Over the course of a few days you contemplated what race you’d play, what class, what build, what history. You thought about his purpose in the game, his personality, and his goals. You were creating a living, breathing hero, instead of filling out some stats on a character sheet. At least, you thought you were.

There he was, Rolen Darkmoor, a two-weapon fighting emo ranger (emo?), who had all of the makings of a fully-fleshed out character, complete with a one-page description of all things non-statistical. You’ve selected a specific set of dice to go along with this person (because really, he deserves it), and you’ve found the fan-made character sheet that best suits his style.

Yep. This ranger is ready to hit the range. This hero is ready to be heroic. This live character is ready to come to life.

And bring him to life you do. You’ve fought orcs, goblins, mystery warriors, and even a white dragon. You’ve roleplayed your inner conflict in staying loyal to the Assembly of Advisors, yet wanting to leave it all behind ranger-style. You’ve embraced the journey of finding out the secrets of your own mysterious past. Yes, this character has come to life.

Aaaaaand then you completely crush the realism of your character when you charge toward several hobgoblin archers (16 squares away) thinking you will get to them and engage them double-scimitar-style, only to get dropped by four arrows to the chest (two crits), now making death saves.

At that moment you took a fully visioned, real person, and turned him into some stats on paper.

Sure, he’s a hero, and he does heroic things. But why would you assume that you could charge after archers, and not get killed? It’s because you stopped thinking about how a fantasy character would engage the archers, and started crunching numbers instead. “Let’s see, I have 54 hit points, my AC is 23, I can move 14 squares this round – I’ll be ok.”

What you should have said was, “Hmm, we need to move tactically against the archers. Perhaps I’ll wait until after the fighter goes.”

Ok, you can’t really put yourself into your character’s shoes. You can’t really know his combat capabilities. All you have to go on to fight the fight are his powers and stats. I get that. But still, sometimes you need take a step back and ask yourself, “Mechanically, I should be able to pull this off, but is it realistic to try? Am I playing the character, or playing the numbers?”

All right, Rolen Darkmoor wasn’t your character; he was mine. You didn’t try to pull off a stupid stunt because you thought the numbers added up; I did. You didn’t stop playing a real person in favor of a stuntman; that was me.

When he fell, sure it was funny-haha, “thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk, and down he goes!” But it slapped me in the face. My fellow gamers get a laugh out of that one every once in a while, but all I get out of it was the memory of me betraying my character’s character, and me betraying realism. Had I stopped to think, “What is the best way to face these hobgoblin archers?” instead of going number-strong into the fight, I would have stayed in-character, in the game, as a real-life person, and not stats on a piece of paper. I was a stuntman.

So, I challenge you to not make the mistake that I did. I challenge you to try as hard as you can, to get into your character’s shoes and stay there. I challenge you to make decisions as if you’re actually there, instead of your character sheet. I think you’ll find that playing the role, instead of playing the game, is much more rewarding.

Incidentally, the title of this article “That is not a Real Person – It’s a Stuntman” comes from a quote in a movie. Bonus points to whoever figures out what movie the quote is from, and what movie the characters are watching when it is said.