cthulhucthulhu1453
Villager
TL;DR: A romantic subplot involving a DM's favorite player and his DMPC, combined with a total breakdown in communication, triggered a clash of playstyles. This ultimately spiraled into a server-wide faction conflict that killed our game.
This happened in a West March-style TRPG server with about 20+ players, 10 of whom were very active. We played on Discord, with text channels for roleplaying and voice for sessions. The game was run by three DMs, set in a frontier town where we explored a dangerous, unknown land.
A core mechanic of our server was the "Adventure Report." After each session, players had to write a report and submit it to the Townmaster (played by DM1). These reports were then posted publicly for everyone to see, a system designed to promote transparency and a shared narrative.
DM1 was in charge of the main town, playing the Townmaster, guards, and other key NPCs. He initially set a lighthearted and cheerful tone for the town itself.
Over time, the active players naturally split into two circles with different philosophies:
A key NPC introduced early in DM1's main storyline was a powerful undead being. He was a heavily-armored, semi-decayed humanoid figure who called himself "The Sentinel." We players nicknamed him "the vampire." He was a classic powerful, arrogant type—the last scion of a fallen undead empire who despised the living and had no respect for the laws of modern society. Honestly, when he was introduced, the concept was cool and intriguing. The Ranger even described this "vampire" in one of her public adventure reports.
Later in the campaign, the Ranger earned the vampire's trust, and he decided to stay by her side. She brought him back to the inn where all adventurers lived. (A server rule, for narrative convenience, required all players to live in the same inn.)
Imagine the scene: it's a normal night, and the inn's common room is filled with cheerful chatter. Suddenly, the Ranger walks in with a hostile, clearly undead being in tow. The air freezes. For Circle A, especially my Druid (whose creed compels her to oppose the undead), this was a massive shock.
We all waited for an explanation—even a simple "He's an ally" would have sufficed. But the Ranger said nothing. She just told her roommate to clear out so the vampire could have a room. The roommate, sensing the tension, immediately agreed and moved. And just like that, without any explanation or public permission, the Ranger housed a major potential threat in the same building as everyone else.
What followed was the two of them getting cozy in the Ranger's room, their relationship blossoming. It became obvious that DM1 was running the vampire as a DMPC and developing a classic "Beauty and the Beast" forbidden romance plot: the proud, emotionally inept undead being is tamed by the love of a girl.
Most players read the room and simply chose to avoid the couple. DM1 also seemed to make an effort to keep the vampire out of sight. Player N had a history of emotional instability and had rage-quit the server once before, which made players in Circle A nervous about confronting her directly. I was genuinely afraid that a direct, in-character conflict with the vampire could trigger another OOC emotional breakdown from Player N.
The Ranger seemed to sense the silent disapproval from the community. She posted a note on the inn's bulletin board: "If you have a problem with my new teammate, come talk to me." To many of us, the tone felt like a challenge.
Hoping to resolve things through communication, I took her up on the offer. My character approached hers in good faith. Instead of a discussion or reassurance, however, my character was met with mockery, hostility, and even criticism of her personal background and dreams. I wanted to snap back, but I stayed in character, playing the naive girl who didn't quite understand the insults.
After our talk, the Ranger did something that shattered all remaining trust. She tore up her own adventure report—the one that had first documented the vampire's existence. Simultaneously, Player N deleted the digital file from the Discord channel.
She unilaterally revoked what was supposed to be public information.
This act destroyed the server's foundational principle of information sharing. Morale in Circle A plummeted. Frustration and distrust peaked. The server's activity dropped, and some of our members considered boycotting the report system altogether. The cooperative atmosphere was gone.
Not long after, the DMs announced the server would be ending.
The Ranger planned an exclusive, private feast for her squad outside of town. DM1 publicly asked me if I wanted one last meeting with the vampire before the end. Hoping for some kind of closure or a different outcome, I agreed.
My Druid encountered the vampire in the inn as he was preparing to leave. A single questioning look from my character was enough to make things escalate instantly. Without a word, he drew his sword and cast a paralysis spell on me. The Ranger immediately appeared at his side, creating a one sided standoff. Outmatched, I had no choice but to retreat. The whole thing felt like a high school bullying scene: "What are you looking at my friend for? You got a problem?"
Players from Circle B openly mocked me for being a "coward" and even made memes about it. DM1, speaking through the vampire, taunted me: "Don't start things you can't finish."
