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What a great storytelling DM looks like


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Thanks for the example of a great DM with a different style, Piratecat!

I think it's useful to say "let's look at the best possible examples of different GM approaches." As GMs one of the things we choose is who to model ourselves after; likewise as players it can be helpful to have an idealized image of your ideal GM as a yardstick for judging whether a given group will work for you. (We can also learn from terrible GMs - "gee, I sure don't want that!" - but that thread would be even more rancorous).

It's unavoidable to have some terminology drift. For example, it's interesting that people who identify themselves as storyteller GMs tend to be happy with newer editions of D&D, while those who prefer to let the players determine the story tend to prefer older ones. Avoiding any discussion of "old-school" would prevent analysis of this trend.

Instead of getting hung up on terms, though, I think it's helpful to try to figure out what people do and don't mean by things without making assumptions. Giving players choice is something that everyone in this thread puts a high value on: what are the different ways they achieve this? What are the implications of those different approaches?

For example, storytelling techniques certainly lend something to a game. It seems to me that every approach comes at a cost, though. The lean-forward GM increases excitement but sends the message that the story comes from him; the lean-back GM sends the message that the story is up to the players (but don't blame me if you get bored!). Even the GMs who know what approach they like can benefit from being aware of the costs associated with their style and learning what other GMs do to mitigate those costs.

Foreshadowing is a great dramatic device but implies that the story is known ahead of time; how do you reconcile this with player choice?

To walk the talk, and pick up something that was said earlier about a GM's job being to create adversity for the players, here's how I'm approaching prep for a session of city adventuring this weekend.

Social environment: The group is big (8-10 players on average) and variable, so that I can't plan around any particular characters being in the mix (some folks are regulars, but I don't want to give them more mojo than first-time players whose PCs I haven't met yet).

Expectations: There's a mandate for me to provide action; it's tempting to just say "here's a big city, go wherever you like" but I know from past experience that this won't work well with this group unless only <4 people show up. Some of what happens in the session needs to involve life-or-death crisis for all or most PCs at once.

Player choice: We use the New York Red Box forums and email to discuss what the plan for each sessions' adventure is before hand. Not everyone is active in that discussion, but the group feels it's a good compromise between letting the players choose their goals and not spending a lot of valuable in-person time talking it over, esp. since people who just show up are likely not to have a stake in what the party does as long as it's exciting.
So, from that discussion, I know what the players want to do is to find a buyer for a scroll. And I know (spoiler for my players) it's got explosive runes that are likely to kill whoever they sell it to; I think that's too good a visual to let happen off-stage, so whoever buys it will want to try it out while the PCs are still there to witness it (or, from the NPC's POV, to be punished if they sold a fake) (/end spoiler).
My first inclination is to have an NPC point them to just one buyer for the scroll, and prep in detail for an action sequence following up on the consequences of the sale. But it doesn't feel realistic for a city this big to have just one buyer, and it robs the possibility of the players shopping around and comparing offers.
So my next inclination is to say "there are three buyers" but run the same prepped encounter wherever they go. This makes me feel guilty about illusionism, and prepping in detail for one situation will make more trouble if they do shop it around to all three. Inside I decide to set up a structure that I can apply to all three buyers - in each manse there are the personal allies of the buyer, who are loyal to him; a force of guards who just do what they're paid to; and a rival who would be glad to see the buyer removed from the scene. Having this structure lets me think about how the scene might play out in an exciting way, with lots of handles for the players to put on, but drop different specific individuals into the faction slots for each scene so that it'll play out differently depending on the players' choice.
Now I have to prep for the possibility that either the players will do something entirely other than I expect, or somehow cause the scene at the scroll-buyers' not to create action (or at least not enough action to fill the session). So I create a tool-kit of adversaries I can drop in as wandering monsters, all of which are tailored to make trouble for a small street-gang of PCs at once. (More spoilers). One is a press gang authorized to force people to dig sewers; the PCs could bribe or fight. One is a racist rabble-rouser who hates elves. One is a religious cult who thinks yellow clothing is a sin, and then there's two groups of pickpockets, one that will escape by sewer, one by rooftop. (/end spoilers). Having these on hand lets me feel more secure in giving the players freedom to wander, because I have some ways to make trouble for them wherever they go. In theory these are random encounters - I'll let the dice determine when they happen, and which one comes along - but in practice I call for random checks as a way of controlling the pace of the group, and won't pull out these big set-piece encounters if there's already enough action on the boil.

