The Horror! of a Game That Never Ends

We've all been there: as kids, we started a Dungeons & Dragons campaign but never imagined, decades later, that we'd still be playing in a world we made up. Does it ever end? Should it?

We've all been there: as kids, we started a Dungeons & Dragons campaign but never imagined, decades later, that we'd still be playing in a world we made up. Does it ever end? Should it?
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Picture courtesy of Pixabay.

Dungeons & Dragon's campaign life cycle has always varied with its players. Co-creator Gary Gygax played with his friends and his children, with no theoretical upper limit on level advancement. Dungeon Masters who grew up in the 80s may still be running campaigns in their homegrown worlds decades later, even if it's not the same characters.

This can be quite intimidating to new players. Most tabletop gamers who are accustomed to board games can imagine playing a session for an hour or two at most; playing for four or more hours at a time is a serious commitment.

A campaign is even more daunting. Playing on and off for months or years can seem like another job (and for many DMs, it is). With no actual end, the game can go on forever. For an example for just how long, see Robert Wardhaugh's campaign that's been running continuously for 35 years.

When the Game Ends

There are obvious in-game reasons for why campaigns end. Total party kills can dampen enthusiasm. I had two campaigns that ended this way in high school.

Also, some campaigns end because players achieve their goals. It took some time before my Advanced Dungeons & Dragons campaign culminated in a finale that featured the defeat of the final boss. When it did end, we promptly started up another campaign set in the same world. That second campaign never wrapped, because I moved for college.

Players or the DM moving are just one example of how real-life reasons campaigns can fizzle out. One of the appeals of D&D is its episodic nature, ideal for gamers who have free time on their hands and no competing entertainment. This makes the average campaign ideally suited for four years, be it in high school or university. In my case, we played for eight years across both.

But then I moved, and the campaign fell apart, which brings us to another reason campaigns end without really wrapping up. Players move away, get married, get jobs, and--more grimly as we all get older--pass away. Keeping a campaign going after playing for decades with the same players can become increasingly challenging as real life responsibilities press in.

After my initial, successful D&D campaign, I ran another D&D game set in a different campaign setting that successfully wrapped up after three years, a D20 Modern/Call of Cthulhu setting that wrapped up after three years (but that my players later admitted they disliked), and an online Pathfinder campaign that ended after three years without wrapping up. The last two campaigns soured me on running a game without a conclusion. With my latest campaign I set out to address those mistakes.

You Can Check Out At Any Time, But Can You Leave?

A few things became apparent with marathon sessions in which we played together once a month for eight hours at a time: nobody remembered what happened between games, if a player missed the game they missed a whole lot, and the buzz from a great session wasn't enough to sustain my creative juices until the next session. Something had to change.
  • I've since shifted my online game to playing once a week. Playing weekly is critical, using Facebook and other social media to keep everyone connected. It's brief enough that players can still remember what happened from game to game. Despite this, we rarely actually play two consecutive weeks in a row due to competing adult responsibilities that demand all of our time.
  • We also play for shorter periods of time. As much as we'd like to run a game for longer, our games tend to run for about three hours each night.
  • We play with up to six players, with the understanding that we will still play if there's at least four players available. This keeps the game moving forward no matter what (we do make exceptions for the finale, where everyone has a chance to experience the last game).
  • But perhaps most important is that I've written my adventures so that there are natural breaks where current players can leave and new players can join. This creates a more natural and pleasant departure for a player and their character to leave vs the alternative of not showing up anymore, or an awkward explanation as to why a player's character disappeared. It provides an in-game pause that accommodates real life.
We're running a game with a new player who is currently just observing to decide if she wants to join. Watching experienced role-players laughing and joking together may seem intimidating; but by parsing out sessions and giving players a means of leaving with no hard feelings, I'm hopeful it makes joining an ongoing campaign a little less terrifying.
 

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Michael Tresca

Michael Tresca

talien

Community Supporter
My pitch is "It'll last for the rest of your life or mine, whichever ends first; unless for whatever reason it runs out of steam sooner."

Turn that around, though: if that person has been meeting friends every week for a year for board-game night, what's the difference if the game played becomes D&D?

I completely agree that coming into a long-running campaign can be daunting for a new player. And players generally know they can leave at any time - I'm their DM, not their boss! :) They're also aware that in most cases they can come back at any time if there's room for 'em.
This is what is called "the social cost of exit." Once you make friends, it's hard to leave a game because in some cases, that game IS how you see your friends. To your point, it's a very tight-knit community, but it is a commitment. Something I've learned is to make "cost of exit" easier by giving players outs and having pauses so they can leave with no hard feelings. It's something I learned the hard way.
 