I thought about reporting the vampire's hostile action to the town guard, but since the guard was also played by DM1, I knew it would be pointless.
The most chilling part came when Player N told me in the voice check , point-blank: because my Druid had always been suspicious of the vampire, she had seriously considered a plan to feign friendship, invite my character to their "party" outside of town, and then have her entire squad ambush and kill my character. This, on a server where PvP was, in principle, forbidden.
A final detail from the server's last days provided the ultimate commentary on this conflict.
As the Ranger's squad prepared to travel to the great city of "Waterdeep," Player N roleplayed buying a mask for the vampire. She explicitly told him that in a big city like Waterdeep, she might not be able to protect him as she had in our small town.
So, she knew. She understood from the very beginning that having an undisguised undead walking around in civilized society was controversial and dangerous.
This proved she was never ignorant, merely arrogant.
Why the uncompromising, hostile stance in our town, then? The answer probably lies in a power calculation. In our small town, with her loyal squad and the implicit approval and favoritism from the DM who played the "Townmaster," she had enough social capital to ignore the feelings and rules that applied to everyone else.
The Ranger often stressed how much she valued her teammates, but her actions showed a profound lack of a leader's responsibility. The path to de-escalation was clear. A simple explanation—"He's here to help us with the undead forest"—or an official notice from the DM-controlled guard could have eased most of the tension and actually protected her vampire teammate from being targeted by holy characters.
Instead, she chose silence and opposition, slamming the door on any chance for understanding.
If she truly cared for her teammate's safety, why not try to earn the community's acceptance? The likely answer is that as a DMPC, the vampire had plot armor and was never in real danger. Perhaps protecting her teammate was never the goal. Perhaps the Ranger simply enjoyed the thrill of being the exception, the feeling of "You don't like it, but what can you do about it?"
A responsible leader knows when to step in and de-escalate. When a leader abandons that duty in favor of personal drama, the collapse of the community is inevitable.
In the end, after being out of high school for years, this server gave me a refresher course in the tense and complicated social dynamics of high school cliques.
This happened in a West March-style TRPG server with about 20+ players, 10 of whom were very active. We played on Discord, with text channels for roleplaying and voice for sessions. The game was run by three DMs, set in a frontier town where we explored a dangerous, unknown land.
A core mechanic of our server was the "Adventure Report." After each session, players had to write a report and submit it to the Townmaster (played by DM1). These reports were then posted publicly for everyone to see, a system designed to promote transparency and a shared narrative.
DM1 was in charge of the main town, playing the Townmaster, guards, and other key NPCs. He initially set a lighthearted and cheerful tone for the town itself.
Over time, the active players naturally split into two circles with different philosophies:
- Circle A : This was my circle, mostly comprised of holy-aligned characters like Clerics, Paladins, and my own Druid. We believed all adventurers should unite to face the town's crises together. We were even planning to establish a public welfare system, like a proto-adventurers' guild. My character was a sweet, somewhat naive girl. I personally tried my best to help everyone, often reaching out to new players who were having trouble fitting in to make sure they had a good experience.
- Circle B : This was a tight-knit squad led by a Ranger, played by Player N. She valued her own squad's bonds far more than cooperation with the broader adventurer community. Later, Player N explicitly stated on her personal blog that she expected and wanted a gritty frontier story that included infighting and betrayal, and that she felt Circle A's cooperative ideals were unrealistic for the setting.
A key NPC introduced early in DM1's main storyline was a powerful undead being. He was a heavily-armored, semi-decayed humanoid figure who called himself "The Sentinel." We players nicknamed him "the vampire." He was a classic powerful, arrogant type—the last scion of a fallen undead empire who despised the living and had no respect for the laws of modern society. Honestly, when he was introduced, the concept was cool and intriguing. The Ranger even described this "vampire" in one of her public adventure reports.
Later in the campaign, the Ranger earned the vampire's trust, and he decided to stay by her side. She brought him back to the inn where all adventurers lived. (A server rule, for narrative convenience, required all players to live in the same inn.)
Imagine the scene: it's a normal night, and the inn's common room is filled with cheerful chatter. Suddenly, the Ranger walks in with a hostile, clearly undead being in tow. The air freezes. For Circle A, especially my Druid (whose creed compels her to oppose the undead), this was a massive shock.
We all waited for an explanation—even a simple "He's an ally" would have sufficed. But the Ranger said nothing. She just told her roommate to clear out so the vampire could have a room. The roommate, sensing the tension, immediately agreed and moved. And just like that, without any explanation or public permission, the Ranger housed a major potential threat in the same building as everyone else.
