Does the Sailor Command the Tides?

I started playing D&D when I was 8 years old in 3.5 Edition. My dad had spent several hours helping my brothers and I create character sheets, explaining all the stuff my child brain would end up forgetting 5 minutes later, and then delivering my very first roleplaying experience in a tabletop setting. Overall, the game went as well as you would expect for a family session in a world at the mercy of a small party of prepubescent boys with character sheets and an immature imagination: us at the table playing with the models we had painted the day before and not the game at hand, not paying attention until it was our turn, characters trying to pickpocket guards because they can, and otherwise testing the limits of the anarchy in a game with no real lasting consequences in the real world--you know, the average game. Nevertheless, I was so enamored that I wanted to learn how to create my own worlds and deliver the most-exciting narrative possible for my players.

Several years later, I once again decided to delve into D&D, and after a few more sessions under my belt, I asked my father if I could try to DM a game. He taught me everything he knew about preparing a small adventure, and I spent several hours creating my very first adventure: a run-of-the-mill cave filled to the brim with Kobold that had been terrorizing the nearby village. I would hardly call it a great adventure, but it was still my first one, and to this day I will never forget the mistakes I made. About a year later, I presided over another 3.5 Edition game at a local pizza establishment with some friends. Two girls came to the session with their level 20 Advanced Dungeons & Dragons character sheets (complete with a giant invisible fox familiar that their DM homebrewed for them), and said that they would not play unless they got to use their completely broken and incompatible characters. I made the mistake of saying okay and that I would make rulings based on the differences in the 2e ruleset I knew literally nothing about. 

As you could imagine, the game was an absolute disaster, and several members of my group decided to join the much more interesting Gundam RPG at the next table instead of continue my game. Later on, I was asked to DM a 4th Edition game at a comic book store, and I came up with a very ambitious plot involving a magical city in a pocket dimension, ruled by a mystical group of spirits who were never born and whose anger for that reason was--*SNORE!* The game had so much dialogue that didn't involve the characters, and so many railroaded events, that I was not asked to return for the next session. A friend of mine said that in the next session, the DM retconned my entire story and said last week's adventure was all one big dream. 4e sucked anyway.

Despite all the above mistakes I've made in my career, I'd like to just come out and say that I'm a fairly-seasoned Dungeon Master. In fact, I believe I'm the best one I personally know. I don't say a lot of things about myself in such high esteem, but with DM'ing I can make a clear exception. It's taken several years, lots of mistakes, lots of learning, and more humility than most people will have in their entire lives. The hardest thing about mastering the craft of the almighty Dungeon Master is learning that the only changes that can be made are the changes you make to yourself.

Earlier today, I was met with a debate on a D&D page on Facebook. It's one I have seen several times before, and today I decided to write an article about it, adding my voice to the massive sea of voices that are not unlike a Borg collective of the same thoughts over and over regarding this subject. The poster was complaining that players inevitably derailed his detailed and meticulous campaign in favor of performing a quest for a hollow NPC character that was really only there for text flavor, and was asking for opinions on how to get players to continue with the campaign instead of going on some dumb quest he didn't plan for. My response was essentially, "Why didn't you plan for it?"

Yes, Azula. Yes they do.

Does the captain of the ship command the tides? I oftentimes see or hear about stories of Dungeon Masters who try everything they can to deliver a great gaming experience to their players; a noble thing to do, but they get frustrated when things seemingly spin out of their control. Novice DM's are definitely the most-affected, but I sometimes spot someone who claims to be a pro make similar mistakes. Do the tides command the ship?

Yes! A story being told by both the players and the DM is a natural force that cannot be tempered by the previous work done in advance by the Dungeon Master. The ship does not rule the ocean--the ocean rules the ship. A sailor cannot control the tides, but can adjust the sails. They key to delivering a gripping narrative and having fun with it isn't in the amount of information you prepare beforehand and how much of it is followed to the letter, but is in what you prepare for yourself when things go the one way you just didn't anticipate--as they always will. Just as the sailor cannot command the sea, a DM cannot command the ebb and flow of the game--he can merely adjust how he reacts to it. Which is why when I prepare my games, instead of bringing a whip to crack at the tide, I bring a sail!

