
• Address the characters, not the players
• Embrace the fantastic
• Make a move that follows
• Never speak the name of your move
• Give every monster life
• Name every person
• Ask questions and use the answers
• Be a fan of the characters
• Think dangerous
• Begin and end with the fiction
• Think offscreen, too

Your principles are your guides. Often, when it’s time to make a move, you’ll already have an idea of what makes sense. Consider it in light of your principles and go with it, if it fits.

Draw maps, leave blanks​

Dungeon World exists mostly in the imaginations of the people playing it; maps help everyone stay on the same page. You won’t always be drawing them yourself, but any time there’s a new location described make sure it gets added to a map.
When you draw a map don’t try to make it complete. Leave room for the unknown. As you play you’ll get more ideas and the players will give you inspiration to work with. Let the maps expand and change.

Address the characters, not the players​

Addressing the characters, not the players, means that you don’t say, “Tony, is Dunwick doing something about that wight?” Instead you say, “Dunwick, what are you doing about the wight?” Speaking this way keeps the game focused on the fiction and not on the table. It’s important to the flow of the game, too. If you talk to the players you may leave out details that are important to what moves the characters make. Since moves are always based on the actions of the character you need to think about what’s happening in terms of those characters—not the players portraying them.

Embrace the fantastic​

Magic, strange vistas, gods, demons, and abominations: the world is full of mystery and magic. Embrace that in your prep and in play. Think about “the fantastic” on various scales. Think about floating cities or islands crafted from the corpse of a god. Think about village wise-men and their spirit familiars or the statue that the local bandits touch to give them luck. The characters are interesting people, empowered by their gods, their skill at arms, or by mystical training. The world should be just as engaging.

Make a move that follows​

When you make a move what you’re actually doing is taking an element of the fiction and bringing it to bear against the characters. Your move should always follow from the fiction. They help you focus on one aspect of the current situation and do something interesting with it. What’s going on? What move makes sense here?

Never speak the name of your move​

There is no quicker way to ruin the consistency of Dungeon World than to tell the players what move you’re making. Your moves are prompts to you, not things you say directly.
You never show the players that you’re picking a move from a list. You know the reason the slavers dragged off Omar was because you made the “put someone in a spot” move, but you show it to the players as a straightforward outcome of their actions, since it is.

Give every monster life​

Monsters are fantastic creatures with their own motivations (simple or complex). Give each monster details that bring it to life: smells, sights, sounds. Give each one enough to make it real, but don’t cry when it gets beat up or overthrown. That’s what player characters do!

Name every person​

Anyone that the players speak with has a name. They probably have a personality and some goals or opinions too, but you can figure that out as you go. Start with a name. The rest can flow from there.

Ask questions and use the answers​

Part of playing to find out what happens is explicitly not knowing everything, and being curious. If you don’t know something, or you don’t have an idea, ask the players and use what they say.
The easiest question to use is “What do you do?” Whenever you make a move, end with “What do you do?” You don’t even have to ask the person you made the move against. Take that chance to shift the focus elsewhere: “Rath’s spell is torn apart with a flick of the mage’s wand. Finnegan, that spell was aiding you. What are you doing now that it’s gone?”

Be a fan of the characters​

Think of the players’ characters as protagonists in a story you might see on TV. Cheer for their victories and lament their defeats. You’re not here to push them in any particular direction, merely to participate in fiction that features them and their action.

Think dangerous​

Everything in the world is a target. You’re thinking like an evil overlord: no single life is worth anything and there is nothing sacrosanct. Everything can be put in danger, everything can be destroyed. Nothing you create is ever protected. Whenever your eye falls on something you’ve created, think how it can be put in danger, fall apart or crumble. The world changes. Without the characters’ intervention, it changes for the worse.

Begin and end with the fiction​

Everything you and the players do in Dungeon World comes from and leads to fictional events. When the players make a move, they take a fictional action to trigger it, apply the rules, and get a fictional effect. When you make a move it always comes from the fiction.

Think offscreen too​

Just because you’re a fan of the characters doesn’t mean everything happens right in front of them. Sometimes your best move is in the next room, or another part of the dungeon, or even back in town. Make your move elsewhere and show its effects when they come into the spotlight.

