When Things Go Horribly Wrong
By
Matthew McFarland
Mistakes get made. It doesn’t matter how well you’ve planned your session, how thoroughly you’ve considered your options. You’re gonna screw up. You’re going to forget an important NPC’s name (or even their presence), or count on a player to do something that she feels her character would sooner die than try. Or, worse yet, you can make a ruling as the GM that makes everybody unhappy. What then?
Likewise, the players can flummox things, too, sometimes simply by showing up (or not showing up, as the case may be). How do you handle problem players?
This essay talks about what to do when things go wrong, be it in the story or within the group of players. I’m not dispensing psychological advice, mind you, just telling you how to reach that all-important goal of everybody having fun.
Fortunately, these are usually easily fixed. The simplest thing to do is make it lot like part of the plot, if possible. For example, the characters are crawling down into a haunted basement/dungeon/crypt/fast food restaurant/whatever, and they stumble across a note written in Sanskrit. You figure that they’ll have to climb back out and find somebody who can translate — and when they do, the rest of tonight’s adventure is waiting for them (whatever’s down below in the crypt is just a red herring, for now). And then one of the players speaks up and says, “Hey, wait! We brought Dr. Jones with us, and he reads Sanskrit! Remember, he was translating a Sanskrit scroll when we met him originally…” and so forth. All of a sudden, they have a quick means to get around a major plot point.
So what are your options? Well, you could say, “Oh, that’s true. Here’s what the scroll says,” and make it up. You should consider whether or not you could have whatever was going to happen outside of the crypt happen inside the crypt. This rewards the players for thinking ahead and allows them to follow what they think is important. That makes players very happy.
On the other hand, if you really want them to meet the next plot point on the surface, you could “do something” to Dr. Jones. Perhaps he just disappears, and the group gets to stand there saying “Dr. Jones? Dr. Jones? Dr. Jones?” like Clarice Starling at the end of Silence of the Lambs. Perhaps he can’t read the scroll here — he needs a reference from his library to make sense of it. Either works (the first way is more my style, just because I like to watch my players sweat), and either allows your plot to continue as planned.
What not to do: say, “Oh, whoops, he can’t be with you because he’d make the whole thing too easy. Ummm, he had a conference or something and isn’t there anymore.” That’s lame. That says, “I don’t pay attention to my own plotlines.” That indicates the players that they can manipulate the plotline to suit themselves by exploiting your crappy memory. Ultimately, that’s unacceptable.
In general, if the characters are happily going about their business and you forget there’s an NPC present, and suddenly one of the players says, “Hey, what’s Jane been doing all this time?” it’s okay to admit you forgot about her. Her presence wasn’t critical, and she apparently didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. (My essay “The Care and Feeding Of NPCs” has some tips on how to avoid this sort of thing, by the way). And you don’t have to be infallible, after all. You’ve got a lot more to remember than the players do, right?
NPCs are nice in one regard — they do what you expect. Player characters, on the other hand, tend to do something totally different. For example, you’ve rigorously set up a final confrontation between a character and her bitter rival (some people feel that “final fights” are too Hollywood; I absolutely love ‘em). You’re expecting the character to tell the other characters to stay out of it — “This is between me and the vegetable!” Instead, when the rival steps from the shadows and challenges her, the character yells, “Get her!” Great, you think, they’ll pummel her in one round, and that won’t be very climactic at all.
The best thing you can do, and I’ve said this before, is be ready to improvise. If they all attack her, give her an escape route (turning this into a chase scene). Give her some allies as well, or a weapon or spell or cybernetic grapefruit or whatever that evens the odds a bit. Or, if the player would respond to this, have the rival gasp with her dying (or fading-into-unconsciousness, if you don’t do fatalities) breath “I knew you couldn’t beat me yourself.” Have the rival expire with a big “Ha-ha, you wimp” smile on her face. Again, this only works if the player will respond well to it. If the player is still thinking of this as a video game without the video (i.e., you get points for kills and nothing else matters), this approach won’t matter at all. If the player roleplays well, you can expect her to work this event into her character’s makeup — “Wow, could I have beaten her without help? What else can’t I do without help?”
You’ll never be able to plan for everything the players do, and you know that. But if they do something really off the charts, don’t get mad. Reward creativity, don’t push them into doing what you expected.
Here’s a personal anecdote. I was running a game set in modern-day New Orleans. One of the characters was a ghost, who’d been around for way too long (in my opinion) and I really wanted him to move on to greener pastures. So, he met up with a being who could put ghosts to rest. Said being worked his mojo, I did this lovely little transcendental-moving-on-to-the-next-life moment, and the game ended. The problem was, this really annoyed the player of the ghost, because he felt (correctly) that a lot of things had gone unresolved for the character. Screw-up on my part. Big time.