To tie this back to GM techniques that happen at the table, rather than in the planning, I see rolling in the open for wandering monster checks as an important message. It demonstrates "I'm not fully in charge of what happens", and gives the players some game-level information of the kind howandwhy99 identifies as essential: "moving through the streets is dangerous, and we can gauge how much so by watching the dice and seeing what rolls create an encounter."

Note that in the city, I expect to moderate that approach some in favor of story; here some of what a very acute player might learn by watching the frequency of my random encounter checks is "Tavis is bending the rules in order to create the kind of stuff he wants this session to include," which I don't do in a dungeon (where the dungeon design takes care of that for me at a different level). I think that's OK because some of the players do complain if the pacing lags or there's not enough action. If I were running for a different group (e.g., one that always had the same PCs present) I'd likely change parts of my approach to match.
 

Barastrondo said:
I'm sorry, Ariosto, but in regards to the original example of death being, or not being, a consequence because a character is so easily replaced, you really can't get the entire story from mechanics alone.
Yes. That is what "YMMV" as to the issue of identity meant! Apology accepted.

It is a bit confusing, though, that you seem to be arguing my point, that death is not terribly hard to find in 4e, against yourself!

Next ... you offer something of which I cannot make head or tail. The argument for offering both apples and oranges, or even oranges billed as oranges (rather than as the kumquats that were discontinued for poor sales), is that one cannot otherwise profit from the trade. Now, if the trade in fact is not profitable, then that would be the argument against supplying a demand.


Out of curiosity, who's been claiming that the game itself was such a horrible imposition?
I cannot see what else to make of your drawing so much attention to the fact that old D&D happened to be, well, simply what it was. So are all other things. Yet, you seem to consider it somehow to have solved a big problem to change that one particular thing into this other particular thing -- which is just as different from just as many other things, as far as I can see!

You seem to make equations that just do not balance by any stretch unless there are some really heavy hidden factors. If you have been assuming that I somehow know what those are, so that they literally go without saying, then I must emphasize my ignorance.

Sure, there is a point at which you can convince me that a game is no longer D&D
One naturally wonders where that might lie. One also hopes to be educated as to why your opinion on that point should be more important than that of the people to whom the referent is the game known by that name for 35+ years; or those to whom it is the game known by that name for a decade.

For the keeping multiple editions in print: it's less Newton's Laws and more like Distributor's Laws.
Ah, yes. That is a very significant situation. I might not agree with some fine points, but at least there is a train of reasoning that I can follow.
 

I seem to recall that Mr. Gygax's assessment of his own ability as a DM was one of unexceptional ability -- except in being able quickly to improvise details.

It seems to me that even a great DM who in fact did not deliver what I was looking for as a player would end up doing (or not doing) just that. It's a matter of what's delivered and what I'm looking for, if that makes any sense.
 

Next ... you offer something of which I cannot make head or tail. The argument for offering both apples and oranges, or even oranges billed as oranges (rather than as the kumquats that were discontinued for poor sales), is that one cannot otherwise profit from the trade. Now, if the trade in fact is not profitable, then that would be the argument against supplying a demand.

Now I'm not sure if you're arguing my point for me or not. A lot of it going around!

I cannot see what else to make of your drawing so much attention to the fact that old D&D happened to be, well, simply what it was.

