A Tabletop Epiphany

Behold! My first post on tabletop roleplaying games. Let me share some context about my adventure so far before I dive into my revelation.

My Origin Story

I discovered tabletop roleplaying games when I was 12 and picked up all of the Dungeons & Dragons box sets (BECMI series). From age 13 to 16, I ran oodles of 1:1 D&D games and also played gobs of Top Secret and Phoenix Command. Hundreds of Mountain Dew and Doritos-infused nights spent playing, laughing until it hurt, and laughing some more.

At 16, I traded in my d20 for more traditional teenage pursuits. At 18, after a string of failed WIS saving throws, I learned I was going to skip several of life's formative levels and jump straight to dad. This led to a couple decades of high-intensity adulting without much room for anything else.

Then, on one serendipitous day in 2016, I stumbled upon an ad for Fantasy Flight's Star Wars TTRPG. I clicked. I read. I remembered. I was hit by a Mack truck of nostalgia. Memories of those glorious childhood TTRPG sessions were projectile vomited from my hippocampus. My purchase of the rulebooks that day would ultimately be responsible for pulling me back into the world of roleplaying. And wow — that world had changed.

While I was busy flopping around on my quest for Nonfailure™, D&D and the entire tabletop gaming industry evolved exploded. What was once a wildly misunderstood game we whispered about in hallways and played in secret had become a global phenomenon. Livestreams. Podcasts. Celebs. Events drawing tens of thousands of people. In the 24 years I was away, D&D had gone from something that a kid could legitimately get their ass kicked over to a mainstream hobby enjoyed by millions. My mind was blown. Ka-boom.

In the ten years since, I've had a blast plugging back into this wild new world. I play in a monthly D&D game, run a Cyberpunk RED campaign that's been paused for way too long, have a mini-painting problem, and have also accumulated a decent collection of rulebooks. I've also started regularly attending conventions. Last week I attended my first Origins Game Fair in Columbus, OH. It was my sixth and favorite convention to date.

A Story From Origins

A bad game session at Origins got me thinking about all of this stuff. I experienced a really bad GM. We'll call him Hank. Hank knew the system very well, but he was arrogant. He talked down to the players as if he had a fundamental disdain for all of us. He was in control. Hank was king.

When players would declare their actions or intent on their turn, Hank would sigh, roll his eyes, and laugh to himself. Then he'd say something like "Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do X instead?" He played his own game through the players. We were his puppets. It was his story — a story that had no room for player agency or creativity. I've had a couple less-than-stellar games at conventions before, but this took the cake.

I reflected on the session as we walked down High St. toward our Airbnb. (Based on the cloud cover, I'm guessing the street's original name was Contact High St., but it wouldn't fit on the sign.) Beyond my surface-level irritation over the four hours of life I gave Hank, there was something else at work. Whether it was the second-hand Devil's Lettuce or run-of-the-mill clarity catalyzed by tabletop trauma, I realized just how deeply I care about GM-ing.

My affinity for GM-ing was not the revelation. I love creating and delivering stories and overseeing the chaos that ensues. Nay, my Hankborne High Street revelation was rooted in just how much I care about the joy-level of the table — about creating a positive experience for players.

While everyone at the table contributes to the success of the game, the GM plays the dominant role in setting the tone and helping players have a good time.

Micro Manifesto

I don't care what system you play, or how serious, crunchy, and rules-laden it is: it's a game. Games exist to generate fun. If not lol-fun, enjoyment. If not enjoyment, mutually-accepted challenge.

Follow Wheaton's Law. Do right by your table. Prioritize your players' experience. Make fun happen.

My Next Move

Historically, I've just been happy to have a seat at the tabletop regardless of the hat I'm wearing. Until Hank strangled my gamejoy and threw me into a fit of overthink, I'd always considered my interest in playing and GM-ing of roughly equal.

With this new level of awareness unlocked, I'd be remiss if I didn't commit to pushing a little deeper into game master land. I'm going to say yes to GM opportunities more often and really dig into ways I can make sessions more awesome for players.

As I explore this rabbit hole dungeon, I'll plan to capture techniques that work for me. I could envision a future in which I create a GM resource of some sort to help dodge Hankish behavior and squeeze goodness out of every session.

I've enabled comments on this post because I'd love to hear from other TTRPG folk on this topic. A GP for your thoughts?