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Eyes of Nine

Everything's Fine
This is what is called "the social cost of exit." Once you make friends, it's hard to leave a game because in some cases, that game IS how you see your friends. To your point, it's a very tight-knit community, but it is a commitment. Something I've learned is to make "cost of exit" easier by giving players outs and having pauses so they can leave with no hard feelings. It's something I learned the hard way.
Everyone's experience is different, but mine more closely maps yours Mike.
 

nevin

Hero
honestly I love that kind of game. It also gives the DM lots of back story and well devloped hero's . I tend to skip a little ahead of last game and just run with it. then I can just decide what happened after last game and it's history and flavor for the new game. I find long running games give me a lot of backstory and stuff to work with making it easier to do something off the cuff if necessary.
 

I fully advocate long campaigns (as the examples in the article show), but I also recognize that there has to be a compromise to allow new players to feel comfortable that they can leave at any time. The last thing anybody wants are players who feel OBLIGATED to play but actually don't play very well at all. I've had that before and it ruins a game.
Oh, I've been in that horror before.

I posted about it on ENWorld ~14 years ago when it happened, but the short version is that when New World of Darkness was still new, an acquaintance wanted to run a campaign of it. Wanting to try NWoD, I volunteered. . .only to find she was a terrible GM, she'd mangled the setting into a knockoff of her favorite paranormal romance novels, the sessions were 8+ hours long and consisted mostly of us roleplaying out petty daily interactions with random NPC's like cab drivers or filler fight scenes that did nothing to advance the plot. . .and she wanted to be a novelist and was trying to take notes on what happened in the game and what we said for her eventual novel. . .and made it clear she saw anyone quitting the game as a personal insult because it would totally throw off the plot of the novel she was writing if one of the characters just vanished out of nowhere.
 

Marc_C

Solitary Role Playing
Oh, I've been in that horror before.

I posted about it on ENWorld ~14 years ago when it happened, but the short version is that when New World of Darkness was still new, an acquaintance wanted to run a campaign of it. Wanting to try NWoD, I volunteered. . .only to find she was a terrible GM, she'd mangled the setting into a knockoff of her favorite paranormal romance novels, the sessions were 8+ hours long and consisted mostly of us roleplaying out petty daily interactions with random NPC's like cab drivers or filler fight scenes that did nothing to advance the plot. . .and she wanted to be a novelist and was trying to take notes on what happened in the game and what we said for her eventual novel. . .and made it clear she saw anyone quitting the game as a personal insult because it would totally throw off the plot of the novel she was writing if one of the characters just vanished out of nowhere.

That is truly horrific, and the worst way to write a novel.
 

Coroc

Hero
We've all been there: as kids, we started a Dungeons & Dragons campaign but never imagined, decades later, that we'd still be playing in a world we made up. Does it ever end? Should it?


Dungeons & Dragon's campaign life cycle has always varied with its players. Co-creator Gary Gygax played with his friends and his children, with no theoretical upper limit on level advancement. Dungeon Masters who grew up in the 80s may still be running campaigns in their homegrown worlds decades later, even if it's not the same characters.

This can be quite intimidating to new players. Most tabletop gamers who are accustomed to board games can imagine playing a session for an hour or two at most; playing for four or more hours at a time is a serious commitment.

A campaign is even more daunting. Playing on and off for months or years can seem like another job (and for many DMs, it is). With no actual end, the game can go on forever. For an example for just how long, see Robert Wardhaugh's campaign that's been running continuously for 35 years.

When the Game Ends

There are obvious in-game reasons for why campaigns end. Total party kills can dampen enthusiasm. I had two campaigns that ended this way in high school.

Also, some campaigns end because players achieve their goals. It took some time before my Advanced Dungeons & Dragons campaign culminated in a finale that featured the defeat of the final boss. When it did end, we promptly started up another campaign set in the same world. That second campaign never wrapped, because I moved for college.

Players or the DM moving are just one example of how real-life reasons campaigns can fizzle out. One of the appeals of D&D is its episodic nature, ideal for gamers who have free time on their hands and no competing entertainment. This makes the average campaign ideally suited for four years, be it in high school or university. In my case, we played for eight years across both.

But then I moved, and the campaign fell apart, which brings us to another reason campaigns end without really wrapping up. Players move away, get married, get jobs, and--more grimly as we all get older--pass away. Keeping a campaign going after playing for decades with the same players can become increasingly challenging as real life responsibilities press in.