It was a construction of a great many parts, many of which were deemed undesirable to many players, and wound up being functionally unnecessary. Part of what made D&D what it was -- and still does -- was its flexibility in providing so many different takes on what "the D&D experience" is. Now we're to the point where certain takes can be distilled down and refined by edition. That's pretty neat.

So are all other things. Yet, you seem to consider it somehow to have solved a big problem to change that one particular thing into this other particular thing -- which is just as different from just as many other things, as far as I can see!

I'm pretty sure that's not what I'm claiming. I don't think that D&D has been changed into "this other particular thing." I think it's simply presented a new default configuration of its modular elements, and that configuration's also pretty worthy. To me, D&D is a term like "dog": my dogs are mixed breeds, but Great Danes and Chihuahuas also qualify.

You seem to make equations that just do not balance by any stretch unless there are some really heavy hidden factors. If you have been assuming that I somehow know what those are, so that they literally go without saying, then I must emphasize my ignorance.

Liking or accepting editions is something that happens on a scale, and that disliking 10% of a game does not equate to 100% dislike of a game. If that equation doesn't balance for you, sorry, man.

I liked D&D back when it had level drain and racial level limits. I like it right now, when my favorite edition still has things I don't like, such as a unified magic item/gold economy. It was never a horrible imposition to play any edition, even when they contained things I did not care for, and yet I would prefer to play certain editions over others, now that I have those extra options. I don't know what else to say: the concept of hating D&D itself because I didn't care for certain elements is just so bizarre.

One naturally wonders where that might lie. One also hopes to be educated as to why your opinion on that point should be more important than that of the people to whom the referent is the game known by that name for 35+ years; or those to whom it is the game known by that name for a decade.

I'm not saying that my opinion is any more important; I don't hold the license to D&D, and I'm not one of its original creators or anything. I'm simply saying there have been no proofs that any edition of D&D is "not D&D," only arguments that too many of any given observer's personal elements have been changed for that observer's tastes. As to however long the given observer has spent playing D&D, I have to confess it's pretty immaterial: an argument rooted in trying to prove hyperbole factual kind of has its own problems, no matter the geek credentials of its wielder.
 

I have spent a lot of time...perhaps too much time...figuring out what it means to be a "narrative GM."

I'm a fiction writer, and an actor, so I've picked up my share of books, classes, and techniques that advise writers on how to write, and actors on how to become a character.

There's one comparison I find useful in this discussion more than any other.

Independence Day vs. Signs.

Set aside how good or bad you think the movies are for a minute, and look at how they tell their stories. They're both about aliens coming to take over the planet, but Independence Day is plot-driven, lean-forward DMing. Aliens come, do stuff, and the PC's...er...protagonists...need to stop 'em, or Everyone Will Die Forever. Signs is character-driven, lean-back DMing. Aliens come to do stuff, but this is more about how individual PC's...er...characters...use the event in their own conflicts, than about the event itself. It doesn't demand an instant resolution.

Independence Day says "Aliens are coming! React!" There's a clear BBEG. Signs says "There's aliens out there. Tell me what you do." There's aliens, but Mel Gibson has more conflict within himself than with them.

Every game is going to contain a mixture of these elements, over the course of many sessions, but each individual session probably falls into one camp or the other, and individual DM's probably come down more often on one side than the other. Gygax's style above is "There's a dungeon, do stuff," while Piratecat's main style sounds more "Here's a threat, react!"

For me, I think about this through the lens of FFZ. To be true to the source material, FFZ has got to be strongly narrative. Heck, one of the big (and sometimes valid) criticisms of the FF games is that all you have to do is press a button to advance the plot.

But the tabletop can't run on rails that rigid. Players at a table need to contribute something of their own to the game, because that is part of the inherent, psychological fun of an RPG: contributing to a shared reality.

So FFZ has a powerful narrative element. Every year, you're expected to tell a story from beginning to end, with the GM and a handful of players both providing the thrust.