Each of these is specific. It talks about a specific action you need to take, or need to avoid. "Begin and end with the fiction" is a specific action you need to take: always begin discussion in what the characters are actually doing and what is known about the world, execute the mechanics of moves when and only when the fiction requires it, and then immediately return to talking about the actions of the characters and what is known in the world as soon as the mechanic is complete. This is a concrete action you can take. Likewise, "never speak the name of your move" is an injunction against an action, because that action would be detrimental to the experience and process of play.

 

[clearstream]

You aren't helping your case with such quibbles. This indicates that even if the players act, it may still be a total absence of change to the status quo.

Point 1: You have already specified, previously in the thread, that the only acceptable intents must be narrowly-tailored to the action the character takes and its direct consequences. Hence, a failure to pick a lock means they cannot possibly succeed at that task; we have met the requirement.
Point 2: You have specifically said nothing changes. Contra what others have said, you specified that no one in the house is alerted, the house remains placid and quiet, and (as far as I can tell) you are not doing anything in the "changing tone of voice etc. to make things feel more tense". As a result, we have a Thief (possibly with allies) currently outside of a house they wish to break into and enter. That was the situation we had before the attempted lock-picking occurred. Hence, the status quo remains precisely and exactly what it was before, nothing has changed.

This is mistaken. The game information state has changed significantly.

Per your standard, this situation has been a waste of time.

If it seems like a waste of time to you, then you ought to avoid it.

I care! That's literally what I have been saying this whole time! We have established that it was a waste of time. What is the benefit of doing that?

But we have quite clearly a situation here where nothing was learned. You have yourself defined that as such. It was quite a bit further back so I'm a bit too tired to go combing through to find it. But you have made quite clear that nothing happens. Developing new skills is certainly not nothing!

What do you make of Tim Hutching's RPG, Apollo 47 Technical Handbook?

Apollo 47 is about constructing the appearance of meaning through empty signifiers and improvised technical jargon. Players banter and improvise situations, creating a seamless flow of give and take peppered with the punch of authentic sounding technobabble. It’s also about pretending to be an astronaut while nothing much exciting is happening.​

"I'm afraid that isn't going to work" is intended to often be said during play.

 

[Enrahim]

Three problems.

1. It doesn't actually tell us anything. It is only the tiniest bit more specific than "do what is good, avoid what is bad". That standard is utterly uninformative, because "good" means "a thing worth doing" and "bad" means "a thing that is bad". Further, "enjoyable for everyone" is, as I know you well know, nowhere near that simple, because a lot of the time something needs to happen that might be undesirable or even unpleasant for a brief time, in order for a longer-term fulfilling experience to occur--so it's not only useless in the generic, it's already missing critical details that can directly lead to problems (the "tyranny of fun" problem).
2. It isn't stated anywhere. Being stated is in fact extremely important. Things left unsaid, genuinely never said anywhere, aren't actually guidance, nor can they meaningfully function as limits. Note that this is different from DW's "never speak the name of your move" Principle, which is simply saying "yeah, putting a verbal signpost on every action you as GM take would be harmful to the experience, so please don't do that." What you're describing is an alleged principle that isn't actually said anywhere. It's simply presumed every GM knows to do it.
3. Even if we skip over the previous two concerns, this isn't actionable. It is abstracted so far from any actual actions you could take, it can't actually inform actions. It can only serve as a very, very weak reminder; functionally identical to "think about what you do before you do it". Not particularly useful there.

Compare this to the three Agendas (the core, overriding goals all DW GMs need to fulfill) and the more numerous, but narrower, Principles (the specific directives which guide action). Note that Agendas are goals, so they are not meant to be specific action-able things, and are instead something to keep in mind as you choose actions, and to review what you've done to make sure you're sticking to them. I'll be including the full text (which I can do as it's a CC-BY thing), including the descriptive text, so I'll be putting things in spoilerblocks.