After my initial, successful D&D campaign, I ran another D&D game set in a different campaign setting that successfully wrapped up after three years, a D20 Modern/Call of Cthulhu setting that wrapped up after three years (but that my players later admitted they disliked), and an online Pathfinder campaign that ended after three years without wrapping up. The last two campaigns soured me on running a game without a conclusion. With my latest campaign I set out to address those mistakes.

You Can Check Out At Any Time, But Can You Leave?

A few things became apparent with marathon sessions in which we played together once a month for eight hours at a time: nobody remembered what happened between games, if a player missed the game they missed a whole lot, and the buzz from a great session wasn't enough to sustain my creative juices until the next session. Something had to change.
  • I've since shifted my online game to playing once a week. Playing weekly is critical, using Facebook and other social media to keep everyone connected. It's brief enough that players can still remember what happened from game to game. Despite this, we rarely actually play two consecutive weeks in a row due to competing adult responsibilities that demand all of our time.
  • We also play for shorter periods of time. As much as we'd like to run a game for longer, our games tend to run for about three hours each night.
  • We play with up to six players, with the understanding that we will still play if there's at least four players available. This keeps the game moving forward no matter what (we do make exceptions for the finale, where everyone has a chance to experience the last game).
  • But perhaps most important is that I've written my adventures so that there are natural breaks where current players can leave and new players can join. This creates a more natural and pleasant departure for a player and their character to leave vs the alternative of not showing up anymore, or an awkward explanation as to why a player's character disappeared. It provides an in-game pause that accommodates real life.
We're running a game with a new player who is currently just observing to decide if she wants to join. Watching experienced role-players laughing and joking together may seem intimidating; but by parsing out sessions and giving players a means of leaving with no hard feelings, I'm hopeful it makes joining an ongoing campaign a little less terrifying.

Atm covid is the show stopper for my group. Some do not.like to play online, they want to meet face to face or rather not play at all. 😒
 

That is truly horrific, and the worst way to write a novel.

I went and looked up the threads from 2006 where I came here complaining about that campaign.

If you want to see a train wreck as it was happening, here you go:, I posted a new thread every few months as I was in that campaign.



 

Eyes of Nine

Everything's Fine
I went and looked up the threads from 2006 where I came here complaining about that campaign.

If you want to see a train wreck as it was happening, here you go:, I posted a new thread every few months as I was in that campaign.



Wow, did she ever offer to pay you for the work you put in as consultants on her novel? Just reading your posts made my blood boil. Sorry you had to go through it.

How did it all end?
 

Wow, did she ever offer to pay you for the work you put in as consultants on her novel? Just reading your posts made my blood boil. Sorry you had to go through it.

How did it all end?
Not long after that last post, I just plain stopped going. I didn't announce it, or give some formal resignation, I just got so fed up with it that I figured I'd come up with a better way to spend my Sunday afternoons and nights.

Around the time I started the game, I met a nice young lady that I started dating. Our relationship got a lot more serious as the year went along and I was playing this game, I eventually dropped out of the game to spend more time with her (the woman I'd later marry and have now been married to for 12 years).

The GM was very offended by my dropping out. She asked me to come back a few months later for a one-shot cameo of my old character, which I did as a nicety. . .but that turned out to just be to kill my character off so she could get closure for the character for her alleged Laurel K. Hamilton knockoff novel.

The game went about two years eventually, about a year and a half of it without me.

Not long after my cameo return, she unfriended me on Facebook, and I haven't talked to her since. Since I know her sister and her mother well, I know that she moved to California and became a massage therapist since then.
 

Marc_C

Solitary Role Playing
Not long after that last post, I just plain stopped going. I didn't announce it, or give some formal resignation, I just got so fed up with it that I figured I'd come up with a better way to spend my Sunday afternoons and nights.

Around the time I started the game, I met a nice young lady that I started dating. Our relationship got a lot more serious as the year went along and I was playing this game, I eventually dropped out of the game to spend more time with her (the woman I'd later marry and have now been married to for 12 years).

The GM was very offended by my dropping out. She asked me to come back a few months later for a one-shot cameo of my old character, which I did as a nicety. . .but that turned out to just be to kill my character off so she could get closure for the character for her alleged Laurel K. Hamilton knockoff novel.

The game went about two years eventually, about a year and a half of it without me.

Not long after my cameo return, she unfriended me on Facebook, and I haven't talked to her since. Since I know her sister and her mother well, I know that she moved to California and became a massage therapist since then.
No gaming is better than bad gaming.

My wife's half-brother was a weirdo. Disrupting the game by causing random chaos, cheating on dice rolls and very weak role-playing. We came to the conclusion it was better not to play than having to suffer that every game.
 

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