What followed was the two of them getting cozy in the Ranger's room, their relationship blossoming. It became obvious that DM1 was running the vampire as a DMPC and developing a classic "Beauty and the Beast" forbidden romance plot: the proud, emotionally inept undead being is tamed by the love of a girl.
Most players read the room and simply chose to avoid the couple. DM1 also seemed to make an effort to keep the vampire out of sight. Player N had a history of emotional instability and had rage-quit the server once before, which made players in Circle A nervous about confronting her directly. I was genuinely afraid that a direct, in-character conflict with the vampire could trigger another OOC emotional breakdown from Player N.
The Ranger seemed to sense the silent disapproval from the community. She posted a note on the inn's bulletin board: "If you have a problem with my new teammate, come talk to me." To many of us, the tone felt like a challenge.
Hoping to resolve things through communication, I took her up on the offer. My character approached hers in good faith. Instead of a discussion or reassurance, however, my character was met with mockery, hostility, and even criticism of her personal background and dreams. I wanted to snap back, but I stayed in character, playing the naive girl who didn't quite understand the insults.
After our talk, the Ranger did something that shattered all remaining trust. She tore up her own adventure report—the one that had first documented the vampire's existence. Simultaneously, Player N deleted the digital file from the Discord channel.
She unilaterally revoked what was supposed to be public information.
This act destroyed the server's foundational principle of information sharing. Morale in Circle A plummeted. Frustration and distrust peaked. The server's activity dropped, and some of our members considered boycotting the report system altogether. The cooperative atmosphere was gone.
Not long after, the DMs announced the server would be ending.
The Ranger planned an exclusive, private feast for her squad outside of town. DM1 publicly asked me if I wanted one last meeting with the vampire before the end. Hoping for some kind of closure or a different outcome, I agreed.
My Druid encountered the vampire in the inn as he was preparing to leave. A single questioning look from my character was enough to make things escalate instantly. Without a word, he drew his sword and cast a paralysis spell on me. The Ranger immediately appeared at his side, creating a one sided standoff. Outmatched, I had no choice but to retreat. The whole thing felt like a high school bullying scene: "What are you looking at my friend for? You got a problem?"
Players from Circle B openly mocked me for being a "coward" and even made memes about it. DM1, speaking through the vampire, taunted me: "Don't start things you can't finish."
I thought about reporting the vampire's hostile action to the town guard, but since the guard was also played by DM1, I knew it would be pointless.
The most chilling part came when Player N told me in the voice check , point-blank: because my Druid had always been suspicious of the vampire, she had seriously considered a plan to feign friendship, invite my character to their "party" outside of town, and then have her entire squad ambush and kill my character. This, on a server where PvP was, in principle, forbidden.
A final detail from the server's last days provided the ultimate commentary on this conflict.
As the Ranger's squad prepared to travel to the great city of "Waterdeep," Player N roleplayed buying a mask for the vampire. She explicitly told him that in a big city like Waterdeep, she might not be able to protect him as she had in our small town.
So, she knew. She understood from the very beginning that having an undisguised undead walking around in civilized society was controversial and dangerous.
This proved she was never ignorant, merely arrogant.
Why the uncompromising, hostile stance in our town, then? The answer probably lies in a power calculation. In our small town, with her loyal squad and the implicit approval and favoritism from the DM who played the "Townmaster," she had enough social capital to ignore the feelings and rules that applied to everyone else.
The Ranger often stressed how much she valued her teammates, but her actions showed a profound lack of a leader's responsibility. The path to de-escalation was clear. A simple explanation—"He's here to help us with the undead forest"—or an official notice from the DM-controlled guard could have eased most of the tension and actually protected her vampire teammate from being targeted by holy characters.
Instead, she chose silence and opposition, slamming the door on any chance for understanding.
If she truly cared for her teammate's safety, why not try to earn the community's acceptance? The likely answer is that as a DMPC, the vampire had plot armor and was never in real danger. Perhaps protecting her teammate was never the goal. Perhaps the Ranger simply enjoyed the thrill of being the exception, the feeling of "You don't like it, but what can you do about it?"
A responsible leader knows when to step in and de-escalate. When a leader abandons that duty in favor of personal drama, the collapse of the community is inevitable.
In the end, after being out of high school for years, this server gave me a refresher course in the tense and complicated social dynamics of high school cliques.