Alright, enough about sailors. The object of the DM is to provide a story. The object of the player is to navigate the environment. Notice I didn't put any more details in there. The story the DM provides does not have to be one she spent 4+ hours prepping earlier in the week. Navigating the environment does not mean navigating the story the DM provides exactly as the DM envisioned. The mark of a Dungeon MASTER is his or her ability to provide an entertaining story that will be remembered by everyone at the table when memories of real life events have faded. What is not required (but still welcome if you think it applies) is a story that takes several hours ahead of time to plan. What is not even welcome is a story that requires the players to things exactly the way the DM wants it. I've seen people get angry because he or she spent hours upon hours getting a dangerous dungeon to perfection, only to watch the players divert a river to drown everyone in it, or create a unique combination of spells to drill-slash-earthbend their way through the dungeon and avert 95% of all the DM's hard work. And I've seen people become genuinely angry about that.

"See my notes for tonight's session?"

But why, though? Can that dungeon not be recycled? If they don't even see the dungeon, can't you just reuse it for another event in the future, restock it with level-appropriate encounters and booty, and then slap a whole new quest to accompany it? If the players decide to blow up a bridge with the really cool boss you created, can you not reward the players for their ingenuity and reskin the boss they never fought? Is it too much to save the adventure the players sidestepped in favor of the hollow NPC's quest, and play it another time? Probably the most important question of all: are you angry that the players are having fun?

Any work you do on an adventure, dungeon, or even a side quest should not go in vain. That's absolutely true. But it is also true that the content you create should not get shoved down your player's throats. I remember when Star Wars Battlefront (the new one) was debuted, and EA stated that the AT-AT's were put on a rail instead of allowing the players to control them. 

There was a lot of uproar about it. I personally didn't care one way or the other, because in the past the AT-AT was a colossal waste of time. But the thing that caught my attention was that players were upset because they did not have control of the AT-AT, and for some ridiculous reason it was a large factor that people were taking into account when considering whether or not they should get the game. It came to my realization that this analogy actually fits very well with Dungeons & Dragons. No one wants to play a game they have no control over. Just as "If the shoe fits, wear it" holds true, the opposite should also be heeded. You don't have to go through with the plans you made if the players aren't interested, and the game does not have to adhere to anything in those plans if fate allows your adventure to exist.

So where is the compromise? That sweet spot, which I have learned over my several years of DM experience, is in the chaos of the unknown. In order to have control, you need to be willing to release it. Prepare your games with that release of control in mind. I always have random encounters prepared, as well as stats for guards and regular NPC's for the inevitable event where the Rogue decides he wants to threaten the shopkeeper over the price of a stupid health potion or some other stupid crap the players eventually decide to do. I have names of every playable race prepared in case I need to make an NPC on the spot. I have all the players' natural perception and other important stats written down. I have been trained in the art of improv, so that I can react to any given situation. I take the players on the story that is created right in front of us rather than the story that I spent a long time prepping before. Is it okay to spend time prepping? Absolutely, and some of the best adventures have been done that way. But a lot of the magic in roleplay is not knowing where the story will take you, and gracefully allowing the game to take a left-turn you didn't expect.

As a side note, don't be afraid to say no to a situation that will take away from the fun of the game or is so ridiculous that it's just not even remotely feasible. Like allowing 2e character sheets to exist in a 3.5e game. I'm still pretty mad about that, Carly and Shayla!

Lastly, remember that a good DM is one who always learns, whereas a bad DM is one who never does. Make mistakes. Admit to them. Improve on them. Learn. Grow. Shampoo, rinse, repeat. I mentioned before that I was a seasoned DM, but even I oftentimes nod in respect to a unique thing a fellow DM does, and I take a page from their book. Earlier today someone on another Facebook page posted an article that was titled something along the lines of, "You know that DM everyone says is good? I hate that guy." 

I didn't even bother reading it, and instead posted this funny gif (which ironically is perfectly on beat with this epic track I'm currently listening to and could not be more hilarious), explaining why his reasoning was wrong. The goal isn't to be offended by what someone else does, but to be inspired by it. Someone on the post said something very interesting to me, which I promptly copied and pasted into my book of wisdom that I keep around for inspiration for myself and future children: "If your players keep comparing you to a good DM, maybe you're not a good DM." It may sound like it runs counter to what I'm trying to say, but it actually isn't. If it bothers you to hear that another DM keeps getting brought up, you need to change that fact and learn from what's being said. If it doesn't bother you, and you instead learn from it, then they will eventually stop comparing you to a good DM--rather it will be the other way around.

In sum, you do not command the ebb and flow of the game, but are its guest, and guide the players through its natural wonder. Don't get angry when the game doesn't go the way you envisioned it. Instead of futilely attempting to get the game to go your way, prepare games in which you are able to change course at a moment's notice and save your hard work for another time when it naturally fits in within the fate of the game. You are not God as a DM; you are merely His mediator.