I feel there is a certain arc that you see among tabletop gamers, especially those who get their start with D&D. D&D is, like anyone’s first RPG, the gateway to a new world, a new mode of expression and imagination. While lots of people enjoy games, some end up enraptured, vibrating at the thought of what they can do and create. So they become a DM and start writing, start doing as much as they can with the game. And they start hitting walls. Some of the walls are from the game; the sort of ‘game logic’ of D&D only tells a limited palette of stories no matter how much the marketing says otherwise. So they try another game. And another game. In most cases, game logic still prevails. Some of the walls, though, are from the other players. Even if the DM wanted to try another game, the players wouldn’t necessarily go along with it. And from the perspective of the person who was most excited by the game, it certainly looks like the other players aren’t taking it seriously enough. The stakes that our aspiring writer sees in their worlds, the other players…don’t. So how do they fix this? How do they make everything feel serious to everyone at the table? How do they make the players feel the way they feel?

This story is a familiar one, and I know that because it’s my story. I was the one who was vibrating out of my chair with excitement at the idea of creating worlds in D&D, and my disenchantment with how D&D actualized those stories led me to Cyberpunk. And when it seemed like the intrigue of the stories wasn’t resonating with my players, I tried to make the game more serious, more internally consistent, more “realistic”. And years later, when I found a literal generation of heartbreakers and retroclones dedicated to making D&D more lethal, making wizards less powerful, and generally making the game more difficult, I finally realized two things. One, there is a nearly universal desire for grounding and meaning among those who tell stories, whether they do so with TTRPGs or something else. And two, for those of us working in the TTRPG medium, making the game ‘grittier’ is usually the answer to a different question than the one actually being asked.

One of the most controversial questions in the tabletop RPG hobby is ‘What makes a good game’. Entire philosophies of play are built around the idea that you don’t need much in the way of mechanics, and entire other philosophies of play are built around the idea that those mechanics are essential to creating the desired experience in a session. The reality, of course, is messier than either of these. We’ve all heard that “Every game is good with a good GM”, but that doesn’t actually mean that every game system that makes its way to a group’s table is, well, good.

In order to fairly review a game you need to understand what the game brings to the table, yes, but you need to understand the same for your GM. Good GMs can run good games with bad systems by working around or even ignoring aspects of a game system, as well as supplementing the system with experience or house rules from other systems and campaigns. Similarly, bad GMs can create bad experiences with good games by interpreting rules too rigidly or loosely, failing to do the right amount of prep for the system, or using the mechanics for situations in which they weren’t intended to apply. While no game can fix a bad GM who is truly set in their ways, good games can, though good writing, help inexperienced GMs avoid the pitfalls I’ve mentioned.