Back in Ye Olden Days, when I was first starting out running RPG campaigns, I sincerely believed that the worst thing that could happen to a player-character would be for them to die. This belief was encouraged, in part, by the mechanics of the games I was running at the time, particularly AD&D, with its classic binary Hit Point mechanic: positive Hit Points mean the character is healthy and mobile and all that other good stuff; zero or negative Hit Points equal death (or, at best, a discommodious unconsciousness).
Character death can certainly be an upsetting experience, particularly if that character represents many sessions' worth of adventuring and experience. As I expanded my repertoire of games and began running games like Call of Cthulhu and King Arthur Pendragon, which feature mechanics modeling, respectively, mental and physical deterioration accruing from repeated encounters with implacable foes, I began to notice an interesting phenomenon: my players, rather than despairing over their characters racking up a host of traumatic scars, actually seemed to enjoy the process.
"Wrong!" Westley's voice rang across the room. "Your ears you keep, so that every shriek of every child shall be yours to cherish—every babe that weeps in fear at your approach, every woman that cries 'Dear God, what is that thing?' will reverberate forever with your perfect ears." —William Goldman, The Princess Bride
Well, perhaps "enjoy" is a bit of a strong word, but they certainly didn't react with the same level of upset that a character death might bring. Despite the fact that they were watching beloved characters slowly fall to pieces before their eyes, they were somehow less traumatized than they would have been by a quick death. And indeed, for some players the process of mental and physical maiming did in fact draw them further into the game. Scars provide character, as they say. Telling tales of "how I lost my eye," or sad reflections on the price paid to keep the darkness at bay for just one more turning of the stars, provided a measure of pathos and emotional investment that might otherwise have been lacking.
That is why, to this day, I am drawn to systems with some sort of mechanic that allows for mental and/or physical deterioration over time. Having the option to maim a player-character instead of killing them outright remains one of the go-to tools in my GM bag of tricks.
Even in games like Dungeons & Dragons which lack such mechanics, it is quite easy to house rule your own. Many critical hit systems out there present opportunities for characters to lose sundry vital body parts. An even simpler option is to institute a house rule whereby reaching 0 Hit Points does not necessarily mean death. Instead, a character so wounded who is subsequently stabilized (or who makes a saving throw) is maimed in some way. Excessive damage (say, in excess of the character's level or Constitution score) would thus be the only way a character might die.
A quick Google search for "D&D death and dismemberment table" will turn up several options to choose from. And for games with an even grimmer tone, consider implementing sanity/madness rules. (The 5e DMG presents an optional rule for doing this very thing.)
It may seem counterintuitive, but there's a good chance your players will find themselves loving the opportunity to eventually play that salty old veteran over in the corner of the tavern: the one with the twitchy hand and nasty scar who will tell you all about the horrors of the Underdark for the price of a tankard or two of ale…
contributed by David Larkins
Character death can certainly be an upsetting experience, particularly if that character represents many sessions' worth of adventuring and experience. As I expanded my repertoire of games and began running games like Call of Cthulhu and King Arthur Pendragon, which feature mechanics modeling, respectively, mental and physical deterioration accruing from repeated encounters with implacable foes, I began to notice an interesting phenomenon: my players, rather than despairing over their characters racking up a host of traumatic scars, actually seemed to enjoy the process.
"Wrong!" Westley's voice rang across the room. "Your ears you keep, so that every shriek of every child shall be yours to cherish—every babe that weeps in fear at your approach, every woman that cries 'Dear God, what is that thing?' will reverberate forever with your perfect ears." —William Goldman, The Princess Bride
Well, perhaps "enjoy" is a bit of a strong word, but they certainly didn't react with the same level of upset that a character death might bring. Despite the fact that they were watching beloved characters slowly fall to pieces before their eyes, they were somehow less traumatized than they would have been by a quick death. And indeed, for some players the process of mental and physical maiming did in fact draw them further into the game. Scars provide character, as they say. Telling tales of "how I lost my eye," or sad reflections on the price paid to keep the darkness at bay for just one more turning of the stars, provided a measure of pathos and emotional investment that might otherwise have been lacking.
That is why, to this day, I am drawn to systems with some sort of mechanic that allows for mental and/or physical deterioration over time. Having the option to maim a player-character instead of killing them outright remains one of the go-to tools in my GM bag of tricks.
Even in games like Dungeons & Dragons which lack such mechanics, it is quite easy to house rule your own. Many critical hit systems out there present opportunities for characters to lose sundry vital body parts. An even simpler option is to institute a house rule whereby reaching 0 Hit Points does not necessarily mean death. Instead, a character so wounded who is subsequently stabilized (or who makes a saving throw) is maimed in some way. Excessive damage (say, in excess of the character's level or Constitution score) would thus be the only way a character might die.
A quick Google search for "D&D death and dismemberment table" will turn up several options to choose from. And for games with an even grimmer tone, consider implementing sanity/madness rules. (The 5e DMG presents an optional rule for doing this very thing.)
It may seem counterintuitive, but there's a good chance your players will find themselves loving the opportunity to eventually play that salty old veteran over in the corner of the tavern: the one with the twitchy hand and nasty scar who will tell you all about the horrors of the Underdark for the price of a tankard or two of ale…
contributed by David Larkins