Spoiler: Agendas

Agenda​

Your agenda makes up the things you aim to do at all times while GMing a game of Dungeon World:

• Portray a fantastic world
• Fill the characters’ lives with adventure
• Play to find out what happens

Everything you say and do at the table (and away from the table, too) exists to accomplish these three goals and no others. Things that aren’t on this list aren’t your goals. You’re not trying to beat the players or test their ability to solve complex traps. You’re not here to give the players a chance to explore your finely crafted setting. You’re not trying to kill the players (though monsters might be). You’re most certainly not here to tell everyone a planned-out story.

Your first agenda is to portray a fantastic world. Dungeon World is all about guts, guile, and bravery against darkness and doom. It’s about characters who have decided to take up a life of adventure in the hopes of some glorious reward. It’s your job to participate in that by showing the players a world in which their characters can find that adventure. Without the player characters the world would fall into chaos or destruction—it might still even with them. It’s up to you to portray the fantastic elements of that world. Show the players the wonders of the world they’re in and encourage them to react to it.

Filling the characters’ lives with adventure means working with the players to create a world that’s engaging and dynamic. Adventurers are always caught up in some world-threatening danger or another—encourage and foster that kind of action in the game.

Dungeon World adventures never presume player actions. A Dungeon World adventure portrays a setting in motion—someplace significant with creatures big and small pursuing their own goals. As the players come into conflict with that setting and its denizens, action is inevitable. You’ll honestly portray the repercussions of that action.

This is how you play to find out what happens. You’re sharing in the fun of finding out how the characters react to and change the world you’re portraying. You’re all participants in a great adventure that’s unfolding. So really, don’t plan too hard. The rules of the game will fight you. It’s fun to see how things unfold, trust us.

Note how much more specific these things are than "ensure the game is enjoyable for everyone". The first puts front and center the world, and fantasy. You should be concerned about what's in the world, what makes sense in it, and--vitally--what makes it fantastical. When framing scenes or doing your session prep, keep the fantastical in mind. The second emphasizes that this is a game about adventure; when the characters are doing things, they should be adventuring. They aren't here to do bookkeeping. They're here to rescue dapper swains, fight evil princesses, and romance beautiful dragons. (Or was that rescue dapper dragons, fight evil swains, and romance beautiful princesses? Hah!) And, finally, play to find out what happens--emphasis mine, but it's clear that's where the emphasis should be. That is, while prep is good, don't turn prep into control. You should be here to discover what will happen too; you may know a few more of the ingredients, but you don't know how they'll mix nor what the final product will be.
(Also, note that Apocalypse World has functionally identical Agendas, they're just focused more on the weird and post-apocalyptic.)

This is all much more specific in terms of goals, and in being more specific, they are far more useful for guiding action. These goals cannot be summarized as "do what is good and avoid what is bad" like "ensure the game is enjoyable for everyone", and all of them inherently avoid the "tyranny of fun" problem.

Now for the Principles. Warning, this is long because there are a lot more Principles than there are Agendas--for a good reason, too many high-level goals gets confusing. Principles are what direct you toward specific things and away from other specific things.

Spoiler: Principles

Principles​

• Draw maps, leave blanks
• Address the characters, not the players
• Embrace the fantastic
• Make a move that follows
• Never speak the name of your move
• Give every monster life
• Name every person
• Ask questions and use the answers
• Be a fan of the characters
• Think dangerous
• Begin and end with the fiction
• Think offscreen, too

Your principles are your guides. Often, when it’s time to make a move, you’ll already have an idea of what makes sense. Consider it in light of your principles and go with it, if it fits.

Draw maps, leave blanks​

Dungeon World exists mostly in the imaginations of the people playing it; maps help everyone stay on the same page. You won’t always be drawing them yourself, but any time there’s a new location described make sure it gets added to a map.
When you draw a map don’t try to make it complete. Leave room for the unknown. As you play you’ll get more ideas and the players will give you inspiration to work with. Let the maps expand and change.

Address the characters, not the players​

Addressing the characters, not the players, means that you don’t say, “Tony, is Dunwick doing something about that wight?” Instead you say, “Dunwick, what are you doing about the wight?” Speaking this way keeps the game focused on the fiction and not on the table. It’s important to the flow of the game, too. If you talk to the players you may leave out details that are important to what moves the characters make. Since moves are always based on the actions of the character you need to think about what’s happening in terms of those characters—not the players portraying them.