FFZ says "There is a villain. They are doing things that will eventually affect your character in some way. This is something you must react to. There are also other things out there -- other villains, threats, threads, and ideas -- that you may involve yourself with or not. If you do, the villain might relate to them. If not, they're still there, you're just not paying attention to them as a group." FFZ is mostly Independence Day with a sprinkling of Signs.

FFZ has a dramatic throughline, which is basically this question: "Will the characters succeed at their goals, or fail?" Players choose the goals for the character, and then conflict, from the DM, stands in the way of these goals. The villain is made to be the source of the most dangerous of these conflicts (though probably not every conflict), and the DM uses the motives, desires, and personalities of the characters to nudge them into the conflict with the villain. The game, the random element, determines whether they succeed or fail in each challenge, and in the ultimate challenge.

Games that lack this explicit plot structure still have conflicts and characters and goals, but they are not codified, or defined. Every game has a three-act structure in some way, it maybe just is not called out explicitly as such (indeed, that structure is part of what, psychologically, makes games of all sorts so riveting -- games are drama, every game is a story, though not necessarily vice-versa).

Games are inherently stories. A "storytelling GM" just calls this out explicitly, and tends to be more plot-focused. Stuff happens, characters react. A "sandbox GM" lets the stories evolve organically, and tends to be more character-focused. Character choice (player choice) drives the action more than anything else.

I don't think any GM can be a pure example of one or the other without the game being kind of ruined for it. If my characters can do anything, but nothing is happening around them, that's dull. If my character needs to react to things that are happening, but their reaction doesn't accomplish anything the GM couldn't have just done on her own, that's frustrating.
 

The best example of "not a storytelling game" I can give is when the ENW moderators were lucky enough to play with Gary Gygax at GenCon several years ago, delving into the first layer of the dungeons beneath Castle Greyhawk. Rel did a fascinating job of writing this up (and I'm still bitter that a gelatinous cube ate my mule!), but I was a little surprised that the game was nothing like my own DMing style. There was no plot at all, no theme to the monsters, and no attempt by Gary to steer us in any direction whatsoever. We chose where in the ruins to descend; we chose what doors to enter, and where we went. We surprised monsters or they surprised us, but even after going through several empty rooms in what I'd consider uncomfortable pacing, what we encountered was dictated solely by what was written on the map beforehand.

This was true to the extent that none of the rooms had any decor or furniture in them at all, and I mentioned it; Gary looked a little embarrassed and said that he had left the random dungeon trimming table at home.

We had a spectacular time, of course, and I'm going to remember that game for a long time. Seeing this emphasized to me that my own style tends more towards the plot-driven and cinematic than the old-school dungeon delves.
I think that somehow this has been lost in the discussion, and it's the central distinction to the storytelling versus sandbox distinction. I was lucky enough to play a game with Gary many years ago (I was, if I remember correctly, 9 at the time!) and the game was entirely what we made of it. Gary presented a level in Greyhawk that the group was exploring and we were left to do precisely what we wanted. He listened to everyone's ideas and dealt with the repercussions impartially. I really had a fantastic time at that game (in large part because Gary listened to what I wanted to do and treated me like an adult, which to someone my age was a _huge_ complement.

Since then, however, I've learned to enjoy the storytelling games much more, largely because I've played sandbox games to death. I really have, to the point of where the thought of a dungeon crawl without an extremely good reason bores me to tears.

A good storytelling GM gives me the idea that there's something going on that's larger than what I and the rest of my group are concerned with. As much as some would say "the story you create as a group will be much more interesting than anything one GM can come up with," I've found that not to be ultimately true (at least for me, anymore). If you take a look at War of the Burning Sky, for example, it's designed to be much more of a storytelling game than a sandbox, and the group's I've run it for appreciate this very much.

The same game run just as a sandbox would not have the strong themes that resonate throughout the entire campaign, because the players would likely never come across them.

