All Part of the Plan
I have a confession to make.
I don’t think I’m a good game master. At best, I consider myself a passable game master - I have years of experience running games, and I have played in and refereed more games than I care to remember, but a lot of what I do is smoke and mirrors. I know my faults, and I try to conceal them as best I can, while entertaining the players.
But that’s what all game masters do, right? Well, yes and no. For one thing, I suck at describing things. Once in a while, I’ll get inspired and provide an excellent description for painting a scene, but more often than not I tend to gloss this over so that we can get to the roleplaying - forgetting of course that painting the scene well helps with the roleplaying. I really suck at describing people. (As Cat pointed out in the past, I use the word “nice” too often when describing someone’s wardrobe. I should use words like sleek or elegant or crisp or clean.)
I don’t prepare very well either - as in not at all. I’ll have some vague idea about what is down the road (or not even that), sit down, try to pick up where we left off, and move forward. Is there a point to the adventure? Well, not really. From time to time I’ll get inspired, and direct the game toward that inspiration, but in general I run a slice of life type of campaign. The characters have their various personal goals, and there is a vague sense of plot involved as the world moves forwards, but I usually don’t have a solid plan for where everything is going. This has a bit of a good point, in that I don’t have a plan that the players can “ruin”, but it also means that if I run out of ideas I’m screwed, and it also means I have nothing to fall back on if I’m not motivated that particular day.
The third problem, and one I really need to fix, is my lack of patience. I keep coming up with ideas, and I keep wanting them in the game now, even though my players have more than enough on their plate. I’ve bogged down the odd campaign by giving the players too much to do, not letting them actually resolve what they’re already facing. This is a real bad habit, and I’ve been trying hard to curb it in my current campaigns. “Let the players finish!” is something I need to continue learning.
Now, this doesn’t mean I’m hopeless, it means I’ve got some bad habits - a carry over from the 80s, when I had to be the sole game master for our group and had to run things all the time. Without modules or any experience at all (and no mentor or experience as a player), I had to come up with things on the fly, and developed a lot of tricks to keep myself going. This trial by fire produced a very interesting advantage or two, however.
I have learned how to adapt to nearly anything the players throw at me. I have faced twinks and power gamers sitting across from me at the table, and not flinched as they plowed through the game. From time to time I may get a little frustrated as I try to find something to challenge these players, but for the most part they have as much impact on the game world as anyone else does. This allows me to open the doors to nearly any sourcebook for the game, or nearly any concept a player may have, and this has rewarded me with very creative characters as well as allowed me to help refine the players I am dealing with. I’m quite happy to say that a few twinks I have associated with have been really awesome gamers, and while some characters have been hokey, I rarely regret having them in my campaigns.
The other thing I’ve developed is a really... flexible... subconscious. I have noticed that I may have three or four plot threads running through my campaign, and a number of minor things drifting around aimlessly - only to have these threads and concepts all drift together and weave into a tapestry at the end. Things which have made no sense in the past suddenly make perfect sense as they fit into the overall game like puzzle pieces. It looks really impressive when I do it right, and the look on the player’s faces when they suddenly see the big picture is really fun - though at times I kind of go “I wish I’d actually thought of that...”
I have to admit, I’m really flattered that my players enjoy my games. I’m flattered that I’ve had game masters credit me with teaching them how to expand their styles. I’m very flattered when someone asks me specifically to run something, because they like what I do. But I often feel I can do so much more, that I could be better.
I don’t think I’m a good game master. At best, I consider myself a passable game master - I have years of experience running games, and I have played in and refereed more games than I care to remember, but a lot of what I do is smoke and mirrors. I know my faults, and I try to conceal them as best I can, while entertaining the players.
But that’s what all game masters do, right? Well, yes and no. For one thing, I suck at describing things. Once in a while, I’ll get inspired and provide an excellent description for painting a scene, but more often than not I tend to gloss this over so that we can get to the roleplaying - forgetting of course that painting the scene well helps with the roleplaying. I really suck at describing people. (As Cat pointed out in the past, I use the word “nice” too often when describing someone’s wardrobe. I should use words like sleek or elegant or crisp or clean.)
I don’t prepare very well either - as in not at all. I’ll have some vague idea about what is down the road (or not even that), sit down, try to pick up where we left off, and move forward. Is there a point to the adventure? Well, not really. From time to time I’ll get inspired, and direct the game toward that inspiration, but in general I run a slice of life type of campaign. The characters have their various personal goals, and there is a vague sense of plot involved as the world moves forwards, but I usually don’t have a solid plan for where everything is going. This has a bit of a good point, in that I don’t have a plan that the players can “ruin”, but it also means that if I run out of ideas I’m screwed, and it also means I have nothing to fall back on if I’m not motivated that particular day.
The third problem, and one I really need to fix, is my lack of patience. I keep coming up with ideas, and I keep wanting them in the game now, even though my players have more than enough on their plate. I’ve bogged down the odd campaign by giving the players too much to do, not letting them actually resolve what they’re already facing. This is a real bad habit, and I’ve been trying hard to curb it in my current campaigns. “Let the players finish!” is something I need to continue learning.
Now, this doesn’t mean I’m hopeless, it means I’ve got some bad habits - a carry over from the 80s, when I had to be the sole game master for our group and had to run things all the time. Without modules or any experience at all (and no mentor or experience as a player), I had to come up with things on the fly, and developed a lot of tricks to keep myself going. This trial by fire produced a very interesting advantage or two, however.
I have learned how to adapt to nearly anything the players throw at me. I have faced twinks and power gamers sitting across from me at the table, and not flinched as they plowed through the game. From time to time I may get a little frustrated as I try to find something to challenge these players, but for the most part they have as much impact on the game world as anyone else does. This allows me to open the doors to nearly any sourcebook for the game, or nearly any concept a player may have, and this has rewarded me with very creative characters as well as allowed me to help refine the players I am dealing with. I’m quite happy to say that a few twinks I have associated with have been really awesome gamers, and while some characters have been hokey, I rarely regret having them in my campaigns.
The other thing I’ve developed is a really... flexible... subconscious. I have noticed that I may have three or four plot threads running through my campaign, and a number of minor things drifting around aimlessly - only to have these threads and concepts all drift together and weave into a tapestry at the end. Things which have made no sense in the past suddenly make perfect sense as they fit into the overall game like puzzle pieces. It looks really impressive when I do it right, and the look on the player’s faces when they suddenly see the big picture is really fun - though at times I kind of go “I wish I’d actually thought of that...”
I have to admit, I’m really flattered that my players enjoy my games. I’m flattered that I’ve had game masters credit me with teaching them how to expand their styles. I’m very flattered when someone asks me specifically to run something, because they like what I do. But I often feel I can do so much more, that I could be better.