Embrace the fantastic​

Magic, strange vistas, gods, demons, and abominations: the world is full of mystery and magic. Embrace that in your prep and in play. Think about “the fantastic” on various scales. Think about floating cities or islands crafted from the corpse of a god. Think about village wise-men and their spirit familiars or the statue that the local bandits touch to give them luck. The characters are interesting people, empowered by their gods, their skill at arms, or by mystical training. The world should be just as engaging.

Make a move that follows​

When you make a move what you’re actually doing is taking an element of the fiction and bringing it to bear against the characters. Your move should always follow from the fiction. They help you focus on one aspect of the current situation and do something interesting with it. What’s going on? What move makes sense here?

Never speak the name of your move​

There is no quicker way to ruin the consistency of Dungeon World than to tell the players what move you’re making. Your moves are prompts to you, not things you say directly.
You never show the players that you’re picking a move from a list. You know the reason the slavers dragged off Omar was because you made the “put someone in a spot” move, but you show it to the players as a straightforward outcome of their actions, since it is.

Give every monster life​

Monsters are fantastic creatures with their own motivations (simple or complex). Give each monster details that bring it to life: smells, sights, sounds. Give each one enough to make it real, but don’t cry when it gets beat up or overthrown. That’s what player characters do!

Name every person​

Anyone that the players speak with has a name. They probably have a personality and some goals or opinions too, but you can figure that out as you go. Start with a name. The rest can flow from there.

Ask questions and use the answers​

Part of playing to find out what happens is explicitly not knowing everything, and being curious. If you don’t know something, or you don’t have an idea, ask the players and use what they say.
The easiest question to use is “What do you do?” Whenever you make a move, end with “What do you do?” You don’t even have to ask the person you made the move against. Take that chance to shift the focus elsewhere: “Rath’s spell is torn apart with a flick of the mage’s wand. Finnegan, that spell was aiding you. What are you doing now that it’s gone?”

Be a fan of the characters​

Think of the players’ characters as protagonists in a story you might see on TV. Cheer for their victories and lament their defeats. You’re not here to push them in any particular direction, merely to participate in fiction that features them and their action.

Think dangerous​

Everything in the world is a target. You’re thinking like an evil overlord: no single life is worth anything and there is nothing sacrosanct. Everything can be put in danger, everything can be destroyed. Nothing you create is ever protected. Whenever your eye falls on something you’ve created, think how it can be put in danger, fall apart or crumble. The world changes. Without the characters’ intervention, it changes for the worse.

Begin and end with the fiction​

Everything you and the players do in Dungeon World comes from and leads to fictional events. When the players make a move, they take a fictional action to trigger it, apply the rules, and get a fictional effect. When you make a move it always comes from the fiction.

Think offscreen too​

Just because you’re a fan of the characters doesn’t mean everything happens right in front of them. Sometimes your best move is in the next room, or another part of the dungeon, or even back in town. Make your move elsewhere and show its effects when they come into the spotlight.

Each of these is specific. It talks about a specific action you need to take, or need to avoid. "Begin and end with the fiction" is a specific action you need to take: always begin discussion in what the characters are actually doing and what is known about the world, execute the mechanics of moves when and only when the fiction requires it, and then immediately return to talking about the actions of the characters and what is known in the world as soon as the mechanic is complete. This is a concrete action you can take. Likewise, "never speak the name of your move" is an injunction against an action, because that action would be detrimental to the experience and process of play.

Thank you! I think you have soundly refuted my PS.

But this extensive treaty leaves another open question for me. The context of the PS was related to a claim that these principles would be guiding the GM in a way that would prevent them from choosing fail forward consequences that is breaking with player agency (that is short term railroading).

That is, we have had an extensive exploration where a player declared trying to pick a lock. I am going for the purpose of this presume this is indicating being interested in a stealth-heist scenario. The fail forward resolutions proposed here has generally appeared to imply the GM unilaterally changing the scenario to something different than a stealth-heist scenario. Some examples:
1) to a high risk mansion rush (cook screaming)
2) to a combat/chase scenario (guards arriving at the scene)
3) to a social manipulation game (The cook mistaking character identity)
4) to a rush to get to medical attention (paralyzing deadly slow poison trap)
Can you point me to which of these written principles or agendas guides the GM away from choosing any of these? For the record I think all of these (to a varying degree dependent on context) break with the unwritten but commonly understood trad-GM principle of respecting the player agency.

