RPG Evolution: What if I just kill him?

We all know the "murderhobo" archetype. I've now come face-to-face with a few.
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We've heard the term before: "murderhobo," player characters that lead a nomadic existence defined by indiscriminate violence and a lack of social ties. These PCs are not merely a choice but a symptom of a deeper cognitive disconnect: the assumption that an NPC's authority is derived exclusively from their hit point total or combat statistics.

Where do murderhobos come from? In my weekly Dungeons & Dragons library game that's open to the public, I've discovered they're out there, and I have a better of idea why.

The Digital Legacy

My encounters with murderhobos usually happen after the second game, when a player has gotten comfortable enough to ask. In-game, an authority figure tells them what to do (usually a sheriff or judge), and the player asks a simple question: "What if I just kill him?"

The murderhobo does not emerge in a vacuum. Though it's existed before video games were common, it surely nowadays comes from the digital sandbox. In most computer role-playing games (CRPGs), players are conditioned to interact with the world through a binary interface. An NPC can be classified as a Static Quest Giver, often rendered unkillable by the game’s code—the aforementioned plot armor—or an Enemy, whose sole purpose is to be reduced to zero hit points for experience and loot. This binary creates an interesting dynamic where players only respect what the software forces them to respect.

When these players move to the tabletop, they often test the limits of the Dungeon Master’s world by attempting to kill low-level authority figures, such as town guards or local magistrates. If the DM has not established the institutional weight of these characters, players assume that a weak stat block implies a lack of importance.

The Hit Point Hallucination

A core tenet of the murderhobo's logic is the Hit Point Hallucination: the belief that the capacity to take damage is the ultimate measure of an NPC’s worth. Historically, hit points have always been a nebulous abstraction. Since the original rules, they have represented a combination of physical durability, luck, and the will to survive. As the rules have evolved, particularly in the 2024 revision, this abstraction has been clarified to include "stamina, resilience, and endurance".

When a player looks at a king with 10 hit points and a dragon with 500, they often conclude that the dragon is important and the king is not. This ignores the reality that hit points do not determine effectiveness in battle until they reach zero. A king with 1 HP can still command an army to fire a thousand arrows. The fallacy lies in treating hit points as meat points rather than a narrative resource.

The core of the murderhobo problem is the belief that the player is the only "real" person in the world. In a collaborative narrative, the NPC's reality is maintained by the DM and the shared imagination of the group. If the party kills a beloved NPC, they are not just "clearing a mob"; they are destroying a piece of the shared world that everyone has invested in.

But to be clear, there has to be a world in the first place. A player can't be blamed for threatening every guard when they've been eyeballs deep in dungeon monsters for weeks. Conversely, if the game is hack-and-slash only, this may well be acceptable (there's a visceral thrill in playing a chaotic, violent campaign, though it probably doesn't last long) and as long as that's the goal of the campaign and everyone agrees, being openly violent can be fun.

Most times though, it's one player who is new to the game or gets bored with it, reacting to the lack of stimulus or the frustration that their character can cast miracles, but they have to listen to this (surely low level) NPC. Depending on how resilient the DM's campaign world is, they might not be wrong to think they can get away with it too. When players know that the world reacts logically to their actions—that killing a shopkeeper leads to the closure of the shop, the loss of a supply line, and a permanent Hostile attitude from the merchant's guild—they begin to see the world as a persistent entity rather than a disposable playground.

The Authority of the Shared Dream

The murderhobo mindset can be a mismatch of expectations for those who have not yet learned to trust the DM or the world. Authority in a TTRPG is not a number; it is a story. It is the collective agreement that the king’s decree matters, that the merchant’s life has value, and that the party’s actions have weight. Conversely, not killing everything should matter; this means rewarding non-combat solutions, making NPCs feel like living people with goals and fears, and using the 2024 Influence rules to show that Charisma is just as powerful as a +1 longsword.

"Can't I just kill him?"

Sure, I respond with a smile. "But then you have to deal with the consequences." And that's usually enough to make the player change their mind.

Your Turn: How do you deal with murderhobos?
 

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Michael Tresca

Michael Tresca

One of the larger problems is that players and the DM are playing a game where they pretend to be something. The DM is making decisions on what someone would or should do when the players choose to have the PC do something. The player has the PC kill the guard to sneak into wherever. Maybe the DM has the adventure planned for only what is going on in the wherever and not thought or or good at thinking about what it means to kill the guard.

How the game proceeds from killing a guard might be several paths where people search for who killed the guard or maybe hire the PCs directly to look into it. Maybe magic is involved or brood squad gangs going house to house. Maybe this is all going on and the players do not see or learn about it since it is not player-facing. All they might know is that they got in and got out and now are in the next town or dungeon unaware if anything is afoot.

How do you get the DM and Players more involved in this? The Players might start to think the DM is targeting them for doing things or the DM might start to think that the Players are not taking things 'seriously'. Is some of this from the video game view where the PC can do anything and get away with it. Is the DM thoughtful enough to explore the reactions for what the PCs do? When I was younger I might not have been. Would my grand campaign come to an end if I held the PCs accountable? I guess on the type of game you as the DM wants, but does/should it also take the Players point of view into account as well.
 

How do you get the DM and Players more involved in this? The Players might start to think the DM is targeting them for doing things or the DM might start to think that the Players are not taking things 'seriously'. Is some of this from the video game view where the PC can do anything and get away with it. Is the DM thoughtful enough to explore the reactions for what the PCs do? When I was younger I might not have been. Would my grand campaign come to an end if I held the PCs accountable? I guess on the type of game you as the DM wants, but does/should it also take the Players point of view into account as well.
Totally, and some of this isn't necessarily conscious thought, it just happens through emergent play, and both groups interpret on their own the "signals" shared by how the game plays out.