Obviously this is just my opinion, and all that it implies...

--Steve
 

The idea that a "sandbox" and a good story are opposed to each other is, perhaps, a fallacy.

The link in my sig - the Burning Empires game - is an example of me learning to run games in a "sandbox" mode. The story (and I think it was a decent story, sometimes, though lacking a satisfying conclusion) was about PCs and their agendas conflicting with NPCs and their agendas.

All one needs to create a good story is characters who want something and characters who will resist that. From the interplay between characters, goals may shift and there is an understanding of what the players think about human nature.

However - I don't think that the DM can tell a story and still have the players create protagonists for that story.
 

Barastrondo said:
there have been no proofs that any edition of D&D is "not D&D,"
Nor are there likely to be, unless you advertise your criteria! How and why you expect anyone otherwise to take an interest and try in the first place is baffling.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. The 4e DMG2 opens with a discussion of "Group Storytelling". I can't say much more about it, having only glanced at the thing, but perhaps someone else can.

Kamikaze Midget, I can dig the analogy -- but, in actuality, both of those productions were movies, not games. I can pick up a Super Nintendo Entertainment System and find an awful lot of things that are "sort of both", perhaps even unto being "not quite either".

I don't know to what extent that fashion has continued in modern console video games. At one time, it seemed to be pretty much what "RPG" meant (quite independently) in the context of Japanese digital media (as opposed to American paper-and-pencil).

I remember the "Dragon's Lair" arcade game, one of the early laser-disc units, from the summer of '83. The milieu of other media and their relationship with D&D and its ilk was rather different then.

Another medium with some popularity in the 1980s-90s was the "pick your path" adventure book. Those told stories with some variations; at intervals along the way, the reader/player made a choice among (usually two or three) alternative chapters.

That tended to produce a much more limited range of possibilities, in a given page count, than solitaire scenarios for normal RPGs such as Tunnels & Trolls or The Fantasy Trip. The distance between decision points in "pick your path" was longer, and filled with narration more than with information upon which one could act.

The Lone Wolf series was a successful hybrid of the forms. However, electronic computers able to run programs of greater complexity became ever more widely available. That eventually so overshadowed lack of easy portability relative to a paperback book that the computer games took over the niche.

All those were, as I recall, generally regarded in the paper-and-pencil RPG scene at first as either poor substitutes or -- increasingly, as program form adapted to new hardware capabilities -- as a distinctly different pastime with its own separate excellences.

I wonder whether now the computer game has in some quarters ascended to the position of priority, so that it sets expectations of human-moderated RPGs. I notice the greater importance of "action" game forms (such as the once-preponderant "platform game"), and lesser emphasis on "strategic" games, than back in the days when board games were the most prominent other entries in D&Ders' ludographies.
 
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A good storytelling GM gives me the idea that there's something going on that's larger than what I and the rest of my group are concerned with.
In my experience a good sandbox referee does the same thing.

For me the real difference is, who comes up with the 'plot' (by which I mean the sequence of events that play out over the course of the game)? Does the referee develop a sequence of events that adventurers are expected to follow (and no, I don't think this is inherently demands railroading or strong coercion of the adventurers to achieve), or does it arise as a consequence of the players' choices for their characters as a response to those larger somethings-going-on?

The setting I'm working on is rife with conflicts, from the machinations of powerful nations to the intrigues of courtiers and criminals and cavaliers, pretenders and prelates and pirates. Yet I have no particular plot for the adventurers to follow, only a world where lots of stuff is going on at many different scales, stuff which the player characters may attempt to influence or may, as a consequence of the players' decisions, sweep up the adventurers in turn.
The same game run just as a sandbox would not have the strong themes that resonate throughout the entire campaign, because the players would likely never come across them.
I'm not familiar with . . . Burning Sky. Could you give an example of what you mean by a "strong theme?"
 

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