 

[EzekielRaiden]

This is mistaken. The game information state has changed significantly.

How?

We know one locked door is too difficult for one person to pick. That doesn't sound like "changed significantly" to me.

If it seems like a waste of time to you, then you ought to avoid it.

Yes...but others are saying it simply isn't such a thing.

What do you make of Tim Hutching's RPG, Apollo 47 Technical Handbook?

Apollo 47 is about constructing the appearance of meaning through empty signifiers and improvised technical jargon. Players banter and improvise situations, creating a seamless flow of give and take peppered with the punch of authentic sounding technobabble. It’s also about pretending to be an astronaut while nothing much exciting is happening.​

"I'm afraid that isn't going to work" is intended to often be said during play.

Do you want my frank opinions, or my polite ones?

 

[EzekielRaiden]

Thank you! I think you have soundly refuted my PS.

But this extensive treaty leaves another open question for me. The context of the PS was related to a claim that these principles would be guiding the GM in a way that would prevent them from choosing fail forward consequences that is breaking with player agency (that is short term railroading).

That is, we have had an extensive exploration where a player declared trying to pick a lock. I am going for the purpose of this presume this is indicating being interested in a stealth-heist scenario. The fail forward resolutions proposed here has generally appeared to imply the GM unilaterally changing the scenario to something different than a stealth-heist scenario. Some examples:
1) to a high risk mansion rush (cook screaming)
2) to a combat/chase scenario (guards arriving at the scene)
3) to a social manipulation game (The cook mistaking character identity)
4) to a rush to get to medical attention (paralyzing deadly slow poison trap)
Can you point me to which of these written principles or agendas guides the GM away from choosing any of these? For the record I think all of these (to a varying degree dependent on context) break with the unwritten but commonly understood trad-GM principle of respecting the player agency.

Going per example...

"Cook screaming" runs most afoul of "Make a move that follows" and, to a limited but very important extent, "Be a fan of the characters." The former is at issue because a single failed lockpicking is...pretty far away from an instantaneous "everything goes loud" moment, to speak colloquially. If that were the case, heist-like situations become essentially forbidden outside of nearly-perfect infiltration, which...isn't very fun. There could, certainly, be times where this isn't true--consider an "Ocean's 11" or "Mission: Impossible" type heist, where a lot of things need to succeed and several of them going wrong could break the plan completely--but those are pretty extreme cases where a high-profile, high-risk heist is the known and intentional focus. Breaking into Château d'Ys doesn't seem like that kind of heist. The "cook screaming" result conflicts with the "Be a fan of the characters" in the limited sense that what these characters are about, at least for this adventure, is heisting--to completely nix heisting and instead replace it with violent, destructive burglary is kinda denying that opportunity.

(As an aside, I want to stress that "Be a fan of the characters" DOES NOT mean "coddle the characters", nor does it mean "ensure only good things happen to the characters". When you're a fan of a character in a TV show, you want to see all sides of them--their struggles in the face of meaningful adversity, meaning sometimes they will genuinely fail, and other times they'll succeed, and sometimes they'll think they failed but they really/ultimately succeeded...and vice-versa. The description I quoted previously makes this explicit, but I wanted to address that formally here and now, to cut certain flawed understandings off at the pass, so to speak.)

"Guards arriving at the scene" is functionally equivalent to the previous, though believe it or not it might still be workable if it is of a lesser severity than it seems you're implying. That is, the implication is "there are guards EVERYWHERE, it's impossible to continue using stealth", but that seems so ludicrously extreme I don't really take it very seriously. A much more plausible option would be that, say, Lilia spends so much time trying to pick a lock beyond her skills, a guard or two on patrol come to this door to enter the house (perhaps to get some food?)--which invites Lilia to respond somehow. Alternatively, assuming Lilia isn't alone, maybe she alone gets "captured" and taken inside. Now the other PCs need to find a different way in, and rescue or at least regroup with Lilia. More or less, this has the same issue of not really being "Make a move that follows", because the failure to pick a single lock does not seem like it should lead to the total failure of the stealth mission in this context. Again, in an ultra-high-stakes heist, a single failure might actually do that, but this isn't that kind of thing.