Sometimes GM screw-ups get more personal. Maybe you’re overtly cruel towards a character because the player annoys you (I’ve done that, too, but I’m not telling stories about it!). Maybe you use a plot point that you know is a sore spot for a player (such plot devices include rape, molestation, drugs, pregnancy, and family member death. If you plan on using one of these, be very careful. Talk to your players!). In any case, this sort of behavior is insensitive and hazardous to the health of your story.
So what do you do? If it’s nothing personal, just a bad judgment call on your part, fix it. It can be done. In that case, the ghost found he couldn’t pass on without resolving some issues, and instead of moving on the next life, found himself back in his own body (like in The Crow, yes). I actually tried to pretend to the player that I’d planned it that way, but I don’t think he bought it. Ah, well. (And by the way, if this happens to you, just admit you screwed up. You’ll look like a better GM if you’re willing to rewrite a little history to make the players happy).
If you did do something personal, out of anger, spite, or whatever, apologize. In private, and then to the group. Don’t grovel, just be honest. Admit you screwed up, and say that you won’t do it again. Use the opportunity to make sure that everybody is cool with the issues being presented in the game and remind them that you welcome feedback. If a player annoys you and you’ve been singling his character out, pull him aside and talk to him about what’s bugging you. Chances are he doesn’t realize it, and if you’re being passive-aggressive about it, he’ll never know.
All of which brings us to…
A number of games publish Gamemaster’s guides. These are books that address themes and issues in the game world in question, as well as giving hints and ideas on how to run the game. Some of the also give brief (or not-so-brief) essays on game etiquette and categorize problem players. I’m not going to do that here, because I’ve rarely met gamers who fit into one category all the time. What I will do, however, is identify some common problem behaviors of gamers and offer suggestions on how to live with them.
• Snugglebunnies: You’ve got a girlfriend/boyfriend, or husband/wife, or boyfriend/boyfriend, or whatever combination in your group. Normally this isn’t a bad thing; after all, if they’re both playing, it’s unlikely that you’ll ever have to worry about one of them breaking a game to do something with the other (instead, you’ll lose them both). However, sometimes you get couples who glue themselves together and stay joined at the hip until its time to leave.
How you feel about PDA (Public Display of Affection) is your own business. I couldn’t care less, personally, if a couple wants to kiss occasionally during a game. What does bother me is couples who treat the game like a make-out session, or, just as bad, whisper and chat the whole time and don’t pay attention to the game. The other problem you may face is that single players might get self-conscious. I ran a game once with six people: two couples, my girlfriend, and a male friend who happened to be single. After the game, he asked that this particular mix of people not be assembled again, because he felt very uncomfortable that everyone else had someone to kiss and not him.
If you have a pair of snugglebunnies in your group, ask them to cool it until the game ends. Explain that they’re distracting other players and/or the GM. If they “can’t help it”, separate them, just like in grade school.
By the way, this is a good time to mention the importance of taking breaks. If you’re significant other is in the group (or even in the same house), taking a break to give him/her some personal attention is highly recommended.
• Under Control: While it was never a problem for me, sometimes parents or other authority figures get in the way. Players get grounded, sometimes at the last minute. A married player, as much as I hate to admit it, has obligations greater than the game and must see to them first. And, of course, sometimes work must intrude upon gaming nights.
This is a hard situation, especially if you’re lucky enough to come from a home like mine (my parents didn’t much care about curfews because they knew I didn’t drink, and most of the time I was gaming in our basement anyway). It’s very frustrating to be told “I can’t come tonight; my mom wants me to stay home.” It’s even worse when someone’s parent or spouse calls during a game and insists that the player come home.
If you find yourself in this kind of scenario, don’t get mad. It isn’t the player’s fault, and even if it is, you aren’t going to get anywhere by pointing that out. What you should do is be respectful and realistic. Is this the first time it has happened in the course of a long-running game? If so, it probably won’t happen again. Work around it, and ask if the player can show up at another time to do a solo session. If it has happened many times before and it’s disrupting the flow of the game, tell the player that s/he either needs to straighten this out or not play. I know that may sound harsh, and it’s a speech I hate to give, but consider this: if you break a date with one other person, that’s just one person you’ve disappointed. If you break a date with a gaming group, it’s more like five. Another possibility is to offer to temporarily sideline the character for a few weeks so that the player can straighten his/her home life out.
