Part 1: Reality vs. Expectation

We’ve all been there, sitting around the table, dice in hand. The man behind the screen looks up, pressing his glasses to his face. “I am your Dungeon Master! Are you prepared to enter a world of fantasy and intrigue?” You break the silence with an audible giggle. The Master of Dungeons flashes his steely glare in your direction. The others begin to laugh as well. He sits back, dejected. He lets out a wry half-smile and asks “Are you done?”

It’s happened to me before, especially with new players. There’s a moment in every Game Master’s career where they feel embarrassed over something they’ve done. It happens, and it will continue to happen. I’m embarrassed regularly. I forget names or get a time wrong. Recently, in one simple sentence, I changed the time line of the entire history of my world. The players didn’t notice, but I did. It was a big mistake. During the next session, when I realized what I had done, I had to make something up. It was awkward and didn’t quite line up with some of the information the players already knew. However, It worked, and that’s all that matters.

A good Game Master is not born with natural bravado and knowledge. They are made through experience, time, and a bit of dedication. I’ve been running tabletop games for nearly 20 years, and I was never “good” at it until recently. Running a game well is about practice and playing to your strengths. In a sea of players there are a finite number of Game Masters. It’s up to you to facilitate a lasting impression on your players. I aim to help you out with that.

So how do we become the epitome of game master prowess?

It’s easy to get caught up in the celebrity status of excellent Game Masters; such as Matthew Mercer and Chris Perkins. If you haven’t checked out Critical Role or Acquisitions Incorporated, you really should. (Seriously, take a minute and go check those out.) The stories they craft are fantastic. Then there’s you, doing your best impression of Cloud Strife while fumbling through character names and creature stat blocks. “This is horrible” you think. Then you look at your players smiling faces. You take a deep breath… and continue.

It’s okay to strive to be like Matt or Chris, but it’s not okay to expect someone to be like them.

A typical game of Dungeons and Dragons is less than perfect. Rules will be debated. Lucky streaks will be scrutinized. (Everyone has seen the player that seems to always make their constitution saving throw.) You will forget an NPC’s (Non Player Characters) name because you forgot to write it down last session. The players will mention an insignificant character they met in passing three months ago that you completely forgot about and then improvise a back story on the spot to feed their need to accuse him of stealing Dragon eggs. Players will surprise you. You will stumble. You will fudge a roll. You will get something wrong.

The reality is that we are not Matt or Chris. (They have their faults as well.) Some of us could be, but most of us never will. The important bits we should take from them are the qualities they, and other fantastic GMs, possess. Matthew has undeniable improvisation and planning. Chris oozes with creativity and is an avid fan of his players. Great qualities to have.

Nobody is perfect.

This is where expectation vs. reality comes into play. My players have fun on a regular basis, as do countless others. Our games are messy, the voice acting is horrible, and the story is mostly unoriginal. Yet, every week we sit down and play a game together; laughing, rolling dice, coming up with inappropriate jokes. We do not expect something so amazing that it will get its own T.V. show. We expect a game we can play together. However, this does not mean you can forgo any preparation, rule knowledge, or creativity.

The game still has to be interesting.

There are a plethora of ways I make my games interesting, from using props, to involving a character’s back story. It’s in the handouts, world-building, and preparation. It’s the time I put in making sure each character feels involved in the story and how I propel the story forward using their choices. However, my game is not for everyone. It is combat light and goal heavy, has moderate role-playing, and often ends in player death. (Sorry friends.)

Some people prefer combat heavy games, with little or no role-playing. Others want extensive role-playing and story. Some prefer a Sandbox (a.k.a. Open World). No matter what way you run the game, make the game yours. Don’t spend too much time focusing on what others told you to do. Instead, take what you see and make it your own. Improve on your overall practices rather than focusing on something specific.

The first, and most important quality of a good GM is to make sure you are playing the game you and your players want to play. Next week we’ll discuss how exactly you go about making the game your own. From considering a different gaming system, to player and GM expectations. Feel free to comment with any specific questions you may want answered in the coming weeks.

Next: Play the game you (And your players) want to play! (Coming soon)

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