I don't see how the social-manipulation thing is a problem at all. I see it as a perfectly valid avenue. Heisters often need to make use of social manipulation. This is especially a good choice if Lilia herself is great at the B&E side of things, but not all that good at being a "face"--that's very close to one of the GM moves, "Show a downside to their class, race, or equipment"; in this case, the downside of being an expert in (say) poisons, traps, locks, and stealth, is that you aren't good at actually working with people, but now you need to do something risky in order to get through this. The stealth has not been broken, and indeed it may even be enhanced if Lilia is exceptionally clever and charming, but the stakes have been raised--now she's in a "live fire" situation, so to speak, and further mistakes will come with nastier costs, while new success will almost surely create new opportunities.

If I may, why would you think this particular thing is a serious issue? It doesn't seem to be one to me, so I'm confused why you would lump it into the same category as the "screaming cook" example. It doesn't seem like "railroading" at all, and instead as elaborating the heist in a new, but very plausible, direction.

And then for the "rush to get medical treatment", that...actually seems pretty good to me too, if and only if it is reasonable to assume that the Mistress of Château d'Ys is the kind of person who would use deadly-poisonous traps on a door that, presumably, servants are expected to be using. That is, such a trap would have a pretty high risk of causing fatalities amongst the staff, unless treatment is available nearby. If the Mistress is a cruel and heartless woman who only employs those with unshakable loyalty and professionalism, then perhaps such a trap is warranted; but if she is known as a compassionate employer and generally upstanding person, it would be a pretty major break, making a move that doesn't follow, to describe such a trap. Even if it might sound fun and exciting to introduce such a trap, both "Make a move that follows" and "Begin and end with the fiction" contradict such cavalier actions.

More or less, if this is a reasonable and warranted development, it adds a ticking clock in a different direction. If Lilia is acting alone, now she has a priority even higher than staying stealthy--namely, staying alive. If she isn't acting alone, her comrades have tough choices to make, which likewise ratchets up tension without breaking the fundamental premise. Such a trap would be extremely plausible in a tomb, for example, and I'm pretty sure I've seen at least one tomb-robbing movie where such a thing has in fact happened!

Finally, nothing should be "unilaterally changing"--ever. The rules specify what both sides are contributing. It's not "unilaterally changing" things for the GM to frame a scene. Instead, the GM is, as the text above indicates, making moves in order to prompt player response. I didn't quote the rules for that, but here they are:

When to Make a Move​

You make a move:​

• When everyone looks to you to find out what happens
• When the players give you a golden opportunity
• When they roll a 6-

Generally when the players are just looking at you to find out what happens you make a soft move, otherwise you make a hard move.​

Hence, the GM is making this move, not unilaterally, but because the rules of the game specifically tell them to do so. In this case, specifically because the player rolled a fail (6-, aka "6 or less") and thus the rules tell the GM to make a hard move (or, as I have mentioned, a soft move if that makes more sense). As I have said many times, the GM is bound by rules just as the players are; their rules tend (emphasis, tend) to be more open-ended and (somewhat) fewer in number, of course, but that doesn't suddenly mean the GM should ignore them if they become inconvenient. Very nearly all the time (as in, with seven-plus years of GM experience under my belt and ~3-4 years of previous player experience, I've never seen this pattern break), if a GM rule is inconvenient, it's because you're trying to do something unwise!

 

[FrogReaver]

On player driven

Do we all agree that the failure or success with complication states of fail forward resolution introduce GM-driven complications (at least for most games that implement it)?

If not, why not?

 

[zakael19]

It isn't stated anywhere. Being stated is in fact extremely important. Things left unsaid, genuinely never said anywhere, aren't actually guidance, nor can they meaningfully function as limits. Note that this is different from DW's "never speak the name of your move" Principle, which is simply saying "yeah, putting a verbal signpost on every action you as GM take would be harmful to the experience, so please don't do that." What you're describing is an alleged principle that isn't actually said anywhere. It's simply presumed every GM knows to do it.