In my library D&D campaign, we had a Carrie-esque moment where a dwarven girl was possessed by an evil spirit and, after human boys played a horrible prank on her in public, she lost it and set the local hall on fire. The local dwarven sheriff tried to arrest her, and our paladin full on SMITED HIM. We made a point she shouldn't kill him (I realize now, D&D rules are you can do "unconscious damage" with melee weapons but not spells), and there was a lot of "it was chaos, so everyone was a little unhinged" -- but what probably mattered more was that she was brought to trial, fined, and it was mentioned several times later how an elven knight in a dwarven realm punched the local authority (we retconned it to not smiting him, though that's what she did), knocked him out, and essentially "took the law into her own hands."

In some ways I suspect the aftermath is more important than the result (other than having him not die), both for the player who did it and the other new players who witness the social consequences.
 

Getting out of the dungeon is how I deal with it. It can be a bit of whiplash when killing everything is the acceptable and expected mode of play. Also, a game with a meta plot, like those of published adventures, usually guides players away from killing as a tool, and leaves it more as a use when necessary as opposed to the first option.
 

The Digital Legacy

My encounters with murderhobos usually happen after the second game, when a player has gotten comfortable enough to ask. In-game, an authority figure tells them what to do (usually a sheriff or judge), and the player asks a simple question: "What if I just kill him?"

The murderhobo does not emerge in a vacuum. Though it's existed before video games were common, it surely nowadays comes from the digital sandbox.

With respect, no. It comes from the basic power fantasy that a person with power can impose their will upon others. Our real world rather sets us up to recognize that threat of force is the basic instrument of imposing compliance with the rules of society.

RPGs put us in the position of considering a situation in which we (our characters being a symbolic extension of ourselves) are the ones who may be the best around at wielding that threat.
 

I'm not sure I'd agree that this concept or attitude stems from videogames, it's been around in the hobby a good long while. And a lot of older adventure design was really little better than videogames when it came to the binary division between "this is the person giving you the quest and paying you for it" and "this is every other being you'll encounter in this adventure, and they're all fair game."

Ultimately it's not even about teaching players about consequences. By the time they reach higher levels they may well have had to tangle with a corrupt noble or two, even a city of some hostile culture that they're infiltrating, and the consequences in those circumstances are no less dire than if they attack a "good" king or nobleman.

In a lot of cases it's an ego issue. Their character is the player's power fantasy, the person who's faced down dragons and evil wizards and goblin hordes and come out victorious. Being put in a position where they have to 'lose' in a social encounter against someone who doesn't even count as a blip on the radar compared to such foes can be frustrating, even humiliating, and when all it takes to put them back on top is the same toolset they've used to resolve every problem out in the field, it can be awfully easy to revert to that solution.
 
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Session zero can help, but only if expectations are explicit. Even then, players will test boundaries (which is good). That’s where I teach through the fiction instead of policing behavior. If I step in as the referee, I’ll have to keep doing it, so I let the world respond and set the tone.

When players default to combat, I let the world respond in a way that communicates consequences and scale.

Afterward, I’ll reinforce it above the table:
  • Not all encounters are balanced
  • Combat isn’t always the right move
  • Learning what you’re dealing with matters
Once players stop assuming “fair fights,” they start thinking before they act. Actions have consequences, and the world should reflect that, socially, materially, and in terms of access to safety and resources.

I’m all about agency, but if you kill someone in town, the game doesn’t stop, it just becomes a very different game.
 

Pretty sure The Elusive Step talks about this sort of play style / problem (fused with seeking gratification through magic loot) as something that was being debated around tables in the 70s. Often posed as “stuff the kids are doing” and “you’ll care more about story and such as you become ‘better/more advanced role players.’”
 

Session zero can help, but only if expectations are explicit. Even then, players will test boundaries (which is good). That’s where I teach through the fiction instead of policing behavior. If I step in as the referee, I’ll have to keep doing it, so I let the world respond and set the tone.
One of the things I was saying is that as the DM letting the world respond to the actions of the PCs through the Players also means that the DM is now at odds with the Players. The DM now deciders if the PCs did something that needs a reaction and how that proceeds. Some of this is based on how logical things play out and how real world things play out, but everything can be framed by the Players as the DM targeting them or the PCs for not playing 'right'.

I agree that the world should respond to the PCs doing things they feel like. I guess a lot depends on the table and how everyone session 0's it out.
 

One of the things I was saying is that as the DM letting the world respond to the actions of the PCs through the Players also means that the DM is now at odds with the Players. The DM now deciders if the PCs did something that needs a reaction and how that proceeds. Some of this is based on how logical things play out and how real world things play out, but everything can be framed by the Players as the DM targeting them or the PCs for not playing 'right'.

I agree that the world should respond to the PCs doing things they feel like. I guess a lot depends on the table and how everyone session 0's it out.
I appreciate the instinct to avoid an adversarial dynamic, that’s a good one. But “at odds” can just be causality. Gravity isn’t against us; it just is.

A living world is a two-way street. Players are free to make whatever choices make sense for their PCs, and the GM lets those choices produce consequences that follow from the fiction.

That puts the burden on the GM to aim for impartiality. We won’t always get it right, but the goal is for outcomes to reflect the reality of the world, not our judgment of the player’s actions.

That shift matters. It stops being “right vs wrong” and becomes “this is what happens when you do that.”
 

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