Being respectful, by the way, means respecting the player’s family as well, no matter how neurotic they are about role-playing. If a player has a curfew, make sure you’re finished with that player in enough time to get her/him home. That often means keeping the other players on track, with a minimum of screwing around. It means that you should try to schedule games on nights that are convenient for everybody, and often your convenience comes in dead last (sorry about that). Work around people’s work schedules as much as possible, and make sure people know far enough in advance that they can request time off work, if necessary.
Finally, remember that the game is about everybody having a good time. Make allowances as much as you can, but if there’s one person who’s constantly wrenching the works, have a talk. Ask if the player is really serious about gaming, or if s/he doesn’t actually have time for it. Players who really want to play will make allowances in their own lives — believe me, very, very few people have schedules so full that they can’t clear one evening a week if they try.
• Excuses: I detest this behavior. You call a player up, ask about a certain day. “Oh, I don’t think I can make it that day,” they say. “Why not?” you ask. “Family stuff (or something equally nebulous)” is the response. “All day?” you inquire. “Yeah, I think so.”
I don’t know where the declarative statement went. I like straight answers to questions. If the answer is “No, I can’t make it,” so be it. We’ll try another time, or try to re-schedule the game. But sometimes you get players who just won’t do that. They give you “think-sos” and “maybes” and “I might’s” but never clear answers. Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you have three or four people for a game and who they’re going to be, and in the end, the player doesn’t call to let you know one way or the other.
Sometimes, these people just don’t think that far ahead. I had a friend who wouldn’t make plans more than 3 hours in advance (I’m not kidding. You had to catch her on the day you wanted to do something, otherwise she’d just say “Oh, God, I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow. Ask me then.”). If this is the case, ask them to write it down on something, and then call them — as many times as necessary — to remind them. I know this is a pain, but often the best players are really sloppy about keeping dates. Downsides of being a GM, I guess.
Other times, the player just has a problem with declarative statements. If you ask “You don’t think you can make it or you really can’t make it?” you’ll get a clarification.
Worst of all, however, are players who use this sort of hem-and-haw as a way to say, “I don’t really want to play.” If a player cancels on me twice in a row, or misses a scheduled game too often, I’ll call up and ask if they want to keep playing. Don’t be accusatory when doing this, just be straight and honest. Tell them it’s all right if they want to drop out (even if you’re really thinking of disemboweling the player), that you just need to know so you can rearrange the game accordingly. Hopefully, you’ll get an honest answer from the player.
Note to players: If you find yourself growing bored with the game, tell the GM. Don’t wait around to see if it gets better. I had a player once with whom I really enjoyed gaming drop out at a very inconvenient place in the story because “the novelty was gone”. I thought that he might have told me that 3 weeks earlier and I could have jazzed things up for his character, or at least given the character a good send-off. As it was, I was forced to deport his character, which I felt was less than the character deserved. Keep communication lines open!
• Other problems: Some players talk, out of character and incessantly. Some interrupt other players and/or the GM. Some don’t bring money for pizza. Whatever. If issues arrive, remember that you, by agreeing to run the game, have also agreed to get people together, to organize the games, and to keep everything running smoothly. That means you need to be the one to take people aside to discuss this sort of problem, respectfully and maturely. Ninety-nine times out of 100, a player will say, “Whoops, I didn’t even realize” and that’ll be that. That remaining one instance, it may be necessary to excuse someone from the group. That’s never a lot of fun for the person involved (or the GM) but if everyone else’s entertainment is suffering, you’ll find that the other players may soon stop showing up.
It does sound rather communistic, but the good of the group should really be first. The unique thing about RPGs as opposed to other forms of entertainment is their rather communistic method. That is, the will of the group needs to dictate the direction of the group. The popular term for “S/He Who Runs the Game” — the Gamemaster — isn’t really indicative of what you want to do. White Wolf prefers to use the term “Storyteller”, and, as you may have noticed, I rather prefer that attitude. You can be master of the game all you want, but if it ever becomes a power trip for you, you will lose your players. Instead, when developing stories, think of yourself as equal parts guide, referee, director, writer, supporting cast…awful lot of equal parts, I know, but all equally important. Keep yourself on the same level as the players — that is, you should all have an equal stake in the proceedings. However, since you know what’s going on and they don’t, your stake is really dependent on them having a good time. So go forth, comrade, and be the glue that holds the story — and the players — together.
© 2000 Matthew McFarland. No
reproduction is allowed without the author’s express permission.