It is in D&D 2024! As I've noted multiple times in this thread, it beats the drum that the DM should be anchoring on "fun for the table" as their lodestone.

This has the issues you point out in your first point as I noted as well, but at least it's a step.

 

[The Firebird]

What you're describing there is a change in the real world, namely, the content of the shared fiction.

The change that occurs in the imagined, fictional world is that the PC learns what they didn't know, but hoped might be true: that the runes reveal a way out.

I know--this is exactly what i said in my previous post:

Not in the fiction, but in reality, yes, it does cause that...it is a partial cause, the imposition of chance doesn't stop that.

At least it seems we're now on the same page about what I am claiming.

 

[AlViking]

But that's exactly the issue. This isn't a risk! Explicitly! Because you attempt a thing and, I cannot stress this enough,

nothing happens.​

It's, by definition, not a risk! Nothing is actually risked by this! The stakes are that a thing you'd like to happen happens, OR...nothing. Genuinely nothing. Zero change, except that you spent a couple minutes on a thing. The explicit description given was that the tension of the situation did not change; the house remains quiet and dark.

Sometimes it's a risk, sometimes it's not. But so what? As DM I'm setting things up, I'm not driving the narrative of the game, the players are through their characters. They didn't get a specific door open so now they have to discuss options - break down the door, go through a window, use Kim's plan to pretend to be buyers? It give people a problem to solve.

I'm approaching the game as a simulation. Plenty of action happens and things are regularly changing in the background. The players have plenty of tense moments just because I've set up an interesting, sometimes helpful, frequently dangerous world for them to explore and interact with.

Because a single attack roll is dramatically smaller than "do you get to progress or not"?

The actual comparison would be a combat where you are never in any danger--the target cannot attack you--but you tried to strike it and failed. Perhaps it's a slow-moving being that you need to deflect? I dunno, it's hard to give an example of a combat where you can roll and learn "you're not in any danger, nothing is going to happen, you just can't hit the target". Which is why this kind of thing never comes up in combat!


I just don't see how that's anything happening. How is "we tried something, it took ~5 minutes, no events occurred, no danger, no risk" in any way "probing the defenses"?


As a GM, I don't "want" the characters to succeed or fail. All I want is for them to feel they need to act--whatever act they think is reasonable (so long as we agree that it is, in fact, reasonable or at least not unreasonable.)

As a DM I want my players to enjoy themselves, have moments of victory, defeat, intrigue, surprise. They do.

But there isn't any tension! That's the whole point!

In order for there to be tension, there must be some kind of risk. Failure must have a cost. "You wasted 5 minutes, during which time you learned nothing except that you aren't adequate to this specific task" isn't a cost. It is a nothing, a total absence of event.


It's not a matter of "not working for me". It's a matter of the described situation specifically, per Lanefan's own words, being a thing you're saying it isn't. I'm not inventing something here. I'm taking Lanefan exactly at his word!

Quite frequently something not working can add significantly to the tension of the moment. How many times in movies or TV is the most tense moment when the protagonist can't get something to work? A plan that they thought was foolproof goes south? But even if there is no tension then ... there is no tension. Big freakin' deal. If there's always tension then the tense moments don't stand out.

But it really comes down to approach to the game. I'm not a storyteller. I'm not the director of a movie. I am not the not person responsible for moving things forward. I fill the sandbox with plenty of toys, many of which will be ignored, and I let the players loose and we all have a blast seeing the chaos, excitement, high points and low that come about. It's a different preference, one that's worked for dozens and dozens of people over decades with fantastic results for people of all ages from little kids to retirees. If it doesn't work for you, play a different game. While I've changed and improved over time, adjusting things here and there the basic approach has worked for us for decades and continues to work.

 

[pemerton]

This is a dodge. If the player didn't hope those runes said what he wanted them to say, he wouldn't have defined them that way for the check.

I don't know what you mean by "a dodge" - what do you think I'm dodging?

The roll was a roll to read runes. The fact that it is resolved differently from how you would resolve a similar sort of action in the context of playing D&D doesn't change what the roll was.

Not that far upthread, @Micah Sweet asked why this thread continues. Your post is one part of the reason - there are poster who keep mis-describing other's play.